20+. This is a sideblog where I reblog fanfics. This blog is just one big fic rec. 18+ peeps only or I'll chase you with a stick. Contains some dark fics. Just because the url has the word "nipple" in it does not mean you can send me pictures of your genitalia. I just thought it sounded funky.
future problems — coriolanus snow x fem!wife!reader
hi everyone :) jumping on the bandwagon
this man is so fine i couldn’t help myself. i hope everyone had an amazing holiday if they celebrate — i celebrate christmas, so here is my almost 10k word christmas gift to all of you xoxo love u all v much thank you for reading !!
as always, warnings: corio-lame-o is a fucking warning holy fuck, smuuuuut, arranged marriage (i think this counts?), coriolanus is a distrustful evil fuck (but he’s super hot), fem!reader, reader is married to this dickhead (i say as if i wouldn’t want to be lmao), angst, sexism and misogyny is def in here, p in v penetration, m receiving oral, choking, dom!corio, asshole!corio, sub!reader, subspace kinda
informal warnings: bro what the fuck was i on this is literally 10.2k words and i refuse to edit because im super lazy anyway we die like men you've been warned
anyways… here is future problems:
he never wanted to get married.
he saw it as a potential problem, one that would most definitely lead to loose ends — and he hated loose ends.
despised them.
however, his innate need to maintain an image was far more important to him. he weighed the costs and benefits in his head like an algorithm — check, check, check. coriolanus’ mind left no stone unturned, especially when future problems were to be squashed before they could ever be wiped from memory. in the end… he decided he would marry.
and it would be you.
he never allowed himself to be naive — so he would never allow himself to marry someone he already loved. lucy gray? a child’s want for something they can’t have, and something they wouldn’t realize until later that it was a walking regret. no — he could never marry someone that would harm him. absolutely not. out of the question. therefore, it had to be you.
it had to be you because what harm would you cause him? you were shy, quiet, of satisfactory social standing, and uncontroversial. everything a patriarch of the snow family would want. deserved. be entitled to.
he needed someone that wouldn’t be a problem — a loose end in the future. he had conquered so much — he refused to let anything else, especially as irrelevant as a significant other, stand in his way.
however… it did not aid him in his stone-cold lack of a love affair conquest that you were absolutely breathtaking.
at first, it was just an ego boost. he simply couldn’t stop his thoughts from voicing, of course she’s perfect. the snow legacy can only have perfect.
but then… oh, then…
then he saw your smile.
oh, your smile.
your fucking smile.
the first time he caught himself enjoying it — he scolded himself. he refused to see you for a week. a punishment of sorts. more so for him than for you. after, he refused to let his eyes wander on the pretty features of your face for him to witness a reaction to something someone had said or done. he didn’t want to be reminded of what it was like to experience joy or peace because someone else was experiencing it — that was what almost costed him everything he had built.
no one would ever tear that down. not again, not ever.
no one.
when the day of your marriage came, it was business as usual. he refused to meet eye contact, and did not partake in more conversations with you than he had to. he could tell you felt uncomfortable — but he forced himself not to care. he drove it down, down, down like a miner drilling for more coal — hoping, one day, it would be worth it.
and it was… until he was sick.
it was a minor ailment — nothing major, but he was on bedrest for about a week or two. he had employed enough adequate members to his staff to feel that things would at least be taken care of until then. he also found comfort in the fact that two weeks was not long enough for something irreversible to occur. if a problem had taken placed, he would be able to rectify it once he was well and able and… set aside the responsible party.
however, he did not expect one problem.
and that would be you.
he knew you were asking to see him. he knew, he knew, he knew, but he refused to let you in. you were not disrespectful — you had only asked once a day, which happened to be every day in the afternoon. he had picked you specifically because you were too quiet to be annoying. however, his own perfect, pristine, and proper plan had stabbed him in the back. he had never considered that the perfect, pristine, and proper wife would be this dutiful to him, checking in once a day on his condition and to speak with him. despite his illness, he laughed at himself — leave it to him to not expect the expected: the hand-selected dutiful wife would, in fact, be dutiful.
he had to put an end to it. he couldn’t keep saying no for another week. how was he expected to get better if you kept bothering him?
so he let you in. this once. just this once. he reasoned that if he let you in this once, you would be less persistent. just this once — and another problem would cease to plague his mind.
just this once, he chanted in his head. just this once.
he sat up straighter, and attempted to shape his hair so it wasn’t terribly unkept. he reasoned that if you saw him appearing to be healthy, you wouldn’t feel the need to come back. he thought —
but he couldn’t finish the thought.
because you walked in.
smelling like fucking lilacs.
lilacs, of all things. lilacs! not roses, not anything else — lilacs. he did not hate lilacs, but he despised the actual flower. only beautiful for so long before it died and the stench was intolerable. an inconvenience. a nuisance. a guaranteed future problem.
however, when you gifted him with a small smile — you realized why small shows of beauty were so valuable in this world. no one else saw your smile — except for those closest to you. people he hand selected to be around you to prevent future problems. he realized then — he had more control and ownership over your smile than either of you thought.
he was so stunned by your smile he didn’t even notice the tray of tea and cakes in your hand. you took a few steps towards him and he shifted in place.
“i brought your favorites,” you spoke softly. “i know you should rest — i just wanted to ask if there was anything i could do to make your recovery easier.”
“no, thank you,” he replied, voice raspy. “i should be well in a few days.”
you nodded and offered an uneasy smile. his eyes flickered over to how once you had set down the tray on his beside, you slowly wiped the palm of your hands down the front of your dress. your eyes were cast absentmindedly in front of you, on the wall — and he could tell something was plaguing your thoughts.
he then also realized there was a book on the tray, much to his dismay.
“someone had mentioned that this was your favorite author. this was published a few days ago,” you began. “i understand that you have been experiencing headaches, and may find it difficult to read… so i wanted to offer to read aloud for you, in case you found these walls dull.”
you smiled — it was an attempt at a joke. he smiled back, but only to be polite. “today i find myself wanting to sleep. i appreciate your offer.”
you smoothed your hands over your dress once more before nodding and forcing a smile. “i’ll leave you to it, then.”
you did not bid him farewell — and he found himself wondering if he was annoyed or grateful. you simply exited the room, and let the door shut softly behind you.
he scrunched his eyes at the door, swallowing hard.
however, he didn’t understand why.
he had wanted this. the perfect wife — knowing when to take a hint and frankly, fuck off. you had done that, perfectly well — so why was he pissed?
he then found himself glaring angrily at his favorite tea cakes. the swap of sugar for honey, another one of his favorites. his favorite author, a book he was excited to read when he was better. he knew that you hadn’t asked about him — he employed people with the requirement to let him know when you were asking questions. he knew your every outward thought and concern, and sometimes even the ones that weren’t shared aloud because they were so evident on your face.
and then he realized: you noticed things like he noticed things.
however, he knew why he went out of his way to notice things, but why did you?
his jaw clenched as he glared angrily at the wall in front of him. he picked up a tea cake and chewed it aggressively, swallowing it half-intact. he coughed at the barely there food, anger rising further to his flushed cheeks.
he needed to understand how, and he most certainly needed to understand why.
he never went out of his way to get to know you, because he thought he already did. he thought he had you boiled down to one thing, and one thing only: passive. incapable of proving to be any sort of roadblock that was capable of getting in his way. now that he knew you shared something with him, what else was shared? was there something he had to look out for? was there something he missed? was he wrong about you?!
he had to know. he had to.
to do that… he called you back that evening. it was two hours before midnight, and he knew you were awake. despite having separate chambers, he knew your daily schedule. you would be reading at this moment, and he would ask you to read for him.
as if on cue, he heard a soft rapping on the wood of the door. he beckoned you in, and you entered the room. you were clad in a night dress with a matching robe over it, all pink silk. this time, he returned your smile.
"i apologize for the late hour," he spoke. "i hope you had not retired for the night."
you shook your head, your tendrils of perfect hair shaking slightly. "i was reading. i am glad you sent for me — can i get you anything?"
"i was hoping the offer to read for me was still on the table," he rasped. "i find myself unable to sleep."
you blinked once, staring at him. in an instant, a small smile was threatening to overtake your face into a large one. you cast your eyes down to a blushing manner, but his eyes narrowed slightly on your face. what would you get out of reading for him? what we he not seeing? what did he miss?
"of course," you responded. "i have not had a chance to read anything by this author. i am glad i have the chance now."
why. why. why.
he did not show his discontent. he simply rested back against the pillows as you reached for the book on his bedside table. you sat down on a chair on his side, and you crossed your legs. he eyed the small portion of the exposed, soft skin of your legs and wondered if your new ploy would be to try and seduce him. however, you quickly covered your skin with the extra material over your robe and placed the book in your lap. once opened, you read for him.
he was not listening to what you were saying, but he was listening to how you said it. the tone, the enunciation, the pauses, and the speed. he wanted to find some clue as to why you had made it a point to be at his beck and call, and he wanted to see how long the act would last until it dropped.
the act would drop. it always did.
the hour would approach midnight before he found that he could not discern anything from how you were reading aloud. his plan did not yield the results intended, as you had not broken from fulfilling his task for two hours. two hours. you had not stopped out of boredom or exhaustion, nor to talk to him. you were poised, soft, and he hated to admit it... but sweet. he found your voice sweet, and he hated it.
and he fucking hated himself for it.
he needed this to end so he could plan further. out of necessity, he yawned. if you were to apt at picking up clues, then hopefully you would believe that he was finally tired. you had succeeded in his given task, and you were free to go.
but you had kept reading for him.
he grew angry.
when you had paused to breathe, he spoke up. "I think i am able to sleep now. thank you, sweetheart, for indulging me."
your eyeline raised with your eyebrows, almost out of surprise. you either were not expecting him to ask you to stop, or you did not want to stop. he wondered which, and if that would answer his ultimate question.
"my apologies, i should've inquired sooner," you replied. "he is a very talented writer... i found myself enjoying his perspective."
you grabbed a piece or scrap paper from his bedside table, and tucked it in between the pages where you left off.
"most people would fold the corner," he remarked, eyes drifting closed — a show.
you smiled. "i didn't want to ruin the integrity of your book. goodnight, coriolanus."
she left with another smile — and all he was left with was confusion, and rage.
the next morning, he found himself wanting to call you back in for a further rouse interview. he would have if he had a plan in place.
that was the second thing about you that annoyed him: you annoyed him to the point where he wanted to act without a plan in place. a loss of control —which he was highly against.
that would have to be righted immediately.
he spent the morning reading the pages that you had already read to brief himself as if he was listening last night. he reasoned with himself that the best course of action would be to ask you to read to him again to see if you had grown comfortable enough to let a few of your true colors slip.
they always slip.
the sudden task that was presented to him gave him a new bout of energy that he needed to inch closer to recovery. it gave him the push he needed to be closer to walking out of this room and continue to run panem, and he was lost grateful to you for giving it to him — almost. at the moment, you were a problem — and that needed to be corrected. immediately.
he found comfort in control, so he was very content with routines. he had grown accustomed to bracing himself for your check-in in the afternoon. however, it did not come until the approaching hours of the evening had almost descended upon the capitol. he waited, and waited, and waited — so long that he considered asking you to come for himself. the hour would approach dinnertime when you had finally asked about his well-being, and he sent for you.
how dare you ask so late in the day, as if you didn't care? he allowed you access to his life that he had denied you for so long, and you return his kindness with carelessness? this would not do. this most certainly would not do.
you had knocked on his door, and he had to stop himself from sounding to eager. he permitted you entry, and you entered with the same soft smile.
"good evening," you greeted.
"hello," he replied, voice still raspy from his sickness.
"I wanted to ask if you need anything," you announced.
he offered a small smile. "i enjoyed our time last night. perhaps you would read for me, again?"
your eyes fell to the floor in a blush. "of course. I was hoping to read more of the book eventually. i found it intriguing."
you sat down in the chair and pulled the book in your lap. as you were opening it, he spoke, "i thought when you had not checked-in in the early afternoon you found the book dull — afraid i would ask for you to read it for me again."
you shook your head as you smiled. "i like his writing very much — i was concerned as to whether i had prevented you from sleeping the night prior, and didn't want to disturb you further."
he swallowed. "why would you have disturbed me?"
your eyes glanced upwards from the pages to rest on his face. coriolanus stared back as slight concern washed over your features, making your lips part and your eyes widen. your tongue darted out from between your lips, and smoothed over the skin of your bottom lip. you responded, "before you fell ill, we hadn't spent much time together and i understand that is because of your position — but, to be frank, i wanted to respect your space.”
your answer perplexed coriolanus. he wanted to find out what type of person you were — and your answers were not yielding the expected results. there was no obvious form of manipulation in your words, which then worried him. were you smarter than he believed you to be? were you as cunning as him? more so?
so he went with what was natural: manipulation.
“i apologize my station has not granted us the freedom to get to know each other further,” he replied, holding your gaze. “it is a regret of mine.”
you smiled in an affirmative manner, like you didn’t believe him but accepted his answer anyway. this expression arose the same feelings he now detested your presence for: he acted without calculating his actions and the outcome they would produce.
“what troubles you?” he asked.
your lips parted and slightly quivered. you were not expecting him to ask.
“i-i was worried that i may not… please you,” you admitted. “that… you may regret our union.”
“you have been a kind and dutiful wife,” coriolanus spoke, eyes holding yours. “there is no regret.”
there was that affirmative smile again. he found himself hating it — wishing it would be replaced by the warm, soft one.
“i guess i was hoping that, when i was married, the marriage would be more than… a union.”
your candor shocked coriolanus. he would never have expected you to say something… so out of turn.
“please, forgive me,” you spoke, slightly laughing and waving your hand in the air. “the hour is almost late and i was hoping to read more. do you still wish me to?”
“please,” he answered and nodded.
you gave him a quick, thankful smile, and began reading.
this would be the second night coriolanus had not listened to a word you had said.
he had gotten his answer, and it was possibly as bad as the one he was actually afraid for.
you were good. pure, innocent, and your outlook on the world untainted. you were not striving to find a loose screw and let the empire fall. you wanted… to support the man who built and kept the empire together. it was worse than anything he could’ve ever imagined — you actually cared for him.
you cared for him, and now coriolanus snow was fucking terrified.
and yet... he had asked you to return to his chambers every night after that.
for research purposes, of course. only research purposes,
to read to him, but his goal was to learn more about you rather than the text.
you would sit there and read until he asked you to stop. when he did, you would close the book, smile at him, place it back on his nightstand, and bid him goodnight.
after, he would wrestle with the blankets and pillows in order to find out how to deal with this.
how had he not expected this?
his only fault was that he neglected to realize how far your shyness would go. you had grown comfortable with him — and you admitted that you wanted something more, something he always felt he could not give. you weren’t shy — you just weren’t open with people you weren’t comfortable with.
he should’ve known. he should’ve. fucking. known.
he didn’t know how to deal with this, if he was being honest with himself.
he told himself that he asked for you every evening to get to know you better, for his own sanity and safety; but then he began to realize he had found out everything he needed to know.
good and honest. how fucking unfortunate.
he saw a part of you, but now he needed to know more.
so what did he do? he sent you flowers. flowers. an arrangement of red roses and lilacs.
he hated himself for the lilacs.
he got somewhere with you when he had made the first move before — maybe this would yield more promising results.
however, it didn’t.
all he received in return was an extra tray of food that had arrived in the afternoon. his favorite tea cakes, and a handwritten thank-you note detailed in your appreciation for the beautiful flowers. you signed your name, and that was it.
she doesn’t make first moves, he thought. she responds to them.
he knew what he had to do.
he found himself feeling better that day — well enough to end his sick leave and return to his matters. dinner was approaching, and he sent for you to join him for a private dinner this evening.
he was washed, dressed, and coiffed within the hour.
he found you in the dining parlor waiting for him, inspecting his large bookcase. you were trying to reach a book a bit above where your height would allow, extending yourself onto your toes. coriolanus walked up behind you, towering over you, and retrieved the book for you.
you glanced up at him with wide eyes. “thank you, coriolanus.”
“what intrigued you?” he asked, grinning softly.
“first one i couldn’t reach. i was working my way up.” you smiled at him, and then the book. “please — you must be hungry. let us eat.”
you sat down at the table across from him. dinner manners were rather stiff and uncomfortable, but your upbringing that was similar to coriolanus’ prevented you from straying from them. you ate in silence for a few moments before you spoke.
“how do you like his new book?” you asked.
coriolanus cleared his throat. “i find it riveting. i wouldn’t have been able to read it for some time if it hadn’t been for you.”
you smiled at your plate, blushing. “his points are very interesting. i was never very interested in politics — so the insight of someone so heavily involved with them is very informative. do you find that your opinions align with his? or does he not share your perspective?”
he appreciated your willingness to engage with him about topics you weren’t very fond of. an underrated trait, not found very often — he had to admit.
“a bit of both,” he responded. “the one thing he does not discuss is how important it is to have a certain type of person or persons in your regime that allows the flow of success to continue.”
you nodded. “you have built a strong administration — i’m sure he would admire what you have to say.”
“what do you believe?” he asked. “about partnerships?”
you swallowed, contemplating your answer. “i think… a successful partnership is where everyone is complimented by another. for instance, someone is better at briefing documents rather than the presentation of them, and another is the opposite.”
“which one are you?” coriolanus inquired.
you paused once more, folding your lip under. he realized that was a sign you were uncomfortable — unaware of how to proceed. after a moment, you answered, “i feel the most confident under a strong leader. i prefer to be behind the scenes. minute details are easier to be taken care of that way. while you and i are different, i respect you for being the strong leader panem needed. i am sure the majority would agree with me.”
now was the time.
“it is easy to be strong when one’s wife makes sure they are well,” he replied, eyes resting on your face. “i hope you know i appreciate your willingness to accept change and make sure needs are met.”
you smiled at him once more, then turned back to your food.
damn, he thought. didnt bite.
“and for being the companion i… didn’t think i would come to enjoy the company of,” he added.
you glanced up at him then, astonishment written in your eyes as plain as the words on the paper you read for him every night. “may i ask you… a question?”
he nodded.
“did you believe you wouldn’t enjoy my company before, or after you had first met me?”
“i don’t understand.”
you swallowed, clearing your throat. “were you… wary of the idea of marriage, or wary of me?”
your gaze did not break from his. you were braver than he thought.
“marriage,” he answered honestly, hoping to witness your reaction.
there was the affirmative smile — the one he hated. “thank you for — for being honest.”
your eyes didn’t wait for a response. you turned back to your food, and left him dumbstruck.
“i hope i have not displeased you,” he stated.
“no, coriolanus,” you spoke. “if i am being honest… i was wary i would not be suitable for you. if i have not displeased you, then i am well.”
“but you stated you wanted more,” he countered, tone even.
“i hoped we would… spend time together,” you answered. “and we have.”
it was coriolanus’ turn to be at a loss for words. what would this admission relay? it only solidified what he was afraid of — you wanted a marriage filled of love, and he was not prepared for that. ever.
“the flowers were beautiful,” you spoke, interrupting his thoughts. “thank you for sending them.”
“your lilac perfume is a wonderful addition to the capitol,” he spoke, unsure where this had come from. “i wanted you to know that.”
you weren't supposed to say that you weren't supposed to tell the truth you weren't supposed
you smiled at him appreciatively, that accompanied a slight twinkle in your eye. you were quick to return to eating, but coriolanus couldn’t stop staring at your face. he realized then that was his new favorite smile.
there was a moment, a small moment, where he wondered whether it would be such a crime if he did allow himself to enjoy your company more than he had. in that moment, he couldn’t think of how it would go wrong. for that moment, you were a simple, low-maintenance, beautiful woman on the other side of the table with him that just liked spending time with him — and he enjoyed that you weren’t a problem. would it so bad if he entertained the idea?
he immediately cut himself off. of course it was a bad idea.
once dinner has finished, he had requested to walk you back your chambers. if time spent together was what kept you at bay, he could manage that. he most certainly could.
when the pair of you had approached the door, you stopped for a moment and paused reaching for the handle. you spoke, “would you… like to come in?”
“not tonight,” he rasped. he gave you a polite smile. “another time.”
he watched as you blinked your eyes a few times and your lips quivered. you didn’t meet his gaze, for it fell — in what appeared to be embarrassment.
oh.
you invited him in to… to…
that he had not expected.
before you had the chance to leave, he swooped down and grabbed your chin in his thumb and forefinger. he pressed his lips to yours ever so softly, holding it there. the moment your breath caught in your throat, there was a strange feeling inside his chest that made him feel like he’d like to quell your worries by catching you off guard another time. and another. and another. and another. he couldn’t have you feeling rejected, no — not when he didn’t want to reject you. he needed heirs, sure — but they could wait. he would contemplate how long later.
once he pulled back, you smiled. inside you were bursting, and you wanted to hurry behind a closed door so he could not see your reaction. he continued to hold your chin and gaze at your face. feeling brave, you looked him in the eye as you bid him goodnight and went into your room.
you left him standing outside your door, facing its wood paneling.
what was he to do?
he wanted to keep you as emotionally far away as possible to avoid anything like this occurring. he was prepared for people who had an ulterior motive… not a young woman who only wanted to be good to her husband.
the worst part was… not every part of him wanted him to keep you away.
would it be so bad, if he had actually courted you?
you were not anyone from his past, no. you were not irresponsible and impulsive, and you could be trusted to remain within a designated role and space. you were rarely outspoken — you never strayed from your cue cards, nor did you get smart in private. you never spoke out of turn, which coriolanus always knew — this was just the first time he was more turned on than he was just grateful.
he reasoned a reward was in order.
he found his knuckles wrapping on the door before he could stop himself.
the small movements inside your apartments stalled for a moment, pulled taut like a string in an instrument. he could picture you — standing still and silent, waiting for an explanation.
then he heard footsteps approaching the door before the door handle turned. when you opened the door, the first thing he saw was your eyes.
those big, beautiful eyes that looked at him with surprise — and the slightest bit of hope. coriolanus would most likely try to convince himself that he stayed completely still to exercise a form of control over you — but deep down, he would never be able to believe that completely.
however… when you reached out with your soft, delicate hand, and pulled at his own — it didn’t matter why he did it, because he won.
he shut the door behind him, keeping your gaze.
“i would be coy and ask if we could spend time together in a... different way than usual…” you began, sighing. “but up until this moment i was convinced we would never…”
coriolanus was in no mood to quell insecurities and anxieties. he understood that words could not compare to actions, and so he would do just that.
coriolanus stepped forward, and pressed his large hands against the sides of your face. for a split moment — you almost looked terrified. he usually relished in that look from others, but with you it only made him concerned — angry, even.
“i don’t know what it is about you.” his voice was shaky. it was the first moment in your entire marriage that coriolanus had shown even a shred of weakness. “you smile, you obey, you take my transgressions like they’re fucking sweets. why?! tell me!”
your big, round eyes were blown wide as your brow was knitted together. your lips were parted in an innocent manner, and it only fueled his anger. one of your hands came up to gently lay across the back of his. “coriolanus — have you ever considered that i just wanted to get to know you?”
his eyes searched yours like they were an important document and he couldn’t believe what bullshit he was reading. his lips pursed in a manner that suggested a sour taste, and you felt your joy slipping, slipping, and slipping.
“coriolanus — if you want to go, then go.” your voice was breaking. you knew he was a cool, hard man — but this? this? it was almost too much. “you don’t have to stay if you don’t —“
he couldn’t take your nonsense anymore. he shut you up with a kiss.
he smashed your lips together like it was the first thing he should’ve done when he walked back into the room. a squeal died in your throat at the contact, but coriolanus held you there and upright. both of your hands found the firmness of his chest for balance. when he pulled away — he barely did. he kept his lips an inch away from yours as little tuffs of air pushed past. he leaned his forehead against yours, almost bonding the two of you.
“my greatest displeasure will be making you regret this,” he rasped, eyes screwed shut.
your breathing began to hasten as you contemplated your next words. you began to stroke coriolanus’ hands with your thumbs, hoping to coax him. “you say that like it’s inevitable.”
“it is not far from,” he choked through anger and sadness.
you couldn’t help but stare back at him as he almost glared at you — but then you realized that wasn’t the case. he wasn’t glaring at you — he was glaring through you. whatever traumatized him, whatever made him so distrustful of the world around him and the people in it… you realized then that you represented all of that to him. you had to be different. you had to show him that you were different than all of that.
“i’ve trusted you,” you whispered, almost pleading. “i would like for you to try and trust me. please, coriolanus… i’ve never asked you for anything — just this once —“
coriolanus shook his head, dismissing you. “it’s corio.”
he slammed his lips to yours. his kiss was that of a fight; burning with every cut of anger, frustration, desperation, and sadness in his soul. you weren’t sure if he accounted for your inexperience, but you let him lead as you swallowed all of his suffering. you knew you may never be everything you wanted to be for him — but for this moment, or for whatever he would allow — you could be his escape, and he could be yours.
just this once, you both thought. just this once.
his hands were on both sides of your face, caging you in as you were at the mercy of his bittersweet affection. you tried to keep up with him, almost afraid that you wouldn’t be enough for him — but corio didn’t care. he couldn’t have cared less as he backed you into the foot of the bed. he didn’t stop kissing you as the back of your legs hit your soft mattress, and you were forced to sit down.
with his tongue tangling with yours, you managed to lift your hands to the top buttons of his shirt. he batted your hands away and went to work on his own buttons. you reached behind for your zipper to your dress and attempted to undue it.
corio then pushed your hands away with that too — ripping the zipper down its track and pushing the sleeves down your shoulders.
“corio —“ you gasped through the kiss, struggling to keep up with him.
he pulled away for a short moment, staring into your eyes. “i have denied myself being with you for so long — nothing is stopping me now.”
he held the glare, and you could only stare back at him in fright. however, that was when you realized that he had felt the same way, or at least similar — you both wanted each other, and had been scared to approach the other. your heart filled with warmth, threatening to explode, but all you could do was nod.
he seemed to calm down then, glancing down towards your lips where he prodded your bottom lip with the tip of his numb. “i have wondered for so long what it would be like to kiss my perfect wife — and now that i know, i don’t think i’ll ever give it up.”
you smiled at that. “can i tell you what i have been wondering?”
his eyes met yours once more, almost a warning. you didn’t falter, though. he replied, “yes?”
“i’ve wondered what it would be like to please you,” you spoke softly, a pink hue rising to your cheeks.
his flat look broke then, softening. a smirk greeted his features and you could see his confidence in himself rise. “my lovely wife wants to please me?”
“yes,” you spoke, holding your breath. “if you’ll let me.”
bright and striking, flames of mischief came to light in his irises. emotions of excitement and fear rose within you, and you weren’t sure which was stronger. all you could do was watch as your strong, powerful, larger than life husband stood over you, chin raised, looking down his nose at you, as he unbuckled his belt. his pants and briefs, once around his ankles, were discarded — but you didn’t see that. you couldn’t look away from his eyes — holding you, and your gaze, in place.
it was like you were an enemy he was testing. you didn’t know what he expected, let alone what would make him happy — but you hoped his expectations were slightly lower in light of your inexperience. you swallowed the hard rock of nervousness in your throat, stood up, and gestured for him to sit down on the edge of the bed. he raised an eyebrow at you, but complied. you sat down on your knees in between his, and waited patiently for direction.
“can you…” you began. “can you teach me?”
he smirked once more. “take me in your hand.”
you bent your head lower, and grabbed him by the base. he was hard and warm in your hand as you saw him trying to fight the twitching feeling in his limbs. his muscles were tight, afraid to show weakness. you grew uncomfortable — you didn’t want him weak, but you did want him to feel comfortable enough with you to enjoy a fucking blowjob.
holding his muscle upright, you stuck your tongue out and licked around the tip of his cock. he was salty, but smelled so masculine after a long day. his scent infiltrated all of your senses and had captured your attention. it made you hungry, greedy — so much so that you closed your lips around his cock and began to suck.
he jumped then. “teeth,” he spat.
you paled in embarrassment and fright — but didn’t allow your fear to show for long. you adjusted your tongue and lips — so that your top lip was folded under your top set, and your outstretched tongue covered your bottom set. hollowing out your cheeks, you took him into your mouth once more.
a low hum filled his chest.
you couldn’t see him, and could barely hear him — corio was being a selfish lover and not letting you know whether or not he was enjoying himself. he told you once before you were doing something wrong, so you tried to trust that he would tell you.
that was easier said than done, frankly. with your free hand, you reached up and began to massage his sack in the soft skin of your palm. the hum in his chest turned deeper and louder, and you felt his hips twitch once.
maybe it shouldn't have mattered that he wasn't vocal — but it wasn't like he was shy. you would not fault him for not doing something he didn't want to do, but it was like he was denying you that. if you were making him feel good, and he was fighting the volume of his moans — how fucking dare he deny you of that! there you were, constantly at his beck and call, and he couldn't even freely moan with you? you were obedient, quiet, grateful, everything he wanted — but this? this? too much. absolutely too much of an ask.
you had to do something.
"mr. president," you cooed, twisting your soft tongue around the tip of his cock. "you're awfully quiet above me."
he let out a laugh as he struggled to keep his composure. one of hands found the back of your head as his fingers struggled to tangle themselves in between your strands. they were tugging and pulling, but there was no strength in his grip. his grip — wouldn't catch. couldn't catch. corio, you husband — struggled day in and day out to keep the control in the capital and inside his castle. there was a part of you that believed he just needed to let go, let someone else be in control — but you were his pretty little wife after all. you had until death to try everything. losing control could wait, because tonight... tonight was about making corio the grateful one for once.
you let your loose grip run circles up and down the length of his cock. his shaft was wet and thick, begging the attention of the light from above so the skin was able to glisten. the tip of his cock, red and angry, almost neglected — never had you seen something so delicious, nor deserving of affection. your lips, swollen, wrapped themselves around the tip of his cock as you sucked. notes of salt and sweat mixed together on your tongue, and you hummed at the taste.
"taste sweet, mrs. snow?" you heard from above you. your eyes glanced up to find corio's eyes glazed over with pleasure. his eyelids were drooping over, and all you could think about how badly you wanted to make him close his eyes in bliss. your eyes watched his eyes, but his eyes watched the way your mouth sucked him in. "being so good for me. let your husband see what else you can do."
your ears perked in interest. you didn't know what he meant, but you were intrigued to see if he would teach you.
"please... show me what you like," you spoke, extending your neck as he lowered his face to yours.
"so eager to please..." he spoke, staring down at you in awe. his hand slid down for your scalp to cup your cheek. he looked into your eyes like he was studying you — searching for something surface level. a flaw, or something good... you weren't sure. "i suppose some would say i'm lucky."
you didn't like the sound of that... but you didn't let it show. you gave him a hint of a smile. "i don't think it matters what anyone else thinks. i think what matters is you telling me what you like... so you can decide if you're lucky or not."
he chuckled at that, but his laugh was reserved. always holding back, your husband. "you really want to be a good little wife for me... don't you?"
you fell into the strength behind the hand on your face and keened into his touch. his hand was warm against your skin. "please, corio... please let me."
he stood then, and your gaze raised with his body. you gazed up at him as he stared down at you. there his eyes went again — searching yours. he stood closer to you then, bending down slightly. "it would please me if, at any point, you told me to stop because of the pain. i don't want to hurt you." his voice was low and soft then, immediately striking you. "can i trust you to do that? hmm?"
"i'll tell you," you replied, nodding your head. "i promise."
"never break a promise you make to me," he warned.
you nodded your head once more, unsure how to proceed. he led you over to the side of the bed where he gestured for your to lie down. with the passing of time, you became more and more aware of how bare you both were in front of each other. you were ready to let down every fence of insecurity for the man before you... but there were still walls of his that threatened to come down. he was hot and cold every other moment, it seemed... and you weren’t even sure where to begin.
“husband,” you spoke, unsteadily, as he found his place between his legs. “you seem so… distrustful of me. what can i do? please, corio, i just want this moment to be special for us — for you.”
there his eyes went — searching yours again. it was like he was rereading a page in a book over and over, hoping to find the hidden message in the black and white scripture. his eyes, going back and forth, appeared to be looking over unclear smudges and scribbles as his lips began to purse. you almost said something — stopped him from withdrawing into himself, but he moved before you could.
he sat back against the pillows, which faced a mirror across your bed. you rose curiously, hoping that he would finally give you some direction. he simply took your hand in his, and gestured for you to come closer. “come,” he spoke.
in his lap, maybe? you thought curiously. you went to throw your leg over his, before he stopped you. with a furrowed brow, you watched as he adjusted you so your back laid against his chest.
“do as i say,” he whispered against your ear, sending shivers up and down your spine.
your eyes were cast to the side, his outline in your peripheral vision. you nodded, letting your lips fall apart. you felt one of his hands on the soft skin of your thigh, grazing upwards towards your hips. you almost let your eyes fall closed, hoping to lose yourself in the sensations, before corio stopped you.
with that same hand, he reached upwards and grasped your chin between his fingers. your eyes shot open as he moved your head to now face the mirror, and the pair of you in it.
shallow breaths were pushing past your lips as you stared into the mirror. your cheeks were flushed, your hair in a slight disarray, and your lips were swollen. with a flutter of your eyelashes, your gaze flickered towards corio’s reflection. your husband was always perfect — so even the slight persuasion from tidiness was a remarkable sight to you. his eyes were focused — unable to remain cool, calm, and collected as usual.
his eyes, you thought. his eyes will always tell me.
“you will watch,” corio spoke suddenly, voice hard. “you will keep your eyes on my hands. you stray, and i leave. understand?”
you nodded, looking into his eyes through the mirror.
he cocked an eyebrow.
“yes,” you spoke, almost breathless. “i understand.”
corio’s hand then found its way to your center. the tips of his finger tips, soft and hot, lightly drew a line up and down your slit. your eyes wouldn’t leave the mirror — focused on his fingertips. it was like your skin knew every correct button to tap, tap, tap. every part of you was so sensitive, so keen to his touch that you were embarrassed. you felt so pathetic against his chest, bent to his will — but you wouldn’t have had it any other way. the voice in your head was whining and hoping you would give in, just give in, let down your guard, give in, forget manners. you wanted to keep your composure as long as possible, but when corio’s middle finger found your clit…
oh… you were done for.
one of your hands immediately snapped up to find corio’s bicep and clutch onto whatever foundation he could give. you didn’t dare let your eyes meet his, even in the mirror — what if he stopped? what, huh? what then? when you were the closest you had been ever? you couldn’t allow yourself to be greedy, not when he was being oh, so selfless.
the circles he was drawing taunted your ability remain calm. he rolled your tiny clit underneath the weight of the tip of his finger and pressed down with every circle. it pushed, and pulled, and fucking pried at every fiber of your being. you could only force yourself up and back against corio, whining like a pathetic mess.
“running away from me, my sweet?” he whispered in your ear. “when i’m being so kind?”
his words bit at your ear, reminding you of your position in his world. your eyes were threatening to drift closed, hoping, praying, that corio would let you slip this once from your responsibilities. naive, you were, to believe that.
“remember our deal, wife,” he darkly cooed in your ear. “one request was all i had. i refuse to be denied it.”
“i know, i know…” you whined, rolling your hips with his hand. “it just feels so good, corio… i’ve never… no one’s ever…”
“i can tell you never knew how bad your body would crave it,” he spoke, nipping at your earlobe. “even your pussy obeys me, drenching my fingers. too sweet for this world, aren’t you?”
“just wanna be sweet for you, corio,” you whined as your vision began to blur.
the approaching orgasm was anything but a warm and fuzzy feeling around you. it was hot and jagged — making your muscles jerk, yet force your hips to roll into every movement of corio’s. the cloud over your brain felt like a warm haze of the finest whisky or tobacco the capital could offer. you were numb, drunk, and unable to process the world around you unless it was corio. his touch, his taste, his scent, his look, his orders… everything was setting you off and keeping you in place all at once. your body was hot to the touch, feverish as it tried to fight your sophistication and just fucking —
“that’s it, sweetheart. so focused on the mirror you can’t even find the strength to let go for me,” he spat, pressing a kiss to your cheek and breathing in your scent. “ride my hand like the good girl you are. you wanted to show me, remember?”
tears were brimming your eyes and blurring your vision. your teeth were gritted and bared for him. one of his hands came up to loosely grasp your throat as your hips began to spasm. it was so much, too much, so much —
“corio, please —“ you cried. “please let me look away. i can’t — i have to cry, i can’t —“
there was no softness in his movements against your aching clit. corio had now employed two fingers to dip into your core, collect your slick, and rub it along your sensitive bud in harsh circles. it sent your mind through a suffocating tube and gasping for air. you were begging, pleading — unsure what would happen if you were denied the ability to finish in peace. you began to cry in frustration and fear, so sensitive to the touch and his approval.
“corio…” you whimpered. “please, please let me…”
“do it,” he spat, holding your throat and kissing your face. “show your husband how fucking messy you can be for him.”
you grasped onto him and threw yourself back.
it was like a rollercoaster. twists and turns, yanking your body every which way. corio’s body rocked with yours as the sensations climbed and fit into every single one of your limbs. your lungs, burning, were screaming for air as you tried to fight for consciousness. the world was white, milky, foggy — unable to navigate, let alone exist in. all you could feel was corio’s body moving with yours and coaxing you through the most insane moment of your entire life.
tears fell down your face, and you struggled to conceal it. corio refused to let you hide from him. he bent his face low to yours and pressed the side of his face against the side of yours.
his breaths were heavy, similar to yours.
“corio…” you whimpered, almost whining.
“i know, sweetheart,” he cooed. “so good for me, weren’t you? asking so obediently and politely.”
you nodded, pressing your forehead against his. “i’m sorry that i was —“
“what’re you sorry for?” he demanded.
you clenched your jaw. “i was — i am — i’m worried i was too much — i was so — out of control —“
he shut you up with a kiss. coriolanus snow refused to allow you to continue, or else he knew he would be offended if he had let you finished.
“i wanted that,” he stated. “every bit of that. what, you don’t find it agonizing to be prim and fucking proper every day?”
you laughed uneasily, a bit spooked by his outburst of aggression. “i thought you — i thought that was what you wanted from me.”
he shook his head. “out there — it’s necessary. in here, when it’s only the two of us? don’t ever hide yourself from me. you must promise.”
you swallowed as your haze began to disappear. “only if you promise the same."
you saw his jaw pulse from the corner of your eye. “i promise.”
“i promise,” you returned.
you quickly reconnected your lips. you couldn't let the moment slip away. you needed to seize him while he was there — trusting you for the first time in your entire relationship. you found both of your hands on the side of his face and held him to you. corio fought for control, but you gave in immediately. the need for him to need you was stronger and more satisfying that anything else you could've experienced in that moment. you turned around, straddling his lap and pushing him down to the bed.
everything you were doing was improper: grabbing your husband, forcibly kissing him, sitting in his lap, pushing him down... you almost stopped. you almost gave into the insecurity and made friends with with meekness and shyness once more. however, you made a promise — and you intended to keep it.
"i want you inside me, corio," you whispered against his lips. "please, i want to feel you —"
"again, sweetheart?" he ripped himself from your lips to grunt out his teasing. "one taste, and you're addicted?"
you hummed approval against his lips, tangling your tongue with his. with one hand on the back of your head, holding your face to his, corio's other hand fished between the pair of you and grasped his leaking cock in his hand. the tip was red and swollen, aching for some stimulation or attention. he spread his precum over his tip and with a firm hand, corio slid his cock inside of you.
you arched your back away from corio. the feeling of him being fully sheathed inside of you bent your attention in every which was. both of your hands cradled the back of his head into your chest, where he found himself nestled between your breasts. his breaths were hot and heavy, moist against your skin. his swollen lips found one of your perky nipples and sucked it into his mouth, caving to his primal urges. coriolanus snow wanted every part of you for himself, and needed to place that claim on every part of your body. he wanted your thighs to shake and ache from being locked around him, your fingers to tremble from your hard grip, and he wanted your lips to be bruised from how hard he made you bite them. and, most of all, he wanted every loud moan to rip itself from your aching throat and fill the perfectly painted walls of this damned room.
he cursed you when you threw a hand over your mouth, and he immediately ripped it away. "don't you fucking dare," he spat.
you ignored him. he was your husband, and he was the scariest man you would ever meet, and yet you ignored him. most of all, your hips ignored him. they began to roll against his own the best they could for their inexperience. up, down, and grinding down was the best they could manage before corio grabbed you by the flesh of your hips and moved you to his liking. and when your mouth parted and a loud cry made your throat shake when he twisted your hips forward, he knew he found the spot.
"do not ever deny me what i am owed," he spat, fucking into that spot that wrapped a tight band around your abdomen. "i want to hear how good i am making you feel, and i will. i get to hear. those are mine. i am owed those."
again, you ignored him. what did he expect when your eyes began to roll back into your head and you began to match his pace? you were close, you were so, so close...
that was when corio grabbed you by the chin, refusing to let up his pace. his eyes were full of darkness, yet focus. like he had found his prey. you tried to focus, tried to give him the respect the deserved... but you couldn't. your mind was swimming, and your arching cunt was dripping down his length and onto the skin of his pelvis. you were lost. so fucking lost.
"yours, corio!" you whined. "all yours. only yours."
his voice was gruff against your lips as his thrust became rougher. "say it again."
your eyes began to drift closed as you leaned your head into the crook of his neck, rolling your hips against his. his cock had found its way to the most sensitive and purest part of you and ripped down every wall you had. you sobbed, "yours, corio. only yours."
corio threw you off of him and your back hit the bed. he was on top of you in an instant. he threw your legs up and pressed them against your chest. with your ankles on his shoulders, he pushed himself inside of you and began to relentlessly punish your perfect fucking pussy.
"mine, you got that?" he spat against your ear. "i have watched you, day after day, put on this fucking act! perfect and proper — but i made a proper whore out of the most desirable woman in the capital, didn't i? and now she's mine — forever warming my bed."
"forever, corio," you whined. your sobs were music to his ears, going straight to his cock. your cunt was raw from the friction and slick, unsure if corio should stop or keep going — but you didn't let him guess. "inside me, corio, please... want it to bad. been so good for you..."
his hand was around your throat and demanding your attention. "as if i'd waste a drop when every man in the capital would be able to see you round with my child. you want that wife? my seed, my child? you want to be fully claimed by me?"
"yes," you cried, tears falling down your cheeks. "give it to me, husband, please —"
corio reached down in between your hips and rubbed your clit with whatever energy he had left. his thrust were growing sloppy, but his movements against your swollen bud were worse. he was hissing in your ear as he continued the assault against you. your moans were loud as they escaped your lips and filled the room, setting corio's skin on fire. sweat dripped down from his brow and down his neck to mingle with yours as your second orgasm of the evening began to approach. it snapped the rubber band in your lower belly and you immediately sobbed into corio's neck. his hips continued to rut in you, forcing you down onto the bed as he swallowed all of your sobs for himself. your nails dug into his back and down his spine, hoping to rip parts from him that he had taken from you.
when corio came, you were in a stupor. cock drunk with your mouth hanging open, dazed. when corio came, one of his hands grabbed your messy pile of hair, wrenching at the roots. he pulled you to the side to suck on the sensitive skin of your neck as he pumped your cunt full of his cum. your walls were hot and sticky, full of him, but it only caused the most sickeningly warm feeling to spread throughout you. every primal need of yours was satisfied, and corio could see every bit of it on your face. the pride that welled within your husband... shameful. no man should be in possession of such an ego boost like making the prettiest, more desired woman in all of panem break from all bounds of social etiquette. you were warm, and wet, and craving every bit of his touch, so he couldn't deny you... not anymore. not when he felt the same. with each sob that left your mouth, he felt a kick in the pit of his stomach as his balls throbbed. never in his life had a woman ripped from him what he had taken from her, cheeks hot and muscles worn out.
he would regret it in the morning, maybe, but not now. no — not now.
"husband, forgive me, but..." you spoke. "my mind is a mess. i don't think i can read to you this evening."
corio rolled his eyes and laughed. "that good?"
you pressed a kiss to his lips as you hummed in approval. "never wait that long to bed your wife again."
he chuckled darkly. "watch it, sweetheart."
---
love u guys sm sorry it was so long ty for reading love u love u love u
The Less I Know The Better (JJ Maybank x Reader x Rafe Cameron)
summary: When you start dating Rafe Cameron, no one is more surprised than you when your best friend JJ takes it really well. However, no one is more surprised than JJ when he’s forced to see his once frumpy BFF in an entirely new light, suddenly terrified of losing what he never knew he had to the person he hates most.
➥ Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, violence, public sex, jealousy, underage drinking, drug use, manipulation, loss of virginity, mild unhealthy relationship, one sided kiara x jj, non canon ages, pogue!reader, dual POV
Summary: Gryffindors, seventh years, classmates, unrequited love. Just a few things Y/N and James Potter had in common. When a brilliantly dumb plan is hatched the two end up getting something a little different than what they wanted.
An excerpt, guys, pls tell me if u guys want me to continue:
The clinking of your richly carved bangles always preceded your presence along with the tinkles of your anklets and the moment you’d enter a room, you’d fill it with the fragrance of rosewater and sandalwood and sometimes, maybe the stark scent of henna.
Perhaps, that was the only fruit of the dreadful marriage Nikolai had. The sounds you’d make always pulled him out of his thoughts, stimulating his senses but he had never heard you utter a single word from the moment he had met you a mere six months ago, making him wonder if you knew Ravkan.
hi mal!! i’ve been thinking about james being a dad for longer than i’d like to admit. plsplspls fluff with either james finding out reader is pregnant or him with a daughter 😚😚
yes yes omg!! I think about dad!james all the time tbh. here’s a tiny blurb, but if you have any more specific requests for dad!james please please send them in!!!! I’d be so glad to write them
fem!reader
James is tired. He knows for a fact you’re even more tired. He’d offer to push the stroller for you but his arms are full of baby. Said baby won’t be put down in the stroller to sleep, she’ll wake up in a second and just cry and cry unless one of you is holding her.
You glance back at James, looking very soft and lovely in the late afternoon sun. Golden, really. Perfect. “You okay, darling?”
James thinks for a moment you’re talking to the baby. He glances down at her. No, you can’t be. She’s clearly fast asleep on his chest, her tiny fist clutching his shirt.
“I’m fine,” James says. Honest, he is. He might be exhausted out of his mind but there’s nowhere he’d rather be right now. “You?”
“I’m good,” you say, smiling serenely. “Great, actually.” Your eyes fall to your baby and soften tenfold before flitting back up to James. “You don’t want me to hold her, do you?”
James shakes his head. “Nah, that’s okay. You need a rest, honey. I’d push you in the stroller if I could.”
You snort with laughter and James wants to marry you all over again.
“James,” you say, chiding.
“What?” James says, laughing. “I’m sure you can fit. We could make it work.”
You shake your head at him but you’re smiling, the same smile your daughter gives James when he makes her laugh. James laughs at his own joke and shakes with it, and it’s only when your face changes that he realises the baby is stirring.
“Oh! James, honey.” You stop walking and lean over his chest to get a hand around your baby’s back.
“Shh. Shh, baby,” you coo softly, dropping your voice to a sweet whisper. You duck your head so you can talk into her soft, short hair. “Daddy’s waking you up with his loud laughing, huh? … Go back to sleep, sweet girl … That’s it.”
James doesn’t even have the heart to be offended. Not when you’re standing so close, using your sweet mum voice and stroking up and down your baby’s back. It’s like magic, how quick she stops fussing and goes right back to snoozing. She snuggles her face into James’ chest, and if she was awake she’d hear how fast it was beating from infatuation.
“You’ve got magic hands,” he says, his eyes following you as you straighten up.
“I wish,” you say, but you’re smiling. “The only reason she’s asleep right now if ‘cos she’s on your chest.”
James grins wolfishly. He’s not even sorry to say he’s very proud of himself. “Just like her mum, hm?”
You huff and roll your eyes but don’t argue. You both know it’s more than true.
“You’re awful,” you say, beaming like you don’t mean it at all.
James falls back into step beside you and nudges your shoulder with his. “Yeah, I know,” he says.
Summary: Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.
Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, first date, public sex, ripped clothing, teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 5.5K
A/N: We really don't have an excuse for this one. We just wanted 40s Bucky to have a good time, you know? This is basically smut with little bit of plot.
Please give my lovely co-writer @notafunkiller a follow. She's also a Bucky Barnes writer and her stories are amazing.
All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.
Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it's hate. That's never welcome.
Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.
Even though you really didn’t want to, you find yourself on a double date with your best friend. She literally begged you to come because she promised she would bring someone for her date’s best friend and apparently she really doesn’t wanna disappoint the handsome soldier.
You're shocked, though, when you arrive at the fair and see Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in the flesh waiting for you two at the gate.
You were pretty sure she brought you here for Bucky Barnes but it turns out your date is actually Steve Rogers, aka Captain America himself.
You don't know what to do at first, awkwardly watching your friend hugging Bucky as if they knew each other for ages. Even though they met just a day ago. Steve extends his hand politely, which you immediately shake.
It doesn’t take long for you to go inside the fun fair together while chatting casually. Your friend, Cassie, starts asking questions about the war. She loves front-line stories, but Bucky doesn’t seem like he enjoys telling them.
Steve, on the other hand, is very excited to do it, answering all of Cassie's questions as you quietly watch them. You wonder why you said yes to this date. You've never been into soldiers and even less into war discussions. But you love your friend very much even when she ignores you.
You find yourself looking at Bucky while Cassie and Steve start to chat and exchange stories. He kinda seems amused by this development. You shrug looking in his direction, waiting for him to say something. After all, you are both already bored and your friends don't even seem to care or notice you anymore in the first place.
Bucky just smiles and then tries to change the subject. You think he actually handles that topic change pretty smoothly and it sticks for a while until Cassie gets bored of talking about books.
You remark Bucky's sad face, but you don't say anything. Instead, you subtly start to walk slower, hoping he'll do the same. As Cassie keeps talking to Steve, Bucky notices you are getting behind and just slows down a little.
"You're okay? Are your legs hurting?" Bucky asks concerned while looking at her shoes.
“No, no, I’m fine. Just got tired of the war stories, that’s all.” You keep walking slowly.
"Me, too." He sighs. "It's a never-ending subject at this point."
“Well, where there's life there's hope.” You quote the Hobbit instinctively. You hold on to the hope, one day you won’t have to talk about this war.
Bucky gasps, looking at you in a way you never experienced before. "What did you say?"
“I just said where there's life there's hope.” You repeat, surprised by the way he probably recognized the quote. People usually have no idea what you are referring to. Not him though.
"You're a fan? Oh god!"
That starts your actual conversation with Bucky Barnes. It turns out he’s a big bookworm himself. He reads as much as he can, always buying more books that he manages to read.
You didn't even realize how close you are until your shoulders slightly brush. You blush when he smiles, clearly not minding. Still, you feel very conscious about your closeness and quickly look toward your friend, feeling guilty that you are enjoying the company of her date, but she doesn’t seem to care one bit. On the contrary, she’s actually holding Steve Rogers’ arm while talking and laughing.
"You're very beautiful." You hear Bucky murmur shily.
His compliment catches you off guard. You were about to apologize on behalf of Cassie. Yet you find yourself blushing.
"And you love reading. I am a lucky man. I get to talk to you."
“I could say the same thing myself, Sergeant. I much rather talk about books instead of the war.”
"Then you got the right company." Bucky smiles and looks around. "Should we get some ice cream?"
“That would be amazing.” And that’s how you end up separated from Cassie and Steve. Bucky informs them about their plan and then leaves without waiting for them.
You spend the next hour talking and walking around the entire fair. James even won a teddy bear for you. Once in a while both of you act like you wanna find Steve and Cassie, but you definitely don’t care.
"I don't remember the last time I felt so comfortable and good with someone."
“I’m glad I’m not boring the shit out of you.” You know it’s not ladylike to speak this way, but you feel comfortable around him. It’s crazy when you consider you just met him maybe two hours ago.
Bucky smiles. "I can say the same. Steve says I'm quite boring."
“He’s quite boring himself.”
"Is he?" He snorts.
“Yeah. Who knew Captain America would be into war stories?”
"Doesn't the name say it?" He continues in the same joking tone.
“The name suggests he’s heroic and boring but he’s more boring and less heroic than expected. Stealing his best friend's date doesn’t scream honorable to me.”
Bucky is shocked to see her indirectly standing up for him. "Maybe I stole his date, though."
“His date was uninterested from the start and just being nice to her best friend.”
"Is she still uninterested?"
“In him? Yes.” You act like you don’t understand what he is actually asking.
"Well, the feelings are mutual. About the date and now…"
“You were uninterested in Cassie?” You say it in a way that shows you don’t believe him.
"Wasn't it obvious?"
“Nope.” It definitely wasn’t when they hugged each other the moment they arrived.
"I was trying to be polite. She insisted on this… meeting because I helped her out. I was relieved I could bring Steve."
“She sounded very interested in you until Captain Rogers started with war stories.”
"She was staring at his… back ever since we arrived."
You burst out laughing and he joins you right after. It sets the tone for the rest of the night and makes you notice you both don’t give a shit.
*
"I want to show you something," you say after a few seconds and quickly drag him after you until you reach a darker alley close to the last attraction. You drop the teddy bear carefully at your feet. "Hi."
“Hi.” He still seems a bit confused, but it’s so cute. He looks at the teddy bear and then his eyes turn back to your face. You can’t help but smile.
"You're so cute. Has anyone told you that?" You smile in return.
He acts like thinking for a second. “No, not really. Just cute?” He fishes for more.
"And smart." You touch his chest shily. "And kind."
“Hmm, those are not what people notice first.” He moves a little bit closer. “You have something…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, his thumb brushes the corner of your lips. You wait for him to wipe off whatever you had on your face before opening your mouth and letting your tongue touch his finger shamelessly.
You watch Bucky’s eyes widen out of surprise. He didn't expect that at all. You grab his hand, bringing his finger inside your mouth, and notice how his breathing quickens. Yet he doesn’t stop you.
You let your tongue play for a few seconds until you let his finger go with a small bite. He lets out the lowest moan but not only do you hear it, but you also love it.
"Wow, I…" He doesn't know what to say, all red and excited.
“You what? Do you feel uncomfortable? Excited? I mean, I can stop if you want.”
In response, brave and happy, Bucky kisses you. His tongue is already on your bottom lip asking for permission, which you grant by opening your mouth without realizing it.
The kiss isn’t shy like you expected, and he definitely knows how to kiss. The way his lips and tongue move makes you want more, right then and there.
Your hands go to his neck as you let yourself enjoy the kiss even more. You keep kissing until you feel breathless. When Bucky breaks it, he doesn’t move away. His forehead touches yours as you try to catch your breath.
"This was…"
“I wanna do something if that’s okay…” You say while suddenly getting on your knees. You are wearing your favorite nylon stockings and you're sure they are gonna get ripped, but you don't care.
Bucky thinks he's daydreaming because how can this happen? How?
"What? What are you doing?"
“I think you know what I am doing, Sergeant. Just tell me to stop if you don’t want it, okay?” Your hands move to his belt but you wait for a reaction first.
"Stop. That's not… you don't have to do this. We are having a great time anyway."
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Is that okay for you?”
He can only nod, totally shocked and excited at the same time.
You unbuckle him slowly. Even though you are in a public place, you're in no hurry. You unzip him while looking into his eyes. When you finally take him out of his pants, he seems speechless. He’s already hard, but as soon as you start to move your hand, he gets rock hard after maybe four pumps.
"Jesus, you're so pretty. You look like a doll on your knees."
You smile proudly. “Tell me what I look like when I do this,” you say before taking him inside your mouth.
He closes his eyes, groaning. Your mouth is so wet and warm. You take it slow at first. Your mouth moves gently while you swirl your tongue around the head.
"Please." You hear him whisper, his left hand resting against the wall behind him.
You move your mouth away from him just to ask “Please what?” Your lipstick is already a little smudged.
"Oh god, keep going. Please, you're such a pretty sight."
“Tell me how I look when you're inside my mouth and I'll continue, promise.” You wink and remind him he still hasn’t fulfilled your request.
"Like a dream. Like a goddess."
“Hmm…” You go back to taking him inside your mouth without making another comment. This time, you move a bit faster than before and start using your hand.
"Your mouth will be the death of me."
That makes you smile but you don’t stop, moving your hand and mouth at the same time, hoping for a good reaction. His hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it enough to pull a little. That encourages you to go faster, in need for a tighter grip.
And you get it: soon, he wraps more of your hair around his whole fist, moaning your name.
“I think I'm gonna…” He sounds so breathy. “You should pull away.”
You look at him, acknowledging his warning, but showing him you are ignoring it. You keep moving fast, making sure your tongue flicks around the right spot every time until he spills inside your mouth. It’s a lot more than you are used to, but you still keep going until he completely empties himself. You take your mouth off, looking into his eyes before swallowing.
"No." He covers his eyes while groaning. "You can't do this to me, doll. Jesus…"
“Do what?” You innocently ask.
He doesn't answer you, taking you by the back of the neck and kissing you sloppily.
You don’t get a chance to warn him about the taste and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. He groans into your mouth when he feels your hands on his ass and breaks the kiss just to suck on your neck.
Then you feel his hands between your bodies, trying to pull up his pants again.
You break the kiss to ask: “What are you doing?”
"I'm putting on my pants," he sounds like a kid. "And I wanna get on my knees for you, too."
“Maybe I want something else that doesn’t require you to put your pants on.”
He nods, without understanding what you mean. "Alright. I'll just-" He drops his right hand until it reaches her skirt. "Is it okay?" You nod with a smile. Even though it’s not what you meant, it’s fine.
His fingers immediately go to your underwear and push it aside.
"Fuck me. Look at that." You are really wet and his curses don't help either. "Soaked. Is that for me, doll?"
“No, it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me.” You joke.
You feel his fingers stopping on your slit as he lifts his head. "What did you say?"
“I said it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me. You know that gets the girls wet.” You hope he won’t be offended by this. It’s just a silly joke.
In response, Bucky pushes a finger inside you quickly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Should I start talking about war, too? Bet that would get you even wetter."
You let out a deep breath, relieved. Thank God he isn’t offended. “That would get me dry as a desert, Sergeant Barnes.”
"Should I dye my hair then?" He snorts, moving his finger faster.
“Maybe you should get a shield. It would definitely look better on you.”
"A shield, huh?" Bucky adds another finger, trying to scissor them inside you a couple of times. "Is it too much?"
“Nope,” you say after a moan. “It’s not enough.”
"Fuck, you…" he closes his eyes. "You want another?"
“I want something else.” You smile, hoping him to understand this time.
"Yeah? Like what?"
You grab his cock and gently rub it without saying a word. You are not surprised he’s hard because his erection has been pressed on your leg for a while.
"Fuck. You want my cock, baby?"
“Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t let you pull your pants back up?”
"I don't-" He moans. "I didn't think."
“Come on. You are making me wait while I’m soaking your fingers.”
"Wanna make you…" Bucky interrupts himself by adding a third finger, his other hand going to your clit. "Happy."
“Fuck.” You throw your head back, that felt so good.
"You like this?" He rubs a little more, paying attention to your body. His fingers inside you keep the same pace, though. He isn't slowing down now even if it's the end of the world.
“Yeah, that.” You breathe out. You already feel your legs shaking and you're afraid your knees might give out, but it feels so good, you can’t seem to focus on the concerns.
"Hold on to me."
You put your hands on his shoulders and it helps you relax a bit more. After that, your orgasm comes crashing in like a big wave that leaves you breathless. He doesn't stop moving his fingers until you finish coming, then he slowly pulls them out, making sure to lick them before kissing you.
“You are such a dirty soldier, Sergeant Barnes,” you say with a smile.
"What is dirty about this?" He shrugs. "I'm a good soldier, of course."
“Doing this in a dark alley with me and licking your fingers clean like that. Very good soldier, indeed.”
"Ihm." He buries his head right onto your shoulder and breathes in. "Thank you."
“For what?” You find yourself kissing his hair while asking the question.
"For this evening and this. Thank you for trusting me."
“You are something else, Bucky,” you say while caressing his hair.
"Hmm?"
You kiss his hair and his ear, then move your lips to his neck. “You can thank me later. We are not done yet.”
"Changed your mind?" He smiles. "Want me on my knees after all?
“Maybe later.” You wink. “Now don’t act like you don’t know what I want because I know you want it, too.”
He freezes. "Wait, you're serious?"
“Of course I am serious. Just don’t finish inside, okay?”
He looks at you again all serious. "Are you sure? We don't have to, I can use my tongue."
“Don’t worry, it’s not my first time and yeah, I’m sure unless you don’t want to.”
Bucky looks at you with puppy eyes. "Uhm, it's my first time."
“Oh god.” Your eyes widen. “I… didn’t consider… that possibility. I’m sorry.”
Bucky starts laughing at your worried expression and kisses your cheek. "My first time with a bookworm doll."
You punch his shoulder. “You worried me!”
That makes him laugh even harder, and you can't help but smile. Because he's extra beautiful like this.
"Why? Do you have something against innocent boys, ma'am? Shame!"
“No, nothing against it. Absolutely would love to teach and corrupt but wouldn’t want that to be your first time.”
"You don't want to take advantage of me, huh? Such a good girl." He surprises you by suddenly lifting you and helping you wrap your legs around his torso.
“Would you like me to take advantage of you?” You kiss his jaw and cheeks.
"Fuck, yes. Yes."
“Then you have my permission to take advantage of me, too.”
He doesn't ask you again if you're sure. Instead, he lifts his right hand to your blouse and starts unbuttoning it as fast as he can. He's so impatient he even manages to rip a button. You just watch him work and smile, hoping the gentleman side of Bucky finally stops holding him back.
He groans at the sight of your hard nipples and quickly leans in to take one in his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” you whimper while he uses his tongue to play with your nipple.
It feels so good you don't even notice when his hand drops under your skirt. Until you hear the ripping sound.
“What the fuck?” You can’t believe he's just ripped your nylon stockings. They are so hard to find and so expensive!
"Whha?" He doesn't even take his mouth off your nipple as he speaks.
“Do you know how expensive those stockings are?” Your surprise is so clear in your voice. “You owe me a pair of nylon stockings, Sargeant.”
"They were in the way, baby."
“Getting impatient?” You mock a little.
He pushes his hips a little more. "Can't you feel?"
“You still owe me a pair.”
"What about these?" His hands are now on her panties. "How many do I need to buy you so I can rip these off?"
“Just one pair, but if you wanna rip that one, too, this cycle might never end.”
He sighs, contemplating, but he finally decides not to, only pushing your underwear aside. "How do you want it?"
“What do you mean?”
Bucky takes another step until your back barely brushes against the wall. "How do you like this? The sex."
“Don’t try to act all kind and push aside what you actually want to do. That’s how I want it.”
"Do you uhm… like it fast or slow? The pace I mean." He's slowly pushing inside you while he asks, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“That’s exactly what I meant. Do it however you want and we will see how I like it. Don’t be too gentle like this.”
"Talk to me, okay?" He's halfway inside you now, staying still for a few seconds as he leaves small kisses on your neck.
“Oh, I will, don’t worry, handsome. No one can stop me from complaining if I don’t like something.”
"Good girl." He tries different types of thrusts and angles at first, wanting to see what you respond to the most.
“Fuck. Why do you keep saying that?” She moves her hips to make him thrust faster.
"Because you're my good girl. Dirty too." He moans when he feels you. "God, you want it faster, baby?"
“Yes, yes, I do. Please. Move faster.”
And he does, his grip on your ass tightening as he starts thrusting just the way you want. "Fuck, you're soaked. You feel so good around me."
“You feel good, too.” You moan in between words. “And you are strong. Really strong,” you remark because he doesn’t look tired while holding you.
But he doesn't seem to acknowledge that. "I'm so fucking lucky, Jesus." He groans when he feels your lips sucking on his collarbone.
“You didn’t think your double date would end this way, huh?”
"Deep inside you? Not a chance." He smiles, speeding up.
“Maybe deep inside someone else.” You tease on purpose.
Bucky immediately stops thrusting. "What?"
“I was just joking about how we were meant to be on a date with other people.” You hate that you can’t shut your mouth sometimes.
"Oh," he nods, restarting to move. "Well, I can assure you, he wouldn't have done this tonight." He jokes back.
“Fuck me against the wall like this?”
"Fuck you at all. But especially like this. And the language?" He laughs. "Never."
“Oh, so honorable of him.” You keep joking. “Poor Cassie.”
His right-hand flies behind your head to protect it as his thrusts become way too quick. "Fuck. You feel like heaven, I swear."
“God, how do you do that?” You are surprised that he can carry you with one hand. “Are you sure you aren’t a super soldier yourself?”
Bucky shakes his head amused. "That will go straight to my ego."
“You're carrying me with one hand while protecting my head with the other, and you keep fucking me at the same time. I think it should go straight to your ego.”
He groans. "Lower one of your hands now."
“Lower it where exactly?” You don’t understand what he wants.
His hand moves from the back of her head for a few seconds just to bring her fingers to her clitoris. "Right here. Can you rub this for me?"
“Ohh.” You finally understand what he’s trying to do, so you listen and start rubbing yourself while his hand goes back to your head.
"Good, good girl. Look at you." He doesn't even realize how deep his thrusts are because his focus is on your fingers.
“Oh god… It feels so good.” You have never done something like this before. No public sex, no touching yourself during sex, no good girl whispers next to your ear. They all make you feel dizzy.
"Yeah? Just good?" His mouth finds your breasts this time, and you just know he's leaving a few marks there by the way he sucks on your skin.
“You wanna hear how good it makes me feel?”
"Ihmm."
“Oh, you are even dirtier than you are showing, aren’t you, Sergeant Barnes?”
He looks up immediately. "Say that again." He demands.
“Sergeant Barnes?”
"Fuck, you need to rub faster."
“You need to fuck me harder.” You say while listening to his order.
"Harder?" He repeats, shocked, not expecting that in the slightest. But he does as you demand in a heartbeat, biting his tongue because it feels so good.
You have a hard time holding back your reaction because it feels just perfect. You can feel your orgasm approaching.
“Shit, you need to cover my mouth,” you say as quickly as possible.
"Just use me. Bite my shoulder," he suggests quickly, keeping the pace exactly the same.
You wanna say no, because you don’t wanna hurt him but there’s no other choice left. You sink your teeth in somewhere between his neck and shoulder and try to muffle yourself. The orgasm hits you so hard that you are afraid someone is gonna hear you even like this.
"Fuck," he groans, the pain feeling amazing as you keep coming, your legs wrapping even more tightly around his ass.
“Please, don’t stop,” you manage to say and go back to biting him, very aware of the hickey you are giving him, but that doesn’t stop you because you don’t want to get caught like this.
"Can't stop." At this point you wonder how no one noticed you by now. The sound of your skin touching and your groans are not quite silent. But even if they did, you know you wouldn't stop. How could you?
"Keep rubbing, I want you to find pleasure again."
“Again?” You sound shocked because you've literally just come.
"Again." He tries to lift one of your legs a little more. "Please."
“I don’t think I can, but keep going, okay?” You already came twice in a short amount of time. How much more can you do?
"Well, I think you can." He smiles. "Gonna mark me up, baby?"
“I think I already did.” You can see your teeth marks on his neck. You are sure it will turn into purple really soon.
"I'm your property now?" The hand he has on the back of your head quickly grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist.
“Are you?” You like the sound of that and how he’s pulling your hair.
"I am." He's frantically thrusting in and out of you. "Rub faster."
“Fuck,” you mumble while rubbing yourself. You aren’t sure if it’s gonna do anything, but it feels good. “Can I keep you then? You know, kidnap you and hide you in my apartment so you don’t have to go back to the war. We can just do this every day.”
"Fuck, do it." He smiles. "I dare you."
“Should I tie you up so it looks more realistic?” And suddenly all that rubbing starts to feel different, more pleasurable.
"On your bed? Go ahead."
You laugh at how easily he’s convinced, but your laugh is interrupted by a moan.
"Gonna come for me, dolly?"
“I am not sure.” You struggle to speak. “It feels like it.”
He pulls your hair hard. "Please, please."
“You beg so beautifully, how can I say no?” It’s not like your body is saying no, either.
When you finish coming again, you watch with your eyes semi-closed as James takes himself out without dropping you even a little and comes right on your thighs and ripped stockings. You feel the warmth of his come while you both are trying to catch your breath.
"This was… wow."
“This is a hell of a first date.” You find yourself giggling. Did all that really happen? The soreness between your legs says yes.
Bucky slowly puts you down. "You think?" He snorts.
“Oh yeah, very memorable.” You notice that your stockings are completely ruined so you have no other choice but to take them off.
"Fuck, you're dripping." He doesn't look like he's sorry and he can't say he is, either. He's actually very proud.
“Yeah, I am aware.” You laugh while taking them off and using them like a washcloth to clean yourself up.
"You have no idea how lovely the sight is." He winks at you while zipping up his pants.
You bite your bottom lip while looking at him. “Likewise. You look satisfied, Sargeant. Did something happen while you were gone?” You pull your skirt down.
"I got touched by an angel."
You laugh. “So cheesy. You are lucky that you are a bookworm. A really good-looking one, who is also good at bed even though we didn’t even need one.”
"Next time. Maybe we'll break it." He sounds so confident, but not demanding at all at the same time.
“When are you going back?” You find yourself asking. If he’s promising you a second time, you are gonna take it.
"In one week."
You make a sad face without realizing then take a deep breath to help yourself focus on the positive side. “That’s a lot of sex.”
He immediately lifts your chin and presses a kiss on your forehead. "I was joking. We got two months."
“You are such a liar.” You punch him in his shoulder.
Which only makes him laugh. "You like it hard."
But your attention is on his neck, on the spot you bit so hard. The purple spot looks really old and mostly faded already.
"No comment?" He snorts. "We're gonna have a lot of fun for sure."
“I have a question.” Your eyes are still on that same spot. “Does Steve heal quickly?”
"Why? You plan on kicking his ass?"
“Just answer the question, please.”
"Yeah, he does." Bucky shrugs. "One of the perks of the serum."
“Even the small scars or purple spots?”
"Yes." Bucky doesn't even think about it. "Which is great. Why? You think your friend will want to know?"
You don’t comment about his question, instead, touch the spot you bit down so hard. “You are nearly completely healed. My mark has vanished.”
"What?" He asks, confused.
“I bit down on your neck so hard, it was dark red. Now it’s gone.”
"I don't get purple easily. Never did. I guess you have to suck a little more." He smiles leaning in to kiss you again.
“I fully bit you,” you say before he does.
"I noticed." He giggled.
Since he doesn’t take it that seriously you let it go. “Fine. I will prove it to you later.”
"Prove what?" He gives you another kiss.
“That you heal quickly.” You try to fix yourself while you kiss him back.
"Oh, I feel healed every time I look at you."
“You are so cheesy.” Yet you can’t help but laugh. “How do I look?”
"Good boy version or?" He pauses dramatically.
“Both.”
"Good boy version first: you look like an angel." He smiles cheekily.
You snort. “I’m asking if I look decent, Bucky.”
"Angel,” he repeats before dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing. "They won't know you've got fucked against the wall if that's what you're afraid of. But you look strangely content and happy."
“That’s because I had a good date.” You scrunch your nose cheekily.
"Me too. The best date ever."
“Should we try to find our best friends?”
"Oh, sure." Bucky leans in to get the teddy bear before handing it to you.
"Ready for more war stories?"
“No, I’m not.” You hug the bear. “I gotta wash this.”
Bucky snorts. "Poor bear. Got traumatized."
“Traumatized and all dirty.” You don’t notice how close you are to Bucky until you feel him next to you. “Should we keep this a secret from our friends?”
"Do you want to?"
“I meant the having sex in a dark alley part. I don’t think my friend needs to know that.” She definitely shouldn’t know all this.
"We should totally keep that part to ourselves." He smiles.
“I could say that you kissed me or something. I don’t know. Is that too forward for the first date?”
"There's no such thing. You can say I kissed you."
“I was genuinely asking.” You smile. “I normally don’t even kiss on the first date.”
Bucky giggles, his hand squeezing your hip. "I am a lucky gal." You smile back at him until you notice a familiar face.
“Oh, is that Steve?” You point to the tall blonde guy.
"Yes, that's him. But where is your friend?"
“Right in front of him. I can see her dress.” It’s sticking on the side.
"Oh, yes. Gonna drive you home after that if that's alright with you." He sounds so casual like he already did that many times, but you notice something else.
“You have a car and you didn’t think of using it until now?”
"Oh." Redness takes over his cheeks. "I got… distracted."
"You are such an idiot." You start to giggle while walking toward your friends.
"Your idiot now. You got stuck with me for at least two months." He laughs.
"Just for two months?" You test his intentions.
"I can't assume you'd want to wait for me, can I?"
"I will tell your best friend to bring you back home in one piece. He's the hero after all. That should be easy, right?"
Bucky looks at her with a soft expression before kissing her hair. "Guess you really got stuck with me."
"Oh shit, Steve saw you kissing my hair." It’s going to be hard to keep this thing between you two.
"Does it bother you?"
“No, no, no.” You quickly try to explain. “It’s just I’m worried that they might think the worst of me. I mean… questioning our closeness.”
"I dare them." She is surprised by how serious and determined he is as he speaks.
“I would kiss you right now if I could.”
"I won't stop you." He giggles like a kid.
“Our friends are,” you whisper and look at your best friend, who is coming toward you. Cassie is holding Steve’s arm proudly.
"Oh, hello," Steve says. "Where have you been?"
"Here and there." Bucky shrugs. "Did you have fun?"
"Yes!" Cass immediately giggles, joining the conversation. "He has the best, best stories. What about-" She cuts herself off when she notices your appearance. "What happened to your stockings?"
“Oh.” You blush a little, thinking about how they got ruined. “I tripped and ruined them. They looked so horrible I had to take them off completely.”
"Yes, they got really dirty," Bucky confirms with the biggest grin Steve has seen in ages.
"Oh, really?" He lifts his eyebrow. "What a shame."
“Yeah. Sergeant Barnes promised me a new pair. What a gentleman he is.”
"A gentleman indeed." Steve shakes his head, well aware of what you two have done.
You bite your lip and give Bucky a look, hoping at least Cassie has no idea. You are sure the three of you can keep a secret. For now…
You may wanna read the next part: Trust In What Tomorrow Brings
Extras: unofficial make out session | is james still a bad kisser? | meeting the parents | what flavor is that? | hanging with the girls | quidditch lesson | failed study session | life after hogwarts | the start of the crush | small or big wedding? | wedding dress shopping | james potter; kiss collector | first baby | james’ crush through the years | first official date | the gift of quidditch gloves | remus lupin, #1 shipper | finally receiving the love notes | sirius black, biggest hater | james’ massive honeydukes haul | james used to do what? | who helps james plan your surprises? | james potter and his list of names | the proposal | james meeting the parents
summary: You and Rafe hooked up when you first moved to the OBX, and he hasn't been able to get you out of his system ever since.
word count: 8.6k
warnings: SMUT, slight dub-con, p in v, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), hair pulling, choking, dark!rafe, toxic relationship, drinking, vague discussions of mental health
The air feels hot and humid even as the sun sets on the first day of summer. The annual start of summer bonfire is just getting underway, and you can already feel yourself starting to perspire. Not even your bikini top and denim shorts are small enough to keep the heat away tonight.
"Where the hell is JJ with my beer?" you grumble as Kiara takes a seat on a log next to you. "I'm melting over here."
Kie, who hasn't even started to glisten, just laughs. "That's what you get for being from out of state. All of us locals are used to the heat by now."
You feign a laugh and shove her shoulder. "You're hilarious. I've been living in the OBX for two years now, when are you guys gonna stop giving me shit for being from Boston?"
"When you're no longer from Boston."
You look up to see JJ and Pope, the first of whom hands you a full cup of metallic beer. The first time you tasted beer from a keg, you spat it out after a single sip. Since then, you've grown to love the taste of metal.
By the time you down your cup, the party raging around you finally starts to get exciting. You spot John B dancing with some girl who's clearly here on vacation, and watch as Pope stares longingly at Kie...who is staring at JJ.
Shaking your head, you stifle a smile and head over to the keg to fill your cup again. When you arrive, the line seems to go on forever, so you turn around, looking for something different, or a bit stronger.
"Looking for something?" a voice calls from next to you. You turn your head to see a shirtless Rafe Cameron holding up a bottle of whiskey. "Hey, Boston. I'll pour you a finger if you ask nicely."
Perfect. Just who I need to see today.
"Just give it to me, Rafe," you grumble, reaching out to grab the bottle. Humor dances in his eyes and you gulp, hating the fact that you are still affected by his bare skin.
He pulls it away at the last second, making you stumble forward slightly. He's much taller than you, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eye, but that's how he likes it.
"I said nicely," he grins, holding the bottle out again.
Rafe can see the anger growing behind your eyes, and it builds the excitement in his own. He's only seen you mad on a few occasions, but that was when you were the most fun.
You roll your eyes, tossing your empty cup at his feet and shaking your head. "Whatever, Cameron. I'm not playing this game with you."
You turn and start walking across the sand to your friends, when a hand grabs your wrist and spins you back around. "Rafe, what the fu-"
"We need to talk," he mutters under his breath as he leans in close - too close.
You take a step back and put on what you hope is your most menacing look. "We are never talking about what happened, okay? Ever."
This time when you storm off, he lets you, and you make your way back to your friends, hoping they didn't see any of what just occurred. When you sit back down on the log next to Kiara, JJ's spirited recounting of a time when he stole a six-pack lets you know that you're in the clear.
***
You are waiting for JJ to finish his shift at the docks when you see Rafe again. He is grabbing something from his yacht when he catches your eye, and you look around for a moment before deciding that making a break for it would draw too much attention.
He takes his sweet time walking over, and you squint against the bright sun as he finally stands in front of you.
"Finally stopped avoiding me?" he taunts, his voice low over the heavy breeze.
You laugh humorlessly. "I'm not here for you, Rafe."
"You're on my side of the island."
Of course that's how he would see it. The separation between Kooks and Pogues is something you still have a hard time wrapping your head around, but each interaction has made it clear that you may be the only one.
"I'm not doing this with you," you sigh loudly, turning to see if JJ has appeared yet. "Just go back to your fucking yacht and let me live in peace."
Your words are laced with malice, but he can sense the tension hidden under your tone. He gives you a once-over, taking in your skimpy tank and shorts, and frustration flares behind his eyes as he realizes just how much you have started to look like all the other Pogues you hang out with.
"So it's about the money," he says, his voice slowly ramping up as he speaks. "If the only reason you can find to hate me is my money...then maybe try a little fucking harder."
"I don't fucking care about your money, Rafe," you gape, appalled by the fact that he could boil it down to something so small. "You're not a good person. All you do is bring out the worst in people."
Something that looks like hurt crosses his face for a split second before it turns into a frightening air of pride. "Like I did with you?"
You blanche, glaring at him even as your face flushes with embarrassment. "I didn't hear you complaining."
He wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb, glancing behind you for a moment, before leaning down to your level. "My mouth was a little preoccupied."
Heat sizzles through your veins and you feel a gush of wetness as his breath tickles the shell of your ear. There's a ghost of a smirk on his face, but there's also a flare of irritation in his eyes that sets off a nervous excitement inside of you. You don't know what it says about you that you like the fact that he looks like he wants to tear you apart just to put you back together again.
Your eyes fall shut for a moment, before you regain your senses and shove him away. "Fuck off, Rafe."
"Leave her alone, Cameron!" JJ's voice suddenly calls from behind you.
Fuck. Of course he saw JJ, he's just trying to get a rise out of you in front of the Pogues.
You close your eyes for a beat, and when you open them again, Rafe is wearing an amused expression.
"See you around, Boston," he salutes before spinning on his heels and walking away.
You paste a smile on your face when JJ comes up behind you, and when he asks if Rafe was bothering you, you don't know why you end up saying 'no'.
***
Before you know it, the Midsummers party is around the corner. Kiara's family makes her go all out for the celebration, and John B has been sneaking off to meet up with Sarah Cameron, still pretending that they all don't already know what's been going on between them.
When John B finds out that Pope and JJ are both working at the event, he approaches you with a plan to get in, but you decide that simply asking Kie to be her plus one may be a simpler solution, for you at least.
When the evening of the party finally arrives, you find yourself in Kiara's room, getting ready for an event you have never seen the likes of before.
"What's with all the flowers and stars and shit?" you ask as she hands you a flower crown that looks like hers, but slightly smaller.
She shrugs, placing her crown over her hair. "Don't ask me. I've just been dragged to this party every year since I was 13."
You would never admit it, and especially not to Kie, but you're actually pretty excited for Midsummers. Ever since your family packed up and moved out to Kildare, you've only really gotten to experience the Pogue life, and while your friends were everything you wanted and more, a taste of Kiara's upbringing wasn't entirely unwelcome.
She may complain about the Kook life, but there was something to be said about having everything you needed at your fingertips...and that something spoke to you.
The country club is decorated beautifully when you arrive with Kiara and her family, and you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the torches and the scent of flowers that waft around you.
It smells...expensive, for lack of a better word. And you don't hate it.
Rafe notices you the moment you walk in. He doesn't even bother trying to tell himself that his eyes were just wandering, because ever since he found out the Carreras had added a plus one, he hadn't stopped looking for you. He half-expects you to turn your nose up at this event, just like Kiara always had, so he's taken by surprise when he sees the wistful expression that crosses your face.
You like it here. The thought brings a small smirk to his face and he takes a sip of champagne to hide his glee. He doesn't have to hide for long, because his expression immediately falls the moment your waiter friend comes by and pulls you into a spinning hug.
Rafe turns away from the scene and tunes back in to the conversation he was having with Topper and Kelce.
"I feel like Sarah's been avoiding me," Topper continues miserably, and Rafe resists the urge to roll his eyes.
Of course she's avoiding you. She can't handle being committed to anyone, let alone a spineless prick like you.
He has had just about enough of Top's complaining for tonight, so he downs his glass in a hefty gulp and walks out onto the dance floor to get some air.
That's when you notice him. His pale blue suit makes him look soft under the waning sunlight, but you know better. Even if you sometimes wish you didn't.
You watch as he grabs a champagne flute from a waiter's tray and takes a long swig. Memories of his lips trained somewhere else send a shot of heat through your abdomen, and you press your legs together under your dress.
His throat bobs as he swallows the bubbly liquid, and you don't realize you've been staring until Rafe's eyes meet yours.
Your eyes widen and you turn away immediately, but it's too late. You don't have to look to know that he's coming up to talk to you, and before you can formulate an escape plan, he is standing beside you.
Rafe can feel the tension wafting off of you, and while he does love to agitate you, he definitely doesn't want to cause a scene and embarrass his family.
He leans over by a fraction of an inch and his bicep glances against your shoulder. He is fully ready for you to shove him aside or start another outburst, so when you don't move, he can't help but lose his breath.
"I thought you were too cool to party with the kooks."
You scoff, looking at something out on the horizon. "I'm only here to keep Kiara company."
"You just keep telling yourself that."
He always did know how to say just the right thing to get a rise of you.
"What do you want from me, Rafe?" you ask, finally looking at him. "Just tell me what you want, so we can stop this asinine charade we've been playing for a year."
He almost doesn't know what to say now that you have finally addressed the growing tensions, but when the words form, he can't hold them in. "I want you to admit that you haven't stopped thinking about what happened that night...because I damn well know that I haven't."
It takes you a few moments to fully understand his words, but once you do, your body involuntarily takes a step back.
You would be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about what happened between you two. If you said you hadn't pictured his mouth when you slid your fingers between your thighs late at night.
Everything about that night had been a surprise, but nothing more than how Rafe Cameron had made you feel when you finally slipped under his sheets.
You can't even say you were drunk, because the expensive liquor had been too much for you and you hadn't touched your cup since arriving at the Camerons' end of summer house party.
It was your first summer on Kildare, and the Pogues had just accepted you into their ranks. You weren't sure if you would be able to fit into their tight-knit group, so you took a chance and went to a Kook party.
The drinks had been too heavy and the music too loud, but everyone was having fun, so you tried your best. However, if you had been honest with yourself, you would've known that you had come to this party for one reason. One person.
Instead, you pretended this was a way to explore the island, and when you needed a break from the party, you had gone up the stairs and sat in the first empty room you could find.
When Rafe found you there, sitting on his bed, he almost didn't seem surprised.
"I've seen you around," he had said, setting his cup on his desk, "hanging with those Pogues."
"What is with the fucking names around here," you had mumbled under your breath, until you heard his quiet chuckle. "I just don't get why you guys have divided the island like it's fucking Battleship or something."
"What's your name?" Rafe asked then, his eyes trained on yours like a hawk. "Where are you from?"
You weren't sure what you wanted out of tonight, so you stuck with a simple answer. "Boston."
He laughed again, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on the chair opposite you. "What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"
You jolt out of the memory as Rafe's head dips down to look at you.
So yes, it would be a lie to say that you hadn't thought about him since. But lying to him was easy, especially when the truth had the power to tear your life apart.
"I can't," you whisper, leaning in like you have a secret. "I can't admit it, because it's not true."
His lips part with shock, and you take this second of confusion to rush down the stairs and onto the dance floor, where Kiara is waving you over.
"Was Rafe giving you trouble?" she asks as you take her hand and follow her out onto the lawn. "I would say I'll tell the guys, but my parents would kill me if I created a scene."
You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "No trouble. He was just asking what I was doing here."
She still looks concerned, so you pat her hand and cock your head over to where Pope is working with his dad. "Let's go say hi."
"I hate to say it, but the kooks really know how to throw an event," Pope muses when you approach him. "Don't tell JJ I said that."
Kie starts to laugh but it quickly turns to a cough when she points to the veranda off to the side of the party. "I guess John B found his way in."
You follow her line of sight to find John B pulling Sarah Cameron into a tight hug. When you look past her, you notice that Topper and Kelce are getting dangerously close to spotting them.
"Guys," you whisper-yell, getting their attention, "we need to buy him some time."
Kiara frowns. "I got Topper."
"I guess I got Kelce," Pope sighs as they disperse.
You glace around the party for a few moments before deciding that your efforts may be better spent inside. Pushing past all of the couples swaying on the dance floor, you walk into the country club, catching onto the railing when you stumble over your heels.
Other than a few stragglers and couples making out in the corner, the club is basically empty, most people favoring the festive pavilion. You're about to head back outside when a familiar voice calls to you from across the hall.
"If you want me to leave you alone, you gotta stop following me around everywhere."
You suck a breath in, spinning around to see Rafe sauntering over to you. "I'm starting to think you might be stalking me, Boston."
You make an undignified noise, your eyes taking in his tall form. His hair is falling into his face and you begrudgingly admit that he looks good - really good - but this isn't the time. You're supposed to be helping John B.
"Give me a break," you scoff. "Why would I be stalking you?"
Rafe shrugs, striding forward so he's a step away from being face to face with you. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, seeing as how you don't think about me."
He takes another step, his breath fanning over your temple. Your face burns as you try to avoid looking at him, but with his lips so close to yours, it's nearly impossible.
When you finally look up, his eyes are piercing, and your mouth dries up like the room has been turned up a 100 degrees.
"Now," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours, "I'm gonna go back to the other kooks."
He takes a step around you, and you almost let him, before you remember what you're doing here in the first place: distracting him.
Running on pure instinct, you grab his arm and pull him back toward you until his lips meet yours.
Rafe can hardly believe what is going on, but your mouth is hot and sweet and he would be remiss to let you get away when he's finally gotten you back. You smell like gardenia and he takes a deep breath in as his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you closer to him under the dim light of the club.
You can taste the champagne bubbles on his tongue when he kisses you back, and you gasp against his mouth when his hands tighten on your waist and push you against the side wall, away from the view of the party.
Your back hits the wall with a thud and you almost laugh at the fact that he wants to hide this as much as you do, but it feels so good and it's been so long, that you allow yourself a second to stay in the moment. With him.
When his hands come up to tug your hair back, the sharp sting sends a shot of heat through your core and you bite down on his bottom lip for good measure.
Rafe pulls back with a wince, but he doesn't look mad. The opposite, if anything.
He presses his thumb against his lip and the sight of his blood sends you flying back to reality. Reaching forward to wipe a bit of your lip gloss off the corner of his mouth, you flash him a grin and stalk back into the party.
When your conscience comes back to haunt you later that night, you tell yourself it was all just to distract him.
***
After the party, Rafe screws his eyes shut as the girl kneeling in front of him takes him in her mouth, her lips gliding up and down his length at a maddening pace.
His head falls back and he resists the urge to grip her hair and pound up into her, even though his body is begging for a release. He doesn't want to touch her or taste her or even open his eyes, because then he'll remember that she's not you, and that's exactly what he needs tonight.
You're what he needs every night, but when he saw your blond friend tuck his face into your hair as you left the party, he had seen red and needed an immediate reprieve.
His cock twitches in the girl's mouth and he allows himself a single moment to imagine it's you instead. To picture your soft lips and wide eyes and -
A groan tears through his throat and he spills into her willing mouth.
***
It doesn't take long for Sarah to insert herself into the Pogues, but once she and Kie figure out their shit, you find that you don't mind having another girl around.
She was fun to hang with at the Chateau, and she was a great surfing buddy, so when John B recruits the gang to break her out of her house late one night, you don't question it.
As usual, the plan is pretty much to go with the flow, but once you make it to the Cameron property, the risks of what you're about to do finally hit you all.
"Okay, fuck this," Kie sighs, holding her hands up. "We need an actual plan this time. I say John B and y/n sneak up to her room to get her, while JJ, Pope, and I create a distraction out back."
You nod, fist bumping John B and saluting the rest of the group. "Let's do this."
Once you find an open window at the back, the plan goes into motion, with Kiara and the guys lighting a pillow on fire while you and John B hide behind curtains on the first floor.
When Ward and Rose run out back, you both hightail it up the stairs before slowing to a tiptoe on the top floor.
"I'll get her from her room," John B whispers to you as he sneaks along the wall of the hallway, "you keep a look out."
He slinks off down the hall as you backtrack, being careful not to make any noise. You hear a few excited whispers from Sarah's room, but you don't notice anything else until a hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into a room off the hall.
You stop trying to scream when the door shuts and you realize you're in Rafe's bedroom. Peeling his hand away, you shove him off, glaring at him as he smirks back.
"Now I really think you're stalking me," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face. "What are you doing here, Boston?"
"That's none of your business," you spit, turning on your heels to leave.
You don't make it to the door before Rafe's hands spin you back around and push you against the wall. There's a small thud as your back makes contact, but no pain comes until he presses his hand to your throat, keeping you in place.
"Actually," he licks his teeth, "seeing as how it's my house, I think it is my business. Now spill it, Pogue."
"I can't say anything while you're choking me," you grit out, your voice just barely constricted by his hand.
He barks out a laugh, his hand tightening on your throat until it actually hurts. "You call that choking? When I'm really choking you, you'll know...because you'll be begging for more."
Against your every instinct, heat floods your core, and you know he's right. You know that whatever this is, whatever dark, animal urges he is running on, so are you.
He must notice the shift in your eyes, because his face dips down and your chin involuntarily tilts up to meet him halfway when a voice whisper-yells from the hall.
"Y/n!" Sarah calls out, "where are you?"
You use this moment of distraction to push him off and slip through the doorway before he can make himself seen.
You meet the group at the bottom of the stairs, where they are all waiting.
"Where the hell were you?" Pope asks, concern tinging his impatience.
You wave away his confusion, following them out of the house. "I thought I saw someone, so I hid in one of the spare rooms."
It's not the truth, but it's close enough that you allow yourself the omission. The part of you that wanted a person like Rafe; the part that was drawn to the darkness, instead of running from it...that part of you needed to stay hidden, even if it meant lying to the people you loved most.
***
Every Friday night, you guys would all have a 'Pogue party' at the chateau. This always consisted of drinking, smoking, and playing stupid games until everyone passed out for the night, and tonight was no different.
The air was sticky with heat and John B had left his door open to let whatever fresh air there may be in.
You're already a couple of shots in when JJ finishes his joint and starts to get paranoid, like he usually did.
"We need to figure out how we're gonna get back at the Kooks for what happened at Midsummers," he commands, his hands gesticulating wildly. "They can't get away with treating us like shit."
"I actually agree with him," Pope nods, taking a sip of his beer. "We need to retaliate so they know we won't take their shit lying down."
Kiara lets out a small laugh as she hops up to sit on the arm of the couch JJ is lying on. "What do you propose we do then? Set fire to their backyard? Already done."
You don't even register that it's you talking when you blurt out, "What if we just let it go."
You blink when the rest of them gape at you, only then realizing what you said. "That was a joke."
"Good," JJ squints, a small frown coloring the edges of his mouth. "So anyway..."
You stand up from your spot on the couch and head into John B's kitchen with some lame excuse about getting another drink. You have no idea where your comment came from, but if you had to guess, you think it may have something to do with the growing presence Rafe has had in your life recently.
You grab a bottle from the counter and take a long swig that burns your chest from the inside out. The flavor just reminds you of the whiskey on his tongue from the night you got together, and the bottle almost falls from your grasp.
It takes you almost an hour to get your bearings again, but when you head back into the living room, the rest of the gang is asleep.
Sighing, you lay down on one of the couches and close your eyes.
***
An hour later, you're no closer to falling asleep than you were when you first closed your eyes. Your mind keeps wandering to memories that you have kept locked away for a long time - too long.
The sound of a soft breeze hitting the wind chimes out front lulls you into a quiet trance and for once, you finally let yourself succumb to the memory.
"What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"
"I got lost," you said simply, shrugging. You both knew you were lying, but that's what made it more fun.
He had flashed you a sly smile and you had wanted so bad to just reach out and trace the seam of his lips with your fingertip. He looked so pretty under the soft moonlight, and you were the kind of girl who knew how to get what she wanted.
You knew that was probably why you had been so infatuated with Rafe since coming to the island. Because of the challenge. Because he's a Cameron, and you're practically a Pogue, and something about getting a taste of the darkness excited you more than you'd care to admit.
"Why don't I believe that?" he asked, his voice coming out like a breath. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, and you had to exercise all of your self control to keep from staring at the way his biceps strained in his button-down. "I know about you, Boston. I've seen you watching me."
"Oh yeah?" you had smirked, pressing your feet into the ground and inching your legs apart. "What are you gonna do about it?"
Your eyes fly open and you sit upright, your breaths coming out in short spurts. This was too much to bear, even without the other Pogues sleeping all around you.
Taking a deep breath, you carefully step over JJ's sleeping form, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards on the way to the door. You slip through the open doorway and out into the trees, feeling more and more reckless, the farther you get from the chateau.
It's a long walk to the Cameron mansion, but the fresh air doesn't help clear your thoughts. You're a long way from the girl you were when you first moved to the OBX, but Rafe keeps finding a way to prove that you still have the desire for pain and discomfort. For danger.
When you get to their front porch, you allow yourself one moment to pretend that you're here to get Sarah, but when Rafe pulls the door open, you can't deny it any longer.
He must be able to see it on your face, because his mouth curves up into a slow grin that makes your eyes dance with relief.
"Is Sarah home?" you ask, maybe somehow still hoping for one last chance at a reprieve.
He shakes his head. "She just snuck out."
You nod once, glancing behind him. "Can I come in?"
He leads you out to the back balcony that has a small patio setup and a beautiful view of the ocean. "I'm assuming you don't want anyone to know you're here, so this is the farthest we can get from the bedrooms."
You press your lips together, taking a seat on one of the couches. The wind brings a slight chill, and you shiver, prompting him to hand you his hoodie.
The waves are crashing quietly against the shore, and they look like black ink under the night sky. When Rafe takes a seat next to you, you glance over at him, watching his jaw twitch as his hair rustles in the breeze.
He looks almost wistful under the dim lighting, and your brow scrunches as you try to fathom how this boy could have fallen so far.
"You hurt my friends," you whisper once the silence starts to become unbearable.
"I know."
You pause for a beat.
"You hurt me."
His eyes flicker down. "I know that too."
You run a hand through your hair, your breath coming out like a scoff. "I don't understand what you're doing, Rafe. Please, just help me understand it all, because I feel like I'm losing my mind trying to come up with excuses for you."
That gets his attention. "I never asked you to make excuses for me."
Your face contorts and he closes his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, Boston."
"Don't you think I know that?" you cry, before bringing your voice down again. "I've just never had the best judgment when it comes to you."
"What are you gonna do about it?"
Rafe stood up from his chair, his eyes impossibly dark in the dim light of his room. "You sure you know what you're getting into?"
You nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Do your worst."
His eyes flashed and he pushed your knees further apart, sending you falling back onto the bed. You were prepared for him to lift your dress and tear your panties off without a warning, so when all you felt were his fingers trailing up your thighs, you were almost upset.
But then he ran his cool finger down your glistening slit and you gasped loudly, turning your face into the sheets bunched up around you.
"So wet for me," he mused, sticking his finger into his mouth. "Sweet too."
Without another word, he pushed two fingers into you, sinking all the way in as you squirmed over the covers. It took a second for you to get acclimated to the feeling, but once his mouth came down to join in, waves of heat had already begun spreading through you.
You practically whined when he lifted your ankles over his shoulders, diving back in to run his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your hands came down to grip onto his hair as he continued his pleasurable assault to your dripping cunt. The sharp tug made him groan, which only sent more vibrations up your abdomen.
"Fuck, I'm close," you moaned as he pressed his hands into your stomach to keep you from rising off the bed. "Don't stop!"
Instead, he did exactly that.
"Asshole," you spat as he grinned back at you, his chin glistening with your slick.
"We're not done yet," he said simply, lifting your legs off of him and pushing you back further on the bed.
Rafe began undoing the buttons on his shirt, so you lifted your dress off, chucking it onto the floor beside his clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he slowly pulled his pants down, his thick cock springing out of his boxers.
Saliva flooded your mouth and you instinctively reached forward, hoping for a taste, but he batted your hand away. Climbing over you, he grabbed a condom from his drawer and slid it on, pumping his dick a few times for good measure.
"It's not gonna fit," you whispered as he lined himself up with your cunt.
"I thought you said you could handle it."
His smug expression sent a flare of anger through your brain and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him down and inside of you.
The stretch was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure and you both moaned in tandem, his low groan blending with your sharp gasps. He pushed a bit further until he was all the way in, before starting to move.
His thrusts began slow and shallow, allowing you a few moments to get used to his size, but the moment you began to squeeze around him, he changed his pace.
"Rafe, fuck, yes," you gasped, your hands lifting up to press into his back.
His thrusts sped up, hitting the same perfect spot inside of you as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. It only took a few more seconds for the coil to snap, and you cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as you spasmed around him.
Once your orgasm had finally begun to abate, he pounded into you a few more times, before spilling into the condom and pulling out.
You were lying next to him, your breaths finally starting to slow, when you saw him turn to you out of the corner of your eye. "Wanna go again?"
The sounds of the water pulsing below is all you can hear for a long time. You're so focused on the sound that you almost don't hear it when Rafe speaks again.
"I don't have an answer for you," he murmurs, his voice carrying just barely above the breeze whistling by your ears. "You said you wanted to understand me, but I don't even know what's going on inside my head half the time."
Your brow furrows and you place your hand on the couch between you two. His movements seem unconscious as he slides his fingers over so that they press against yours.
"Do you regret it?"
"Regret what?" you ask, turning to look at him.
"That night," he says, stumbling over his words. "Our night."
It would be so easy to lie, just like at Midsummers, but this time feels different. Lying now feels like a betrayal, and even after everything he's done, you can't bring yourself to cross that line.
"No," you sigh, pressing your hand on top of his. "I don't regret it."
***
When you get back to the chateau, Sarah is sitting on the porch.
"There you are," she pouts, standing up and giving you a hug. "Everyone's asleep inside, and JJ's sprawled out over the whole floor, so there's nowhere to step."
You laugh lightly, hoping the night's exploits aren't written all over your face. "I was just out looking for you, actually."
"Huh, weird," she frowns. "You'd think I would have ran into you on the way here then."
You shrug, hoping she'll drop it, and walk past her to get the door. You haven't even reached the knob when she grabs your arm and pulls you back, somewhat forcefully.
"Y/n," she whispers, her voice low and warning, "why are you wearing Rafe's sweatshirt?"
Your eyes widen and you yank it over your head. "Sarah-"
"What have you gotten yourself into?" she asks, her voice sounding genuinely concerned.
You look at the hoodie for another second, before tearing your eyes away from it and handing it to her. "It was nothing. It was stupid, and it won't happen again."
She takes it and ties it around her waist before shooting you a sidelong glance. "This is different. I've seen you around guys you hooked up with. This isn't like that."
You open your mouth to speak but she lifts her hand up, cutting you off. "I won't tell Kie or the guys, but you need to figure out what the hell is going on in your head."
Tears flood your vision. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I can't even imagine what you must think of me."
"Hey, don't apologize to me," she whispers, taking your hand. "I mean, I still love him after everything...what does that say about me?"
You blink the tears away and let Sarah Cameron loop her arm through yours. Maybe everything would be okay again.
***
You don't see him again until he and Barry ambush your friends at the airplane hangar. The altercation turns violent too fast and before you know it, Pope and JJ are on the ground, throwing around punches faster than you can keep up.
When Barry goes for JJ, you rush into the action, but Rafe manages to snag your arm, shoving you out of the way. You stumble back, bumping your hip painfully into the boxes beside you.
Anger and hurt fills your vision and before you can understand what you're doing, your hand flies up to slap him across the face.
He barely flinches, his teeth gritting against the pain. "That the best you got?"
Tears sting your throat, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. "I don't even know you anymore."
Your whispered words are harsh, but Rafe is having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that the stinging in his cheek means you're here. But your hair is disheveled, and you have a nearly feral look in your eyes, so when Barry comes flying out of nowhere, he rushes forward to grab you.
Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifts you up easily, even as you claw at his back, before walking out of the hangar and throwing you onto the ground.
Your palms hit the grass hard, and you smack the ground with an angry yell as Rafe rushes back inside. He knows you're going to hate him, and he knows he didn't have to be so harsh with you, but lately he hasn't been able to stop himself.
"Stay down!" he orders as you clamber to your feet. "If you come back inside, I won't be so gentle."
He thought it was bad when he wasn't able to see you, but now that he has, it's somehow worse than ever. Every time you're within reach, he has to fight between the urges to rip you apart and crush you into himself, so you never leave.
Later, when he talks to his father about what he's been feeling inside of him, the response isn't what he wants or needs. When he finally admits that he may not be okay, that he doesn't think he can control the thoughts in his head anymore, Ward's instructions to "man up" go straight to his head, where nothing is truly safe anymore.
He thought he was obsessed with getting the gold, but when it was actually in reach, something still felt missing. The more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself fixating on one person.
***
"What happened earlier?" JJ asks you when the whole group returns to the chateau that night. "When Rafe carried you out?"
The question catches you off guard and you feel Sarah's apologetic gaze on you as you open your mouth to respond. "I have no idea."
JJ doesn't look convinced, and when Sarah tries to change the subject, he bulldozes over her. "I just don't get what's going on between you two. First, he's talking to you at the boardwalk, and then he's pulling you out of fights?"
It's not a question really, but the implication is startlingly clear.
"What are you asking, JJ?" Pope warns, his eyes glancing between you two. "I don't think you're thinking this through. It's fucking Rafe we're talking about here. He's a monster, why would she have anything to do with him?"
His words ring through your ears like alarm bells and you can barely hear their argument over the noise. The sound gets louder and louder until you have to resist the urge to cover your ears.
"He's right."
It takes you a moment to realize those words came from you, but now that it's out, there's no going back.
Sarah says your name cautiously, but you shake your head, silencing her words.
"The guy I hooked up with my first summer on the island was Rafe," you say, your voice slowly growing in strength. "He's the guy I was talking about. And it wasn't just then."
Everyone except Sarah is looking at you like they've never seen you before. The shock and disgust on their faces mirrors what you felt the first time Rafe tried to hurt your friends, but with it being thrown back, you can't handle the pressure.
Tears blur your vision and you stalk out of the house, your feet taking you anywhere but here. The sound of voices yelling gets louder behind you, but you keep walking, your destination slowly becoming clearer the farther away you get.
Rafe is pulling into his driveway when you step onto the Cameron's property, and he throws his door open as soon as he notices you walking up.
"What's going on?" he asks as he slams the door shut and ushers you into the house. "Are you okay?"
You can't help but laugh, even as a few tears slip down your cheeks. "They know."
He knows what you're referring to without you having to explain, and he hesitantly steps forward, pulling you into a hug when you don't flinch. Your face presses into his hard chest and you glide your hands up his back, clutching the fabric of his tee shirt as you let out a small sob.
"They think I'm a monster," you whisper with a sniffle when you finally let go of him.
He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "They're wrong. You have to know they're wrong."
"What if they aren't?"
He looks at you then, and that spark in your eyes starts to flicker again. "What are you trying to say, Boston?"
"I'm saying..." you start, dragging your words out, "that if they think I'm a monster, I might as well prove them right."
He frowns, following you into the living room. A large part of him is ready and willing for whatever piece of yourself you will give him, but a new, even larger part wants something else for you. Something better.
"Y/n," Rafe warns, his voice dangerously low, "I don't know if that's such a good idea."
Something akin to betrayal flashes across your eyes and your mouth presses into a line. "I thought you liked- I mean, I thought you-"
"I do," he states simply. "But you're so much better than me. You know that."
"I'm not," you shake your head, stepping forward. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and his breath hitches. "So shut up and fuck me."
He considers it for a moment but his mind makes the decision for him. His hands tangle into your hair and pull you forward, his lips attacking yours harshly.
He glides his tongue across the seam of your lips, but you pull back before he can go any further.
"Upstairs," you order, before pushing past him and heading up to his room.
You get to his bedroom right before he does, but when the door shuts behind you, he shoves you onto the bed, a snarl curling his lips. "You think you can order me around in my own house?"
You shrug as he climbs over you, his hands pressing into the bed beside your face. "Watch me."
Before he can lean down and kiss you again, you latch your legs around his waist and flip him over, so you're straddling him. He lets out a breathy chuckle that dies in his throat as soon as you begin grinding onto his lap. His cock has already started to harden, even with layers and layers of clothing between you two, and you use this momentary lapse in concentration to push him back onto the bed.
Before he can stop you, you undo the button on his pants and yank them down to his ankles. Reaching onto his bedside table, you grab one of the embroidered bracelets sitting on top and use it to pull your hair back into a ponytail.
His eyes darken with lust as you sink to your knees and take his cock in your hand, your fingers unconsciously gliding up and down the shaft.
You can't help but smile as you watch him lean back, his eyes already falling closed. "My turn."
His cock is sturdy in your hand, and you run your tongue up the shaft, taking your time now that you finally get to taste him. You loosen your fingers around him, swirling your tongue over the head, before slowly taking him into your mouth.
You can feel his eagerness as Rafe's hand runs over your hair, gathering it in his fist.
When he starts to push your head down, you lift your lips off his cock and shake your head. "Look who's impatient this time."
He snarls, tightening his grip on your hair. "Just fucking take me like a good girl."
"I thought you wanted me to be bad."
You slowly run your tongue up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, and he almost passes out from the sight. You look so innocent beneath him, and he wants to commit this image into his memory forever, but then you hollow your cheeks around him and every thought leaves his brain.
Your mouth is so warm and wet and he only opens his eyes again when he feels you moaning around him. Glancing down, he sees your hand disappear into your shorts, and he curses, his cock twitching between your lips.
He knows he won't last another minute like this, so he pulls back up, his hand letting go of your hair. He lifts you onto the bed, taking his time to take off your tank top and unbutton your shorts.
"You're beautiful," he states when you're finally bare in front of him, as though it's simply a fact.
His eyes meet yours in the darkness and you are suddenly struck with the desire to make this night last. You know this is the last time you will get to do this, and it doesn't escape you that he's been trying to savor each moment as well.
You take your time as you undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once you've reached the bottom and laying it gently on the floor.
Rafe leans you back down and grins as he presses a kiss to your jaw. "Aren't you sweet."
"Shut up," you snipe, running your teeth over his lip as he comes back up to steal a kiss.
"So that's how you want to play this," he smirks, sucking a bruise into your neck.
His fingers still feel soft and gentle against your skin, and you wish you could get it into his head that even though this is probably the last time you will get to have him like this, you don't want it to be sweet. You want it to hurt.
"I thought I told you to fuck me."
He chuckles into your skin, before sliding his hand under your knee and lifting your leg off the bed. Without any warning, he thrusts into you, forcing you to grit your teeth to avoid making a sound.
"You're so ready for me," Rafe smirks, his calloused hands gripping your waist, "and I've barely even touched you."
You gasp, your head falling back as the pressure becomes almost too much. "It's been a while."
"No, that's not it," he taunts, his body leaning down as his lips find yours. "You just haven't been fucked right since last time."
You hate that he's right. You had tried to get your fix by hooking up with the tourists during the summers, but it had done nothing to assuage the growing frustration in your gut. Because the only person on this island who can make you feel good is the one who brings out the worst in you.
He continues thrusting into you with a pace much faster than you're used to, bottoming out each time. He reaches down to sling an arm under your waist, lifting you up off the bed to change the angle, and a sharp cry escapes your throat against your volition.
"You gotta be quiet," he grunts, lifting you further to press his forehead to yours, "or you don't stop finishing until I say so."
Your brow furrows in confusion, but then he uses his other hand to grab the headboard and starts thrusting into you even faster than before. You tilt your head up, pressing a harsh kiss to his mouth in an effort to quiet the noises trying to escape, but when your release slams into you, you can't help the gasp that flies out.
Your legs clamp around him and he uses his strength to hold you up as your body melts from the pleasure overcoming you.
Your aftershocks haven't even slowed before he spins you around, so you're straddling him, and starts pounding up into you again. Your sensitive cunt spasms helplessly around him, but he doesn't stop, even as you hiss between your teeth.
"Rafe, please, it's too much," you gasp as he holds you up so you don't back onto the bed. "I can't-"
"I told you to stay quiet," he teases, his voice growing darker as he ups his pace again. "You knew the consequences."
Even as the bed shakes from the force of his motions, the pain eventually turns to pleasure again, and you can feel your next release sneaking up on you.
He wraps your hair around his fist, giving it a quick tug for good measure, but the way your pussy squeezes around him makes him pause. "You like that, don't you?"
His grip tightens and you nod slowly, bringing your eyes back to his. His pupils darken and you feel another gush of wetness start to drip down your thighs. Your scalp stings, but you relish the pain, letting it mix in with the pleasure between your legs.
Rafe can already feel you tightening around him again, and he lifts his head to watch as your eyes screw shut, overcome by the feeling of his cock driving into you.
You look heavenly as you near the edge of the abyss, and he slides his hand down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. It only takes a few tweaks before you fly off the edge again, your mouth falling open with a silent scream.
Your body shakes from the force of the second orgasm and he can't hold off any longer. Pressing his face into the crook of your neck, he lets out a gasp as he finds his own seemingly never-ending release. All of the energy leaves his body as he watches you fall apart under him, and he finds that he can no longer lie to himself about how he feels.
Reality quickly comes crashing in, and you realize that you don't have any idea how to move forward. Whatever you feel for him will never be enough, no matter how hard you may try to convince yourself otherwise.
Rafe watches you get dressed, his eyes trailing over the bare expanses of your skin, as if committing it to memory. He wasn't raised like his siblings, and the voice in the back of his mind that tells him to never let you leave reminds him of a childhood he never quite managed to unlearn.
He never did learn how to do what was right, but if he is going to do right by one thing, that might as well be you.
Summary: James has a crush on Y/N, a regular at the coffee shop he works at. When he suspects her boyfriend might be cheating on her, he feels the need to get involved.
A/N: this is a modern au! everyone is 20/21 so they’re in their 3rd year of university. also i have no idea how coffee shops actually work so…wc is 6.3k
It was a slow day today. All the tables were cleaned, as well as the machines. The inventory was stocked, and the coffee beans grinded, which left James only one thing to do: nothing.
He sat on a stool behind the counter, chin propped up on his hand as he watched the world pass him by through the coffee shop’s windows. It was windy today, a telltale sign that rain was coming. He made a game of counting the trash he’d see blowing in the wind. So far, he’d counted eight basket liners and seventeen plastic bags.
Sighing, he considers starting a separate log for oyster pails as he sees one across the street make its way down the busy sidewalk, only to flinch in surprise when it’s suddenly stepped on. And that’s when he sees you. And he’s absolutely mesmerized.
You’ve got a basic black tee, paired with black jeans and an oversized denim jacket. Your Y/H/C hair is let down, and is flying all over the place due to the high winds. You try to tuck your hair back behind your ears and when that doesn’t work, you huff in annoyance before taking a hair elastic off your wrist and hastily tying it up.
It isn’t perfect, by any means. You have a bunch of baby hairs framing your face, and there’s this one lock of hair that you completely missed, but still James can’t help but stare, eyes roaming over your face, trying to memorize it.
James follows you with his eyes until you’re out of sight, going so far as leaning over the counter before sitting back down. Frowning, he wonders where you’re headed, where you’re coming from, and more importantly, if he’ll see you again. If this is the route you take to get home, maybe he’ll be lucky enough to see you daily. Only in passing, of course, but that would be enough for James. It’s not like he’d ever get the chance to talk to a girl like you anyway.
Maybe he would’ve…before. But that was then and this is now. And the truth now is that James was never the same after things fell apart with Lily. He became a shell of a person, more shy and reserved than anyone had ever seen, terrified of putting himself out there again only to get his heart broken.
He’s twenty one now, and even though it’s been over a year since Lily ran off to a different country with another man, people still refer to him as “Lily’s ex”. Or worse, “the one she left.” He hates it more than anything. He wants to be James again. Just James. And Just James doesn’t talk to pretty girls he sees on the street; not anymore at least. He admires them from a distance and maybe daydreams about them every now and then. But that’s it.
So you can imagine his surprise when the bell above the door rings, and you’re standing at the entrance. You immediately rip the hair tie out and sigh in relief as your hair falls around your shoulders again, shaking it out before approaching the counter.
“Hi!” You greet enthusiastically.
James rushes to stand, knocking the stool over in the process. “H-hi. Welcome.” He greets nervously, before turning around to pick up the stool.
You can’t help but laugh as you see him keep dropping it. He finally uses both hands to firmly set it down. He watches the stool for a few seconds, and when he’s sure it won’t fall again, he turns to face you, face burning red at the events that just took place.
“You good?” You ask, with an amused smile.
“Yeah.” James nods quickly, “It’s just- I’m- we’re technically not allowed to sit while on the job. The owner said it makes us look lazy…” he trails off.
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell.” You wink.
James beams at you, before snapping out of it and moving to the cash register. “So, what can I get you?”
You scan the menu above before turning to him again. “Can I get a medium Y/F/D?”
“Sure,” He says, typing it into the register, “Hot or cold?”
You tell him your preference before fishing your wallet out of your bag.
“That’ll be $3.79” James tells you, with a tight lipped smile.
You hand him a ten and he counts out your change before handing it to you, shivering when your fingertips brush slightly.
You drop the five dollar bill in the tip jar and smile at James as he blushes.
“Oh! You don’t- you don’t have to do that.” He says with an embarrassed smile, suddenly shy as he’s never gotten a tip before.
“You don’t have to make my coffee.” You counter with a shrug, putting your one dollar and twenty one cents away in your wallet.
He technically does, considering it’s literally his job. And James opens his mouth to tell you as much, before changing his mind. He gets to work on your drink as you take a look around.
“It’s pretty dead, huh?” You ask, taking notice of all the empty tables.
“Yeah, looks like it might rain.” James supplies as he makes your drink. “When the clouds look that dark, the place is usually empty. Nobody’s trying to risk getting caught in the rain.”
“Lame” You comment, causing James to laugh. “So is it just you here?”
“Yeah, the other girl wasn’t feeling well, so I let her go home early.”
“And you’ll be okay by yourself?” You ask.
James feels a warmth bloom in his chest at how concerned you sound for him. He can’t remember the last time someone other than his friends or parents worried for him. He’s not gonna lie…it feels nice having someone care for him, especially someone as beautiful as you.
“Yeah,” He assures you with a nod. “It’s been slow and my friends are scheduled to come in in the next hour.”
James puts a lid on your drink before sliding it towards you with a smile.
“What was your name again?” You ask as you grab your drink.
“J-James. Potter.” He tells you, mentally beating himself up for not only stuttering, but giving you his last name as well. Who does that?
“Well James Potter, it was nice talking to you.” You say, taking a sip as you make your way to the door.
“You too…” He trails off, hoping you’ll fill in the blank and tell him your name.
“Y/N,” You finish for him.
“Y/N” He repeats, a soft smile blooming across his face. “Take care!” he waves enthusiastically, “See you soon! I mean, I hope! I-I mean only if you want to! If not-”
Once again he’s blessed with the sound of your laugh.
“I’ll see you soon, James.” You confirm, and with a final wave, you’re out the door.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
The next morning James wakes up before his alarm even goes off and jumps out of bed. He gets dressed and eats some breakfast before grabbing his backpack and heading to campus. It’s a Thursday, so he only has his online class, but he does have to go in to take an exam.
Walking out of school, James glances at his watch and sighs. He still has a few hours before he has to go into work. He gets back home and spends almost all his time picking out what he’s going to wear. If you do decide to stop by, he wants to make sure he looks his best.
At twelve o’clock on the dot James walks into the coffee shop and makes his way to the break room. He puts his backpack in his locker and grabs the crossword puzzle book he’s been working on, then goes to the front to clock in. Lisa nods her head in greeting and tells him that everything’s stocked.
“I thought Peter was working the morning shift today.”
“He called me at five o’clock in the morning asking me to switch.” She tells James with a roll of her eyes.
“Hey Lisa, by any chance did a girl come in this morning?” James asks, nervously toying with the strings on his apron.
She tilts her head to the side as she tries to think. “What would she have looked like?”
“About this tall,” He says, putting his hand out, “Y/E/C eyes, cute smile, Y/H/C hair up to like here, but her hair’s kinda all over the place!” He quickly adds, remembering how it looked blowing wildly in the wind.
Lisa thinks it over before shaking her head, “No, sorry.”
James’ smile drops and he nods solemnly, “Okay. Thanks anyway.”
“You like this girl or something?” She asks him. When James doesn’t answer, she sighs and makes her way towards the counter. “Don’t get discouraged, James. This is a good thing. If she didn’t come this morning, then maybe she’ll come later on…when you’re working.”
James’ eyes light up at that.
“You really think so?” He asks, wanting to get her opinion but also not wanting to get his hopes.
“Oh, definitely.” Lisa nods. “So what’s up? You gonna turn on the charm?” She asks with a smirk.
“No.” James shakes his head profusely, face absolutely flushed.
“Why not? You’re cute; and nice. I don’t know her, but she sounds hot. Match made in heaven. I say go for it.”
“Are you just trying to butter me up because you wanna leave early?”
“No…well yes.” She admits with a laugh. “But I mean it. You’re a good guy, James. Lily didn’t see that, but someone else will. But only if you put yourself out there.”
James thinks about it before nodding his head. Lisa waves goodbye, happy she gets to clock out a bit earlier than scheduled and James gets to work on his crossword puzzle, glancing at the clock every now and then. He’s pulled out of his thoughts when the bell above the door rings. He turns towards the front door and his heart all but beats out of his chest when he sees you standing there.
“James Potter!” You exclaim in greeting, “How’s it going?”
“Uh…good! I’m good. How- how are you?” He asks nervously.
“Eh.” You shrug, “Could be better. Can I get a Y/F/D please?”
“Sure,” James nods, grabbing a plastic cup. “$3.79 please.”
Just like yesterday, you hand him a ten, placing a five dollar bill in the tip jar before keeping the smaller bill for yourself.
“So what’s going on? Having a bad day?” James asks as he gets to work on your drink.
“You could say that.” You answer, leaning on the counter, “The electricity went out in my shitty apartment which means I have no internet which means I have to go all the way to the library to finish my work.”
“Why don’t you just stay here?” James offers, surveying the empty coffee shop.
“Are- are you serious?” You ask James, “I won’t be a bother?”
“How could you be a bother? We have no customers, remember? Besides, what better place to study? Free wifi, big table to spread out your work on, coffee…” He lists off, hoping he can convince you to stay.
“James, you're a lifesaver!” You sigh, “I really didn’t want to walk ten more blocks to a library where I’d probably have to sit on the floor.”
You grab your drink and get set up on an empty table, plugging in your charger, and pulling out your notebooks.
“So what type of stuff are you working on?”
“Hm? Oh, right now it’s just the coursework for my biology class.” You tell him.
“Oh! You’re in college? That’s so cool! Me- me too! What college do you go to? What are you studying?” James rambles before catching himself, “Oh, sorry. You probably wanna study in peace, huh?”
“No, it’s okay.” You tell him with a small laugh, shooting him a quick smile before returning your gaze to your screen. “I don’t mind. I go to UCLA.”
“USC.” James says, pointing to himself. “Guess that makes us enemies, huh?“ He asks, referring to the eighty year rivalry between your schools.
“Mm,” You hum, typing on your computer. “Or star crossed lovers.”
James chuckles to himself as he starts working on a mobile order.
You work in silence for a little over an hour before submitting your work and packing your things up.
“Thank you so much for letting me do my work here James. I really appreciate it.”
“Of- of course! It was nothing, really,” He says with a smile. “You can do your work here any time you want.”
“I might just take you up on that offer.” You tell him, zipping up your bag.
“But only when I’m working!” He blurts out before he can stop himself.
“Well duh.” You answer, making your way towards the door, “What’s the point in coming if you’re not here?”
“So- so see you soon then?” James asks timidly.
“See you soon, James.” You confirm with a smile. And with that, you’re out the door.
“What’s with you?” Sirius asks, startling James out of his daydream. “You didn’t even notice us walk in.”
“Oh, sorry.” James says with a shake of his head, wiping down the counter just to have something to do.
“No, really, what’s up?” Sirius asks again.
“She came back.” James mumbles, still in a daze.
Sirius and Remus share a concerned look.
“Who came back?” Remus asks. “Lily?”
“What? No.” James says, looking up at him. “Y/N.”
“Who’s Y/N?” Sirius asks, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter.
“Some girl.” James says. He tries to play it off with a shrug of his shoulders, but with the excited smile on his face, he knows he’s far from playing it cool. “She came in yesterday and again today.”
Sirius and Remus share another look, this time one of excitement. James hasn’t even looked at another girl since the whole incident with Lily.
“What’s she like?” Remus asks, genuinely curious.
“Beautiful.” James says immediately. “Nice, witty.”
“Did you give her your number?” Sirius asks, to which James shakes his head. “Are you going to give it to her the next time she comes in?”
“Uh…I…” James stutters, unsure how to answer. Sure he has a crush on you, but he’s convinced it’s entirely one sided. If he gives you his number, you’d either turn him down then and there or simply never text him. Both scenarios would crush him and leave you to have awkward interactions when you come in. Sensing his unease, Remus is quick to cover for him.
“He hardly knows the girl.” Remus tells him. “What if she ends up being a psycho or something? Give him a bit more time to get to know her at least.”
“Alright, fine. Sorry.” Sirius sighs. “I’m just excited.”
“Yeah,” James nods with a smile. “Me too.”
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“Excuse me.”
James turns his head only to have his eyes widen when he sees you standing at the counter with your phone. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. You normally don’t come in on Saturdays.
“Hi.” James breathes with a smile, setting the box on the counter before approaching you.
“Oh my god, James! I didn’t recognize you. Your hair is different.” You comment, taking in his untamed curly hair.
“Yeah, I ran out of gel.” He says with a grimace. “It looks bad, huh?”
“No,” You disagree with a shake of your head. “I love it!”
James smiles in appreciation, subconsciously running a hand through his hair. “How can I help you?”
“Um, I put in a mobile order like fifteen minutes ago. On the app it says that it’s ready,” You tell him, holding your phone out to him so he can see. “But I went to the pick up counter and it’s not there…”
That causes James to frown in confusion. Usually Remus is on top of mobile orders, there’s no way he’d miss one. James pulls up the mobile orders tab on his tablet and sees there are no pending orders.
“What was your order?” James asks. Maybe it was made and someone else grabbed it.
“A medium Y/F/D and a large iced chai tea latte.”
James goes through the orders and doesn’t see anything of the sort.
“I’m so sorry,” James apologizes. “The order was never sent to us, it must have been a glitch in the system.”
“Oh, that’s okay!” You wave him off with a smile.
James grabs two cups and writes your order on them before setting them down for Remus.
“Oh wait, sorry. For the iced chai, can you add oat milk?”
“Sure,” James nods, adding it onto the side of the cup and setting it back down. “Got an allergy?”
“That’s my boyfriend’s. He just follows the trends.” You shrug with a roll of your eyes.
James’ shoulders drop upon finding out you’re not single, though he supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. He looks back up and sees you frown at something on your phone. You type quickly with an annoyed huff before locking your phone and putting it in your pocket.
“That him?” James asks, nodding his head towards your phone.
“Yeah,” You laugh awkwardly, embarrassed at having been caught. “He was asking me what’s taking so long. He’s never been the patient type.”
“Oh, sorry.” James apologizes, helping Remus prepare the other drink.
“No, don’t be! It wasn’t your fault.” You assure them.
Remus smiles at that, thankful that you aren’t throwing a fit and James gives him a pointed look, a look that says “See? I told you she was great.”
“So lemme see if I got this straight,” James says as he prepares your boyfriend's drink. “You paid for the drinks and you still had to come in here to get them?”
You nod your head giving him a timid grin. You know what he’s thinking, same as everyone else.
“Why do I get the feeling he doesn’t open the door for you either?” James muses as he looks at you.
“Because he doesn’t. He says it’s important for me to be able to do things for myself.” You tell him while avoiding their gaze. “He said he doesn’t want an…incompetent girlfriend.”
Remus grimaces, not only at the fact that a guy told you that, but also because of the fact that you’re still dating him.
“Competency’s got nothing to do with it, love. It’s called being a gentleman. Your boyfriend’s a piece of shit.”
You and Remus share a wide eyed look. You let out a surprised laugh as Remus turns towards James, absolutely horrified by his actions.
“James!” He scolds. “You can’t just say that to people! I’m so sorry about him.” Remus says, turning to you again.
“Uh…” You stutter, unsure how to respond. You suppose you should be offended, but more than anything you appreciate that he was being honest with you.
“Okay!” Remus calls, taking the drink from James’ hand and setting it on the counter in front of you. “Here you go, miss. Sorry about…everything.”
“Don’t be.” You wave him off. “I appreciate you being honest with me, James.”
James at least has the decency to look embarrassed by his outburst. You grab the drinks with a sheepish smile and hurry to the door.
“You can’t just say things like that,” Remus sighs. “If she ends up filing a complaint we could get in trouble.”
“Even worse, what if she doesn’t come back.” James says with wide eyes.
“Unbelievable,” Remus mumbles to himself as he walks away.
Though once he reaches the storage room, he can’t help but chuckle. Blurting out that your boyfriend sucks was such a typical James thing, never one to think before he speaks. Remus can’t help but feel hopeful that James is finally breaking out of his shell and getting back to his old self.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
Luckily for James, you don’t file any sort of complaint against him. The next time you come in, he apologizes again for what he said but you wave him off, saying that it wasn’t necessary.
It’s been about two months since that visit and you come in a few times a week now. If it’s slow, you’ll sit there and do some coursework. Though that’s a rare occurrence now. Most of the time, you’re here to pick up a mobile order of some sort.
Sometimes it’s you and your boyfriend’s drinks, much to James’ annoyance. Friday nights it's always a large order for all of your friends. James always has to step away from the register to help you carry them all to your car. You always apologize profusely for being a bother and thank him about a hundred times for making the long trek to your car. James always rolls his eyes as he sets the drinks on your passenger seat, reminding you the parking lot is only a few feet away.
James’ favorite days however, are the ones when it’s just your drink coming through on the mobile order queue because then you get to sit with him and his friends for a few minutes. James cherishes those little moments with you, when you joke around with them and watch in amazement as they mix all the coffees and teas.
James is pulled out of his thoughts when someone slaps their hand on the counter, obnoxiously trying to get his attention. He looks over and sees a guy with blonde hair staring him down.
“Can I help you?” James asks.
“My mobile order isn’t ready yet.” The man tells him.
“Oh, sorry about that. When did you place it?” James asks, going to the mobile order tab on the tablet.
“Just now in the parking lot.” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
“Oh. Um, so it takes a while for us to get the actual order request. If you show me the confirmation on your phone I can just start working on your drinks now.” James tells him with a polite smile.
The guy rolls his eyes but shows James his order. James shakes his head in annoyance and starts working on the drinks when he’s hit with a sense of familiarity.
“Sorry, can I get your name?” James asks. “Just so I can delete that mobile order when it does come in.”
“Liam.” The man sighs and James’ eyes widen.
“Here you go, Liam. Have a good day.” James says with a forced grin.
Liam wordlessly grabs the drinks and walks out the door. He gets in his car and hands the drinks to a girl in the passenger seat before giving her a kiss, a girl that most definitely isn’t you, before putting on his seatbelt and pulling out of the parking spot.
“It could just be a coincidence.” James says to himself as he gets back to checking inventory.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
“Hey, has Y/N come in today?” Sirius asks. “I have a bone to pick with her.”
“What’s the bone?” Peter asks, taking off the headset he uses for drive-thru orders.
“She hasn’t liked or commented on my latest insta post.” Sirius frowns.
“You have her on insta?” James asks, looking over at him. “What’s her at?”
“I’m not telling you.”
“Why not?”
“Ask her yourself.” Sirius says instead.
“But you’re my friend and you have her on instagram, so I’m asking you.” James says, getting annoyed.
“And I’m not telling you. What if she doesn’t want to have you on insta? Then she’ll block me for giving you her username. I can’t have that.”
“We’re friends.” James argues. “She would wanna have me on instagram.”
“Then ask her for it the next time she comes in.” Sirius suggests. “I’m sure she’d give it to you.”
“Why don’t you just go into Sirius’ following list and find her there?” Peter asks, trying to stop their bickering.
“Do you have any idea how long that would take me?” James asks. “He’s following like a thousand people!”
“One thousand, seven hundred and forty six, actually.” Sirius corrects. “And he’d have to click on each one because she doesn’t have her actual name in her bio or her username.”
“Fuck!” James groans.
“Why are you getting so worked up over it?” Remus asks, taking a bite of his croissant.
“Her boyfriend’s cheating on her.” James says, looking at his friends.
“What?” Sirius asks, smiling slipping from his face.
“Are you sure?” Peter asks, nervously.
“Pretty sure.” James says with a nod.
“How do you know?” Sirius asks with a nod.
“Y/N is always the one who places the mobile orders. Sometimes, very rarely, one of her friends will come pick them up, but it’s always under Y/N’s name; no matter how many drinks are ordered.” James tells his friends.
“Okay…” Sirius says, not seeing the point.
“But for the last three weeks, Liam has been coming in to pick up mobile orders.” James continues. “Under his name.”
“Liam?” Peter repeats. “Like, her boyfriend Liam?”
“Exactly.” James tells him. “Since when can he be bothered to get out of the fucking car and pick up the drinks himself? And guess what the order is?”
“Medium Y/F/D and a large iced chai with oat?” Remus suggests.
“Close. Large iced chai with oat and a large mocha frappuccino with strawberry purée.”
“Okay…” Sirius repeats, still not getting it.
“Seriously?” James huffs. “That’s one of the drinks from the big orders! From when all her friends are hanging out! Which means he’s cheating on her with one of her friends!” James concludes.
“I don’t know…” Peter shakes his head. “It kinda sounds like you’re reaching…”
“Okay, well what about this,” James offers, clicking through yesterday's orders. “Look, Y/N placed her mobile order, just hers, at eleven thirty. When she came to pick it up, what did she tell us, Remus?”
“She said she wasn’t hanging out with Liam because he got called into work.” Remus shrugs.
“So why did he place a mobile order with two drinks, two hours later?” James asks, causing everyone’s eyes to widen.
“Are we sure it’s even the right guy?” Peter tries, desperately hoping that James is mistaken.
“Is this him?” Sirius asks, holding up his phone.
James looks at the screen and sighs. It’s a picture of you and Liam that you posted on your story. You’re smiling brightly for the camera, and Liam is just staring blankly, looking annoyed at having to pose for a simple picture.
“Yeah that’s him.” James confirms. “I recognize his stupid blonde hair.”
“Hey,” Peter whines, reaching up to touch his own hair.
“So what are we gonna do?” Sirius asks.
“I say we put whole milk in his latte.” Peter says firmly.
“I’ve been doing that.” James shakes his head. “I have to tell her.”
“What the fuck?” Sirius asks. “James, no! Are you crazy?”
“She deserves to know.” James argues.
“You could be wrong.” Remus tries to reason.
“She still deserves to know,” He insists. “Even if it turns out he isn’t cheating on her, which he is. It’s shady as fuck how often he’s seeing her friend behind her back.”
“Oh shit.” Peter exclaims. “Isn’t that Y/N’s car?”
They all turn towards the windows and sure enough, there you are walking out of your car and towards the entrance. Remus turns to James with wide eyes.
“James, listen to me. I know you care about this girl. But please don’t tell her anything. At least, not until we know for certain what’s going on. It’ll break her heart.”
James thinks it over before eventually nodding his head with a sigh.
“Hey guys!” You greet when you walk in, stopping short when you see how tense everyone is. “All good?”
“No, we’re not all good.” Sirius says, leaning on the counter to stare you down. “Couldn't help but notice you didn’t like my post on insta. Care you explain yourself?”
“I didn’t see it,” You defend with a chuckle, already pulling your phone out. “The algorithm hid it from me.”
“Mm-hmm,” Sirius nods. “That’s convenient. What can I get you?”
“Medium Y/F/D please.” You grin at him.
The guys do their best to appear casual while Remus makes your drink for you.
“Are you sure everything’s okay?” You ask in concern. “You guys are being weird.”
“Yeah,” Remus assures you, handing you your drink. “All good. Just a long day.”
“Okay.” You nod, grabbing your drink. “Well I hope you guys get some rest.”
The boys all smile and wave at you. It’s when you turn around to leave that James finally snaps.
“I think it’s so great that your boyfriend is close with your friends.” James blurts out.
Remus, Peter, and Sirius all turn to look at him with wide eyes.
“Sorry?” You ask, turning around to face him with absolute confusion painting your features.
“Yeah,” James nods. “Large iced chai with oat and large mocha frappuccino with strawberry purée. It’s mobile ordered a few times a week.”
“Really?” You ask, tilting your head to one side. “And Liam comes to pick them up?”
“Well, it’s hard to say…” Peter stutters with an awkward laugh. “Right James?”
“No, it’s definitely Liam.” James confirms. “Grey Honda Civic SI, bleach blonde hair, trying to grow a beard but failing miserably… They’ve been hanging out a lot the past couple of weeks…”
You stare off into space, seemingly deep in thought before eventually nodding your head.
“Y/N?” Remus calls. “Are you…okay?”
“It was good seeing you guys.” You say instead, giving them a tense smile before turning around and marching out the door. You toss your drink in the trash can outside and then peel out of the parking lot.
“Oh, she’s pissed,” Peter comments.
“I hope it was worth it, James.” Remus scolds with a shake of his head.
“It was.” James tells him. “She deserved to know. Nobody deserves to get cheated on.”
“Yeah mate,” Sirius agrees. “But telling her like that? It was brutal.”
“Was it really?” James asks, now worried. He was so concerned about telling you that he didn’t even stop to question if he was going about it the right way.
“Like dumping a bucket of cold water on someone’s head.” Peter nods with a grimace.
“Fuck.” James sighs, running a hand down his face.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
You don’t come in for weeks after that, and James can’t help but feel like it’s his fault. He tries asking Sirius for any updates on you, since he’s the only one who has any sort of way to contact you, but Sirius tells him it’s been radio silence on your end. You haven’t posted a single thing on instagram, you haven’t liked any of Sirius’ new posts, you haven’t even opened any of the numerous messages he’s sent you.
James feels a small sense of relief when he sees a large mobile order come in. The name is different, but the drinks provide him comfort as he recognizes them as the ones you and your friends always get. Well, minus one mocha frappuccino with strawberry purée… He’s just finished preparing the final drink when one of your friends, Maddie comes in.
“Hey! Perfect timing.” James greets with a smile, starting to pile all the drinks into a cardboard cup holder.
Maddie smiles and nods her head in greeting as she starts double checking the drinks.
“So how’s Y/N doing?” James asks before he can stop himself, wiping down the counter to give himself something to do.
“Fine.” She says, giving him a funny look as she finishes checking the drinks.
“Oh, great! That’s…great. You know, ‘cause I- we haven’t seen her in a bit. I- I mean we! We were all starting to get worried about her.” James rambles nervously.
“Oh yeah?” Maddie hums, sliding the drinks closer to herself.
“Yeah,” James nods. “Liam’s a real piece of shit. We all think so. I told him he’s not welcome back here anymore.”
“Really?” Maddie asks with an amused smile as James continues his rambling.
“I just don’t get it, you know? Like, Y/N’s perfect! She’s funny and nice, not to mention pretty…really, really pretty... Clearly she’s out of his league! He had to have known that. And for him to go and cheat on her? With one of her friends? I mean technically she wasn’t really a friend if she-“
James stops his monologue when Maddie starts laughing.
“You really like her, don’t you?” She asks with a chuckle.
James’ face burns red as he shrugs his shoulders, giving her a shy smile.
“Of course I like her… She’s a great friend…”
“Right.” Maddie says with a knowing smile. “Friend.”
“Tell her we’re rooting for her, yeah?” James asks. “And that we miss her.”
“Sure.” Maddie nods.
“Oh! Here! Give her this too!” James calls, running to the pastries and putting a cake pop in a paper bag for you. He hastily draws something on the front before handing it to Maddie with a smile.
“You’re cute.” She chuckles, taking the drinks and the cake pop and walking out the door.
Your eyes light up when Maddie walks in holding the tray of drinks. You grab yours with a smile, humming in satisfaction after the first sip.
“Oh, this is for you, too.” Maddie says, handing you the cake pop.
“Awe,” You coo, holding up the bag for your friends to see. On the front, is a poorly drawn cat on a tightrope, the words ‘hang in there’ messily scrawled on top.
“You know he likes you, right?” Maddie asks, grabbing her drink and taking a seat on the couch.
“Who?” You ask, looking at her in confusion.
“Glasses.” She supplies.
“James? No. No way.” You shake your head.
“I’m telling you, you shoulda seen him.” Maddie insists. “He was stuttering and rambling about how great you are. It was actually pretty adorable.”
The other girls all start to tease you while your face warms. You look down at your drink as a smile lights up your features.
“So what are you gonna do about it?” Sarah asks.
“What do you mean?” You ask, gazing at her.
“I mean, he likes you. You clearly like him too…Are you gonna make a move?”
“Do…do you think I should?” You ask, looking at the group nervously.
“Yes!” They all shout at the same time.
︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵
James is filling the overhead cabinet with more cups when he hears the bell on the door jingle.
“I’ll be right with you.” He calls over his shoulder, not bothering to turn around.
“No worries.” You say softly.
James immediately whips around at the sound of your voice. The stack of cups he had just put in the cabinet fall out, hitting his head on the way down. You snort in amusement and immediately bring a hand up, trying to stop yourself from laughing.
“Y/N.” James breathes with a smile. “You’re here.”
“Hi James.” You greet with a smile as you approach the counter. “How’s it going?”
“Good. Yeah, I’m good.” James mumbles. “It’s nice to see you again. I was so worried about you.”
“You were?”
“Of course! We all were! Liam’s a dick.” James says bluntly, which causes you to laugh again.
“Seriously, Y/N. He didn’t deserve you. You can do way better than him.”
“Thank you James.” You nod with a shy smile. “And thank you for telling me about Liam in the first place. I’m sure it wasn’t an easy thing for you to do…You’re a good friend.”
“Right.” James nods, his smile getting just the tiniest bit dimmer. “That’s me. James Potter. Friend of the year… Anyway! What’ll it be? Your usual?”
You nod your head as you start to pull out your wallet, but James quickly waves you off.
“Nope! Put your money away. This one’s on the house.”
“Are you sure?” You ask, looking at him with wide eyes.
“I insist.” James nods with a smile before gesturing to the pastries. “Do you want a cake pop too? Or a croissant? We also have brownies.”
“I’m good with just the drink.” You laugh.
“You sure?” James asks with a frown. “Blueberry muffin? Vanilla bean scone? No?”
You shake your head and James’ shoulders drop.
“Don’t see anything you like?” He asks as he finishes making your drink.
“Well, I do see one thing, but it’s not on the menu.” You tell him with a pout.
“Really?” James asks, looking up at the menu with a concerned frown. “That’s odd. I could’ve sworn it had everything.
“Tell me what you want, I’ll get it for you.” James tells you with a firm nod.
“Really?”
“Yeah!” James nods again.
“In that case, I want you.” You tell James with a mischievous smile.
James looks up at you with a shocked expression, bringing a hand up to point at himself.
“Me?” He repeats, almost as if he doesn’t believe it.
“Yeah.” You nod. “I like you James.”
“I like you too.” James breathes, giving you a lovesick smile.
“Great. So gimme your number.” You tell him.
“Okay!” James nods, quickly writing his number on your cup.
James puts the cap back on his marker and slides your drink towards you. You take it from him with a smile, nodding your head in approval when you see his number written down the side.
“Are you busy tonight?” You ask before you can chicken out.
Speechless, James shakes his head.
“Cool.” You smile as you make your way towards the door. “I’ll text you.”
“Cool.” James repeats with a smile as he watches you drive away.
“James!” Sirius shouts, startling James from his daydreaming.
“Yeah?” He asks, looking at his friends with a confused frown. When did they get here?
“Movie night tonight at my place. You in?” Sirius repeats.
“Sorry, guys. I can’t tonight.” James informs them. “I have a date.”
Peter, Remus, and Sirius all stop what they’re doing to look at James with wide eyes.
muggle! au james potter x f reader, frenemies with benefits smut w plot
summary: ever since you met james potter on your sophomore year of college, you haven’t been able to deny the effect he had on you, as much as you hated it. he was a player, always got what he wanted, and was just stupid, to say the least. sharing a friend group didn’t make it any better. sure, you both just scoffed at each other and would both agree that one another was insufferable. it seemed perfect when it started, thanks to that very drunken night, after a fight on the phone with your asshole of an boyfriend, but what happens when you feel like the benefit part wasn’t enough for you?
warnings: getting cheated on and cheating (not on each other but with each other) bad morals, kissing, dom james, making out, degradation?, fingering, penetration, overstimulation, use of y/n once
“im serious! you have to break up with him, he’s an asshole” said lily through the speakers on your phone, you hated how she was always right.
“i know”, you look away from the screen, viewing your room, as lily kept on talking, you were able to see her facial expressions just because of the sound of her voice, even if you were looking away from the face time display on your phone.
“… and he’s not even pretty! he’s just a cheating piece of garbage” she finished, spitting out the offenses. you smile, even when he was that far away (a whole other continent) he would still fuck up brutally, over and over again. sure, lily didn’t know you were also a ‘cheating piece of garbage’, but your boyfriend did it first, or at least that was what you took comfort on.
“i get it, lil’s, thank you.” you smile, pausing your video.
‘hii, u up?’ is typed in very quickly and sent to a contact with the name of james potter. you went back to the face time quickly, heartbeat quickening with the anxiety for a response, in a few seconds you saw the notification ‘be there in five, bringing chinese’ you smile at that, he knew about your obsession with left over asian food.
“gotta sleep, thank you for the talk though” you tell lily, very anxious to turn off the phone and turn on some silly playlist.
“no worries, see you at work monday?” she asked, like if you even had a choice about coming in, you nodded, turning the phone off. the past next moments were excruciatingly painful, you hated those 10 minutes more than anything. it was a build up of anxiety and being nervous if you were getting stood up, of course, that never even happened with james, but really, you weren’t friends like that. or maybe you were, you don’t really know. he was fun once you got to know him, and he did know a lot about you by now. but of course, the friends with benefits couldn’t work out any longer, it never did, did it? someone would always end up catching feelings. its not like its that big of a deal though, its just no one outsmarts it.
these thoughts did consume you until you heard the knock on your door, you had started to recognize his knocks a long time ago, slow one, three quick ones, two quick ones. it was fun now that you though about it, you waited around 15 seconds at the door, you always did that, you were carful for him never think you were desperate, being sure he’d tease you about it later if he ever did. and so you open the door, he smiles at you, entering and closing the door, as he’s leaving the food on the kitchen table he starts,
“i brought some-“ and you interrupt him with a kiss, you hate to admit it but you missed him.
“a bit eager, aren’t we?” he teases, pulling away to take off his jacket.
“shut up” you pull him back in, his hands on your waist as he tries to take his shoes off, almost tripping over them but still managing to kiss you while he’s at it. james quickly picked you up and you had your legs were wrapped around him, you could feel his already growing bulge as his hands went under your thighs, your oversized shirt hiking up, as you remembered you probably shouldn’t have opened the door in your underwear. he carries you to your room, the only lighting being your lamp on your desk, you were trying to finish an essay when you got your boyfriends call. you’re thrown onto your bed as he takes off his shirt, glasses foggy, he’s taking them off.
“tell me, were you missing me?” he grins, climbing onto bed, his knee between your legs.
“i hate you” you roll your eyes, and suddenly he was closer than you thought, you tilt your head up, trying to dom him out, at least this one time. he looks smug, and you want o hit him harshly, but you also want him to pin you to your bed and- was he chuckling right now?
“i don’t hear you denying it though” he counters, your cheeks flushing.
that’s probably it for you, you lose. you lose to the conceited assumptions, to the tension, to the way his hair looks, to the darkness in his eyes, to the wetness he was causing between your legs and to the tension.
that was all it took for him to smash his lips against yours. its a kiss so rough, so brutal. that was something you didn’t expect from james potter.
he's pushing your hips harshly into the mattress beneath you, immediately pressing close to you, chests touching and his leg slipping deeper between your legs. your hand is on his neck and it threads into his hair as your teeth clash, both of your hearts thundering.
your noses hit each other; you hope he can feel the adrenaline through your lips. you can certainly feel his. his hand moves up so he's grabbing your thigh, pulling you closer to him. you pull away and immediately attach your lips to the column of his neck, not wanting to have to look at his face. one small groan he lets out causes you to smile against his skin, suddenly realizing that you have just as much an effect on him as he on you, even though you're the one who is under. you nip at the flesh on his neck, sucking onto it, making sure to mark.
he moans lightly at that and you feel yourself tremble as your stomach tingles. he tugs onto your hair with one hand, as you start to grind desperately against him. you feel the outline of him, semi hard and desire takes you over. his hand now on your ass, gripping it as you suck another bruise onto his neck. he pulls away to look at you, his eyes darkening before kissing you again. your hands trail down his chest, towards his bulge, and as your fingertips graze it, his other hand grabs your wrist and holds it down above your head, only one hand holding your wrist. he takes off your shirt and starts to take off his belt. he takes a minute just to look at you, lace underwear, you were waiting for him.
“what are you doing?” you ask, like you weren’t sure of it already.
“what does it look like i’m doing? im putting you in your place, now be a good girl, how about that?” he teases you, throwing the belt across the room.
“you’re an asshole.” are the only words you can say right now.
“don’t see you complaining right now” he muttered, nipping on your neck, as he left a trail of kisses and bites on your neckline and chest, you weren’t even wearing a bra. he pushes two thick digits into your heat without warning.
“shit!” you yelp, he finds your g-spot easily, nudging against it as he hooks his fingers up, teasing you, his voice sweet and clear when he says, "maybe you'd prefer your boyfriend to fuck you."
you let out a choked noise that had been intended to be a scoff,
“is that what this is about? are you jealous?” you look between your legs to him as his fingers move faster inside of you, your panties discarded elsewhere. the roughness of it was hot. his fingers crook upwards inside of you, making any legible thought damn near impossible. the way his fingers were moving fast and hard inside of you, pushing you towards the edge faster than you'd like to admit.
"maybe i would prefer him," you catch the look that passes over his face, you lean into his ear, teasing him, "bet he could fuck me like i need it." and just like that, you got what you wanted, his fingers thrusted rapidly into you, his thumb stimulating your clit.
“fuck, james!” you moan out.
“dont worry, i cant fuck you like you need it, right?” he says, voice low, as his fingers keep on thrusting into you, his other hand is on your neck, holding it just hard enough to get you flustered.
“i was kidding! i s-swear” you leat out in the midst of moans.
“i cant understand you, princess, what’d you say?” he wants you to repeat it, god, were you fucked.
“i was kidding! no one can -fuck- do it to me like you can, please james” you beg, reaching your high, you can feel tears coming.
“please what?”
“please james, let me cum”
“ah, sweets” he coos, your fucked out expressions making him even harder, he rubs his thumb onto your cheek, “not yet” he pulls his fingers out and you whine at that, feeling empty.
“ass up, doll” he whispers, you immediately turn around, on shaking hands and knees. “not like that”, he hummed, his hand sliding to the centre of your back, firmly pushing you down as your face pressed against the pillow. your shirt slipped down, letting him see you fully, he loved it when you wore lace. his hand runs over the curve of your ass, he could get used to the sight, he loved how responsive you were to his touch too.
as he positioned himself behind you, he undid his zipper and unbuttoned his jeans, his thick tip was pressed up against your hole, pushing your panties aside.
the teasing made your back arch in need but he wanted to make you work for it,
"say please, baby, remember your manners." you probably sounded pathetic, whimpering and whiny, you didnt care though, you needed him.
“please james, fuck me, i need you so bad, please” his hand gives your ass a light tap, signaling he’s going to do it.
“good girl” he murmured, pushing in slowly, your body rocking at the feeling, the stretch of him being in you. you moaned out, a very sweet sound to him.
he pushes into you, looking down and seeing how well you take him. you're whimpering and gasping, the hot and heavy press of his cock against your walls reducing you into a mess of incomprehensible words.
“princess, im only halfway in, you sure you can take it tonight?” he rubbed your shoulder, dipping down his head to kiss your neck. you nodded rapidly, already feeling so full, your hips grinded back against him. he thrusted in the rest of the way, you moaned out, feeling so full and trying to muffle it out with your pillow.
he lets out a groan that makes you wish you were facing him to see his face lost in pleasure. he moans,
"fucking hell, you feel so good my cock," the way your walls fluttered around him when he praised you made him go crazy. "can i move, doll?"
you hummed,
“yes please”, at that, he slowly pulled out, you moaned loudly as he slammed back into you. with your little moans and gaps he sets a rhythm.
ecstasy coursing through you, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he pounded into you, body boucing on the bed with his thrusts. he placed a hand on your abdomen, needing to hold on to something, making you realize how deep he was hitting. he kept on shoving his dick harder and harder into you, pounding against you roughly. he kisses along the side of your neck, you can feel his bare chest pressing to your back, his breathing ragged in your ear, hips never even stalling,
“such a good girl, right? taking my cock for me, ‘feels so good, love” and you couldn’t do anything but agree in mindless, fucked out whimpers of ‘yes’ and ‘james’.
he pounds into you fast and rough, your cheek pressed against the mattress as you felt his cock wrecking you with each rough roll of his hips, filling you up easily. you nearly scream as the hand that was gripping your ass slipped under and, before you can process it, your eyes are rolling back again as he rolls your clit between deft fingers.
“fuck!” you moaned out, surprised. it was like he memorized every single thing you loved about having sex with him, the way he could find the right spots, his praise, his degradation. you did miss him.
the rolling of his fingers on your clit with the fast-paced thrusts made you gasp in pleasure, tightening around him as he brought you closer to your high. moaning in response to his praises, no tangible sentences able to form. your back arches subconsciously, a silent beg for more.
"james, i'm, fuck, m'gonna," you whine, unable to finish a sentence, too lost in pleasure, "g-gonna cum-"
your weak whimpers made you feel so vulnerable and he found it so. fucking. hot.
“yeah? you gonna cum on my cock like a good girl?” he teased you, pounding into you even faster. driving you to your climax crazy quick, words pushing you further. “go ahead doll, cum on me” he muttered.
your mouth dropped into loud calls of his name, you clenched around him and there was no doubts of the complaints you’d get, the begging growing louder. his thrusts don't stop, they do slow, letting you ride your high out for as long as possible.
once you finish, he flips you over onto your back. he threw your legs over his shoulders, going even deeper.
“wanna se your face when i cum, babe” he continued to thrust on a rapid pace, the snap of his hips wrecking you, as your nails dug onto his back. from that position, the base of his cock grinded against your clit.
“cum in me, please” you whimpered as he took sight of you. how your heat flushed lips were parted into a sweet moan, your hair splayed out across the pillowcase, your flustered face screwed up in pleasure.
there wouldn’t be another day where he didnt think about how good you looked under him. the edge of the overstimulation had a familiar tightening in your gut. his hand palming your tit as he groaned out into your ear,
“cum for me again doll, c’mon, be a good girl for me” your back arches off of the bed, your head tipped back as you reach your second high. this one more powerful than the last.
at the feeling of you tensing around him for a second time, he lets out a low groan, the pace of his hips stuttering. your moans and begs from underneath him push him over the edge, burying himself deep inside of you as you gripped hard onto him.
"fuck y/n!" he finishes hard, rolling his hips up hard to meet yours. he feels dazed, he thinks its the hardest he's ever cum.
he pulled out gently, laying down next to you and putting himself back in his trousers.
“you good?” he asked, and you just hummed in response. james smiled, pulling you in.
“listen, gotta tell you something” he whispered, you quickly looked over at him.
“what? did something happen?” you ask, worried, he never really did that.
“yeah, i dont think im a friends with benefits guy.” he said, smiling akwardly.
“oh” you sigh, confused.
“im more of a boyfriend guy, if yours doesn’t matter with stepping back from his position, after all, he is working in another company and i’d love to make some more business with you and-“ you slap him on the shoulder.
“shut up james.” you smile, rolling your eyes, you decide to play along. “thank you for your advice, mr. potter, he will be fired tomorrow morning, your work starts about now. your first task is to grab me that chinese food in the kitchen because god, im starving.” he gives you a quick peck as he gets up, god did he feel lucky.
maybe not being able to pull off the friends with benefits deal was a good thing after all.
summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)
or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!
contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!
notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.
fem!reader 8k words
James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.
He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.
“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”
James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.
He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.
“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”
Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”
For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.
“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”
It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.
Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”
James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.
His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.
James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.
He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.
You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.
“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”
James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”
You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”
You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.
You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.
“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”
You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.
“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”
James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”
He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.
“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”
James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”
You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.
He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.
“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”
You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.
“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.
James shrugs. “Why not?”
You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”
James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.
“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”
James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.
The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.
“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.
You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”
“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”
You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”
James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.
The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.
First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.
He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.
You’re late James!!!!
We started without u. Where r u????
Sirius is gonna wring ur neck
James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.
He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.
“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”
Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”
James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.
“James!” You gasp, stopping short.
James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.
You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.
“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“
Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.
“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.
“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”
“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.
“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.
“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”
James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”
He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.
“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.
James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”
You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.
James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.
It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.
James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.
James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.
It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.
“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.
You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.
“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.
James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.
“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.
He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.
“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”
He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.
“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”
“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”
You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.
“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah. See you around, angel.”
It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.
-
James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.
He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.
It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.
You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.
“Y/N?”
There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.
“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”
He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.
“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.
“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.
You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.
There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.
“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”
“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.
James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”
You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.
“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”
James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.
Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.
You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.
Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.
“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.
Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.
You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.
You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.
It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.
“James,” you say.
He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”
You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”
His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”
You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.
James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)
“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”
You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.
“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”
James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”
He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.
“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”
“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”
You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.
“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”
James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”
You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.
James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.
You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.
Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.
“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”
You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.
“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”
You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.
Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.
You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.
“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”
You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.
“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.
“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.
“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”
You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.
By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.
You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.
“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.
James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”
You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.
-
James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.
So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.
He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.
He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.
“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”
James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.
“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”
James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”
Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”
And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.
Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.
For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.
You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.
The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.
“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.
You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.
“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.
James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.
“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”
You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.
“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”
He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.
“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.
James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”
You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”
“You should. You look lovely.”
You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.
“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”
James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.
James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.
“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.
“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”
“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”
James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”
He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.
“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”
Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.
“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”
Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.
And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.
James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.
“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.
His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.
“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.
“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.
“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”
The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.
James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.
He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.
“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.
“What? What’s that mean?”
James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”
It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.
“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”
James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”
You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.
“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.
You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”
“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”
Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.
“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”
James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”
He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.
The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.
When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.
You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.
“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.
“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”
“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”
You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.
“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.
James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.
“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.
You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”
James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“
But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.
“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.
“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.
James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.
You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”
James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”
You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.
“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”
James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”
Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.
You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.
“So? There’s no one in here but us.”
He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.
“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.
“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”
“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”
It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.
He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.
Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.
James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.
-
feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx
summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)
or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!
contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!
notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.
fem!reader 8k words
James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.
He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.
“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”
James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.
He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.
“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”
Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”
For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.
“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”
It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.
Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”
James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.
His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.
James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.
He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.
You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.
“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”
James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”
You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”
You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.
You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.
“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”
You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.
“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”
James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”
He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.
“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”
James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”
You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.
He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.
“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”
You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.
“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.
James shrugs. “Why not?”
You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”
James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.
“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”
James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.
The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.
“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.
You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”
“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”
You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”
James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.
The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.
First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.
He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.
You’re late James!!!!
We started without u. Where r u????
Sirius is gonna wring ur neck
James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.
He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.
“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”
Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”
James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.
“James!” You gasp, stopping short.
James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.
You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.
“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“
Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”
James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.
“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.
“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”
“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.
“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.
“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”
James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”
He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.
“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.
James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”
You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.
James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.
It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.
James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.
James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.
It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.
“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.
You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.
“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.
James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.
“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.
He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.
“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”
He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.
“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”
“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”
You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.
“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah. See you around, angel.”
It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.
-
James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.
He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.
It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.
You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.
“Y/N?”
There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.
“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”
He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.
“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.
“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.
You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.
There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.
“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”
“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.
James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”
You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.
“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”
James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.
Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.
You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.
Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.
“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”
Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.
Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.
You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.
You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.
It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.
“James,” you say.
He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”
You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”
His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”
You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.
James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)
“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”
You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.
“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”
James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”
He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.
“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”
“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”
You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.
“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”
James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”
You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.
James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.
You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.
Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.
“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”
You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.
“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”
You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.
Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.
You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.
“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”
You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.
“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.
“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.
“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”
You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.
By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.
You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.
“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.
James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”
You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.
-
James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.
So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.
He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.
He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.
“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”
James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.
“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”
James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”
Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”
And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.
Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.
For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.
You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.
The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.
“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.
You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.
“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.
James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.
“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”
You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.
“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”
He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.
“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.
James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”
You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”
“You should. You look lovely.”
You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.
“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”
James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.
James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.
“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.
“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”
“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”
James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”
He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.
“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”
Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.
“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”
Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.
And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.
James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.
“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.
His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.
“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.
“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.
“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”
The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.
James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.
He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.
“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.
“What? What’s that mean?”
James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”
It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.
“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”
James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”
You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.
“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.
You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”
“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”
Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.
“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”
James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”
He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.
The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.
When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.
You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.
“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.
“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”
“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”
You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.
“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.
James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.
“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.
You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”
James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“
But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.
“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.
“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.
James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.
You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”
James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”
You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.
“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”
James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”
Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”
“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.
You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.
“So? There’s no one in here but us.”
He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.
“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.
“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”
“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”
It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.
He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.
Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.
James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.
-
feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx
Summary: James has an interesting new business proposal and one hell of a condition to deal with.
Warnings: Mob Bucky because he is his own warning, verbal abuse (but not from our lover boy), angst, arranged marriage, blood/gore, death, fluff, forced marriage, guns, language, mentions of sex, murder, slow burn, smut, violence, weapons. Each chapter will have it’s own warnings as well and please read at your own risk!
18+ minors do not interact
disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif. found on google/Pinterest
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