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#showaddywaddy#i wonder why#totp#top of the pops#1978#me still learning names but didn't have enough tag space in the last post:#and i think somebody is al??#and there's a trevor#i do not know which is which#OKAY AL IS THE ONE IN THE YELLOW#al james#annnd trevor oakes#is#theeeee#the one in the pink!#yes that's trevor#then who is the one in dark blue and the one in red#OKAY dark blue is rod deas and#the one in red is russ field#watch me instantly forget and have to look all of these up again#(i didn't forget anybody did i?)#(i didn't get anybody's names WRONG did i?)#(aside from dave's i am sorry it's dave bartram)#i'm laughing at buddy omg#showaddywaddy gifs
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hi, my love! i hope you’re doing okay!
i’d be really interested to see the protectiveness of the marauders and how it plays out in a poly!marauders dynamic. say something happens to r (can be as minor or as severe as you prefer). how would each marauder react and how would their dynamics bounce off each other? would it make the situation better or worse?
I find it funny picturing r attempting to wrangle all three of her boys from throwing hands (especially if it was a mistake or a miscommunication between r and the “offender”) and they’re bouncing off each other and riling themselves up more and she’s just like, ffs I’m so sorry and tries her best to manhandle her three boyfriends away for a stern talking to. Like, thank you guys for protecting me and all that but a) t’was a mistake / miscommunication, and b) i can sort my own shit and will ask if i need back up (Sirius in the back like no need to ask, i’m ready to go bby). Everyone’s like wtf Remus?! because he’s usually the chill one and it’s just a cluserfuck of misplaced angst and fluffy humour.
this might overlap with some other requests you’ve written, so feel free to ignore or tweak as you see fit! no idea if this makes any sense but hope it’s fun to write if you decide to!
Hi lovely! I've done a couple fics with protective marauders before, so I wanted to try something a little different based on your prompt. I had a different vision in my head than how it turned out, but I hope you like it <3
cw: alcohol, sexual assault, violence
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.7k words
You’ve been known to be a…somewhat short-fused drunk. It’s not that you’ll get angry with anyone for anything, only that the sort of behavior that you might normally try to ignore, you…don’t. This is usually the behavior of men.
It’s one of those nights where the club is made up of about forty percent young girls and sixty percent older, eagle-eyed men. You’re glad for your boyfriends, who ward off the other men like a force field around you. You feel lucky to have it and disgusted to need it.
James’ laughter is loud and bright as you spin him around after he does you. You echo it, pleased at having inspired such a sound. With his large, sturdy build, it’s rare for James to get very drunk, but he’s about where you are now. Which is to say, you’ve been sloppily dancing and giggling with each other for the last hour.
Remus rolls his eyes fondly when James nearly spins himself out of balance, steadying him with a hand on his back.
“I’m gonna go take a piss,” Sirius shouts.
James laughs again, planting a wet kiss on his cheek. “Classy, babe.”
“Bugger off.” Sirius shoves him playfully into Remus’ chest.
You dance with them both for a minute longer before leaning in to shout, “Okay if I go get more drinks?”
Remus eyes you both for a second, but nods. “Alright. I’ll come with you.”
“No, stay.” You set a hand on his chest. “Don’t let Jamie dance alone. I’ll be right back, yeah?”
You don’t give him a chance to respond as you head for the bar. It’s crowded, but you’re not about to worm between some middle-aged men to get to the front. You stand up on your toes and wait to catch the bartender’s eye.
“What’s your name?” Suddenly there’s a warm body pressed up behind yours, hands on your hips.
Your blood, already warmed by alcohol, turns hot in an instant. You step forward, too quick for the man behind you to follow. Turn to look him in the eyes.
“Don’t touch me,” you say firmly.
“Okay.” The man raises his eyebrows at you. He looks nearly old enough to be your father—certainly old enough to be someone’s father—with waxy skin and thinning hair combed over the front of his head. He’s in a suit like he came here from work. “Sorry, relax. I just think you’re beautiful.”
“I’m here with someone.” Someones, you could say, but you’ve learned it’s easier in some situations to make it sound like you only have one partner, for brevity’s sake. And there’s nothing you desire more than for this interaction to be brief.
He gives a little laugh. “Don’t take things so seriously, I’m only complimenting you. Do you like to dance?”
You give him a hard look. “Only with my boyfriend.”
“You look like you dance.” His eyes skim down your frame, raptorial. “I can tell. You have the body for it.”
No sooner does his large, meaty hand connect with your ass than you’re grabbing it by the wrist, your free hand balling and aiming for his face.
His surprised grunt comes in sync with a “Woah!” from behind you.
You turn to find Remus and James, looking like they’ve just broken through the crowd. James is staring at you with wide eyes. One of the men near you at the bar sets a hand on your shoulder, pulling you away from the creep and forcing you to drop his wrist, but Remus is there in an instant.
“Oi.” He grabs you, removing the man’s hand and caging you in his arms. “She’s fine.”
“She hit him!” the man accuses. The guy from before is leaning forward with a hand pressed over his face.
James is incredulous. “Did you see what he did to her?”
The other man looks between you like he’s realized he’s missing something, and Remus takes a couple of steps back from the crowd with you in his arms. Meanwhile, your attacker seems to be recovering from his shock. He lowers his hand to reveal a discolored mark on his jaw, gaping at you.
“You fucking cunt!”
James gives him a hard shove, and more shouting starts up around the bar, various other patrons either cheering the fight on or trying to break it up. Remus grabs James by his shirt, tugging him along as he herds you towards the exit. “Alright, we’re going, we’re going.”
Your journey out of the building is hurried and difficult to follow in your addled state, but everything seems to catch up to you when the dark club gives way to glaring fluorescent streetlights. You bend over under a wave of nausea.
“Hey.” James sounds more sober than he had a few minutes ago. He stoops to look at you, your eyes wet. “You okay?”
Remus says something to him quietly, passing James the car keys. He unwinds his arm from around you and kisses your head.
“I’ll be right back,” he says gently. “Go wait in the car, okay?”
“Okay…” Your voice is hardly a whimper. “Where are you going?”
But Remus is already gone, waving down the bouncer outside of the club.
You turn to James. “Where is he going?”
Tears blink out of your eyes as you ask. The corners of James’ mouth turn down sympathetically.
“Oh, my girl.” He wraps a big arm around your shoulders, kissing your head as he leads you towards the car. “What’s wrong? Does your hand hurt?”
You shake your head, though it does a little. Your knuckles and the tops of your fingers feel odd and sore, and there’s a throbbing that goes all the way down to your wrist. That’s not what’s bothering you, though. You’re not sure if you can pick what’s bothering you. The predatory stares you’ve endured all night; the sickening realization of the man’s body pressed up against yours; his easy, blithe laughter; your own white-hot anger, there and gone before you could take account of yourself—it’s all too much.
“I can’t believe I hit him,” you admit tearfully.
James lets out a little laugh. “I saw, baby.” He unlocks the car, opening the back door.
“I didn’t mean to.”
“I—oh, okay.” James doesn’t stop you when you don’t get in, instead sitting on the floor of the car with your feet on the gravel parking lot. He sits beside you. “It’s okay if you did. He deserved it.”
You put your head in your hands. “I don’t hit people.”
He makes a soft sound. A big hand lands between your shoulder blades, rubbing softly. “I know you don’t, sweetheart. It’s…I get that you wouldn’t usually, but I think this counts as a special circumstance. Rem, he saw what was happening, but we couldn’t get to you fast enough. I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, you know?”
You don’t reply, and he lets you sit in silence for a while, your weeping gradually stopping. When Remus comes back, it’s with Sirius in tow.
“What the fuck happened?” Sirius asks tipsily. “I was looking for you!”
“Did Remus not tell you?” James sounds excited to be the one to share the news.
“Alright, dove?” Remus asks at a more reasonable volume, crouching in front of you. “Does your hand hurt? Can I see?”
“No, he’s being bloody tight-lipped.” Sirius ruffles Remus’ hair. “Just said you had to go. Oi, you alright, lovely?”
“She punched a guy in the face,” James says proudly.
“She what?” Sirius’ mouth pops open. You shrink some under his gaze. “Baby, you what?”
“I didn’t mean to!” you insist, though it’s hard to stay miserable when two of your boyfriends look so obviously delighted.
Sirius shakes his head, awestruck. “What did I miss?”
James fills him in quickly while Remus prods at your hand, eventually commending you on a rather clean hit after he’s certain you didn’t break anything. Sirius can hardly keep his mouth shut while James talks, nor can James keep from using a series of vulgar names for the man who’d touched you, though he checks on you a couple of times to be sure his storytelling isn’t upsetting you. When he’s done, Sirius’ stare has darkened, his arms crossing as he leans against the side of the car.
“Do we think he could perhaps use a matching bruise on the other side?” he muses, gaze flicking to the entrance of the club. “Maybe one of you could point him out to me.”
“You’ll get to see him soon,” says Remus. You look at him questioningly, but he only gives you a small smile. Cryptic.
“Really, she’s already handled it rather well herself.” James slides his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your head. “You should have seen it, I had no idea she could punch like that.”
“Me neither,” you sigh.
Just then, the door to the club bangs open. Two bouncers come out in their uniform black tees, hauling between them another man.
“Alright, alright, leave off!” The creep from earlier struggles in their grasp. All three of your boyfriends tense. As he comes through the doorway, his discolored jaw catches the light.
Sirius whistles. “Shit. That is bloody gorgeous.”
You feel the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips, but try to remain contrite. You catch Remus’ eye.
“It was pretty impressive,” he says, also smiling.
You chew your lip. “You don’t think it was wrong?”
“What’s wrong about it?” Sirius asks. “He touched you, you touched him. I’d have done the same if I were there.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “We know, love.”
“I’m just saying, I could make it symmetrical…”
“No,” Remus says sternly. He helps you up, ushering you into the backseat. “It’s time to go home.”
James buckles in beside you while Remus gets into the driver’s seat. Sirius lingers outside the car.
“He’s not gotten far yet, are we sure…”
“Aw, baby, does your hand hurt?” James asks loudly.
Sirius turns, crawling in to get a look. “Shit, did you bruise something? How’d you make a fist?”
James reaches across him to shut the door, and Remus drives away.
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly marauders#poly marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders angst#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#marauders x reader#hp marauders#marauders era
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black - November 7th - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 356 - trans!regulus (fits in with my longfic, Clandestine, but can be read alone)
Regulus was ten when he'd chosen his first name. When he'd sat in Sirius's room, hidden away from the rest of the world, and picked the name that reflected who he truly was, and not who his parents wanted him to be.
The first time he'd heard Sirius refer to him with his name, the euphoria had been inexplicable. A rush of joy and emotion so intense he'd lost his breath for a moment. That was his name. Not the name his parents had given him at birth.
But even as he grew and learned to not only celebrate his name, but who he was, something still wasn't perfect. Because as amazing as it was to be referred to as Mister Black, he was still saddled with the surname of his parents. The parents who hated him. The parents who hurt him and screamed at him, just for being himself. The parents he'd finally physically escaped, but was still connected to through a stupid name.
So, really, when the opportunity arose, the decision was the second-easiest decision he'd made in his life. Second-easiest, of course, only to saying, "Yes" when James had gotten on one knee only a few weeks prior.
"I want to take your last name," he whispered one night, curled in James's arms as they sat in their small living room, a fire roaring in the fireplace.
He felt his fiancé's breathing still. They hadn't discussed it at all, up until this point, and he knew bringing it up so randomly was probably a shock.
"Baby..." James whispered, pulling back so they could look at each other, "...you know you don't have to, right? I mean, we have options, we can talk about it. We can- we can hyphenate, we can both keep out own names. Hell, I'm so fucking thrilled to be marrying you, I'll be James Black, if that's what you-"
But Regulus was sure. "No," he shook his head, smiling a bit. "I want to be Regulus Potter."
A stunning smile spread across James's face. "Gods," he murmured, eyes twinkling, "that sounds so fucking good."
Regulus couldn't help but agree.
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#fanfic#harry potter marauders#the marauders#marauders harry potter#marauders fanfic#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#poor james#james potter#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus and james#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#james loves regulus#regulus deserved better#regulus black x james potter#jegulus#jegulus microfic#starchaser#sunseeker#trans!regulus
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Where Padfoot Lays His Head
Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)
Words: 1.7k
Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater
Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with
Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.
Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.
His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.
Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.
When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.
He was sure of that every time.
It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.
Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.
Humiliating.
All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.
Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah?
He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.
Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.
You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.
Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.
Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.
In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.
What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.
A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.
The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it.
So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.
You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.
Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.
Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.
The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.
Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.
A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.
When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder.
He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past.
Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled.
Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.
Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.
Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them.
Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.
The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”
#regulus black#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#lily evans#marauders#marauders era#marauders era x reader#marauders era fic#marauders era reader insert#marauders era self insert#marauders x reader#marauders x you#marauders x y/n#platonic!sirius black#platonic!sirius black x reader#platonic!sirius black x you#platonic!sirius black x y/n#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black x y/n#regulus x reader#regulus x you#regulus x y/n#platonic!sirius x reader#platonic!sirius x you#platonic!sirius x y/n#sirius black x reader#sirius black fic#platonic!remus lupin x reader
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Elle have you ever felt the urge to write more swim lessons with the marauders? I’m not usually much of a “part 2??” person but when I read that one I thought it was begging for a continuation. No pressure though!! Only if you feel like it, thanks for writing the first one at all :)
wellllllllll, since you asked so nicely (no but I'd literally do anything for you, just name the price - also, this feels like a full circle moment since the first part was absolutely not heavily influence by my love for your EMT!marauders...........)
swim instructor!marauders x fem!reader who learns that praise kinks are a transferrable skill
find part one here!
CW: joking about drowning each other, nerves surrounding learning how to swim, inappropriate jokes because.....well.....you know.
You had left last week's swim lesson (which you had dubbed your latest near death experience) quite certain you would rather just enjoy the white-sand beaches of the Maldives by the waterline.
That is until perhaps the third time someone joked about bringing you a set of water wings, and the second time someone pointed out the horrid tan lines those would leave on your skin.
So here you were, sitting on a bench in the posh dressing room of the posh country club that your friend’s fiance’s posh family owned as you waited for the rest of the patron’s to clear out of the pool for your private swim lessons.
Oh God, what if you were expected to compensate them for this too?!
You were so consumed in your spiralling - wondering if you could manage to take out a line of credit simply to attend your best friend's wedding - when you heard your name being called into the change room.
“You in there?” You could hear Remus call.
“Yup!” You called back; horrified when your voice cracked. “I’m coming.” You added after clearing your throat.
You reluctantly grabbed your towel and hugged it to your chest as you headed towards the pool.
“There she is!” Sirius called as he spotted you. “Our favourite swimmer!”
“I’ve not actually done any swimming yet.” You corrected quietly. Not quietly enough, unfortunately, as the acoustics in this room seemed to carry your words to the black haired swimmer and his bespectacled counterpart across the entire pool.
“You won’t be able to say that for much longer!” James countered.
Remus apparently noticed the panic look form on your face as he let out a low chuckle. “We’re staying in the shallow end today, love. There’s no need to worry.”
You wanted to be annoyed with him at his incessant use of pet names and endearments, but any ire that may have bubbled in your chest simply vanished when he flashed you a soft, crooked smile.
You watched then as James and Sirius launched themselves into the pool without a second thought whilst Remus gently lowered himself into it from the edge.
You weren’t proud that you had to force yourself to look away from the muscles in his shoulders as they flexed under his weight.
“How tall are you?” Sirius asked then, causing James to gasp dramatically.
“You’re not supposed to ask a lady that, Pads.” He scolded.
“No.” Sirius countered slowly. “You’re not supposed to ask them how much they weigh.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to ask them anything to do with numbers; weight, age, height.” James continued.
“Age!? What can you ask them?” Sirius beseeched.
“Would you sods shut up?” Remus grumbled.
“Right.” Sirius said then, apparently remembering himself. “I only ask because you should be able to touch the bottom here; why don’t you try getting in like Moony did?”
You felt your brows furrow as you looked at Sirius in bemusement. “Moony?”
“That’s me.” Remus clarified as he let out a sigh of exasperation; you couldn’t help but notice the shy blush that took over his face and threatened to spread to his chest at the moniker, however. “He’s Pads, and James is Prongs. Sometimes. Right now, they’re sod 1 and sod 2.”
His insult was met with one indignant ‘oi!’ and a retaliatory splash. “But what Sirius was trying to say was that it would be good practice getting in and out without a gradient; you said the wedding was in the Maldives?”
You nodded in response.
“You may at times only have the edge of a dock or perhaps a small staircase to get into the water; doing this in the shallow end will help train your body not to go into fight or flight mode each time.”
And while that all sounded well and good, you couldn’t help but look at the water warily.
“Come on.” Sirius encouraged you as he situated himself below you and patted the edge of the pool. “Have a seat, doll.”
You bit back a grumble and did as you were told, sitting on the edge of the pool where Sirius stood between your legs and set his hands on either side of you. “Then you just slide in, and I’ll be here to catch you; got it?”
“Is there gonna be a tattooed bloke in the Maldives to catch me too?” You grumbled to yourself, horrified when Sirius’ bark of laughter alerted you to the fact that you had said that out loud.
“Why, you looking for a date, doll?”
You have got to stop blurting out every thought that enters your mind, especially around these men.
Instead of dealing with your embarrassment, you figured you may as well just try drowning.
Unfortunately for you, the water was shallow and you were tall enough to touch the bottom and Sirius had caught you, so it looked as though you would just have to deal with your embarrassment like a mature adult.
But fuck that.
So instead, you splashed him.
“Oh she’s feisty today.” James commented as Sirius squawked something or other about his hair.
Humour danced behind Remus’ whiskey eyes as he considered you. “Thank you for splashing him so I wouldn’t have to.”
“We should invest in some of those spray bottles for when he’s being a pest.” James called over with a smirk.
Whatever qualms Sirius may have had about his hair seemed to dissipate at the prospect of dunking his mate as he lunged for James and forced them both under the water.
You were mortified to realise you had leaned into Remus’ side to avoid getting tangled up in whatever underwater brawl was taking place; only realising your proximity to the tall swim instructor when he placed a placating hand on your back.
“This is actually what we’re going to be practising today.” He explained as his two counterparts emerged from the water with gasping breaths.
“Drowning each other?”
“Holding our breath.” Remus corrected you with a smirk. “The hope is that you will feel more comfortable in practising if you’re not so worried about what will happen when you’re underwater.”
“We’re gonna have a cheeky seat at the bottom of the pool!” James explained.
You looked to Remus with what you were sure was a ‘you’re kidding me, yeah?’ face who simply smiled at you encouragingly.
“I thought the purpose of swim lessons was to not end up at the bottom of a pool.” You deadpanned.
“The purpose of swim lessons is to avoid ending up at the bottom of a pool, and knowing how to get back up to the surface when you do.” Sirius offered.
“We’ll just lower ourselves to our knees and-”
“My favourite position.” Sirius interrupted Remus’ instructions.
“James?” Remus deadpanned.
“On it.” James answered quickly as he put Sirius in a headlock and dunked them under the water again.
“As I was saying,” Remus continued without the distraction of the other two, “we’ll lower ourselves to our knees, try to count to 10, and then we’ll come back up.”
The other two instructors reemerged at the end of Remus’ sentence and you let out a heavy breath. “I don’t think I can do this.” You admitted quietly.
Any humour and levity seeped from the three men as they circled you protectively.
“No, hey, of course you can!” James offered, trying to imbue some of his eagerness and enthusiasm onto you as he swiped water away from his eyes.
“Why would she trust you, James? You look like nothing but trouble.” Sirius said haughtily as he tried to re-restrain his hair into an elastic.
You were expecting James to squawk in offence, but his face lit up brilliantly as if Sirius had just solved world hunger.
“That’s it!”
“What’s it?” Remus asked warily.
“She doesn’t trust us!” James clarified, which clarified nothing for you at all.
“What! I- no, that’s not true. I…I do trust you, I just-”
“No, no. Not like that angel.” James offered. “I’m sure you trust us enough as employees here, but not necessarily enough to willingly put yourself at risk, right?”
You tried to think of an argument.
You couldn’t.
“Okay, let’s see…oh!” James started as he lowered himself into the water enough that it lapped against his chin. “I was completely broken when my marriage ended, and these two were the only ones who could convince me I wasn’t a complete failure.” He offered casually as if he hadn’t just dropped a significant amount of lore on a near stranger.
“I ran away from home at 16 and James’ family took me in, no questions asked, and have treated me as their own ever since.” Sirius added quickly.
Remus let out a sigh as he looked to the other two in faux exasperation. “And I was a poor scholarship kid attending an elite and posh prep school, and these two did everything they could to make sure no one made me feel insecure about it.”
“All this to say, angel; I’d trust these two with my life, and I think you should too.” James finished.
You let out a steadying breath and nodded your head. “Okay.”
“Yeah?” Sirius smiled.
“Yeah, yes; I can do this.” You decided, mostly speaking to yourself.
“Hell yeah, you can!” James cheered as he splashed the water, Remus muttering something about him being a giant toddler.
“So, you can plug your nose if you’d like; but try to take a deep breath in, and then whilst you’re under water try letting that air out slowly, okay?” Remus instructed then. You felt more than a little discombobulated with all of his attention focused on you.
Sirius demonstrated and you mimicked his actions which earned you a dramatic round of applause.
“Brilliant! You’re gonna rock this.” James assured you quickly.
“‘Course she is.” Sirius scoffed as if James had said something rather outlandish. “She’s been brilliant at everything so far.”
You felt your cheeks heat up near painfully and looked down to the water in hopes that no one noticed you fluster.
Unfortunately for you, it seemed Remus was more observant than you gave him credit for. “You going to be brilliant for us again today, love?”
You felt like it was your turn to scoff. “‘Course I am.” your inner voice echoed Sirius.
“‘Course she is.” James echoed for you; a knowing smirk gracing his lips.
“Ready?” Sirius started as he lowered himself to his shoulders.
You nodded and he started to count down.
At one, you sucked in a deep breath and plugged your nose before plunging yourself into the pool.
You were too buoyant; your body trying to return to the surface immediately after submerging yourself which left you feeling rather panicky, but you saw Sirius blow out dramatic bubbles and decided to do the same, feeling your body slowly sink to allow you to settle onto your knees.
James beamed a smile at you as Remus looked at a stopwatch counting down your seconds.
You realised it wasn’t so bad down here - letting the air out of your lungs left you not feeling as if your body was going to burst from the pressure, and it was beautifully quiet. It reminded you how peaceful you found floating to be just the week before.
You felt a gentle tap on your wrist, noticing Remus pointing upwards.
You stood and suddenly, you were horribly aware of how loud an empty pool could be; the sound of water filtering, the large fans in charge of the humidity levels, and the echoing of the great cavernous space left you feeling slightly homesick for the bottom of the pool.
“That was brilliant!” James cheered as he pulled you roughly into his side.
“You say that as if you’re surprised, Prongs.” Sirius teased gently.
“Of course I’m not surprised, she’s our brilliant student.”
And instead of an embarrassed flush of your cheeks, you felt a simmering pride settle within your chest.
It appeared that having a praise kink was, indeed, a transferable skill.
#marauders era#marauders au#reader insert#self insert#marauders fanfiction#remus lupin#james potter#sirius black#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x you#swim lessons#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#james potter x reader#james potter x you#swim instructor!marauders#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders ficlet#poly!marauders blurb#ellecdc fics
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Missing My Werewolf Husband
A/N: David Thewlis has taken over my mind lol. Enjoy - L
Summary: After two weeks of Remus leaving to teach Hogwarts. He finally comes back.
WARNING: Being married, smut, breeding, NSFW, SFW, angst
Word Count: 2.7K
═ ≪ ❈ ≫ ═
Remus was happy when he got an offer to teach in Hogwarts. The money would help a lot, that’s what he told you as you helped him pack. He notices your quiet demeanor as you fold his dress robes neatly to avoid any wrinkles. You had even patch a few holes on them in the morning.
He calls out your name as he sits on the edge of bed. His heart breaks into two when he notices how red your eyes are. You were trying your hardest not to cry. You were happy for him, yes. The money would be nice, yes but you didn’t care about that. As long as you had him with you everything worked out.
Both of you had settled in his little cottage after graduating Hogwarts and after the war. The cottage was small but it was everything to both of you, making it into your home and using magic for a few repairs. It was paradise and it was a place where Remus could transform every full moon.
“I’m sorry.” You cried softly and he goes close to you in the middle of the bed wrapping an arm around you so you can lean against him.
“Don’t cry, love.” He tells you as he kisses your forehead and hugs you. You hug him back, laying your head on his chest.
“We can send letters. I’ll see you every two weeks when I'm settled down in school and you can use the floo too. Dumbledore was kind enough to add it to my chambers, he said he will connect it with the one in the living room.”
Remus cups your face with his hands, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. You look up at your husband, his blue eyes are filled with his own tears. You pushed his sandy brown hair away from his face so you could kiss him.
Remus was the first to pull away and leans his forehead against yours, his hands going down to touch your arms. “You’re scaring me. You’re not going to leave me if I go, right?” He asks. You shake your head before answering him.
“No, I’m not. I'm not going to leave you not after all the work and time I spent trying to convince you that I love you.”
Remus lets out a chuckle as he kisses you again. You were right, you were in love with him since you were children in school. He knew he was in love with you the moment he saw you on the train to Hogwarts. As he grew he believed that he didn’t deserve to be loved. He didn’t deserve to have friends because of what he is. He didn’t deserve to have someone so beautiful and kind hearted like you but you managed to change his stubborn mind.
“Sometimes I think it’s a dream being married to you. I'm scared of waking up one day and finding out you're not mine. I don't deserve someone like you.” He confesses as he thinks about how you manage his moods when a full moon is near. Helping him clean and dressing his wounds for him after a full moon.
He thinks about the late night you wait outside for him. His chest fills with warmth as he remembers how you learned to make homemade chocolate for him.
When the day comes for him to go to Hogwarts, both of you couldn’t stop from crying. Remus didn’t sleep the night before. He watched as you slept after an eventful night. He traces the love bites marked on your skin, your eyes are shut but your lips are a bit open. He uses his thumb to pull your bottom lip before touching your face again.
Giving you a last kiss before boarding the train he looks out the window to wave at you. He finds an empty cart and places his luggage and suitcase above the seat. He watches out the window as he sits down, with his head against the window. He sniffs before wiping his tears with the back of his hand. There were so many memories about this train, his friends, his life in Hogwarts when he was younger. He can hear Lily and you talking about Charms while Sirius and James planned their next prank. He smiles at the thought of you cuddling with him on the train after graduating from Hogwarts. He feels his eyes grow heavy and he enters into a dreamless sleep.
It was two weeks later and Remus was filled with anxiety. He had sent you a letter on his first day of Hogwarts, telling you all about his position and about the students he is teaching. He wrote to you the next day that he couldn’t sleep the first day there because you weren’t there next to him. You weren’t there to cuddle him and scratch his back. You weren't there to run your fingers through his hair to help him fall asleep.
He found himself daydreaming about you during his breaks and meal times. To make matters worse, Moony missed you too. He can feel it, the wolf needed to be with his mate. Two weeks felt so long, he hasn’t touched you, he hasn’t smelled you. He hasn’t tasted you.
He graciously thanked Dumbledore and the elves for properly connecting the fireplace in his chambers to the fireplace to his little cottage. He quickly used it when they left.
Remus calls your name when he walks into the living room of the cottage. It’s quiet and he calls your name again. Looking in the kitchen and finding nothing he decided to go check the bedroom. The door is open and he can hear you humming. Calling your name again, he looks inside to see you on the bed.
He smiles wide when he notices you. You’re wearing one of his dark gray cardigans. It’s big on you, all of his cardigans are oversized. He saw your bare legs and saw the cardigan was half zip up, showing your cleavage.
You’re holding a book in your lap and he notices the Walkman near you. You’re wearing headphones and now he knows why you couldn’t hear him. He’s surprised you still haven’t seen him, especially when he walks into the room. He slowly starts to make his way up the bed and crawl to you. Feeling the bed dip, you looked ahead and you let out a yelp. Ripping the headphones off your head and pushing the book to the other side of the bed, you throw yourself onto Remus making him laugh as he lays flat on his back on the bed. You had crawled on him, sitting on his lap and kissing him.
Remus moans as he opens his mouth to deepen the kisses. He cups your face, tugging you closer to him as he turns his head to the side to slip his tongue in your mouth.
He looks up at you when you pull away. “Hi.” He says making you smile.
“Hello, Professor Lupin.” You said in a teasing tone as you looked down at him. He smiles at you before puckering his lips at you so you can give him another kiss. His hands find their way onto your legs and rub them up to your hips. He hears you squeal when he pulls the thong before releasing it, making it snap back against your skin. He grows hard at the thought of you home wearing only his cardigans and a thong on.
“Remus.” You whisper to him as you grind yourself against his crotch.
His eyes harden when you sit up straight, staring intensely at him as you bring a hand to the zipper of the cardigan. Pulling it completely down, Remus helps you, pushing the cardigan off of your shoulders showing him your bare chest. You hear him whine before pulling you toward him. He latches on one of your nipples as he uses his hand to pull the other one.
You moaned as he licked and sucked your nipple. Your moans turns into a giggle when his mustache tickles your nipple as he makes out with your breasts.
You can hear Moony growl as he licks the valley between your breasts all the way up to your neck. Remus pulls away to kiss your mark. Nuzzling in your neck, he quickly turns around making you laid down on your back. He spreads your legs wide open for his frame.
Remus doesn’t wait, he’s always been impatient when it comes to touching you. He feels you pulling his tie as he kisses your neck, his eyes roll in the back of his head when he feels you cup him though his trousers.
“Take this off, baby.” You tell him and he obeys you in a hurry. Removing his tie, throwing it over his shoulders with his shirt and sweater. Your eyes watched the scars on his rib cage expand as he took a deep breath. Remus’ body was a work of art to you. His fair skin was a canvas, some of his scars were pink, some were red and others were darker color. You love all of it, you kissed every one of him, even the ones on his back and legs.
You have kissed the ones of his handsome face. You watched as Remus kicked his shoes off and took his trouser off. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes wander down to his light brown happy trail, it disappears under his pitch tent boxer.
Wanting to taste him so bad, you felt his hands grab a hold of your ankle tugging you to the edge of the bed. You call out his name, laughing as you see him with a grin. He knelt down between your legs, his nose bumps with your cunt. He kisses it over the small fabric of the thong.
“Remus!” You moan when you feel his tongue licking your slit, he nips the fabric and uses one of his hands to pull it to the side. He latches on to your clit as he slowly slid two fingers in you.
Throwing your head back when you felt Remus hitting that sweet spot in you. You can’t help yourself and grab a hold of his hair, pulling him closer to your cunt. He moans at your action and eats your cunt messy. You don’t say anything when Remus rips the thong off your body. Another pair down the drain, you joke to yourself but you should have known better. Remus doesn’t like it when your sweet pretty cunt is covered. You blush as you remember what he told you. “Prettiest fucking cunt. You smell so good. Don’t cover up.”
Remus watches you as he comes back up, leaning over you. He kissed you and you moaned at the taste of your cunt on his tongue. He pulls away and signals you to get in the middle of the bed with his head. You quickly do and whine when you feel him slap your ass. Remus is quick to remove his boxer and follows you into the bed. Your head hits the pillow as he gets on top of you. Remus tells you how much he missed you as he kisses your neck. His hands go under, behind your knee and push them up to your chest.
“Let me..” Remus knew what you were going to ask. He would have loved your mouth on him but not right now. Two weeks without you, he needed you now. He needed to be inside of you.
“I’m so hard for you, already.” He tells you and you follow his right hand. He's jerking himself off. His cock looks so pretty and pink, he’s uncut and you can see the precum dripping out of his slit.
“You haven't cum in these two weeks?” You ask him and Remus shakes his head, pouting at you as he continues to touch himself.
You reach out for his cock. Going under to cup his balls making him moan. “Balls are heavy with cum, baby.” You whispered.
“You're going to give it to me right? You're going to give me all that cum you store for two weeks?” You asked him and Remus’ face turns red from your words.
You had a habit of making him blush red from your dirty words. “Yes, please.” He whines as you gently give his sack a squeeze.
Removing your hand, Remus gets closer to you, your legs are draped over his thighs as his cock hovers over your wet cunt. You moan softly when you feel him playing your clit with the fat head of his cock. He gives it a few slaps against your clit and pussy lips.
“Remus.” You cry his name out feeling impatient. He gives you a smirk at your plea to hurry up.
He quickly leans down to capture your lips as he slides himself in until the hilt. You cry out in his mouth at sudden movement. Remus fucks you as he's on top of you. His arm is behind you, your head is laying on his forearm as he watches your pretty face. He holds the edge of the mattress with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he thrusts in and out of you.
“Baby.” Remus whines as he looks down to see his cock going in and out of your pussy. What a lovely sight, a sight he missed so much. Letting go of the mattress he goes to your left breast fondling it as he continues.
You can't help but cry as he fucks you. Remus looking at you, his pretty blue eyes staring down. You feel him so deep in you in this position, his heavy balls are slapping your behind while rutting into you wild. The growl he gives you doesn't scare you one bit, it makes you clench around. Remus pants your name, you feel him tremble as you grab a hold of his thighs to help you stay in place. Remus' harsh thrust makes the box spring of bed squeak loudly. Your toes curl up when you feel his thumb on your throbbing clit. Remus leans back to see you come undone on his cock as he keeps fucking you. His hand becomes drench when you cum.
“Oh fuck-fuck.” Remus whines as he releases your clit and quickly leans back over you, his arms go under you to hold you close to his chest. He hides his sweaty face in your neck. You hold on to him for dear life as he catches up to his own release. Remus shouts your name and he gives you one harsh thrust and holds himself deep inside of you.
Remus is breathing heavily, he whines to you when he feels you stroking his back with both hands. He can hear you calling his name out softly trying to catch his attention. He moans as he feels his legs start to ache from holding this position but he ignores it. He lifts his head up from your neck and looks down at you. Your cheeks are flushed and your hair is tousled. He hums when you bring your hand to brush his own hair out of his face not minding how damp it was from his sweat.
“I missed you.” Remus hears you whisper.
“Me too. Me too, Y/n.” He croaks out to you before giving you a kiss on the lips. After a few moments, he’s off of you. He keeps kissing you softly, enjoying your warmth and your presence. He wipes you clean, carefully to not hurt you. Remus tries to push back Moony but the wolf inside of him is satisfied with the sight of your wet puffy cunt, blobs of his cum dripping out and wetting the blanket under you. With a warm damp cloth he wipes you with it, he gives your mound a kiss when he finishes.
You listen as Remus tells you about being back to school as you lay with him on the bed. He has his right arm around you as you laid on his chest. You trace the scars on his chest as he spoke. You catch sight of his left hand when he touches his lower stomach. The golden wedding band shines in the light and it makes you smile, you were so happy he was back. Oh merlin, how you missed your werewolf husband.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin is hot#harry potter fanfiction#david thewlis#remus lupin being the best husband#remus lupin angst#remus lupin married life#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x reader smut#remus lupin x you
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Lovely?
Summary: You don't like the marauders. You don't talk and don't even look at them. But as you visit your friend in the hospital wing you encounter a certain boy with brown hair, scars and this lovely eyes.
Pairing: Remus Lupin x Gryffindor!reader
Warnings: Low self esteem, past bullying?, This is no bully! Marauders fic!!
Part 1 Part 3
"Hey, do you want to study for Transfiguration together?"
A normal day. It should have been. But ever since I was asked who I would date, I've been hearing giggles and whispers. And now James is standing in front of Amy and me. Ready to finish something. I don't know what yet, but it's going to hurt.
Because it will be a joke of theirs.
"Why should we?" I go straight on the offensive. Leave fears behind and intimidate them.
Sirius, who was standing behind James, looked to the side to stifle a laugh. That kind of upset me.
"Well, in the last lesson you had... We thought we could help each other."
Oh. My mistake. That they laughed about. Learning. Together. Actually, they just want to smile at my stupidity. SMILE.
"Amy doesn't even have Transfiguration." I hissed, looking the boy in front of me in the eye for the first time. He looked almost uncomfortable.
This boy I rode to Hogwarts with in the same wagon. And who now feels too cool to remember my name. I'm just a joke that you crack a few times and then forget.
"Which is why, unfortunately, I have to say goodbye and go upstairs. Important subjects are waiting for me!" Amy tapped my shoulder and I was about to thank her inwardly until- "That's why I'm leaving this sweetie here with you, okay?"
Peter looked up from his book for the first time. He was sitting on the couch by the fire.
In the common room of Gryffindor, it was not uncommon for people to fight over this space. Peter snatched it early enough so that Remus, who looked very ill that morning, just sat on the chair at the table next to it.
Peter was probably just as disappointed that Amy left as I was, if I interpreted his expression correctly.
"Amy," I whispered to her, "what are you doing?"
She raised her eyebrows, rolled her eyes and sighed briefly. And I understood. She wanted me to give them a chance.
I looked at her with begging eyes and screamed at her in my mind not to leave me here alone.
"So...?" James stood there like a boy waiting for his mother's permission.
And I wasn't going to give it to him.
"Sorry, Jarry, but I was planning on studying for other subjects with Amy today. So if you'll excuse us." What did I just say?
"Oo-," James looked to his friends while Sirius laughed out loud, "-okay?"
I didn't look at Amy and just stomped faree upstairs to our room.
Amy followed me, but not without letting out a sigh of disappointment.
~~
"What was that about?" My voice was a little louder than usual. "I thought we agreed that we didn't like the four of them?"
Amy groaned and threw herself on her bed. "I never said that. I meant that they can be assholes sometimes, that's all."
"But they just were assholes?"
I also sat down on my bed and looked out of the window. The Hufflepuff team was playing quidditch.
"How were they assholes in any way, please? James just asked us if we wanted to study with them in the common room."
I could hear Amy starting to get angry.
"You know what he meant. He only asked because I said something completely stupid in Transfiguration the day before yesterday and everyone had a laugh. And now he wanted to hear more of it."
Amy had gone quiet. Then she snorted loudly. "Jesus Christ."
"What?!" As I turned around, two piercing eyes looked into me.
"Can you please stop painting the devil on the wall for once? You sound worse than Cassandra!"
Now I snorted.
But Amy wasn't finished yet. "You're so afraid of being ridiculed that you're becoming an asshole yourself!"
The sun was setting. And the moon slowly rose.
"Why are you so sure that the four of them are making fun of you?"
I hated that tears were welling up in my eyes. "That's how it always is! Suddenly all these people are nice to you, who didn't even know who you were before, to lure you into safety, but in reality they're blaspheming and laughing at you. It's always like that!"
Amy shook her head.
"No, it's just always like that in your head. There's a chance that these people just want to get to know you better."
Amy took her DADA textbook and turned to the other wall. "To exclude this opportunity from the outset is not only a mistake, but also a missed opportunity to make new friends."
I looked up at the full moon. I felt as if he was out there suffering with me.
You understand me, don't you?
Probably not.
~~
The next morning, Amy was still mad at me. I couldn't blame her. What I said already sounded pathetic.
But so far it had always been the truth.
It was unusually quiet at breakfast. Amy ate almost nothing and hurried to her tray.
We had different subjects at the beginning of the day, but at lunch Amy was nowhere to be seen. There were whispers again and I wanted to scream.
And it was only in charms that I was told she had been taken to the hospital wing.
That was not uncommon for Amy. Amy was very fragile. Amy always put on a very strong front, also to help me. But the truth was that stress really affected her and at one point she almost fell over sick.
Was it because of our argument? I don't know. But I certainly felt guilty.
~~
After class, I hurried to the hospital wing and let myself be led to her bed.
She looked almost peaceful as she slept. I carefully sat down next to her and took her hand. She was sweaty and cool at the same time.
Madam Pomfrey explained to me that Amy had been under a lot of stress lately and had eaten something bad. Then she went to the next bed and talked with the visitors there.
Visitors with... familiar voices?!
"Oh, please, you can't expect us to just leave him here alone?" Was that Sirius?
"Yes, I must. You know he needs his rest now. So shoo." Madam Pomfrey sounded a bit annoyed.
"We can stay here quietly!" That was James. Ironically loud.
"No, Mr. Potter, you cannot. So, gentlemen. Out!"
I saw out of the corner of my eye how Madam Pomfrey shooed several people outside. But who was behind the curtain of the bed? Whom were they visiting?
The curtain didn't cover the whole bed. In fact, it was only drawn on my side. Quietly, I got up and tried to get a quick look at the person. I took a cautious step to the side and—
There layed Remus. A pretty battered Remus, wrapped in bandages.
Suddenly, the curtain was pulled back and I stood there as if caught red-handed.
Remus looked at me in surprise. His look was somehow different than usual and I imagined he took a deep breath before he spoke.
"Hi." ... "Hi."
His body was even worse wrapped up than I had seen from the side. He was sitting upright and his upper body was full of bandages. His face also had scratches but his eyes were still so deep-
I stared at him. For far too long.
I quickly sat down next to Amy, who was still asleep.
Remus cleared his throat. "Is Amy very unwell?"
Somehow I wasn't prepared for a conversation with him. Not with one of the four. Not with Remus.
"According to Madam Pomfrey, it's just stress. She just needs to get some rest and then she should feel better." I was almost whispering, my voice was so quiet. Nothing compared to yesterday.
"That's good. I hope she gets better soon. Has anything bad happened?" I looked up at him. His eyes were so gentle, as if he really cared. "Something that's really stressing her out?"
When he noticed my look, he looked away. To my disappointment. "But actually, it's none of my business-"
"We had a fight." Why did I tell him that? "I worried her again."
I looked at Amy. Her face wasn't quite so pale and her hand, which I was holding, wasn't quite so sweaty.
"Oh." Remus' voice was very quiet. As if he was afraid of saying the wrong thing. As if he was worried to say the wrong thing.
"And why are you lying here? What happened to you?" It was only when I looked at him that I realized the question was a bit rude.
"If you want to tell me," I added.
He just sighed and suddenly looked so far away. "It was an accident."
I waited for him to tell me more. He didn't.
It stayed quiet between us for a long time. I could feel his gaze from the side, but somehow it didn't bother me a bit. I almost felt safe.
Suddenly he asked me: "Why did you argue?"
I looked into his eyes and almost wanted to tell him everything. I looked at Amy and borrowed her words. "I was an asshole."
He tilted his head and smiled cautiously. "Somehow I can't imagine that."
I looked at him. He looked at me.
"Why?"
"Well, you... It's not like you at all."
I continued to look at him. He continued to look at me.
"What do you mean?"
"You're usually so... Lovely."
Lovely? He saying I was lovely?
I had to laugh. He looked away.
"Me? You don't know me then." I giggled softly. "Besides, anyone can be an asshole, no matter how sweet the person still is."
He looked outside. The moon was up. He had that look again. "Yeah, I guess you're right about that."
It was quiet again after that. I heard soft footsteps outside and my anxiety wanted me to leave. So I stood up and was about to say goodbye to Remus as he-
"I want to know."
"What?"
He suddenly looked into my eyes so intensely that I felt dizzy.
"I want to know you properly."
I didn't know what to say and just looked at him as he continued.
"I want to know what goes through your mind when you see me us."
His gaze moved away from me. "I want to know why you hate us so much."
My whole world suddenly spun and I was in the middle of it. What was he saying? What did he mean, why was he even talking to me? What was going on here, why was he even here? And why did he call me lovely? What did he mean?
I wanted to say something. Something about... What actually?
Somehow I couldn't get anything out of me and was stuck in this spiral of trying to say something and figure out what to say. I opened my mouth, as-
"Remus, we're here!" James' voice tried to sound quiet but was unmistakable. Just like the footsteps of the two boys walking towards his bed.
When I saw them, so many things came back to me. Why I didn't talk to Remus.
"Are you feeling better? Remus -" Sirius faltered when he saw me. He looked between me and Remus and then grinned at me.
"Oh hello."
He turned to James now and 'whispered' to him. "Prongs, let's go and give these two some time to themselves-"
Remus cleared his throat and pointed at Amy who was lying next to me. Sirius fell silent.
"I'd better go now." I said in a very quiet voice again. James and Sirius even left me alone, but I heard their voices before I closed the door behind me.
"So, did she talk to you?" "What was going on with her?" "Is there something-"
The door slammed behind me and my head seemed to explode with questions.
#marauders era#marauders#the marauders#harry potter#remus lupin#sirius black#james potter#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin angst
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A Grandmaster of Sorts | J.P
Your husband James falls victim to Harry's new obsession around the game rock, paper, scissors — dad!james x mom!reader fluff
warnings: none :)
words: 0.9k
a/n: this is based on something that actually happened at a family reunion last week, I just HAD to write about it because it was maybe the cutest thing ever, so enjoy!!
Harry strode into the kitchen with a goal. You weren’t sure what that goal was, but you were excited to find out. He stopped next to the table where you and James were enjoying some tea and he tugged gently on the knee of your husband’s trousers.
“Can we play rock, paper, scissors?” Harry asked his dad.
That was his new obsession. You taught your son how to play the other day when he told you he was bored when there was nothing to do during a heavy thunderstorm. Ever since, he’s been asking you to play his new favourite game with him.
James put down his teacup and turned to look at his son.
“Rock, paper, scissors, eh?” James said with cartoonish condescension. “I’m down for a few rounds, but you should be warned, Haz, that I’m the master of that game.”
James moved around in his chair to face your son, cracking his knuckles obnoxiously to make Harry laugh.
“You’re on, son.”
They held out their hands, but paused before actually playing. They put on their best game faces and tried analysing each other to guess what their first move would be.
They both nodded, feeling confident enough to start a game. They lifted their hands and repeated the name of the game, then made their moves.
A draw. Both hands were positioned with open palms facing the ground. Since paper and paper means a tie, they went again.
Another draw. Both hands in rock position this time.
Harry laughed at the situation even though James kept his stoic expression.
“Where’d you learn all this? The skills must be in the genes, I bet.”
The little boy shook his head happily and pointed at you. “No, Mummy taught me!”
“Well, she must have taught you all my tricks. That’s definitely how you got to my exact skill level.” James proclaimed. “Let’s keep going, I’m gonna win this time.”
Your husband held out his hand, ready to start another match, but your son held out his hands, asking James to pause.
Harry was doing a poor job at hiding a mischievous grin, so you paid attention to what he had to say.
“We should try to tie again.” The boy suggested. “We should both do paper.”
James obviously knew what his little boy was plotting, but he didn’t dare show it. He just nodded along as he pretended to mull over the idea.
“Yeah, we should do that. Then we can match, and you can be just like the great James Potter. I like the sound of that, Haz.”
They agreed on that little plan and then started the next round. Big shocker, Harry betrayed James and threw up scissors, defeating your husband’s move of paper.
Harry burst out into a fit of adorable giggles as James looked at him with a pretend expression of shock. His jaw practically on the floor and his eyes were full of pain over what just happened.
“I win, Daddy!” Harry exclaimed after his laughter subsided.
“Good job, baby!” You congratulated your boy.
“You tricked me! I demand a rematch.”
Harry held out his hand for another game, but he wasn’t starting just yet.
“What if we tied again? We could both do paper.” He suggested, that grin making a reappearance.
“Are you going to trick me again?” James asked, eyes wide as he looked at Harry.
“I promise I won’t. I just want it to be another tie.”
James nodded, pretending he trusted his son even after that first double-cross. He agreed to one more round under the pretence that it would be a draw once more.
But lo and behold, Harry put up another pair of scissors, defeating James. Somehow, James looked even more flummoxed this time, but Harry was just as happy.
“It seems like you aren’t really the king of this game, my love.” You told your husband with a shrug.
James told you that he’d win next time, and the pair resumed their battle.
You sat and watched Harry pull the same tricks on his father for several more rounds, James keeping up the charade of being shocked at his son’s plays, and Harry finding it absolutely hilarious every single time.
Eventually, Harry proclaimed that he had simply won too many games to keep going, so he wanted to play by himself in his room. Before he walked off, you kissed him on the forehead and told him you’d bring him a special snack as a prize for winning so much.
“Harry’s got winning in his blood.” You said to James, standing up from your seat. “Unfortunately, it seems like it comes from my side.”
James stood up right after you. He walked over to the counter where you were preparing the ingredients for Harry’s snack and wrapped his arm around your waist.
“I know, he’s a champion.” James sighed. “I don’t even think I can break his heart by playing to my full potential.”
There was a quiet moment where the only sound in the room was the small knife slicing through the fruit and against the cutting board.
With his free hand, James nicked a piece and tossed it in his mouth before you could say anything. Then your husband spoke again.
“I think I’ll have to start teaching him chess and then have Remus avenge me.”
#james potter#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x wife!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter fluff#james potter imagine#dad!james potter#harry potter#dad!marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fluff#marauders imagine
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Unrequited, Terrifying Chapter 4
James Potter x Reader
Summary: While studying with the Marauders, you realise you misjudged them, rekindling feelings for your primary suspect…
Warnings: Extremely fluffy, nervous!james x shy!reader, some subtle wolfstar action in the background, idiots in love, oc!friends, lovesick!james, no use of Y/N, reader is referred to with she/her pronouns, swearing, all fluff with a side of plot, intense pining and I mean INTENSE, James starts off scared of you but quickly learns to be openly in love, NOT EDITED!
Word count: 1.7K
Series Masterlist
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7
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Slipping through the aisles of shelves lined with books of spells and history, you made your way towards the tables and chairs scattered in the middle of the room. The furthest table was occupied by the four boys you were in search of: the Marauders.
Approaching the Gryffindor boys, you noticed the quiet passing of paper between Remus and James, both scribbling small notes in a hurried manner. “Ehem- hello…” you spoke softly once you were within hearing range. Four pairs of eyes shot up to meet yours, each looking more afraid of your presence than the last.
Remus graced you with a bright smile, mouthing “hey” in reply. Across from him sat Sirius, who wore a look of surprise that quickly shifted into a lopsided smirk, nodding in greeting. Peter was startled by your presence but showed no sign of genuine fright, unlike James.
The head boy sat at the end of the table, breath hitching when you spoke with eyes blown wide.
They had saved you a seat between James and Remus, which you promptly moved to, busying yourself to shift the attention off of you. You placed your material on the table, pulling out your notebook.
You were suddenly very aware of your surroundings, shifting uncomfortably in your seat and glancing at the boy next to you, meeting his gaze before turning red and glancing back down.
Remus caught your attention, calling your name and gesturing to the book he had placed in front of you. “I thought we could revise the content in chapter four and quiz each other,” he said.
You and Remus were thirty minutes into your study session, writing with intention as you took pages of organised notes in dark ink before Sirius struck up a conversation.
“Your handwriting is very pretty,” he looked at you with a grin, “Prongs, look how neat her handwriting is!” After a beat, James shifted to look over your notes and gave a shy smile.
“Oh, Godric, he’s right…” he spoke softly, looking intently as he admired your penmanship like an artwork in the Louvre. His look of curiosity shifted when he met your gaze, gulping as he pushed back into his seat with rose cheeks. Your face was burning too.
“Thank you…” you stuttered out. Sirius was watching the interaction with a snarky grin plastered across his face, ready to push James’ buttons some more.
“I only bring it up because James has awful handwriting,” he stated, “See? It’s practically sprawled all over the place!” You glanced at the boy’s scattered writing, letters not quite aligning with each other across the page. You giggled, mustering a sense of courage as you sunk into comfortable banter with the group. “Well, whatever he’s doing with his writing seems to work, James always gets great marks in class!”
Sirius smirked at your praise, eyebrows raised and laced with visual sarcasm, as if to say “bold move, sweetheart”. You found the table of boys to actually be very easy to talk to. You glanced at James’ direction once more, admiring the bashful grin he showed you in thanks.
Your eyes met his writing again, noticing the boyish quality with which he wrote. It felt familiar, like you’d seen the print before. You took this as a sign that your feelings for the boy must have never really died after all, finding so much blissful comfort in his presence.
Remus reluctantly interrupted the moment again, realising he should at least act like studying was the only reason he invited you here. “Right, think you can handle a quick quiz now, love? Test that big brain of yours?” You closed your books and met his eyes, harvesting a glint of confidence in your own. “Bring it on.”
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“I invited her to study.”
“What?”
“We’re in the same class for History of Magic, she’s very good you know.”
“You mean, she’s coming here? Now?”
“Who did you think the empty seat was saved for?”
James’ eyes flashed emotion after emotion, from hope to excitement to nervousness, before finally settling on fear. The note traveling back and forth between Remus’ pen and his own was losing space, and he began to flip it over in order to scrawl a series of exclamations and offensive names directed at his friend.
The soft call of a greeting from your position standing by the table made him pause his actions, his heart plummeting into his stomach and swimming aimlessly. He backed further into his chair, praying to Merlin that he could merge with the wood and disappear.
When his prayers weren’t answered, his eyes flickered to the boy who caused this encounter to happen, cursing him with his gaze.
You had settled into your designated chair, so close that he could smell the intoxicating perfume you had deliberately sprayed this morning. His lips parted at the scent, imagining you would smell even sweeter with his nose buried in your neck, unruly curls being massaged by your soft touch, waist encapsulated in his grasp.
Your eyes met his, catching him explicitly staring at you through lidded eyes. Your quick reaction to turn away pulled him out of his trance, beginning to focus on his work once more.
James’ writing manifested as a mess of nerves and lovestruck adoration. He continued to steal quick glances at your pretty face, wise eyes, soft lips, delicate skin and sweet hair that framed your face in such a perfect way under the library lights.
He mentally blessed the table for obscuring his vision of your enticing legs and providing a physical barrier between himself and your warmth, otherwise he might just curl up at your side and drift off to sleep in the comfort you emitted.
Sirius’ utterance of “Prongs” brought his attention back to the group as he explained that your handwriting was pretty and James should look at it. When are you ever not pretty? Merlin, he was whipped.
James shifted to look over your notes, the links and chains between each letter more mesmerising than the last. “Oh, Godric, he’s right…” he whispered, still staring at the perfection on the page. You were perfect.
Your small thank you sounded flustered, calming him in the knowledge that there was a chance he could make you feel the same way he did, buzzing and warm in your presence.
Sirius continued teasing the boy, motioning for you to look at his awful handwriting. James let out a silent laugh at the sudden attention, though it manifested as more of an infatuated sigh as you curiously peered at his notes.
You turned to face Sirius again, before nonchalantly glancing back at James and smiling as you said his writing gets great marks in class nonetheless.
James was grinning ear to ear with a smile that could blind a crowd of angels, cheeks pigmented with a red glow and eyes squinting from pure joy. He wanted nothing more than to bask in the warmth of your quick wit and charming softness.
When the Marauders arrived back at their dorm that night, James rushed to his desk to spill his feelings onto a page. He quickly folded the note into another baby blue envelope, running over to the girls’ dorms and slipping the note below your door.
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The night was quiet, a soft breeze flowing through your open window. Your friends were tucked in and sleeping soundly as you gave into temptation and reread the messages you had received so far.
A subtle sound of commotion from your door stole your attention from the notes as yet another one appeared at its base, baby blue and addictive.
You scrambled to your feet, scooped up the message and jumped back into bed.
Throwing open the envelope marked with your name, you began to read its contents with a lovestruck haze to your vision.
“I long for you. You’ll never understand the sheer desperation you spark within me with every breath you take. My heart feels ripped out of my chest and locked away by your subtle glances, your bright smile, your shy demeanour. I want nothing more than to exist in the shelter of your love, capturing the sickeningly sweet tune of your voice in my long term memory to keep me sane. To keep me alive.” The note continued on the other side of the paper, which you flipped.
“I’ve been blessed with a proximity to you recently that can only be described as intoxicating. I breathe your attention. It fuels me to act a little more confident every time I see you, for all that you allow me gives me strength in my lovestruck prison, whispering sweet nothings to me in my dreams at the dead of night. Speaking of dreams, it seems the grasp your minor affection has on my attention forces me into a state of sleep paralysis, and I’m starting to think the only cure is your lips on mine and your presence in my lonely bed. If you haven’t realised who I am already, my love, time will tell. I’m so fucking obsessed with you, it’s unmissable. Forever yours.”
You gasped at the pure desperation demonstrated in the new addition to your growing pile of love letters. This boy was smitten, and you were finally beginning to accept the fact that you wished it was the first boy you had ever loved. You had tried to stay neutral about the situation, open to all who demonstrated such infatuation with you, but you prayed to Merlin that this boy was the one you wanted in return, one James Potter.
Sick with affection and drunk on love, you placed the note on top of the others as you began to sink into a deep slumber. Tomorrow you would return to the library with the Marauders, and you would do everything in your power to decipher if James really was who you wished he was.
The note flickered under the weight of the pressing autumn breeze, rustling the pages of uneven text once controlled by a messy hand.
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A/N: AHH I meant to wait to upload this one but I couldn’t help it so I rushed to finish it! The dynamic between these two is addictive to write about and I’m ashamed to say I’m flustered over my own writing ;-; As always, reblogs and likes are appreciated and comment if you want to be added to the tag list for chapter 5! <3
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Tag List:
@1-queenofpotatoes-1
@caspiankingofnarnia
@thesuitelifeofafangirl
@moonydoodlez
@fionnalopez
@kawaiiarbitervoid
@kc2sstuff
#james potter#james potter x fem!reader#james potter fic#marauders era#marauders#harry potter#aaron taylor johnson#fanfic#all the young dudes#the marauders#unrequited love#idiots in love#enemies to lovers#pining#lovestruck#james fleamont potter#james potter x reader#fanfiction#fic series#james potter fanfiction#james potter imagine#james potter x you#wolfstar#james potter fluff#dead gay wizards from the 70s#marauders imagine
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At Last: Part Two
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Richmond make their union official.
Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC
Word Count: 6.6k
Warnings: None
Part One
Under two Spanish moss trees, the two that towered highest above the rest like gods watching over their creations, Patrice and Terrence were due to share vows and declarations of love with a small crowd of family looking on as witnesses in less than twelve hours.
Her mother referred to the quick turnaround between engagement and nuptials as a “small miracle” as she and her elder sister meticulously planned details that even Patrice had overlooked in the haze of the evening.
Truthfully, after all the fuzzy feelings and congratulatory bubbly had worn off, she was left with a gaping pit of confusion deep within her belly. Terry had promised one year to prepare for a life together. That amounted to 365 days to learn, grow, and get ready for eternity. A calendar year to decide if the eagerness of fresh love could bloom into something everlasting. Three hours ago, she didn’t need any more convincing. Now, having 365 days cut nearly in half with a wedding occurring on the other side of the sunrise had suddenly become suffocating.
They hadn’t taken a traditional road, one paved with tangible milestones on the journey to name changes and legal titles. There was no high school sweethearts storyline to follow. They hadn’t awkwardly fumbled over kisses after a first date or met each other’s parents at a Sunday evening dinner. Terry never officially asked to be her boyfriend and she never really treated him as a man to date on the way to some serendipitous revelation that he was, indeed, the one. In her mind, they’d always existed as lovers, time moving in a flat circle back to him as the only man at the altar when she envisioned jumping the broom with a new last name.
But, even with all roads leading back to Terrence James Richmond, the cotton sheets beneath her tired body provided no refuge. She was restless in the dead of night, head pounding with uncertainty and throat raw with questions. She kicked at the thick duvet for some relief from the stifling heat in the bedroom of the tiny guest cottage she and Imani were forced to share for the night.
Because, even if she and Terry didn’t adhere to tradition, the women of her family held strong.
Next to her, Imani grumbled into her pillow before flipping the bedside lamp on with a huff.
“Damn, Petey, what now? You must wanna look like Frankenstein at the altar tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t get comfortable.”
“What I gotta do? My arms ain’t big as his but I can be the big spoon. Turn over.”
Imani jokingly cuddled up to Patrice, pretending to be Terry as she spoke to her in a dramatically deep voice. “I love you, girl. You the only woman in the world, girl. Kiss me a hundred times so I don’t melt away, girl!”
Patrice couldn’t hold back her laughter at her cousin’s silly imitation of a man she’d only just met in person but managed to get his mannerisms down to a science. She was good like that. Always able to break the ice and calm Patrice with a joke, even through troublesome storms.
Turning in Imani’s arms, Patrice faced her cousin to feel less alone in the world. Imani adjusted her bonnet and looked back with a faint smile.
“Tell me what’s wrong. You nervous?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Anxious?”
“Not that one either.”
“Worried.”
Patrice nodded and chewed her bottom lip before answering. “That’s the one.”
“Spill. You already got me awake. Might as well make it interesting.”
“I wish I could but, I don’t know what exactly I’m worried about,” she started, shifting to her back to search for answers on the vaulted ceiling. She found nothing. “You think this is all moving too fast? It’s only been a few months. We said we’d wait a year at least.”
“A year? Three months? Who’s countin’. Those rules are made up.”
“Yeah, but what about the courting? The whirlwind romance? Being held close while you dance in an empty jazz club tasting champagne on his lips while Etta James plays in the background? What about all that?”
Imani watched her cousin jump from the bed, waltzing in circles with her head thrown back, treating the empty space between the bedframe and dresser like a palace ballroom. An amused smile tugged at her lips as she sat up to get a better view.
“Girl,” she exclaimed, laughing and shaking her head to Patrice’s dismay. “None of that shit is real! You watched the Brandy Cinderella one too many times during the pandemic.”
“Only four times. Five. Six if you count the time we watched it on FaceTime.”
“That’s why it’s rotting your brain now. How many times you been in love?”
“Once,” Patrice answered, her mind drifting to Terry and what he might be doing all alone in that room upstairs.
“It’s been three times for me. And guess what?” she questioned, not expecting an answer. “None of them had a formula. Love is illogical, girl. There are no steps or rules or movie scripts to guide you through this shit! It’s about the willingness to give yourself over to something incomprehensible in hopes that you found your person for as long as you can hold on to them.”
Imani’s rant floated around the room until it began to burrow itself deep into Patrice’s ears in hopes of reaching her brain. She stood there, taking every word in, eyes intently focused on her wise older cousin, knowing she was right yet having a hard time turning that insight into something she could fathom for herself.
She’d always had a plan that she followed to the letter. She thrived in logical next steps and absolutes. The black and white kept her organized. Routine was her center. But love with Terry? That was different. That was whimsical. That was girlish pining and a botched kiss when they pretended to be a couple for one night during senior prom. It was time away wondering what their bond had become amid infrequent communication and eventual radio silence. Their love was reuniting as adults and running so fast into dizzying passion that she hadn’t time to wrap her mind around what had happened over the last seven months. Their love was intense and scary, beautifully abstract with no rhyme or reason. Nonsensical even. But it worked.
Scooting to the edge of the bed and standing to her feet, Imani mimicked a chivalrous prince, pulling Patrice into a silly little waltz around the room. “Create your own fairytale, P. Everything doesn’t have to make sense.”
“You think he misses me?” Patrice asked, her voice so tiny and meek that it almost surprised Imani. “Think he’s thinking about me like I’m thinking about him right now?”
“Only one way to find out.”
A mischievous smile spread across Imani’s face as she dashed for her phone. Patrice chased after her, calling for her to stop what she was doing at such a late hour.
Ordinarily, Terry would be asleep. He was never one to stay up too far beyond the early hours of the night, often dragging Patrice away from a good book to force her to sleep beside him.
Peaceful slumber, however, had been elusive all night. The moon was too bright. The room? Too hot. He could complain about the bed being a hair too soft or the floorboards creaking too loud whenever someone would sneak down the hallway for a late snack, but all of those would be a deflection from the true issue - he missed Patrice.
Just as his longing was reaching a tipping point, his phone buzzed against the solid oak nightstand. He had half a mind to ignore the sound. It was likely his mother confirming details yet again or one of his twin sisters finally responding to the engagement video, he thought to himself as he lay on his back staring at the constant revolution of the ceiling fan.
Then another buzz came accompanied by several more to let him know this was a phone call and only people with emergencies call at that hour.
He answered without looking at the screen to verify the caller.
“Hello?” He answered, slightly annoyed by the interruption.
“Terry put some clothes on and come to the cottage. We got an emergency.”
“A what?”
“Boy, just come on! Skip the third step from the bottom and go out of the side door by the kitchen.”
Terry wished that sneaking around his fiancée’s family home was among the silliest things he’d done in the middle of the night for a woman.
He carefully slipped into a hoodie and sneakers before tiptoeing his way down the stairs, through the kitchen, and out of that side door like Imani instructed. The moonlight provided the only guidance down the cobbled pathway leading to a tiny shack at the edge of the property with a little light flipped on in the bedroom.
Imani watched through the peephole with Patrice hot on her heels, peering over her shoulder as if she could see too.
Moanie shrugged her away with a harsh whisper. “Girl, get off my ass. He’s coming!”
Patrice backed away with her hands up in surrender. The wait for his eventual appearance felt like forever. She fiddled with the hem of her nightgown, wondering if he would care that this was all a half-baked scheme to circumnavigate their forced separation.
Terry ambled up the dirt path with his normal scowl and fists pushed into his pockets to shield his hands from the wind chill. Imani timed his arrival perfectly, swinging the door open before he created a disturbance by knocking.
“Everything good?” He asked, one eyebrow hiked high as Imani pulled him into the cottage by his arm.
She stepped back and gestured toward Patrice who stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“I just wanna sleep,” she sighed. “Take her, go in that room, and do whatever y’all do until the morning. Then you gotta dip because I’m not getting in trouble for y’all. My mama will still hit me.”
Terry’s eyes drifted from Imani to Patrice, catching how she looked nervous under his gaze. He smiled and extended his hand for her to take.
“C’mon. Let’s go to bed.”
His voice, honied and soothing to her soul, gave Patrice her first rush of comfort in what felt like forever. She placed her palm in his and trailed behind him as he led the way.
Imani called behind them. “Please, don’t have sex on the bed. I gotta sleep here until Tuesday and I don’t really need that image in my head.”
“Can’t make any promises but, thank you. I’ll make sure you get the bouquet.”
“Hard pass. Give it to Moon’s desperate ass. I like to let my fairytales unfold organically.”
She winked at her cousin just before Terry could close the bedroom door to block them from the outside world.
Wrapped in the midnight hour, they’d finally found peace.
Patrice watched from the bed as Terry stepped out of his shoes and pulled off his hoodie to expose bare skin to the night air. He slowly crawled in beside her, brushing his fingers against her midsection to guide her against the mattress the way he liked. He pulled her close to his chest to rest his nose in the crook of her neck for a deep inhale of her unique scent. She sighed and pressed even closer, at ease once eyelashes painted butterfly kisses where his warm breath fanned against her skin.
“How’d we get like this,” he laughed once they were settled. “Can’t even fall asleep without each other.”
“I still think you put a spell on me in that bathroom. I loved sleeping alone before then.”
“Had to pull out all the stops for you, baby.”
“I’m just that fine, huh?”
He chuckled and closed his eyes, already feeling slumber's clutches coming for him in the darkness. His grip around her waist tightened. She trailed her fingers up and down his forearm with her focus on the soft rustle of the linen curtains against the window. Her mind quieted. The room fell silent save for steady, deep breathing and the crickets making music outside.
“You wanna know something?”
Terry blinked himself awake to answer. “What?”
“They call me Petey because I had a big crush on Tobey Maguire as Spider-Man one summer,” Patrice admitted in the darkness. “I figure if you’re gonna be my husband by this time tomorrow, you should know.”
No answer. Only the smack of his lips pulling away from the skin behind her ear in another kiss. He knew not to interrupt her fleeting moment of vulnerability with the silly joke on the tip of his tongue. So, he joined her confessional.
“I used to think Roxanne from A Goofy Movie was fine.”
“The animated dog?”
Terry scoffed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know being attracted to a human spider was better.”
Their shared laughter reverberated off the walls, uncorking the bottled-up pressure to be present as perfect beings to the world. Terry felt Patrice’s ribcage expand and contract in his embrace as she took a deep breath to release pent-up nerves, silently thanking God that he was the one allowed to mold himself into the curves and contours of her body every night.
“I want to know more about you.” she requested, sounding like a child asking for a bedtime story. “Tell me something else.”
So he did. With no hesitation, he told her secrets that seemed so daunting to share until she was the one listening. Anxieties about the future fell from his lips freely, receiving no judgment on the other side. He told her about his fear of clowns and felt his first dose of validation when she agreed that expressionless mimes shouldn’t be around children. The backstory of the small scar on his upper lip was followed by a giggly recollection of the time she put her brother in the dryer to see how long he could spin without getting sick which made him laugh until his abdomen ached. Together they shared uncomfortable memories that introduced intense insecurities, weird theories about the existence of intergalactic forms, and wondered if LeBron James was secretly an android. An elementary game of 21 Questions created a crash course in the entire history of one another.
They lay there together in a pitch-black room drunk off the jagged, imperfect pieces of each other until their eyes burned with exhaustion and sleep was no longer an option.
The last thing Terry whispered into Patrice’s ear was a promise to never stop learning about her, to never stop being curious about her likes, dislikes, hopes, and dreams as long as they both lived. She could barely mumble out a worthwhile response but hoped that her gentle hum served as an oath to do the same.
By morning, he was gone. Out into the breeze by first light, leaving only his scent on Imani’s pillow and the fleeting memory of his fingers making a home between Patrice’s legs with whispered praise on his lips as evidence that his presence wasn’t an apparition in the witching hour. Patrice couldn’t resist burying her face into the sheets, squealing and kicking her feet beneath the duvet in elation.
She was getting married.
“Y’all are so cute,” Imani swooned, leaning against the bedroom doorframe as she watched her cousin hold a pillow close to her chest like an actress in a romantic drama. “We gotta get you ready, sis! It’s your wedding day!”
People whisked around all morning like busy worker bees, each one darting off to a new place around the estate to fulfill a purpose. Some balanced stacks of white chairs under their arms like magicians to turn a portion of the backyard into a wedding venue. Others hustled through the kitchen’s service door with mounds of ingredients for what could only described as a feast fit for royalty. Women giggled on their way out of the backdoor to meet Patrice and her small entourage to prepare her for a day she’d planned as a girl, but never saw coming together in a dizzying whirlwind such as this.
In the cottage, women laughed and sipped tea in porcelain cups to go with their fancy hors d'oeuvres on fancier china. The soothing purr from an antique sewing machine placed careful stitches in a beautifully plain satin gown gifted by Imani and Rosalyn to ensure that the garment was made to Patrice’s exact proportions. She was a princess for the day, the world bending to her every whim.
Terry wasn’t so lucky. The bedroom was still too hot and growing even hotter with each unwanted guest moving in and out with more questions than he thought he needed to answer. He wanted a moment to write out heartfelt vows with pen and paper but found himself so frustrated with the whole production that he slammed his writing utensil against the writing desk in the corner and cursed at the wall.
Another visitor tsk’d behind him. “Boy, you better not let Mama hear you talkin’ like that.”
”She’d pull that ear clean off the side of your head!”
Equally raspy voices made Terry sigh with relief before he stood to his feet. As two almost identical copies of their mother, Zorah and Zanah were Terry’s first loves. He remembered the day they entered into the world. So precious and honey brown with striking chocolate eyes that could make him bend to their will without a word. He watched them mature through the world like their hired security, never letting harm come to a single hair on their head. He wiped tears, kissed scrapes, and played with dolls like a third parent. When they went their separate ways to grow into adults with individual hopes and dreams, he cried in secret like he’d been the one to birth them.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d hugged his baby sisters but he knew he’d never needed their embrace quite like he needed it in that moment. They hugged him back, two sets of arms wrapping him up in a quiet group hug until he’d had his fill.
“How is this supposed to be the happiest day of your life and you’re in here cussin’ and breathing all heavy,” Zorah, the oldest of the pair, asked as she cleared her brother’s face of invisible debris.
She’d always acted as his surrogate mother despite being six years his junior. The everpresent pillar of stability, she left home as soon as she could to explore the other side of the country at UCLA in hopes of studying the ins and outs of music performance. Tall and athletic with long dark locs, her voice became her calling card, but her big brother knew her as a young lady that was once too afraid to sing in the children’s choir at church.
“You know how Terry is. He think he Obama. All serious for no reason sometimes.”
“That’s not true.”
“You’re right,” she conceded. “You never gon’ be fine as Obama.”
Zanah was the hell raiser. Loud and full of energy with an afro big enough to block the sun, she lived to tease her older brother. A zest for bold flavors that could bring even the worst enemies together for a good meal sent her in search of the best culinary school their parents could afford. If you could dream it, she could make it appear in the kitchen with little effort. Terry admired her for her gift, but couldn’t stand her poking and prodding at his expense.
He kissed his teeth and broke free from their short-lived period of civility. “Treece and the girls are out back. She’ll be happy to see y’all. Zo, get the rings from Daddy as soon as you can. You know how he gets.”
The twins rolled their eyes at each other while watching Terry pout on his way back to the writing desk for another crack at his speech. Zorah was the first to move with Zanah bringing up the rear.
She stood over his shoulder to take stock of what he’d managed to write in his time alone. Half sentences and scribbled words scratched through several times over littered the page as if a madman had gotten ahold of his journal. Something about how much he cherished her but with far too much Shakespearean language to be sincere made Zanah giggle behind him.
She sat on the edge of the desk, pretending to judge his work. “Are you writing your vows or the sequel to Romeo and Juliette?”
“Zanah, please. Pick with me after all of this is done. I can’t deal with the stress right now.”
An invisible weight seemed to push Terry into a defeated hunch, forcing his head into his hands as he angrily rubbed at his eyes. His stress tick was back and more ferocious than ever. Zorah flanked his other side and gave her twin a look of concern before looking back at him.
“Wanna pretend we’re Patrice to practice?”
He sighed. “No, not really.”
“Don’t be like that. We won’t tell and you gotta get a move on these vows. It’s a win-win.”
Terry sat back in his chair to mull over their proposition. A practice run couldn’t hurt. At worst, he’d rid himself of the useless mass of words clogging his brain.
“Fuck,” he conceded, pushing back from the desk with a loud scrape across the wooden floor. “Look, be nice. If I say something stupid or too mushy just let me finish, alright?”
“It wouldn’t be nothing we ain’t heard you writing poems about before,” Zanah laughed along with Zorah.
Terry showed her both of his middle fingers with a smirk as he walked to the center of the room. His days as an amateur poet were a well-kept secret that only his family was forced to witness. One day, when he and Patrice were old and grey, he’d reveal a shoebox full of terrible musings in her honor.
Taking a needed inhale through his nose and long exhale through his mouth, Terry prepared to ramble through his feelings.
“When I try to imagine my life without you, my mind goes blank. It’s kinda like when you get an error message on a computer or something. No images, no search results, nothing. Empty.” Terry began to pace, finding inspiration in the back-and-forth motion.
Zorah pressed for more. “Why?”
“I’m not supposed to imagine life without you, Patrice. I don’t want to experience another birthday or Christmas, Earth Day, Juneteenth, shit anything if you’re not there. I prayed for you.” Terry didn’t anticipate getting choked up until the sensation brought with it a lump in his throat. All of the instances he’s asked God for guidance in matters of the heart came rushing back to his remembrance with only one answer at every turn. “Trying to imagine an existence without you feels like I’m telling God that bringing you back to me wasn’t enough.”
His eyes flashed up to his sisters, finding them in the throws of emotion right along with him.
“Keeping going. Bring it home,” Zanah encouraged. “Give her the fireworks, loverboy!”
Terry laughed through misty vision. “I’m excited to spend the rest of our days together. Tonight, I’m promising you a lifetime of my protection, my devotion, and my desire to show up every single day to make our time together worth the wait. Thank you for choosing me, baby. Let me work on making sure you never regret that decision.”
A slow clap took over the room, first from two sets of hands that Terry expected, making his shoulder slump from relief.
“Shit, now I gotta remember all that.”
“Don’t worry, we recorded,” Zorah assured.
But there was still applause. He whipped his head around to investigate the extra spectators and found his parents beaming from the room’s threshold.
Diedra spoke up first as she made a beeline for her son. “Oh my God, oh my God! This is really happening. My baby is about to be somebody’s husband.” She claimed his face with her hands, distributing doting kisses on both of his cheeks. “Beautiful vows. Remind me of your father’s.”
“Not nearly as eloquent,” Marvin laughed, joining the conversation. “Matter of fact, I don’t think I got past the to have and to hold portion without stuttering. The pastor had to move us along because I was so tongue-tied.”
“Yeah, but the feeling is the same. Your heart’s in the right place.”
“Not right now,” Terry laughed before kissing her forehead. “My heart is in my ass, Mama. Stomach too.”
The Richmond family laughed harmonious laughs, providing the first bit of ease Terry had felt all morning.
Marvin reached out to grab his boy’s shoulder for a small squeeze. In all his wildest dreams, he couldn’t have imagined a better man than Terrence had become. All the rearing, the man-to-man talks, the tough love, and every stern redirection had become another foundational brick in not only a worthwhile man but a spectacular human.
He looked around the room at his girls and wife, trying to hide the overwhelming rush of emotion tightening his chest. “Can you ladies give us a moment?”
Zanah released a dramatic sigh.
“Oh, here we go. They about to cry a river in here. Come on, y’all. Patrice says they’re opening another bottle of champagne and you know I don’t like to miss hearing a cork pop.”
“You honestly need to talk to somebody about that.”
“We talk all the time, Zo!”
Time winding down turned advice into a hot commodity, transcending social groups as the sunset drew closer. Everyone had an opinion, an unsolicited tidbit on how to navigate the peaks and valleys of marriage. A hodgepodge of dos and don’ts thrown out like casual information whether Patrice wanted it or not.
Don’t go to bed angry. Have sex every night. Make sure there’s a separate account for personal emergencies. Keep the kids out of your bed. Some were helpful, others mostly nothing but projections and special circumstances veiled as some sage secret that Patrice and Terry should offer special thanks for receiving.
Nerves were turning into embers of annoyance. By late afternoon, they’d both requested for rooms to be emptied and questions to cease. They’d had enough. No more information. No more guidance. Anything left to learn was up to the test of time, not a bunch of people who meant well, but would ultimately return to their own lives with no say so in what went on between the newlyweds.
Reprieve came when the white chairs were in perfect rows on either side of a flower-lined aisle, ties were neatly draped underneath starched button-up collars, and dresses were pressed to perfection. The sun had begun to dive behind the clouds, leaving the sky full of pink and orange hues. A half-moon hung high in the sky as if it were invited to witness a show made especially for the cosmos. Guests took their seats without care given to which side belonged to the groom or bride. They were all family now. A beautiful mix of lineages and temperaments bonded for as long as Patrice and Terry saw fit.
At the altar, Sybil stood under two Spanish moss trees towering high above the rest, her gray hair pulled up into an ornate headwrap that matched her dress. She smiled up at both trees as if saying hello to living, breathing beings before asking stragglers to take their seats.
From the kitchen’s sliding door, Terry bounced on his toes, waiting on his cue to step into the early autumn chill. A tailored suit hugged him close, finally fulfilling its duty to carry him down a path lined with his love's favorite flowers to forever bond himself to the woman handpicked for his unwavering fidelity.
This was the moment. Fate had willed it so. He wouldn’t turn back for any reason. Destiny had come knocking and he welcomed her in with open arms.
Dreamy chords from a baby grand piano served as the soundtrack to his final walk as a single man. Measured steps carried him forward, his chest puffed with pride and his shoulders rolled back in the type of relaxed confidence only afforded to people who had no doubt that they were on the exact path they’d been ordained to traverse.
Candles and soft, white light from paper lanterns hanging nearby provided romantic theatrics to accompany his every step. Voices whispered, some calling his name, others leaving comments as he passed. In his periphery, he caught a glimpse of his family. DeeDee’s eyes welled with happy tears as Marvin rubbed her back for comfort. His sisters, both beside themselves with excitement, flashed Terry a look at the wedding bands as a final check-in on their whereabouts.
At the altar, Junior waited for his arrival as his best man. Terry had requested his presence during a surprisingly heartfelt conversation where Junior had all but lifted his brother-in-law off of his feet to show his appreciation.
“I love my sister, man.” He repeated over and over under the spell of brunch liquor. “I’m happy it’s you, T. I’m happy it’s you for my sister, man.”
Junior tapped his right hand over his chest and nodded at Terry, jumping right back into the masculine display of affection that had escaped him when no one else was around.
Patrice watched it all unfold as she carefully made her way into the kitchen at the tail end of a secret mission to hide her from her husband. Imani trailed her with a bouquet of blue hydrangeas in one hand and the train of her dress in the other. If not for her heels clacking against the black and white tile on the floor, Patrice was sure that her cousin could hear her heart thudding against her sternum.
“Alright, girl, this is where I leave you,” Imani spoke, a small smile forming as she took another look at Patrice. She tucked a stray curl back into place and presented her with the flowers. “You look beautiful, P. Stunning. My friend is all grown up. I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you, Imani. For everything. Let’s not allow too much time to pass before we see each other again, okay?”
“Of course. I’ll be back for Christmas. But, don’t focus on me. You gotta get down the aisle, Mrs. Richmond.”
Patrice sighed and grinned at the mention of her new last name. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
“Believe it, baby! It’s time.”
A final hug connected the two before Imani was out of the door and comically announcing the bride’s arrival before taking her place as maid of honor.
She stood behind that glass door, beaming as all in the area stood in anticipation of her entrance.
You fix your makeup just so
Guess you don’t know that you’re beautiful
Try on every dress that you own
You were fine in my eyes a half hour ago
Terry had mentioned the song in passing once, commenting on how he heard it in a department store and found John Legend kind of corny. What he didn’t mention was that he was in the department store getting fitted for the very suit he wore as he watched Patrice walk toward him and how he took the song as a sign that he was doing exactly what God intended.
That cheesy song from a cheesier artist was the reason he was dabbing at the corners of his eyes with his knuckles to stop the incoming tears.
In a lovely satin dress with a high halter neck, Patrice was the center of attention. Imani had specifically chosen a white dress without any reverence for outdated tradition. If her girl was to be wed, she’d be in the appropriate color, no doubt. A split in the front was a personal gift to Terry, a peek at her oiled legs with each step immediately catching his attention.
Her bantu knots were unraveled, leaving behind shiny, bouncy curls that framed her face just right. Soft makeup enhanced ancestral facial features. Minimal jewelry kept the look tailored to her flare for the understated.
When she waved at Terry, he waved back with a smile so wide that it made his cheeks burn. In all of her glory, every perfect inch from the top of her head to the soles of her feet, was his to cherish.
And this evening, I won’t let the feeling die
I never wanna leave your side
Before the music could fade to make way for the ceremony, Terry had already found himself unable to hold back emotion. His fingertips were damp with tears as he assisted Patrice onto the low platform.
“Sorry,” he whispered while she pulled the handkerchief from his breast pocket and used it to clean his face. “Think they got all this in the photos?”
“I hope so. Might get a couple wallet-sized prints to carry in my purse.”
Patrice chucked as she tucked the pale blue fabric behind her bouquet’s stem and smoothed Terry’s collar. He captured her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.
Sybil cleared her throat. “We aren’t at that part yet, but I love the enthusiasm. Should we get to the good stuff?”
Patrice hoped the good stuff was captured in ultra HD on a camera somewhere. She couldn’t bring herself to care about the flowery words and intricate language. She tried her hardest to listen for her name to avoid embarrassing herself in front of everyone hoping to see something movie-like unfold in front of their eyes. But seeing the light etch beautiful reflections and shadows on Terry’s skin was all she could lend her focus to in the moment.
Luckily, she made it through her vows without stumbling, even managing a joke that garnered a communal chuckle.
“Honestly, we’re lucky this is happening now instead of at 18 like you said you wanted. I got to see Juicy J at homecoming one year and that wouldn’t have happened if I was chasing behind you in my 20s. You cute but not miss a Juicy J concert cute.”
She listened to Terry sniffle his way through heartfelt lines, occasionally wiping under his eyes to clear his vision. He gripped her hand tight and bathed her in a gaze so intense it sent a shiver down her spine.
What she was present for, however, was the grand finale.
“Do you take this woman to be your wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to honor her, to comfort her, and to keep her in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, for as long as you both shall live?” Sybil asked Terry though she was already sure of his answer.
His top lip almost disappeared from being stretched so wide in his smile. “I do.”
Sure as he knew his first name, Terry affirmed his decision with two words and all of his teeth on display. Sybil looked to Patrice, finally seeing her niece as a woman and not the little girl that kept her on her toes every summer.
She took a deep breath and then laughed. “Lord, now I’m crying!” The family laughed, some using the moment to wipe away their own tears. “Okay, I’m back. Do you take this man to be your husband -”
“Yes! I do! I mean you can finish if you need to, but that’s my answer. One billion times, yes.”
There was no need. Under the twinkle of ancestors acting as stars and God showing his splendor in the marvelous brightness of the moon, man and woman became one. Mr. and Mrs. Richmond, free to jump hand in hand over a small, decorated broom to honor the folks that had come before them.
Well wishes came in abundance. Gifts big, small, and monetary spilled from a small table onto the rug beneath. Toasts became the preferred way to start a conversation. Buttons and ties had come undone from tight collars. High heels swapped for sensible shoes. Couples already squarely in the mature stages of partnership rushed to slow dance in the center of the communal area between tables. Pictures memorialized a wondrous occasion. They’d sign official paperwork another day. Tonight was for celebration.
While the party raged on, Patrice and Terry sat in the center of the table wrapped up in one another. His chin rested in the palm of her hand as he watched her lips move in time with the lyrics to a line dance song her parents led on the makeshift dancefloor. Her fingernails gently scratched at his jaw, an absentminded habit she’d picked up recently. He nudged her temple with his forehead like a cat begging for affection.
“Hmm,” she hummed, not looking in his direction. He repeated his actions to receive the attention he craved. She finally looked over and giggled. “What, baby?”
“Nothing. Just wanted you to look at me.”
Patrice pressed her nose to Terry’s before placing a soft kiss on his full bottom lip. “Let’s get away from here for a second. Follow me.”
Without question, Terry allowed Patrice to tug him along, past the throngs of dancing guests, away from music blasting out of jumbo speakers, down a shallow hill, and to a small lake shimmering in the night.
He held her steady when she stopped short to remove her heels, saying something about needing to feel the grass between her toes. She jogged the rest of the way to the lake with Terry holding her shoes and taking long strides to catch up.
She carefully lifted her dress before stepping into the water, only allowing it to cover the sides of her feet as she tilted her chin to the sky. Terry watched her with a placid grin and low eyelids.
“You having fun,” he asked as he placed her belongings on a tree stump and stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Mhm. You?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“Good. That’s what I like to hear.”
He watched her for a few seconds more, admiring the way she seemed to salute every piece of nature in the vicinity.
“You know, we didn’t get a first dance.”
Patrice stopped creating ripples in the water with her toes and looked over at Terry. “Oh shit, we didn’t, huh? Wanna go back and do that? I don’t even have a song picked out. Slipped my mind, I guess.”
“Nah, it’s cool,” he answered, still smiling. “We can dance right here.”
He presented his hand for her grab, pulling her from the lake with care until she was up against his chest. They swayed to nothing for a second while Terry fiddled with his phone to find something worthy of their time. Patrice closed her eyes to listen to the breeze, more content with the wind as a soundtrack than she expected.
Soon, Etta James came rolling through his phone’s speakers.
Terry dropped one hand just above Patrice’s backside, the other wrapping around her back to lead them in a slow dance. A waltz of sorts in the blue moonlight.
Her hands snaked up to the top of his head and pulled him as close as he could be, his nose so tight against her neck she could feel the slight suction and release from every breath.
They stayed there, moving side to side under Etta James’s sweet song of found love until all distractions faded and left them in the fullness of each other.
Patrice angled her head upwards as Terry kissed along her collarbone. Then her ear. Her cheek, her nose, and, finally, her lips.
As he said I love you without words, Patrice tried to place the sweet taste of citrus and apple on his tongue. Was it dessert? Maybe her lip gloss or the fancy compote from their dinner plate?
No, none of those.
She closed her eyes tighter to taste more. There it was. The ghost of her fantasy. The secret marker of her one true love.
Champagne.
---
TAGS: @planetblaque @wvsspoppin @thatone-girly @avoidthings @slutsareteacherstoo @eilujion @amyhennessyhouse @yaachtynoboat711 @jenlovey @pinkpantheris @blowmymbackout @onherereading @hrlzy @becauseimswagman1 @thiccc-c @urfavblackbimbo @blackburnbook @ashanti-notthesinger @xo-goldengirl @ariiijestertheklown
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Daniel Park with Unhinged F! Reader
You, the peak of the verse with a list of supposedly strong and powerful men to kill meet.
Gun Park | Goo Kim | Samuel Seo | Samuel Seo Part 2 | James Lee/DG | Jinyoung Park | Eli Jang | Tom Lee | Ryuhei Kuroda | Eugene | Vin Jin | Charles Choi | Daniel Park
I had a request sometime last year on Unhinged F!Reader helping out Allied. Soooo- this is my response to it...
'Why are you following me?"
You turn around in the alleyway to see a guy approximately the same height as you. Unremarkable if not for the way he has managed to pick you out from the shadows and keep up with your steps.
"Please, I need your help."
Help? Does this person have any idea who you are?
You arch an eyebrow at his request as he continues to stare at you with wide eyes.
Honestly. Did he think this puppy dog look was going to work on you? Of all people? You don't say anything, letting the silence add pressure until he spills out his guts.
Something about the Four Crews and HNH, which vaguely rings a bell.
You start to examine your nails as he rambles, quickly losing interest. Damn, is that dried blood underneath? You really must clean them better post fight.
And tch! Another chipped nail too. Ugh.
Oh. He's still talking, huh.
You've already tuned him out but the sound of his voice grows irritating and you cut him off, just as he starts to mention the Ten Geniuses or whatever.
You thrust a palm out at him, inches from his face and clever boy, he shuts up immediately. "Why should I help you?"
"Um." He hesitates. "I can pay you?"
"Not interested."
"I.. I can copy moves? You can teach me to be your masterpiece-"
"Cool," you say, stifling a yawn. Wasn't that crazy old doctor also a copy user? You dispatched him without difficulty.
"Let me guess-" You start ticking off each point on your fingers.
"One. You don’t move like you’re a natural, so you do have a master but they're not cutting it anymore- " He nods.
"Two. You've somehow found out about me and managed to seek me out-" You don't tell him you're reluctantly impressed at that part.
"Three. Then hoped that I would help you because I have such a good moral compass-" You roll your eyes at this. What is it with pathetic men expecting women to clean up their mess?
"Four. So you've come here to ask me to help and promise me riches as a sweetener but sorry to break your heart, I don't give a shit-" He recoils, taken aback by your bluntness.
"Anyway, which mediocre fool has been teaching you?"
"One of the Ten Geniuses I mentioned. The Learning Genius."
What a lame title. "Who?"
"Gun Park."
You have a vague recollection of this person and gesture for him to tell you more as you pull out your small slip of paper. The one with the list of crossed out names, that you hunted down and defeated one by one until only a few remain.
Oh wait... the name Gun Park is here-
"Um. Black eyes, half naked all the time, tattoos on his arms, smokes-"
"Right!" You click your fingers. "That loser! The Learning Genius, did you say?"
He widens his eyes at you insulting his master but nods anyway.
"Pfffft-" you stifle a laugh unsuccessfully. Goddamn that is funny.
"Learning Genius!" You squeal, letting out a cackle that leaves his hairs standing on end. The more you think about it, the funnier it gets. On what planet is that guy qualified, good enough, to teach anyone? You laugh and laugh, clutching your stomach as he backs away awkwardly.
Wiping away tears from your eyes, you make up your mind and ask, "What did you say your name was?"
"I... I didn't. It's Daniel Park,"
You dig out the pen in your pocket and add his name to your list.
He's undercooked. Maybe fun in a few more years but now Daniel is nothing but a baby. It'll be fun to crush him eventually.
"Listen," You fold your note carefully, slipping it back into your pocket. "I have zero inclination to help you. None."
He opens his mouth to argue-
And you cut him off again with a shrug. "Mainly 'cause I don't want to. Anyway, I'll find you once you're ready to fight. It'll be a shame to kill you any sooner, but-"
You lunge at him, slamming Daniel into the wall with a hand on his neck before he has had a chance to react.
"- Follow me again and I won't hesitate." You smile sweetly, like butter wouldn't melt. Smile stretching further, turning monstrous and unhinged when you feel him attempt to free himself from your grasp but to no avail.
You give his throat one more squeeze for good measure as he chokes and claws at your hand before releasing him. “See ya!”
Daniel drops to the floor, gasping desperately for air and rubbing at his neck. Thinks that this has been a grave mistake and now he has a target on his back.
He watches you, humming to yourself and sashaying away into the night, melting into the shadows once more.
#lookism#lookism x reader#lookism headcanons#lookism hc#lookism fanfics#lookism fic#lookism manhwa#lookism webtoon#lookism unhinged series#daniel park#daniel park x reader#wannaeatramyeon
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support - Jegulus Microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - word count: 496
"Reg?"
James called his boyfriend's name with a frown, giving up entirely on the idea of giving his boyfriend space. Regulus had been quieter than usual that morning, refusing to speak or even sit next to James. At first, James had accepted it. He'd learned long ago that it occasionally took Regulus time to thaw out in the morning, and the best way to support him was to let him be. But now it was coming 'round noon and Regulus had not approached him for his usual mid-morning hug.
"What."
Regulus's response was a harsh statement, and the tone made James nervous. So he sat next to the other man on their couch and turned to face him, even as Regulus crossed his arms and stared off into the distance with a pout.
"Baby...is something wrong?" He asked softly, knowing gentle questions were the best approach with an angry Regulus.
"No."
"Are you sure?" But as he reached out to tuck an errant curl behind Regulus's ear, the younger man jerked away, frowning. "Reg, what's wrong? Have I done something?"
"Yes."
James immediately recoiled a bit. "What is it, love?" He racked his brain thinking about how he could have wronged the perfect creature in front of him but came up blank. He hadn't even eaten the last of the ice cream in the freezer.
"You cheated on me, James," Regulus said, voice full of hurt, and James's blood went cold.
"What? Reg, Reg look at me!" He was panicking now. Reaching for his boyfriend's hand, he scrambled to gain eye contact. "Baby, I would never. Who told you-?"
"Sirius," Regulus said sadly, eyes still not meeting James's.
And for a moment, James's entire world was upended. Because why the fuck would Sirius say that?
Until Regulus continued.
"He said it in my dream last night."
And it took everything in James not to burst out laughing. Because it was so like Regulus to feel this way. To have a dream about him cheating and to be mad the next day. But he also knew that if he didn't tread carefully, he would do something in real life to get himself in trouble.
"Baby," he murmured, using his pointer finger to gently guide the shorter man's chin so their eyes met. "I am so sorry that I did that in your dream. I think if I had a dream like that, I would have woken up crying."
Regulus's answering blinks told James he was on the right track.
"But please know that I would never do that in real life. I would die rather than do that! You have to know I adore you, love, more than anyone else," he said passionately, staring deep into gray eyes.
And, biting his lip, Regulus nodded after a few agonizing seconds of silence. "Alright. I guess I forgive you."
James just grinned, pulling him into his arms, choosing not to mention that he hadn't actually done anything to forgive.
#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#fanfic#harry potter marauders#the marauders#marauders harry potter#marauders fanfic#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#poor james#james potter#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus and james#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#james loves regulus#regulus deserved better#regulus black x james potter#jegulus#jegulus microfic#starchaser#sunseeker
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I LOVED THE SMILE HOOK FIC. So can we get more hook x fem reader. Maybe like reader is like Elsa so she has ice powers but is like scared of having friends? Sorry I explained it bad😭
Ice Cold
Paring: James Hook x Snow Princess Reader
Summary: As a girl, you loved the snow, ice skating, anything cold. However when you grew up — you learned the dangers of your power, and that snapped you out of control. Everyone had seen the incident, and they shunned you.
The cold hearted princess, they called you. Your heart had frozen over. No one could trust you — your own sister was afraid. So alone you became. All because of a mistake of a little girl.
Instead of choosing a side. Villain or hero. You had accepted your role in the shadow. You hadn’t expected for someone to shine the sun on you — thawing out that ice wall you’ve built. Especially not a pirate.
Warnings: Mentions of blood.
Taglist: @unhealthy-obessions @4ng3l-ch1ld @herondale-lightworm @astrynyx @snixx2088
Navigation — other works!
Sighing I placed my notebook onto the desk, my glove hands flipping to the next free page.
Merlin’s class had been relatively quiet, for once. There was no singing, no dancing, no fights. This was quite rare, and k had a feeling it wouldn’t last.
Writing my name on the page, I had started to write down all of Merlin’s notes on the board.
The door slammed open and a bunch of Vk’s came in noisy. I knew the silence wouldn’t last.
“Sorry we late teach!” Some kid said with a British accent. I didn’t bother to look up and just continued writing.
“Hades go sit by Maleficent. James you can sit by ms. Y/N.” Footsteps made their way in my direction and the chair beside me was pulled out.
Boots slammed onto the table. I slowly turned my head to him. He was leaning back in his chair one arm behind his head as if he was relaxing.
“Do you mind?” He looked over to me, “not at all lassie. And you can just rip a page out your notebook to write my notes on.” The audacity this man has.
“I’m not doing your work, now get your filthy feet off the table.” I shoved his legs, not really budging him, before making sure it didn’t dirty my gloves.
“Filthy? I bathe quite often thank you very much.” He finally set his feet down, and adjusted his position to the edge of his seat. “Who the hell are you?”
“None of your business, no use that good had of use, and write what’s on the board.” I kept my glare sharp as I gave him a spare pen and paper.
Before he could say anything else I focus back on the board and continued writing.
“We got off on the wrong foot.” Literally. “My name is Captain James Hook. You are?” I looked down to the hand he held out to shake.
No point in being rude, “Y/N, princess of Ariendelle.” I disregarded his hand. Just because I have the gloves on — doesn’t mean I should go acting recklessly.
The hand dropped, and thankfully Hook fell silent the rest of the class. I started to pack up my things, and Hook grabbed my attention when he immediately sat up and went to discuss something with the teacher.
Not your business Y/N. I quietly walked out the class, whatever few people in my way to my next one hurried out of it. Guess they didn’t want to risk getting involved with me.
❄︎
I walked into Merlin’s class expecting the seat next to me to be empty, considered how many other seats were available. However my assumption was wrong as a certain pirate sat with his feet on the table. Just like before.
“Ah Y/N let me talk to you for a second.” The few other people in the class looked to me as Merlin gesture for me to come over to him.
Doing as told I walked in front of his desk. “I really need you to tutor James Hook.” I immediately started to shake my head no. “Listen I don’t like him.” Not true, but I didn’t love him either. I was indifferent about the man — what I wasn’t indifferent about was tutoring someone that will give me attention.!
I liked my little spot in the back, tutoring probably the most popular guy in school sends a direct beam of light onto me.
"Please Y/N. This is the only way to get his grade up. Besides you owe me for giving you that extension." I released an annoyed sigh; great he's cashing in his 'IOU'.
Very well. I turned back around and took my seat, kicking hook's feet off the table in the process. "You're going to need to start bring supplies to school." Was the first command I listed off. I ripped out a paper and gave him a pen. "Now pay attention to the teacher then tell me what you don't understand after the lesson." That was the second command I listed off, and surprisingly he did as told.
❄︎
Over the course of the next three weeks Hook did everything I asked — and his increasing grade was the proof of it.
However tragedy then struck. Book decided to sit at my empty table for lunch — and bring his friends.
I went to walk to a different empty table, but he was quick to jump up and push me down on the bench. This is kidnapping, I’m positive.
“Y/N this is my friends.” I did a little wave, my face void of emotion but annoyance laced in my eyes.
“Hey! I’m Morgie — yk? Son of Morgana.” I gave a nod, I knew who all these people are. Perks of being popular? The whole school knows you.
“So Y/N,” the ‘leader’ of the group spoke. “Any interesting qualities we should know about?”
Oh just some ice powers that i sometimes can’t control and it can do some serious damage to others. And if you were to ask around I’m sure someone from my home land would blab.
“None that I think would interest you.” Uliana gave a small hum.
“I think having powers would interest me, especially if you’re getting involved with hook.”
“Me?” I looked around — ready to deny the claim that was 100% false. “I’m not getting involved with the pirate.”
James did a light gasp and dramatically put his hand over his heart. “I’m hurt darling. I thought we were closer than that your highness.”
So maybe me and Hook made a deal not to mention our backround to each other.
“Just how powerful are you?” The sea witch spoke up again. Causing me to stop the fighting between me and Hook. “That’s my business. Besides — it’s prohibited for me to use them.” I looked away from the eyes on me and over to the pink bubbly princess of hearts.
Everyone liked her, well besides the Vk’s. It was a shame — cause once she makes one mistake, gives once scare to the people there a high chance she’ll be turned away from everyone.
“What? And you follow those rules?” Morgie son of Morgana asked, as if I grown two heads. I smiled at the blonde boy sarcastically.
“When you get in trouble, in fights, break the rules, what does your mother do to you?”
He smiled oblivious. “I get ice cream.” I raised my brow waiting for him to piece things together. After a few seconds of him not getting it, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes.
“Me breaking the rules isn’t worth getting on my parents nerves.” Something Maleficent I know would disagree with.
Her parents were quite like mine, hating her rebellious nature, but she loved the fact that she was a disgrace in her mother’s eye.
“Oh.” He said, now finally getting it. Once I tried to be the perfect daughter to get my parents love, but when that didn’t work I was mean and cruel to them. It didn’t change anything so now I just ignore them till I can’t. They do the same.
❄︎
I started to tie up my laces, ready to skate on the ice. The rink was closed by this late of night, but I had stolen the key and copied me an extra one.
The night crew don’t come until three more hours, leaving me with the perfect alone atmosphere.
Or it was.
A person sat next to me, causing me to look — thinking it was some kind of security. However the person that sat next to me was no other than James Hook.
“What the hell are you following me?” He opened his mouth to answer, but I cute him off with another question. “How the hell you even get in here? The doors are locked.” I looked around — trying to see if anyone else was here.
“Pirate.” Was his answer, as if it was an obvious one. “What are you doing here?” I know for a fact Hook doesn’t care about ice skating.
“Is this what you do in your spare time?” He asked, deflecting the question.
I rolled my eyes, and for a moment I could feel my hands starting to freeze up. I stood up, taking a few steps away from him before I grabbed my gloves on the seat next to me.
There’s a reason I skate alone and it’s cause the cold makes my power grow stronger and haywire.
“You’re shaking. Are you cold?” I shook my head no, but before I could say it he had already wrapped his coat around me.
“I don’t need this. The cold doesn’t bothe—“ I cut myself off based on the look he gave me. I felt myself release a shaky breath, trying to step away from him, making sure not to fall in these skates.
It didn’t matter though because every step back I took, he took a step forward. “You’re jumpy today.” He commented. “Yeah, you’re kinda in my zone.” It reply was immediate and my tone was snarky.
“What’s the matter?” For the first time in a long time it had actually felt like I had been seen. Not looked at, not glared at, but seen. Like he had actually seen me in this moment and not the facade I put on.
“It’s best you leave me alone Hook.” I slightly pushed his chest away, and when I went to pull my hand back he caught it in his. Keeping it pushed up against his chest.
“Why?” Because despite what people think I’m not a monster and I don’t want to see you get hurt.
“I don’t do friends.” That was true, it was best for everyone. It was best I be alone.
“I’m not looking to be your friend.” My hands started to shake, and I felt hurt. It had been a while since I’ve felt that. Someone not wanting to be my friend. Being hurt someone didn’t want to be around me.
“Ask me what I want.” I tried to pull my hand back once again, feeling my hands start to form mist. However he still didn’t let go.
“Ask me what I want.” He repeated. My breath hitched as my nerves spiked. “What do you want?”
“I want to be more than your friend.”
I shook my head, not wanting to believe what he said. He couldn’t want that, he shouldn’t.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
All I’ve ever wanted was someone I could lean on, but I learned at a very young age that the only pillar in my life is one made of ice.
“Go back to the dorms Hook.” I finally got my hand free and skated across the ice, away from him.
❄︎
You had expected Hook to leave you alone after you rejected him. However that just drove him more.
Since that night, any chance he has he’ll try to talk to you, give you gifts he definitely stole, and always flirt.
Flirting was second nature to the pirate, but that was nothing compared to the way he took it with you. It was quite known to the whole school, that you had Hook wrapped around your finger.
The more Hook got to know you, the more he vowed to do whatever to make you happy. He was falling, but he was desperate to drag you down with him.
❄︎
You had watched the ice rink, empty. Tonight you made no effort to get on the ice. Tonight you were alone, and you hated it.
Out of a moment of weakness you called Hook and asked him to come to you. He did so without question, and as fast as he could.
So you watched the Ice rink, with him, in silence. He hadn’t asked you what was wrong — he knew you need to be with someone, not interrogated by them.
“When I was a little girl my parents and sister had loved my magic.” It was the first thing said, and Hook let you get everything off your chest.
“One time this duke had came to our home. I had asked to leave me alone, but he kept prying and prying, making me uncomfortable.”
“Out of self defense or more really it was an accident, I had used my powers to move him away. It was an accident.” Your voice broke.
“He had turned to solid ice, there was no covering up what happened. The whole kingdom knew by the next morning. That very night my father and mother had called me a monster and took me to the magic rock trolls.”
“I was given gloves to help control my magic. It didn’t matter how good I was, or how much I tried to redeem myself. They looked at me like I was a murder, and I guess I was.”
“I’m a villain, Hook.” You finally looked at him, tears dropping down your face. “And villains don’t get happy endings. It’s the first thing you learn.”
He was quiet, and then you knew you screwed up — you scared away the one person who had not made you lonely.
You looked away from him and back to the ice. For a second you were to caught up in your thoughts to feel him remove your glove. But when the air hit you, you immediately panicked — trying to grab it back.
“Hook, give it to me.” You looked to him scared, scared for him.
He kept quiet as he slid his palm against yours, wrapping his fingers around your freezing one’s. Your hands were so cold and getting colder by the second.
You tired to remove your hand but he tightened his grip. You could give him frost bite and he would never remove himself from you.
“I already have a happy ending. Love.” You looked at him crazy. “Love? Love doesn’t exist.”
“Maybe I can teach you.” You went to pull your hand away once again but instead he pulled you to him, over the seats.
His lips shut yours up. His lips were so soft, and delicate. He kissed you with experience, but an emotion that felt similar to the one building in your chest. One that made you feel warm, a feeling that consumed you, that demanded James Hook.
He pulled away slightly, his lips still brushing against yours, and his breath fanning your face.
“You say villains can’t get happy endings, but you’re my happy ending. Let me share that with you.”
Maybe, just maybe you didn’t half to be alone. Because even if you said no, Hook would always be with you. If not in person that in that ice cold heart that is starting to melt.
Your hands warmed slightly, and Hook knew you were his endgame. You were his once upon a time. You were his — as much as he was yours.
—
A/N: this feels short, but I’m sorry I got to it so late! I hope you enjoyed it.
#decendents#decendents masterlist#hook decendents#decendents x reader#james hook#james hook x reader#james hook masterlist#hook x reader#hook#captain hook
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hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!
thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡
—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem
You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow.
Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside.
No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin.
Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots.
If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go.
Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again.
Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them.
Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code.
Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost?
You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home.
A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him.
“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.”
“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.”
You freeze up.
The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.”
Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.”
“Come have some breakfast.”
“I'll write her again.”
“After breakfast.”
“What if she doesn't come?”
“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.”
“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters.
Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue.
You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different.
Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house.
“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.”
“What?” Arthur asks.
“Who?” a younger voice says.
A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.”
“Mum,” one whines.
“Come on now.”
The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded.
You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles.
“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea.
The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.
Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone.
Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.
“Come in, then,” Remus says.
“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.”
A startle of silverware against china.
Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.
Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you.
“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.”
You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them.
So. It's a relief to be home.
You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly.
“I'm fine. I am.”
He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.
You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it?
Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?”
Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius.
“Don't be upset,” he pleads.
“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.”
He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?”
“Not just give up.”
“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.”
You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think.
“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.”
“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up.
It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.
You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.
“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath.
“I left you all alone,” you repeat.
“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm.
Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.”
“I miss you too,” he says.
You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown.
I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay.
But Lily–
Everyone's going to be fine. I promise.
“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does.
“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh.
You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists.
“What?” His eyes are dark.
“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?”
“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?”
“I don't know anyone. I've been away.”
He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.”
“I don't.”
“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes.
You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes.
“You're still beautiful.”
“Mm. You can't even see me.”
“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.”
You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?”
He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–”
You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.”
“I have stuff to do to make it right.”
“Then we'll do it.”
“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?”
I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay.
“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?”
“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen.
“Not like that,” you laugh.
He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.”
You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.”
“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.”
You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.”
#sirius black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x fem!reader#sirius black x you#sirius black x y/n#sirius x reader fluff#sirius black imagine#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black fic#marauders era#marauders#sirius black drabble#sirius black scenario#sirius black oneshot#the marauders#sirius orion black
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Could you continue on the moon water x pregnant reader, where she’s further along? And how the boys react, like who’s more protective Remus or regulus? Who’s doing all the cooking? Just a cut little domestic fic
Also I love all of your work!!
THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING I TOTALLY DIDN'T HAVE THIS DRAFTED UP IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE LAST ONE....THAT WOULD BE EMBARRASSING LOL thanks though I love this little dynamic so friggen much
poly!moonwater x pregnant!reader who's in her first trimester
You learned a lot about yourself and both of your boyfriends throughout the first trimester of your pregnancy.
Though you had always known that both Remus and Regulus were prone to worrying, you learned that they both had very different methods of worrying over you.
Regulus was what you called a fusser. He was constantly fussing over you. Adding extra servings to your plate unprompted. Running out the night he found out you were pregnant to buy prenatal vitamins and potions (muggle and magical), which he served to you each morning himself so that he knew that you were taking them. No one was allowed to use the loo attached to your bedroom, as that toilet was deemed the vomit toilet, which he disinfected twice a day in case you needed to ‘rest your poor beautiful face on it’ as was often the case. He insisted you stay bundled, almost forcing extra layers on you before you stepped outside. And he insisted you begin pelvic floor exercises immediately.
Remus was what you called a coddler. He was always hovering over you at the off chance you might need something at that exact moment. “Are you comfortable, dovey?” “Do you need anything?” “Are you thirsty?” “Did Regulus upset you?” “Do you want me to rub your feet?” “Do you want me to call you in at work?” “Why don’t we go take a nap, hm?” “Have you drank enough water today?” and so on and so forth.
What you learned about yourself during the first trimester of your pregnancy?
You hated being fussed over.
“Regulus Black, I am full.” You pressed, shooting your boyfriend a stern glare where he stood beside you, serving spoon hovering in the air from his attempt at putting more on your plate.
“Amour, I don’t think you’ve had enough to eat today. You’re eat-”
“For two, she knows. Bubs, she full named you, I’d cut your losses if I were you.” Remus stage whispered to Regulus, shooting you a sympathetic albeit concerned glance.
Regulus looked distressed as he awkwardly hovered at your side, seemingly trying to decide between surrendering or pushing his point.
“Maybe just-”
“Full!” You shrilled, standing from the table and storming off towards the entrance. You pulled on a pair of shoes and your jacket before grabbing your car keys and heading for the door when you noticed movement in your periphery.
“Regulus I swear to gods, if you come over here with another jacket I will set you on fire.”
Without missing a beat he turned on his heel and disappeared back from whence he came - one of your jackets still firm in his grasp.
Regulus, Remus, and James all gawked at you when you told them you wanted to buy a car. You were a witch, you could get anywhere in seconds with a flick of your wand, a portkey, or a handful of floo powder.
Lily understood the contentment that came with going for a drive once in a while, but your biggest supporter had been Sirius. He loved almost nothing more in this world than the way he loved his motorcycle.
He had insisted on accompanying you car shopping, and whilst he teased you to no end for not choosing the flashiest car available to waste Regulus’ inheritance on, you were happy with your purchase.
You were also beginning to wonder if portkey and apparition was a safe way to travel now-a-days, what with your pregnancy and all.
You’d driven for maybe all of twenty minutes before you were parked back outside of your flat, staring at the navy painted door.
You felt ridiculous for getting upset. It’s not even like this behaviour of theirs was new, though it was perhaps heightened on account of your growing family.
You hated drawing attention to it - not one to minimise your own feelings - but you also supposed you were feeling… extra sensitive lately on account of the…hormones.
You suddenly felt teary; Regulus was being so thoughtful; you haven’t once had to think or worry about, well, almost anything. He ensured you had everything you needed, and you never even had to ask for it.
And Remus was always close by to ensure you never wanted for anything, willing to drop whatever he was doing on a sickle to serve you.
Fuck, they were saints, you were awful.
Feeling thoroughly ashamed of yourself, you got out of your car and made your way to the flat, shucking off your jacket and shoes before moving down the hall to the living room.
Regulus snapped his head in your direction immediately, whilst Remus smirked to himself and calmly placed a scrap of paper in his book to mark his spot.
“Amour, I-”
“I’m so sorry, Reggie.” You whimpered, causing Regulus to deflate and his face to fall in misery.
“No, darling, no. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He insisted as he moved to envelop you in his arms.
“I was awful.” You muttered into his chest causing him to chuckle.
“You were not awful; you were really quite reasonable.”
“I was mean.”
“Amour,” he pressed more seriously, pulling away from you and forcing you to make eye contact with him. “When I broke my heel and was stuck in that cast for weeks, what did I say to Rem when he was fussing over me?”
You chuckled slightly as you looked over to Remus, noticing him roll his eyes fondly at the memory.
“You told him to go fuck a cactus.”
Regulus looked at you with an expression of pride. “I told him to go fuck a cactus.” He agreed dreamily.
“Dove, even if it doesn’t always feel like it, you’re working awfully hard right now. You’re going to be tired, perhaps a little irritable, and it is more than fair for you to tell us to back off, yeah?”
You pushed your face back into regulus’ chest as you felt your sinuses fill painfully.
“Yeah.” You whimpered back pathetically.
Remus made an equally pathetic cooing sound and moved to stand behind Regulus, wrapping his arms around the both of you.
“Probably doesn’t help to have two of the most overbearing partners, hm?” He asked as he rubbed circles into your back.
“You’re not overbearing.” You argued.
“No?” Regulus asked, pressing a kiss into your hair. “What are we?”
“Lovely.”
“Dove? Are you crying?”
“……no”
“Why are you crying, amour?”
“Because I’m pregnant and you’re lovely.” You whined.
They both chuckled at you and the three of you stood in each other's embrace.
As was usually the case, Regulus was the first to break the silence.
“I really would feel better if you ate a little bit more tonight, amour. Can I get you anything, anything at all?”
You suppressed a groan and thought really, really hard about it. You supposed you were a little peckish, and if you didn’t eat now - you’d surely be hungry by the time you got into bed.
“Can we have fast food?”
Regulus let out a sigh of relief and Remus barked a laugh.
“You know, I was sort of hoping you’d suggest that, Dovey. I’ve been dying for some curly fries.”
With nothing more said, Regulus went and grabbed two jackets for you, tossing you the car keys and asking if you were in the mood for a drive to look at the city lights.
You sat parked in a turn-off facing a bridge and overlooking the Thames, watching the lights of cars, planes, and boats dancing along the water in your view.
Though both boys had been nothing but supportive of you and your pregnancy, you knew that they both had some worries and fears that only their brother and best friend could pacify.
“We should probably tell the others soon.” You admitted finally.
If you didn’t know better, you’d have assumed the silence in the car meant that you actually hadn’t said anything out loud at all.
You did know better, though, and it was the way Regulus’ spoon paused halfway between his ice cream and his mouth that assured you he had, indeed, heard you.
“Really?” Remus asked first, breaking the silence and rebooting Regulus’ hard drive as he finally brought the spoon to his mouth.
“Yeah, I think it would be helpful, for all of us really. I mean, James and Lily have done this before, and Sirius would be very enthused.” You explained.
The three of you had decided to play it safe and wait until the end of the first trimester to start telling anyone, with this being your first pregnancy and all.
You knew, though, that if you weren’t already starting to show (the boys insisted you weren’t, but you think they were just trying to appease you), you would be very soon.
Regulus finally hummed and plopped his spoon into his now empty ice cream cup.
“Or,” He started, keeping his eyes trained on the scenery in front of him. “We could pack up, change our names and move to Switzerland.”
His suggestion was met with silence (and unimpressed looks from both his partners that he didn’t bother to look at himself), causing him to groan and sink further into his seat.
“Fine. But you have to deal with Sirius’ insufferable excitement.” He pouted, though he couldn’t hide the soft blush adorning his cheeks and the little smile gracing his lips.
“Your options are Sirius or James, bubs.” Remus chuckled.
“I still don’t see why Switzerland’s not on the table.” Regulus countered, earning him a pinch in his ribs from Remus.
You picked the right ones, you thought; you had the best family to bring your little one into.
#ask elle#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#self insert#remus lupin#regulus black#remus lupin x regulus black#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#moonwater#poly!moonwater#poly!moonwater x reader#poly!moonwater x you#moonseeker#poly!moonseeker#poly!moonseeker x reader#poly!moonseeker x you#pregnant!reader#pregnancy trope#kid fic#ellecdc fics
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'the one were Regulus reunites with his first kiss' let it be known that this is unrealistically romantic but I love it for them. They deserve it.
The weather was perfect, he tried to remember if the last time he drove around those same streets it was this pleasant. His last visit had been over a decade ago. His parents had said the “demographic had changed,” and it was no longer an area they wanted to be around. His family simply relocated to their other properties for the summer, forgetting all about that home. Regulus, meanwhile, tried to forget all about one boy.
Regulus came back alone. Sirius was tied up with selling another property after their parents passed away. Regulus didn’t explain his particular interest in this location, and Sirius didn’t ask.
He was there to meet with a realtor and to say goodbye to one of his sweetest memories from his youth. When Regulus arrived at the café, he received a message asking to push back the meeting until tomorrow, and he quickly agreed. He knew exactly where he wanted to spend the rest of the day.
The walk from his car to the beach was long, but he was in no rush. Regulus carefully observed the sea. It was winter and nearly sunset; the water wasn’t as bright as the last time he had been there, but it was enough to bring the first rush of memories flooding back.
He was fifteen again, and his brother was introducing him to a handsome boy he had just met. It seemed like the sun had risen that day specifically to make the boy’s eyes shine. He remembered his name and the way their hands felt when they first touched. James. He always regretted not asking for a last name. Regulus closed his eyes and tried to recall the scent. He laughed at himself, knowing it was probably just a mix of sweat, hormones, and sand, but he found it endearing even to this day.
Beautiful hues of red and orange illuminated the sky. Regulus strolled to the pier and watched as the sky painted the same picture it had all those years ago. He took out his wallet and looked at the tiny picture he had kept. It was blurry, probably taken around the same time of day, and showed the silhouette of a boy smiling at him. The sun was behind him, so only the outline of James waving could be seen, but Regulus had never forgotten the exact curve of James’ lips as he took the picture. That summer had been a dream; he had met an angel and tasted heaven with his own lips.
The temperature began to drop, and Regulus took in his last moments at the very spot where he had felt love for the first time. He took out his camera, the same one he had used fifteen years ago, and snapped one last photo, thinking of James again.
He chose a hotel close to the café where he would meet the realtor the next day. It was a small, beautifully preserved place. As he entered, there was only one man ahead of him at the front desk. Tired, Regulus resumed scrolling on his phone when he heard it.
"James is fine."
Wood. The boy he had fallen in love with all those summers ago smelled like sweat, hormones, sand, and wood. Sound and smell held powerful memories, and Regulus learned that firsthand as he tilted his head in what felt like slow motion to look at the back of the boy who was now a man.
"James." The word escaped his lips before he could stop it, just as he had no control over his suddenly racing heartbeat.
The other man turned and dropped his bags. "It's you," he breathed.
"Do you—"
"Regulus," James said, almost as a prayer. "It's you."
James approached him tentatively and smiled. God, that smile—Regulus would’ve recognized it even if another decade had passed. Without a second thought, he took out the photograph he had just looked at and, without worrying about the potential embarrassment, showed it to James.
“It’s you.” James carefully took the picture in his hands, his eyes darting between it and Regulus. After a moment, he handed it back and took a step closer. His hand hovered near Regulus' face, hesitating just before making contact. “May I?”
Regulus nodded.
Just as gently as when they were fifteen, James tucked a single curl behind Regulus' ear.
“It’s been—” Regulus began.
“Fifteen years,” James finished. Their eyes tried to convey everything their lips still couldn’t: I’ve missed you. I never forgot about you. Let me get to know you again.
“Hi,” Regulus said with a quiet chuckle, and James’ eyes softened.
“Can I buy you dinner?”
“I would like nothing more.”
#they are everything to me omfg#this was so cheesy#couldn't figure out if i wanted it longer or shorter but here it is#enjoy??#idc if it's unrealistic for them to get all lovey dovey so quick#they are soulmates okay#marauders#harry potter#marauders era#marauders fandom#fanfic#harry potter marauders#the marauders#marauders harry potter#marauders fanfic#the marauders era#marauder era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#james potter x regulus black#james and regulus#james potter#james x regulus#regulus x james#regulus and james#regulus black#regulus arcturus black#regulus black x james potter#jegulus#jegulus microfic
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