#I looked it up and learned James’ last name

[bcksbarnes]

between a dream

pairing: tws!bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky barnes has just found out his entire life has been a lie. that his life as the winter solider has been nothing but mind control. instead of running off after his fight with steve, he returns to the avengers tower where he trusts no one. everyone takes turn on watch, and this time it's yours.

word count: 2.2K

read the: next chapter

a/n: based this on request from anonymous!

The Winter Solider was not a man. He was not capable of forming his own thoughts or having feelings. He was a killing machine that was able to be turned on and off at any moment, bringing only death and destruction wherever he went. That was until he heard one word, one name. Bucky. That moment altered something in his brain, a voice in the back of his head coming to life. It sounded like his own. The Winter Solider was not sure he had ever heard his own voice in his head before.  

He had learned very quickly, and against his will, that he was once a man named James ‘Bucky’ Barnes. That he used to be a solider from a different time. That he had a life that was taken away from him. That he has been used as a weapon. And that he should be dead.  

The man he had once thought was his target, Steve Rogers, was actually his friend in the life he no longer knew. The one he couldn’t remember.  

And now as he sat in this tower over looking the city skyline, all he could think about was that there was no one to be trusted. Sure, maybe Steve, but he wasn’t even in the right frame of mind to distinguish if this was still some trap – some lie.  

“He’s been sitting like that for two days.” Sam says as you and Steve approach. Everyone has been taking turns keeping watch of him since he and Steve returned from their fight near the river. First Nat, then Sam, now it would be your turn. “He hasn’t eaten or slept.”  

“I don’t blame him.” You mumble as your arms cross over your chest, watching the back of Bucky's head. “He just found out his entire life has been a lie. He’s been used a killing machine for the last 70 years.” You try to keep your voice low so that he can’t hear you, but you watch as he tilts his head back and forth a bit, the memories filling his mind.  

“Let me go introduce you.” Steve’s voice is soft, as he places a hand on your elbow guiding you over to where Bucky was sitting. Once you approach his chair, you take a step back keeping your distance while Steve goes to speak to him.  

“Hey, buck.” He says, Bucky wincing a bit at the name, obviously not used to it yet. “Sam’s going to be heading out of here in a few minutes. I wanted to introduce you to another team member.”  

Bucky's head turns to the side to look at Steve, his eyes raking over the man. You can tell he’s trying to figure out if Steve in that moment is a threat to him, his body rigid as he asses. You can’t imagine the amount of stress he’s under, how his brain must be on fire with trying to discern between realities.  

He soon looks over at you, his stare is hard as the two of you make eye contact. You’re not scared of him, and you know you could disarm him in a moment despite the difference in size between the two of you, but there’s something in his gaze that feels so disconnected from the world – from emotion. Steve introduces you, saying your name a few times as he gives Bucky the Same rundown as he had with both Natasha and Sam, trying to reiterate that they were here to help – not hurt.  

Bucky doesn’t respond, he didn’t the first two times either, his gaze moves back over to Steve and he continues to frown, wanting to be done with this conversation, wishing the screaming in his head would stop.  

Once Steve wraps up his rundown he looks over at you, giving a firm nod before he walks out of the room, beginning your time on the clock to keep watch of this man, while they figure out how best to move forward.  

Nothing really happens for the first few hours, Bucky shifts slightly in his chair a few times, you lead him to the bathroom once or twice, and your phone buzzes with some texts from Steve checking in, but overall nothing worth noting.  

You can see the dark circles under Bucky's eyes as you sit a few seats away from him. You feel bad for him to some extent. He had done bad things, sure, but you couldn’t imagine the pain he was going through. The sun begins to set and you hear a loud sigh leave his lips, it makes you wonder what’s going on in his head.  

He hasn’t eaten.  

Sam’s voice rings through your head and you realize it’s probably best to get Bucky some food.  

“Hey.” You say, getting his attention, his head slowly rolling to the side to look at you. “What do you want to eat?”  

Bucky's eyes graze over you for a moment, you can see him making a mental note that you are a threat to him and that no one right now is safe. He makes no attempts to respond before he rolls his head back to continue staring into space.  

“O...Kay.” You mumble to yourself, taking out your phone and making a few arrangements to have food sent up for him.  

It doesn’t take long for someone to arrive, pushing a cart filled with food, you jump off your chair to thank them before grabbing the plate and moving it over to a table where Bucky could sit.  

You don’t realize he’s watching you until you turn back around, your head nodding over to the table and he stands. He’s much taller than you had anticipated, your eyes taking in the size of him as his metal arm shines brightly even with the dim lights in the tower. He sits down and waits for you to sit across from him.  

“I guess they sent over ...” you eye his plate for a moment. “Salmon.” The face you make after the word is one of pure disgust – a food you hated with every fiber of your being, you didn’t envy that he had to eat it.  

But, he makes no attempts to reach for his fork or knife, his hands curled into fists as they rest at the table, his eyes watching you intently.  

“Do you not like salmon?” You ask, trying to coax even an answer out of him, but he doesn’t budge. It takes you a moment before you put two and two together – the most obvious reason of all as to why he’s not eating. “Steve wouldn’t poison you.”  

He grunts in response, his fists tightening a bit as his eyes move down to the food then back up at you. It’s hard to understand what could possibly be going through his mind, what horrors he’s had to endure and the false reality that he was placed into for all those years.  

“Steve wouldn’t poison you, Bucky.” You say again, trying to reiterate the point as much as you possibly could, your words holding so much weight to anyone but it falls flat with him.  

“I don’t know Steve.” His words send a chill through your spine, his voice is deep and hallow, lacking any emotion, but, to be fair, he’s not wrong. “I don’t know you.”  

“Fine. I’ll prove it to you then.” Your words come out faster than your brain has a chance to stop you. Standing up from your seat, your chair pushing back as you do so, you lean across and grab his fork, hands shaking slightly as you grab a piece of the salmon.  

You regret doing it almost immediately, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you as he watches you bring the fork to your mouth. It’s fishy and pink and the bile is rising in your throat just at the smell of it, but you know you have to do this. To earn some sort of trust. If Steve was here, he’d do anything to prove to Bucky, so you had to show him you were just as capable of proving this as well.  

Taking the bite your body wants to reject it almost immediately as you chew, but you manage to get it down, taking a long sip of your water once it’s been swallowed to try and get the taste out of your mouth. Horrible. Terrible. Disgusting. If he didn’t eat the salmon now, then you’d definitely kill him.  

A beat of silence passes between the two of you as stare at each other. Bucky moves his hand, grabbing his fork back from you and moving to take a bite of the food, having an easier time choking it down than you do.  

There it was. Something. Maybe not trust yet, maybe just a spark of the idea.  

You sit down across from him again, shaking your head as you try not to imagine eating anymore of the food, the idea of it sending a shiver down your spine as you continue to watch silently.  

“Thanks.” He manages to say between bites, his eyes on the food in front of him.  

“Yeah, don’t mention it.” You quip back, your voice flat before letting out a dry cough.  

It’s once he’s finished with his food that he pushes his body back against the chair, sinking into it slightly, his flesh and metal hand grip the arms tightly. The tension in the room is palpable at this point and you know Bucky can feel it too.  

“How long have you known Steve?” His voice is gruff as it comes out, and you’re surprised he’s willing to talk to you, let alone ask questions.  

“Two years.” You respond. “Since they found him in the ice.” You remember that day vividly, watching as they brought him in for evaluation, making their plans to slowly acclimate him to the real world, which in true Steve rogers fashion did not work. You had been assigned to his team ever since. “I was one of his first recruits on the team. Sam was next, Nat is just a friend.”  

Bucky nods at that, his long hair falling in front of his face as he takes in your words.  

“Has he always been ...” he looks over in the direction of the door that Steve had walked out of hours ago. “Like that ?”  

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head a bit at his question – you knew exactly what he was talking about. Steve, while he had everyone’s best interest in mind, was a bit overbearing, always over explaining everything and a bit ... self absorbed. It was the hero complex.  

“Yes.” You nod, a small smirk on your face as your gaze catches Bucky's again. His eyes are tired, not as guarded as they were a few minutes ago – softer. “He means well, but he can be a little ...” you trail off, but Bucky nods his head understanding where that was going.  

Bucky lets out a long sigh, his eyes closing for a moment as you can see his hands gripping the chair tighter, the knuckles on his flesh hand white.  

“I hate that he looks at me like that.” He admits through gritted teeth. “Like i’m supposed to just remember everything that happened. There’s ... bits and pieces, but i don’t know him. I barely remember myself. He doesn’t understand.”  

“He doesn’t expect you to remember anything.” You add in after a few long moments of silence. “It might feel like he does, but he doesn’t. He’s just excited to have his friend back.” Your eyes trail over his face. “A version of his friend.”  

Bucky's grip loosens on the chair, a deep breath leaving his nostrils as he moves to stand from the table. You watch as he makes his way back to where he was sitting before, his head lolling back onto the chair as he stares up at the ceiling.  

And he stays like that for the remainder of the night. His shoulders aren’t as tense as when you had first arrived, he turns to look at you when you ask him a question and he even manages to gruff out an answer.  

By the time morning comes, Steve is there bright and early, ready to release you of your duties as it was now his turn to keep watch over Bucky.  

“Hey.” He says, startling you a bit as you and Bucky both turn to look at him. “How’d it go?”  

“Good.” You nod, standing up and straightening your posture. “He ate late last night, he’s feeling a bit ... overwhelmed.” You keep your voice low so Bucky couldn’t hear you. “Give him some space. Don’t ask so many questions.”  

You felt suddenly protective over Bucky, the need to make sure he felt comfortable as he navigated his way through this new beginning was blooming in your chest. And as you turn around to see him one last time, you swear you seem some sadness in his eyes. You pat Steve on the shoulder as you walk past him, finally being relieved of your time. Though you’d never admit out loud you’d be counting down the hours until it was your turn on watch Bucky again.

[g1rld1ary]

heart shaped doodles - james potter x reader

wc: 836

summary: you accidentally get given james' essay, covered in doodles with your intials together

me: wrote this in one sitting i love loverboy james!!!!!

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

you were in agonies waiting for your latest potions essay. usually, you had a pretty good grasp of how you were doing academically, but this last project just had you muddled and confused.

the confusion you felt about your essay, though, was completely overshadowed by the utter bewilderment you experienced as you looked down at the piece of paper slughorn had handed you.

all over the heading and through the margins laid doodled hearts, slightly smudged from carelessness. even stranger than the hearts was that your initials sat right in the middle of them, paired with the unmistakable ‘j.p.’.

you quickly paged through the rest of the essay, face draining of colour at the characteristic chicken scratch — and even more so at the clearly accidental inclusion of a page in the middle, filled with doodles and the repeated mantra of ‘mr james’ followed by your last name.

before you could process what you’d just read slughorn snatched the essay out of your hands, booming laugh echoing through the potions classroom.

“sorry about that,” he shook his head as if to reprimand himself, “i must have gotten confused with your initials being all over it.” that got the class’ attention, and several gryffindors craned their necks to catch a glance of the paper as the professor passed.

when slughorn finally made it to james’ desk, dropping the essay down silently, the class erupted into chaos. teasing and heckling ensued as both you and james sunk into your seats, and you were sure your face was the same shade of red as his.

slughorn failed spectacularly at controlling the class after the revelation that the james potter had a crush on you. and not just any crush, a doodle-your-names-together-in-the-margins, down-bad kind of crush. knowing that no more learning was going to happen slughorn dismissed you all, and you had plans to run straight to your dorm and hide there until everyone stopped caring about the whole incident.

remus lupin was immediately at your side, chatting to you about something you weren’t particularly interested in, but you were too polite to tell him of your hibernation plans. you nodded and agreed with him until you were the only ones left in the classroom. apart from james.

you froze, panic overtaking you as you stumbled to put the last of your things in your bag and run when a voice called your name. you knew instantly it was james and turned slowly to face him, forcing yourself to reluctantly make eye contact.

there was still a light dusting of blush above his cheekbones, and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck betrayed his own nervousness.

“hey,” he said, hand clutching the single strap of his bag.

“hi,” you replied, trying to stop your hands from shaking.

“so you, uh, saw my paper?”

“yeah,” you breathed, “um, congrats on the ‘o’ by the way. wish it really was my essay.” james laughed softly at your joke, messing up his hair for something to do.

“i could help you sometime! if you need it, of course.” james cringed at his own reply, the instant realisation that it maybe wasn’t the right thing to say at the moment.

“right,” you trailed off, “well, i’m gonna—”

“wait!” james reached out, a hand catching your bicep lightly. it sent goosebumps up and down the length of your arm. you looked at james expectantly, heart hammering in your chest.

“look, i — fuck. there’s no point pretending we both don’t know now. i really like you. like, an embarrassing amount, as everyone’s discovered today. and i wasn’t gonna do anything about it because i figured you’re so out of my league and aren’t interested, but i suppose i’ve already made a fool out of myself today, might as well full send it. so, what do you say? can i take you out to hogsmeade sometime?”

you pretended to mull it over to give your internal voice time to scream. james potter was without a doubt the hottest guy in school, not to mention smart and funny and good at everything he tried. and he wanted to go out with you! if he wasn’t watching you with anxious interest you thought you might’ve passed out. instead, you played it cool.

“yeah,” you said, smile creeping out despite your best efforts, “yeah, that sounds like fun.”

you almost had to shield your eyes when james beamed, practically its own light source.

“cool!” he said, too loud and fast, “next weekend?” you nodded with almost equal enthusiasm, the two of you sharing the same giggly grins.

behind james you caught a glance of slughorn through the crack in his office door, smiling fondly at the both of you. maybe his slip-up wasn’t so accidental.

“so,” james said, intertwining your fingers boldly as you both turned to leave, “you need me to be your tutor?”

[angrythingstarlight]

Ok hear me out… Bee learning Bucky’s name and calling him Bucky instead of papa to sound like the grown ups. Bucky hates it. But luckily it doesn’t last long.

Bee tried it one day.

It starts with a little g'morning Bucky. Everyone thinks it's cute. Except Bucky. His eyes narrow as he stares down at her trying to process why his baby is calling him that. It only makes her giggle. Bee has never been afraid of him so his infamously lethal glares don't work on her.

In fact she gets more emboldened throughout the day.

You look so pwetty Bucky.

Bucky you wanna watch Moana with me?

You wants me and Mr. Tato to helps you with business Bucky?

Bucky me and Mr. Tato want dino nuggies for lunch. You wants some Bucky?

You gots three more seconds of work Bucky.

By the afternoon, Bucky is at his wit's end. He's her Papa damn it. This is worse than when you call him James. He blames Steve for this. Bucky can't prove that this was his doing but Bucky knows he's behind it.

Bucky decides the best way to handle this is to treat the situation like he does one of his negotiations. Take control and show how ruthless he can be if his terms aren't met.

Bucky leaves the contracts for the casino behind and strides into Bee's office across the hallway. Knocking on her open door, Bucky waits until she stops coloring and then he says her name.

Bee's face drops, disconcertion drawing her brows in. Bucky deliberately repeats her name asking if she's ready for lunch. Her head tilts back, her hand flying to the front of her teddy bear onesie. "Oh no, no Papa I not—no I Bumblebee."

A grin, relieved yet smug, spreads across his face. She doesn't realize that she reverted back to Papa but he does. That sounds better and it makes him happier than he'll ever admit. "Are you my sweet Bee?"

Bee nods emphatically. "Yes and I weady for dino nuggies."

She takes his hand and they start down the hallway. They're almost at the kitchen when Bee peers up at him. "Bucky can we has apple juice? My tummy needs it."

Bucky bites back a sigh. Normally he appreciates her stubborn nature but not today. Not with this. A beat passes as they cross the doorway and step into the sun-streaked kitchen.

Bucky stoops down and as he picks her up, he says, "of course you can." He casually tacks on her name, ignoring her offended gasp.

Lunch continues like this. Her calling him Bucky, him tossing her full name back at her. By the time her small, colorful plate is nearly clean, Bee is waving her macaroni and cheese covered spoon at the pakhan. "No I Bumblebee."

"And I'm your Papa." He retorts, stealing a berry off her plate.

You find them staring at each other, locked in a battle of wills. It's impossible to figure out who will concede first, you thought Bucky would cave the way he usually does but he has a determined glint in his eyes. It matches Bee's.

You'll never stop being entertained by these two.

Then Bee decides she's had enough of this game, she wants to be his Bumblebee again. She lifts her chubby arms, gazing up at him. Her voice soft and sweet. "Papa I sleepy."

Bucky smiles, reaching over to pick her up, gently patting her back. "Alright, sweet Bee. Why don't you take a nap and when you're done you can help me with some work. I need your help picking which one of Uncle Steve's restaurants I'm going to take over."

"Oh the one with the 'sgana." She yawns, snuggling closer, her eyelids drooping. "It's my favorites."

"Now it's yours." The lasagna and the restaurant.

Bucky's going to have her make Steve a thank you card and he's going to personally deliver it tomorrow.

Your mouth falls open, a chuckle spills out. "Bucky you can't just take—"

Bucky slows down, stopping in front of you. He peers down at you, blatantly stating your name. His deep voice rolls over you as his words land at your feet like a brick. "Are you sure you want to take his side?"

Oh.

Oh, you don't like that. It sounds wrong and unnatural on his tongue. "Lasagna is my favorite too."

Bucky wraps his arm around you, his lips brushing over yours. "I know it is, Malyshka."

[moonstruckme]

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 rather 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? Show me.” 

James reaches across him to shut the door, and Remus drives away.

[crescenthistory]

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.

Perhaps the only one, but the sentiment remained.

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 haunted 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.”

[my-castles-crumbling]

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.

[slytherinsimp12]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James Potter was charming, mischievous, captain of the quidditch team and very popular among the girls at Hogwarts. He had a certain talent for making his presence aware , a charisma that was unmatchable. You didn’t have many friends, no matter how hard you tried, people never seemed to acknowledge you. To put it quite plainly, you were the polar opposite of James. You spent years trying to push out and ignore any romantic feelings you had for him, because come on… there is no way he even knows you exist…. Right?

Warnings: Mild swearing and kissing/ making out.

Author’s Note: Hi my loves, this is part 1 of a mini series called- Gold rush. I will keep updating, as fast as I can. If you like my work, feel free to send in requests and leave comments 💌. Happy reading xx. Part 2 and Part 3 out now! (Comment to be added to the taglist)

The lively chatter of students filled the corridors. Golden light shone on the cold, aged walls. The air was heavy with the scent of old books, dust and a hint of magic. You made your way towards the dungeons, just in time for Potions class. You were fairly late; your usual spot was taken by another student. You scanned the classroom, looking for a vacant seat. Unfortunately, there was only one, at the very front of the class.

You settled in the empty seat, when you noticed the boy sitting next to you. His messy black hair was overgrown, and ruffled in a way that looked purposeful. His hazel eyes appeared large beneath his round glasses. James Potter was unreasonably attractive, that wasn’t a secret. You spent your first few years at Hogwarts trying to deny it, but it was of no use. You tried telling yourself his good looks didn’t make up for his arrogant and vexatious personality. He was insufferable.

You hated the way he paraded around the school, hands casually tucked in his pockets, increasing his voice by a few extra decibels whenever a pretty girl walked by. You hated the way he effortlessly drew attention to himself as soon as he walked into a room. And what you hated the most, was when he would catch your gaze lingering on him for a little too long.

“Good morning students. I will be assigning you your partners from now onwards. You will stick to these arrangements for the rest of the academic year.” Professor Slughorn announced, earning disappointed groans from the whole class.

“I have learned my lesson after the ‘incidents’ young Mr. Potter and Mr.Black have caused.” He continued, causing wide grins to spread across James and Sirius’ faces.

Slughorn spent most of the lesson reading out the pairs he had made. You were growing impatient, he hadn’t called out your name yet, maybe this was the perfect opportunity to finally make a new friend… and you know, make it last this time.

“Mr.Potter and Ms. Y/L/N” The professor called out.

You have got to be kidding me, you thought to yourself, a horrified look plastered across your face.

“Why that face, love? I don’t bite” James said turning towards you, then to Sirius and letting out a laugh.

You rolled your eyes and left class, saved by the bell.

The next day, you decided to spend your free time in the library and catch up on some homework. Immersed in your work, you almost didn’t notice the figure walking towards you.

“Feeling studious, are we?” James asked, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward.

“I was, until you came along.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself, as you stared packing your things up.

“Wait, where are you going?” James asked.

“I’m sorry, is there something in particular you want from me?” You snapped.

“You’re my new potions partner aren’t you? I thought we could study for the upcoming test together.” He said cooly.

“Right… well, I’m y/n.” You said, extending your hand.

“You’re kidding right?” James asked, with an almost offended expression.

“Why would I be kidding about my name?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Bloody hell… I know who you are y/n!” James exclaimed. “Third year, Defence against the dark arts, fourth year transfiguration and history of magic and fifth year, divination and astronomy. Those are all the classes we had together, do you not remember?” James continued.

“Oh- um… yea, I guess.” You said, dumbfounded. You remembered. You obviously remembered. How could you forget? But the real question was, how in Merlin’s Name did James freaking Potter know who you were? Did you hit your head and fall into an alternate reality, where you were one of the bimbos he noticed?

It had been a week since that unforeseen encounter with James. He would wink at you during meals or purposefully walk too close to you in the corridors, just enough for your shoulders to brush. He would pretend like he didn’t notice you, but you could feel his stare penetrate when you weren’t looking.

The following night, you woke up in a cold sweat. Your stomach was churning with nausea; it must have been the puking pasties a girl named Marlene gave you.

You were in desperate need of fresh air. Careful not to wake your dorm mates, you slipped out of bed, not caring that you’re in your pyjamas and decided to take a stroll around the castle. You had to be really cautious to not get caught, you didn’t want your house to loose points. You made your way to the dungeons, as it had a lovely view of the black lake.

“Light them up before Filch comes!” A voice whispered.

“What if the Slytherins wake up!” A shrill voice filled with fear added.

“Leave if you must , Pete! But do not ruin this for the rest of us.” You could recognise that voice anywhere.

You peaked your head from the corner of a wall, spotting James and his group of friends, ‘the marauders’, they called themselves. How cheesy. They were in-front of the Slytherin common room, with what seemed to be dung bombs and fire crackers in their hands.

‘Bloody hell. They’re mental.’ You thought to yourself.

“Shit! Run!” One of the voices shouted.

The crackers exploded, creating loud sounds and a strong pungent smell. From a distance, you could see Filch running towards the mess. Suddenly, you felt someone grab you from behind. Before you could shout, their hand covered your mouth. You turned your head to see James signalling you to be quiet. He pulled you into a hidden corner as Filch scoured the surroundings, looking for the culprits behind the mess.

He released his hand from your mouth.

“What the hell! What are you guys doing! Have you absolutely lost your minds??!!” You whisper shouted.

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you following me?To answer your question, no our minds are very much intact. Just a bit of sweet revenge on the Slytherins. Nothing special.” James smirked.

You noticed just how close the both of you were standing. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. You could see the soft curve of his lips and the slight flush in his cheeks. You could hear his heart racing.

He lifted his arm, gently brushing a strand of stray hair away from your face.

Whatever gap was there between the two of you, was closed by James. His lips crashed into yours with an intensity that set your skin on fire. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. All the years of pent up emotions you felt for James came rushing. He pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, the overwhelming force left you reeling.

“Prongs! Prongs, where are you?” A voice hissed.

“Shit.” James said, through clenched teeth.

“Prongs?” You asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

“It’s Sirius. I’ve got to go. Will you be able to go back to your dorm on your own?” James questioned.

You nodded.

“Catch you later, y/n” He said, flashing you that famous James Potter smile.

That alone was enough to make your heart melt.

(All rights reserved, ©)

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Marauders and Lightning Era Masterlist

started - 08.13.2024

last updated - 02.12.2025

Credit for Dividers

All triggers and small summaries listed in the fanfiction

Matured audience advised

Random fic ideas

Faceclaims

HARRY POTTER and CO.

-In The Absence of Goodbye (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - Enemies to Lovers to Strangers to..)

Bartemius Crouch Junior x Fem!reader

Summary: Concept- After being sent back in time to spend a year in the Marauders Era, reader is thrown forward in time and has her memories erased. But was she truly sent home? Aka: Dumbledore underestimates Barty's absolute disregard for order when it comes to his vixen.

-HIATUS We'll Heal Together (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort) 13/? parts Remus Lupin/Sirius Black x Reader

Part 1-9 can be read as a standalone. Summary: Harry Potter grew up without the warmth of a family he should have known. A father in James Potter, a mother in Lily Potter, a God Father in Sirius Black, and an uncle in Remus Lupin. Oh, and let's not forget, a godmother in {Y/N} {L/N} Alt Summary: Starts at the end of Chamber of secrets and into the Prisoner of Azkaban with the first chapter, Harry meeting his father's old friends, and starts learning the fate of {Y/N}, who has long since been presumed dead. there seems to be more of a story hidden behind her disappearance, and in turn, her reappearance.

-Good boy, Pads {Mini-Siris}

Summary: Long hours, late nights, and dark alleyways. Good thing you have a guardian angel looking out for you. {Aka: Padfoot protects a muggle reader on her walk home}

-Expectations

Summary: Reminiscing on some romantic encounters, you have come to the conclusion Harry Potter is not someone you'd ever date. HURT/COMFORT

HEADCANNONS

Jealousy, Jealousy

Where the boys get jealous... (Feat. Barty, Regulus, Sirius, Remus, and James)

POLY!SHIPS

-Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader

- Zombie Apocalypse Au

-Loving You is Easy

Summary: Being younger than all your respective partners was never a big deal; until they graduated and you were left behind. As your mental health declined and their lives started without you, a break was needed.

-Lily's Touch {Omegaverse}

Summary: The reader is experiencing her first heat, and nothing matter how hard she tries, she can't get the nest right.

-Jily x Slytherin!Reader

Jily x Slytherin!gnreader Summary: An interesting situationship with Jily}

-Sirius/James/Remus Band Au

Summary: Reader has a horrible encounter on stage and the boys comfort her

-What's Your Name? {Sneak Peak}

Moonwater Fluff

-Status Quo

Summary: Early mornings and the Status Quo of the Marauder's house hold. {THIS FANFICTION IS INSPIRED- no, actually, basically a tribute to @/ellecdc's PadVix fanfiction. I would be amazed you are reading any of my stuff and not having read theirs but the link is here if you need it.

REMUS LUPIN

-Spoiled Brat (Pt 1?) (Lil Angsty, +18, fluff)

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

-Think like a Lupin (Angsty, lotta angst, happy ending! fluff +18)

Summary: Your parents are planning to marry you off the second after you graduate, but after an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf, plans change.

-Break a Leg Not My Heart (Some angst, mostly light hearted fluff)

Summary: You get hurt during Quidditch practice and Remus doesn't leave your side. Friends to lovers.

-Meeting Royalty (Fluff, Suggestive)

Summary: Meet cute but make it royalty} Part 2

-Too Late (Angst, no comfort) {Pt.2}

Summary: Remus comes to terms with a love lost to his own insecurities.

-Stray

Summary: Post war Remus finds home for his heart

-It Repeats Itself

Summary: Even years after the war the effects of Voldemort's reign still had waves of effects. One just so happened to have a poor girl caught in the cross fire. (This is more of a concept then a fleshed out story-a little cliche)

-Just thinking about Sirius testing tattoo ideas on you...

-Over and Over Again

Summary: The legend of soulmates and the myth of endless lives tied to one another permanently was once a myth you don't believe. Until you met Remus Lupin.

BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR

-The boy I knew {Sneak peek}

Summary- When Barty knew love

-The Boy I Knew {Part 1} (Angst, Fluff, +18)

-Do You Some Good

“When we’re done here, we can go back to hating each other. Deal?” “You’re not going to believe this, but I think I actually prefer things like this.”

-Dear Future Husband

-Cat and Mouse

Summary: The reader can never truly get away Barty, no matter how hard she tries. He'll always find his family.

-Love me, too

Summary: Late nights with loose lipped Barty, a single conversation unraveled years of yearning.

-I am not writing this because I could not mentally take it but...

-Trust and Obedience

Summary: Small snippets of moments between you and Barty, where you really should have picked up on his spiral.

Potter!Reader;

-Everything is Blue

Summary: As things escalate with Barty he draws a line in the sand.

-I Might Still Hate You

Summary: An unexpected guest shows up at your house late at night.

-Not Quite Poison- {Pt.2}

Summary: after a chance meeting in the library; a whirlwind love affair between Barty Crouch Jr and the youngest Potter blossom, but neither of them were prepared for how life would go after.

-They'll Be Alright

Summary: James Potter learns to like tolerate his sisters taste in men.

-Making Mistakes - {Pt.2}

Summary: After a horrible break up in 7th year, Barty and you haven't spoken a word to eachother. Then, he comes barreling back into your life begging for forgiveness, will you trust him?

JAMES POTTER

-Fall in Love in a Night (A lil angst, basically just a fluffy fluffy love story)

Summary: College AU, Muggle AU, James falls in love with the some of the worst parts of you }

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

-Little Lupin (Fluff)

Summary: James has a little crush on little Lupin

-Masterpiece

Summary: James Potter goes a little too far with a girl everyone happens to like.

-Just Kiss Her

Summary: You find a few unsent letters with your name on them- literally.

-Bed Hopper

Summary: After creating a tradition of cuddling James before bed, you'd think you'd have the path down by now.

-Not Made for Easy

Summary: Years of loving and yearning unfurl the night before graduation. A dramatic love confession.

-Why Couldn't It Be Us

Summary: James grappled with the reality of loosing the love of his life.

SIRIUS BLACK

-Casual (Angsty, fluff at the end) +18

Summary: Sirius falls for his most recent hook up, and she refuses to cave to what she wants}

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

-Like my father {Blurb}

Summary: Reader wants a man to love her like her father loves her mom. She just hasn't met him yet.. maybe.

-Kiss And Make-Up

Summary: Pool side at the Potters, Sirius takes you for a swim.

-Rock 'n Roll

Summary: Sirius stays home with a hangover, but the reader is always there to lend a hand.

-Just thinking about Sirius testing tattoo ideas on you...

-Self Fulfilling Prophecy

Summary: Potters love like it's a sport, but it seems that only a Black can challenge that.

FRED WEASLEY

-Summer Talks

Summary: Fred lets you know what he's waiting for

-Too Much Like Me

Summary: James finds out Lily's type in men is apparently genetic.

-Burning Bright, Falling Hard

Summary: Fred Weasley and you share a quiet moment in your room

HERMIONE GRANGER

-Invisible (Lil Angsty, basically just fluff) Blurb

Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff

MATTHEO RIDDLE

-But daddy I love him (Lil Angst, fluff)

Summary: Harry finds out his sister is dating Mattheo Riddle Ft. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius - No war au }

" Dinner Party " (Pt 2)

Summary: The Potters throw a dinner party; Mattheo meets the family} Wc- 4142

-King's Gambit

Summary: You go to a Ministry gala with your family, meeting and dancing with Mattheo Riddle, who is just looking to cause some trouble,

REGULUS BLACK

-Monarch butterfly (Hurt/comfort) wip

Summary- Monarch butterflies only live for up to six weeks. Their life brings an unspoken joy to the people who witness it, a peaceful feeling to the life that last so much longer then their own. They bring smiles to the faces of children, they bring good luck for those who choose it, they bring so much value to lives they will never truly be a part of. Your butterfly was, and always would be, Regulus black.

BLAISE ZABINI

-Before a Stranger

Summary: Friends before a stranger

[vigilante-3073]

Law & Medicine

James Wilson x Female Attorney Reader

Summary: James Wilson has a secret relationship and House finally discovers it.

TW: Dating, rude comments, House being House.

James Wilson had a secret and House was determined to figure out what it was. House figured that Wilson had been keeping this secret for quite a long time. At first he had been careful, but now he was starting to slip up.

Wilson had changed. It wasn't anything extreme, but he took more time for himself and had started to become more secretive. Normally, it was not an issue, but now that House seemed to be fighting for Wilson's time, he knew there had to be something big going on.

Originally, he hoped that whatever was distracting Wilson would blow over. House almost thought that it did, but then he noticed that Wilson started avoiding him.

House planned on going through Wilson's phone when he left it in his office like he usually did, but it wasn't there. Wilson had started keeping his phone on him at all times and even stepping out of the room when he received a phone call.

His emails showed nothing besides some conversations with his divorce attorney, but he should have the woman on speed dial after three divorces. House was sure that they even exchanged Christmas gifts with how much money he brought to their law firm.

House was at a loss and when he finally got ahold of Wilson's phone it was more of the same. He did notice that Wilson had a chain of text messages with his attorney which made him reconsider his earlier dismissal of the emails.

House looked up the woman online, she was a certified divorce attorney in New Jersey that worked for a reputable law firm. It just seemed strange to him that there had been recent conversations despite Wilson having been divorced for years. It was always possible that one of his ex-wives had dragged him through a legal tar pit again, but it was highly unlikely.

Wilson had separated from his wives amicably and none of them harbored any ill will towards him. House reached out to Sam, Bonnie and Julie individually in order to figure what attorney they used in their divorces.

None of the woman used Y/N L/N.

...

Wilson stepped into his office and sighed when he saw House laying on his couch, "Can I help you with something, House?" Wilson asked. He took off his lab coat and sat down at his desk, opening one of his files.

"I know your secret, Wilson," House stated, bouncing his cane on the ground beside himself.

"What secret?" Wilson asked, flipping the page in his folder.

"You've been keeping secrets from me and I got curious. A simple search through your text messages and emails told me that you're speaking to a lawyer," House said.

Wilson looked up at him, "You went through my messages?" He asked incredulously.

"Of course I did. I also called your ex-wives," House said.

Wilson scoffed, shutting his file and tossing his pen down on the desk, "Why? Why would you do that?" Wilson asked.

"If one of your ex-wives were raking you over the coals again, I wanted to know. But none of them had ever heard of this divorce attorney before," House stated.

Wilson sighed, running his hands over his face in frustration, "Why do you need to know everything that goes on in my life?" He questioned.

"You were avoiding me," House said.

Wilson shook his head, "I can't believe you called my ex-wives. That is just- I don't even know what to say," He said.

"Who's the attorney and why do you need one?" House asked.

"If I tell you will you leave it alone?" Wilson asked.

"Depends on what the answer is," House said.

"Her name is Y/N and we're engaged," Wilson admitted.

House sat up, looking over at his friend, "You're engaged to a divorce attorney? Have you learned nothing? That's like taking a crap in the middle of your dinner table, you just don't do that," House said.

"This is exactly why I didn't tell you!" Wilson exclaimed.

"I'm not wrong and you know it. This marriage is gonna crash and burn like the last ones, but this time she's gonna take everything. Lawyers are sharks and you're chumming the water," House said. He stood up from the couch and limped over to the doorway.

"You should know better, Wilson. Come find me when your marriage falls apart," House said, stepping out of the office and slamming the door. Wilson huffed, shaking his head before returning to his paperwork.

...

Wilson was working in his office, filling out some paperwork in patient files when his phone buzzed on the desk. He set his pen down and picked up his cellphone, smiling when he saw the message notification on his phone.

Y/N: 'Hey, I'm meeting a client at PPTH and was wondering if you want to meet for lunch after. Let me know.'

The smile quickly fell from his face as he called her, raising the phone up to his ear. Wilson could feel his heart speeding up in his chest as the line rang. There was a soft click as Y/N answered his call.

"Hey, you," She greeted softly.

"Are you here?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah, I just walked in. Why? Is everything okay? " Y/N asked.

"Can you just meet me in my office? I think a friend of mine might be trying to mess with me by hiring you and I just need to be sure," Wilson said.

Y/N let out a small laugh, "You work with people who would do something that juvenile? " She questioned.

Wilson sighed, "Unfortunately... Just stop by my office before you go there, okay?" He requested.

"I'm on my way up, I'll see you in a minute," Y/N said.

"See you in a bit," Wilson said, hanging up the phone and tossing it down on the desk.

Wilson sat in silence for a moment as he debated what he was going to do if House was really doing what Wilson thought. If he was, there would definitely be some serious consequences.

Maybe he could mess with his piano or replace his Vicodin with laxatives or maybe even destroy his guitar. It would definitely be cathartic to smash his guitar to smithereens after having his privacy violated.

A soft knock sounded on the door of his office, "Come in," He called.

Y/N opened the door and stepped into his office, "So, who do you think is screwing with you?" Y/N asked, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. She crossed her legs, setting her briefcase on the floor by her feet.

"Gregory House," Wilson said.

"That's my client," Y/N replied.

"My god, he's crazy and he can never let things go... He thought I was being secretive and he went through my phone and computer. He found our messages and called my ex-wives to figure out if they knew you. Then he told me not to talk to him until our marriage fell apart," Wilson rambled, gesturing wildly.

Y/N listened to him silently before standing up from her seat and grabbing her briefcase.

"I'm going to go talk to this douchebag and I'll meet you back here in under an hour, okay?" Y/N questioned.

"He doesn't need a lawyer, Y/N," Wilson stated.

"I'll handle it, honey. Just stay put," She advised, Wilson nodded.

Y/N moved around the desk, leaning down and giving Wilson a quick kiss before making her way out of his office.

"This isn't going to be good," Wilson mumbled to himself.

[justagirlwholikesadam]

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.

[lovely-peace]

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.

[reysdriver]

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.”

[aurynsia]

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.”

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

“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.

——————— ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ ———————

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

[bomusims]

introducing: THE BRUNCH CLUB

finally, at long last... my entry for peachi's april challenge! have at em queers xx

0X // INDEX

01 // profiles 02 // character notes 03 // lore 04 // naming notes 05 // glossary* 06 // author's notes

*for terms and phrases marked with an asterisk, please refer to the glossary.

01 // PROFILES

PRISCILLA DE VERE

The Princess Snob, Self-absorbed, Mean 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: She/her Height: 163cm Birthday: 17th October Favorite Food: Avocado toast with honey and red pepper chili flakes Current Concern: Her classmates won't shut up.

from the peanut gallery…

"She's a total bitch, but y' didn't hear it from me." - Anonymous "There's a sinister energy about her... I can sense the Spirit of Darkness (?) within me stir whenever she nears." - Kouzai Hayashi "No comment." - Anonymous "She's really pretty!! I think she'd be a lot happier if she smiled more!!!" - Aaron Campbell

GWENNETH MARÍA "GWEN" RIZAL DE LA CRUZ

The Yankee* Hot-Headed, Loyal, Cat Lover 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: She/any Height: 177cm Birthday: 12th January Favorite Food: Pineapple buns Current Concern: Her hair roots are already growing back in...

from the peanut gallery…

"Do not associate me with that delinquent or her gaggle of lackeys." - Priscilla De Vere "They have the potential to become a worthy adversary of mine… [dark chuckle] (??)" - Kouzai Hayashi "No comment." - Anonymous "They’re super cool and really good at fighting!!" - Aaron Campbell

KOUZAI HAYASHI

The Chuunibyou* Erratic, Macabre, Paranoid 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: He/they Height: 170cm Birthday: 9th July Favorite Food: Pudding cups Current Concern: What he should do if he ever got hit by a truck and isekai’d (??) into his favorite manga.

from the peanut gallery…

"Who?" - Priscilla De Vere "Y’ mean that kid? Oh, don’t worry about ‘im. He’s just like that." - Anonymous "No comment." - Anonymous "I think he’s got a really fun and interesting personality!! And also I think he’d be a cool guy to hang out with!!!" - Aaron Campbell

JAMES BROOK

The Nerd Genius, Overachiever, Perfectionist 4th year Class 4-A Pronouns: He/him Height: 173cm Birthday: 23rd December Favorite Food: Neapolitan ice cream Current Concern: He’s running out of quiet, isolated spaces to study in.

from the peanut gallery…

"Why should I care about that little nerd?" - Priscilla De Vere "I see ‘im in the infirmary a lot. Not really sure what he’s got goin’ on there, but that's none o' my business.” - Anonymous "There are no doubts about his intelligence—of course, he's still incomparable to the great and noble Scion of Darkness (???).” - Kouzai Hayashi "He's super cool and smart and always gets the top score!!!" - Aaron Campbell

AARON CAMPBELL!!!

The Moodmaker!! Active, Adventurous, Bro! 4th year Class 4-A! Pronouns: He/him! Height: 181cm! Birthday: 15th April! Favorite Food: Five Sims bacon cheeseburger! (with tomato and lettuce!!) Current Concern: None!!!

from the peanut gallery…

“He would do the world a great service if he learned how to shut the hell up.” - Priscilla De Vere "He means well, but he’s very, uh… Clumsy? Accident-prone? Great guy either way.” - Anonymous "No comment." - Anonymous "Should he ally himself against The Society (????), he would be a most suitable sidekick for the likes of myself.” - Kouzai Hayashi

02 // CHARACTER NOTES

priscilla

rich, spoiled, prissy princess with one hell of an attitude

cis femme lesbian. what, you thought i was gonna make a str**ght person?

greatly values peace and quiet—that is, everyone else immediately ceasing conversation the moment she walks into a room and only speaking when she permits them to

del sol valley born and bred, as one can imagine

very pretty until she opens her mouth

dresses head to toe in designer clothing, owns a walk-in closet the size of an average studio apartment in san myshuno, and has a 42-step skincare routine

it’s actually kinda impressive how early she gets up in the mornings to make sure she looks impeccable at all times

nepo baby (judith ward’s granddaughter, because i can)

has a somewhat warped relationship with her family. they’re all very distant with each other only know how to shower someone in material gifts instead of proper love and affection

for some reason, the boys at their school haven’t caught on to the fact that she’s gay yet. they just think that she’s playing hard to get and/or out of everyone else’s league (it’s the latter and also she is a lesbian)

she dgaf about anyone else in the class unless they are disturbing her aforementioned peace and quiet. some things can be tuned out, others not so easily (i.e. aaron’s lack of an ‘inside voice’)

her hobby? spending money, of course

has a fake id that she uses to get into upscale clubs and bars, but she doesn’t drink or smoke (it’s terrible for her skin. obviously). she’s just there for the mocktails and vibes

surprisingly, she doesn’t attack people people unprovoked, though it can be contested what is considered provocation to some people. don’t bother her and she won’t bother you—unless you’re wearing a lumpy knit sweater so tacky and garish that it’s an assault on the human eyes, or something along those lines

gwen

wannabe yankee and de facto leader of their school’s gang fight club

nonbinary bisexual

often gets into physical fights with other delinquent types (regardless of which school they go to) and frequents the infirmary

always got a bruise and a bandage on somewhere

big fan of cats. as all delinquents ought to be

contrary to popular belief, she’s quite the early bird and arrives at school wayyyy before the bell rings

she’s also very studious and pays attention in class, but jumps ship as soon as she’s done with the classwork

they can’t really ding her for skipping classes when her grades are on par with james’ grades, so instead she gets double the detention for fights

genuinely looks up to the yakuza/mafia groups that still practice the code of chivalry and wants to join one as soon as she graduates

she won’t hesitate to beat you up if you deserve it, but she’ll refuse to fight dirty even it means defeat. a person who lives whole-heartedly by their integrity—a rare find these days

has a sort of accent that developed after watching a bunch of animes with characters speaking in kansai-ben. she started watching those animes fairly early on in her childhood, so it’s been stuck with her since elementary school. yes mt. komorebi has regional dialects, including kansai-ben, which has absolutely zero relation to the dialect spoken by those from the kansai region in japan

originally she was gonna be more masc/androgynous, but then the trinity collection dropped and i said fuck it we’re going vivienne westwood

kouzai

grown ass man (? boy? idk) with chuunibyou syndrome

probably gay and nonbinary but he’s busy suppressing the darkness inside of him so he doesn’t really care about that rn

has a scar across his left eye from a traumatic accident early on in his childhood. the chuunibyou started right after he regained consciousness in the hospital as a defense mechanism that ‘shielded’ him from that trauma, but it didn’t become an point of concern until he entered high school because everyone thought it was just the nonsensical whims of a child

convinced there’s a “spirit of darkness” or whatever sealed in his left eye

calls himself the “scion of darkness” (?) and notes “the society” (??) as his archnemesis. no one really knows or cares what any of that means

constantly poses with one hand shrouding his face a bit (you know the one..)

randomly chuckles darkly and audibly mutters to himself things like “heh… these fools don’t even know who they’re messing with”

only child

lowkey a really talented artist but that’s commonly overlooked bc of his, ah… antics

terrible at sports. like baddddd

when they were freshman everyone was either like “ermmm freak!!” or “oh god he’s at it again”

but by the time senior year rolled around everyone got used to it and no one gaf. except for new/transfer students, who are thoroughly confused as to why no one’s reacting to this weirdo

has he been bullied? yes! but for the most part it just went over his head or he’d say something like “[dramatic pose] an amateur move… if i were to unseal the spirit of darkness, the lot of you would have been vaporized to ashes where you stand. consider your foolish selves lucky that i, the great and noble scion of darkness, have chosen to pardon your transgressions” and then eventually bullies would just give up on trying to pick on him bc it’s pointless

james

so-called ‘brainiac’ and consistently places the first on the academic scoreboards but isn’t on the student government or class rep because he keeps beating up his bullies

cis and probably gay but he’s busy with school so he doesn’t really care about that rn

whole personality is being a stick in the mud

but like. he will punch you in the face if you piss him off

is he a victim of teasing and bullying? yes! will he stand up for himself? also yes!

he’s got a tongue on him for sure

the type to remind the teacher that they’ve got homework

as one might imagine, not many students are a fan of him

also, he’s got zero (0) friends. the only person that would qualify is his cousin that’s older by a few years and studying over in britechester. and he prefers it that way! he’s very much an introvert and is more than happy to spend his time immersed in research instead of socializing with his peers

very frank and does not sugarcoat things, but will lie (mostly by omission or white lie) to get out of bothersome situations, such as bumping into priscilla in the hallways and accidentally stepping on her custom sentate pink patent leather pumps

james and gwen are the most ‘sane’ of the bunch. like yeah both of them get into scuffles for various reasons, but aside from that they’ve got their head square on their shoulders and can look at things fairly objectively

why do the bullies keep coming back for him, you ask? well, if you poke and prod at him then he’ll just say something like “you ought to be using this free time for self study”, which eventually escalates to increasingly over-specific insults. this, of course, provokes the bullies, who will then throw the first punch. james lets himself get hit a few times to prove self-defense before promptly socking them in the face a few times, then kneeing them in the groin for the finishing move. by that point, faculty have already been alerted of the situation, so they send all the kids to the infirmary before dishing their respective punishments. at the very least, james will get a reduced sentence and serve his detention separately from the bullies—but now, the bullies’ egos have been thoroughly bruised and by the time their sentences are over, they’re already itching to get their revenge on james… and so the cycle continues

to clarify, he’s never had formal martial arts lessons. it just so happens that his leaner build typically allows him more agility than his larger opponents, so he can dodge fairly easily. (also, these are just high school thugs with zero technique whatsoever, so all you really need is a well-timed knee to the groin in order to win)

aaron

somewhat dense but energetic, charismatic, good-spirited moodmaker (jock..?)

cis bisexual but he doesn’t know about the bisexual bit because he’s never pondered the subject of his sexuality before… he’ll figure it out

every class needs at least one kid that can rile up the whole class with their energy and enthusiasm

absurdly strong and athletic but has a hard time controlling his strength, resulting in many, many accidents

generally well liked by the student population, but not so much the faculty (see: frequent destruction of school property)

incredibly optimistic and strives to see the good in other people

his general opinion on things can be ranked on a scale of “totally cool!!!” to “totally not cool :(“

he’s not on any of the sports teams despite being naturally talented at pretty much all of them (see: frequent destruction of school property) but he tends to gravitate towards baseball during phys ed. and yes, he took phys ed as an elective in their 3rd and 4th years

bottomless stomach and a ridiculously high metabolism

runs to school. not walking, not jogging, not biking, but runs. sometimes even full on sprinting

lowkey cannot read the room

definitely has more than a few secret admirers (thanks to his good looks), but he doesn’t know about that either. he is NOT gonna notice any innuendos or subliminal messaging. you have to walk straight up to his face and say “i like you”. but even then, there’s a good chance that he’ll say something like “woah thats cool because i like you too!! and also classmate x and classmate y and classmate z and—“

he’s very easy to get along with if you can handle extroverts

probably has undiagnosed adhd

i mean honestly, he’s just a simple guy with a lotta love in his heart

03 // LORE

what the hell are they doing in detention, you ask? what a great question!

priscilla backed her car straight into the principal’s rear bumper in the school parking lot (it’s a widely known yet unspoken fact that she’s a terrible driver, but the usual victims are other students’ cars getting a little scratch or dent here and there, courtesy of her porsche boxster with custom hot pink detailing)

gwen got into a fight with kids from the neighboring school. again. (this is a daily occurrence and no one is surprised)

kouzai blew up the chemistry lab while brewing up a “draught of the eclipse”. no one knows wtf he put in that beaker or wtf a “draught of the eclipse” is, but he did steal a bunch of random chemicals from the storage room, so…

james was being heckled by his bullies (again) so he socked them all in the nuts (again). (this, too, is a daily occurrence and no one is surprised)

aaron accidentally threw a baseball at a window and destroyed it during phys ed. (aaron accidentally breaks school property on a daily basis. once again, no one is surprised)

unfortunately, i didn’t have enough time to write more of this… so i’ll leave the rest up to your imagination ;)

04 // NAMING NOTES

priscilla de vere

priscilla being her first name simply makes sense—i can’t imagine it being anything else. as for her last name, the house of de vere was a very old and powerful english aristocratic family! it also has ties to british royalty, which i think is quite fitting given priscilla's personality.

gwenneth maría rizal de la cruz

gwen is tsinoy* like me! their first name is gwenneth maría. many tsinoys (or pinoys in general) have 2-in-1 first names, but only go by one of them and/or a nickname—gwen is no exception to this. her middle name is rizal, because pinoy people will literally name their kid after anything, and i like to think that her parents named her after josé rizal, a national hero of the philippines. de la cruz is simply her parents’ surname, and now it’s gwen’s. of course, her full name is a bit of a mouthful, so she mainly goes by gwenneth maría rizal aside from the legal stuff.

kouzai hayashi

kouzai roughly translates to “both good and evil” (kou - light/happiness; zai - darkness/evil). it took me a lot of searching to find it because i wanted something very specific, and i think this suits him well especially given the chuunibyou syndrome.

james brook

a simple, sensible name for a simple, sensible man.

aaron campbell

i was operating off of pure vibes at this point. i used all my brain juice for naming the first three, so i hit the rng button until i got something that fit him. don’t you think he looks like an aaron?

05 // GLOSSARY

in order of appearance:

yankee: a japanese term used to refer to a type of delinquent youth associated with motorcycle gangs and frequently sporting dyed blond hair [via wikipedia]

chuunibyou: also called middle school or eighth-grader syndrome, a japanese term used to refer to adolescents with delusions of grandeur [via wikipedia]

tsinoy: filipinos of chinese descent, but born and raised in the philippines [via wikipedia]

06 // AUTHOR’S NOTES

aaaaand that's all he wrote

if you’ve made it this far, thank you for staying and reading! this really was a passion project for me over the last few weeks, and i had a ball of a time while working on it. there's so many things i wish i had time to add or improve, but alas, deadlines and time constraints are things that exist. i don’t even care about winning at this point, i’m just so glad i was able to finish this in the first place. i also added in a bunch of little references here n there but i'm not gonna tell you which ones. iykyk ;)

some miscellaneous notes:

if you've heard of the saturday breakfast club, then get ready for the... sunday brunch club

there’s no intended romantic subplot, but if i had to choose then i’m team priscilla x gwen all the way. if anyone’s got ship name suggestions lmk

yeah gwen is my favorite

i imagine the hypothetical interviewer/surveyor gathering responses for the profiles going “WHAT IS BRO TALKING ABOUTTTT 🔥🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥💥💥💥🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️🗣️” in his head every time kouzai opens his mouth

also, i really love kouzai’s design, but god DAMN was he annoying to edit. chromakeying was a nightmare i’ll tell you that much

the movie poster features brand new poses by me! the student id cards were also made from scratch by me. idk if i’ll ever share them or not since i made them custom for each sim but if people are interested i’ll polish them up and drop them in a patreon post one day :)

maybe i’ll do a sim dump too but i'll be busy for several weeks after i drop this so that probably won't be for a hot minute

i’ll also definitely add to their lore and maybe even make some more edits n stuff for them! there’s so much more i want to do with these characters but once again.. not for a while cus irl stuff

i scrapped the initial ideas for the brunch club poster at least ten times over. at first they were gonna be sitting in a classroom, but then i started building a scene and then i was like No thank you too many objects so i tried using premade scenes but those weren’t working out either. but then i had the genius idea of recreating the original breakfast club poster! which was only great in theory because the only poses i could find on the internet were very outdated and didn’t work well with vyxated’s rigplus. i already knew i was going to have to make kouzai’s pose from scratch (searched high and low for good chuuni poses but to no avail) but now i had to make poses for all five of them… not a fun time in the beginning but once i got the hang of maneuvering the rigs it was chill!

you can find all my previous brunch club posts (and future ones as well) here!

in case the quality gets squashed by tumblr, i'll be uploading all the pictures + a bonus version of the poster without signatures over on my patreon (free, duh)

i just noticed i made a typo in james’ bio pls dont flame me

thanks and credits: @peachibunnii and the bunni discord for the prompt and encouragement; @vyxated for the life-saving ea rig+; @surely-sims and @solitasims4 for their posing tutorials; @salemssimblr for literally everything on @salemsimsrender; @xiuminuwu for the yearbook poses and @someone-elsa for the yearbook backdrop textures; all the amazing creators whose cc i used to make the sims (it’s a very long list and i don’t want to tag too many people cus that would be annoying); blender, sims 4 studio, photopea, and clip studio paint pro (the programs i primarily used); and last but not least, beerkyeg for the emotional support. there’s definitely a lot more people i’m forgetting, but know that i love and appreciate u all <3

[my-castles-crumbling]

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.

[kumkaniudaku]

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 did officially ask to be her boyfriend, but 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.

---

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