#remus is a mamas boy

[sometranssoup]

The only acceptable mamas boy

[probs-reading]

"James is such a troublemaker" "James is such a bad boy" JAMES ASKS HIS MOTHER'S PREMISSION TO DO ANYTHING

[shootingthe-stars]

Nowhere Man update!

Chapter 33: A Mother’s Love

“Remus gets 30 days”

chapter 33 or from the beginning

[the-sun-is-also-a-star]

remus lupin is a mama's boy and idc what you say about it

[amiableness]

Dad!James Potter x Fem!Reader ☼ 946 words

The way I'm thinking I need to have a universe for these two

“He’s precious! He looks just like his daddy.” Miriam gushes, leaning in closer to Henry. James cringes as his baby boy flinches away, burying his head into his father’s chest and eyeing the woman with uncertainty. Henry's tiny hands clutch James’s shirt, seeking comfort and protection from the unfamiliar face.

James knows Miriam from school, but they have never been close. She has always been the life of the party, a role he once embraced during their Hogwarts days. Now, her enthusiasm feels overwhelming, especially to his shy and sensitive son. Perhaps he has mellowed more than he realizes since then—having a child at 20 would surely do that to you.

Miriam straightens up, placing a manicured hand on his bicep. With a slight pout to her lips, she says softly, “I heard about what happened to you and his mum. It must have been devastating.”

James tenses, his gaze shifting nervously to the store entrance, where he hopes Sirius, Remus, and you will hurry with their shopping and rescue him from this unwelcome conversation. The thought of discussing his ex, who left him and their son behind because she wasn't ready for motherhood, fills him with a mix of frustration and anger. The memory of her sudden departure still stings, and he isn’t eager to relive those painful moments, especially with someone he barely knows.

“Yeah, it’s been tough, but we’re doing just fine without her,” James replies, his tone steady but strained. He takes a deep breath, summoning the courage to gently suggest that Miriam give them some space. “Anyway, Miriam—”

“That’s so unfortunate that he doesn’t have a mum in his life,” Miriam continues, her lashes fluttering flirtatiously at him. James immediately grasps where she is going with this. It’s not the first time his role as a father has attracted unwanted advances, but her bold approach leaves him momentarily stunned. If she had asked him out directly, it might have been different—though he doubts it would have made much of a difference.

“Miriam! Still hitting on unavailable men?” Sirius’s voice rings out with a teasing edge. James turns to see Sirius and Remus emerging from the store. Remus is scanning the receipt but looks up, startled at Sirius’s voice. You must still be browsing in the store.

“Unavailable?” Miriam repeats, her eyebrows raising in surprise. James can’t help but question the same thing, the word echoing in his mind.

“Very much so,” Sirius says with a firm nod as he and Remus come to stand beside James. Remus shoots Miriam a polite hello, but his expression reflects his lingering dislike for her from their school days.

“I didn’t know you were with someone,” Miriam mumbles, and James thinks about clarifying that he didn’t know it either.

The bell above the shop door chimes, announcing someone’s departure. James’s reaction to your voice is immediate and revealing; his eyes brighten, and his posture straightens as he turns to you. It’s clear from his response that he is deeply enamored with you.

And it isn’t just James. His son mirrors his father’s excitement. The little boy’s eyes light up with the same warmth, and he reaches out eagerly toward you. Henry babbles what sounds remarkably like “mama,” his tiny arms outstretched in an unmistakable plea for you to hold him. James hopes you don’t catch what his son is trying to say.

Your sweet voice rings out, “Jamie, I know you said not to spoil him, but they had the most adorable knit sweater—” You trail off, blinking in surprise as you notice Miriam’s disapproving gaze, her brow furrowed in irritation. You come to a stop next to James, missing the way his son is staring you down.

“You bought him another sweater?” Remus asks, his tone a mix of surprise and amusement. You shoot him a halfhearted glare, silently reminding him that he shouldn’t be commenting on it.

“Hi, Miriam. How have you been?” You greet her with a warm smile, though a hint of unease tugs at you. Miriam’s gaze feels unusually intense, leaving you slightly unsettled. You recall that you both got on well in school, so you’re unsure what might have shifted between you.

��Good. It’s been ages since I’ve seen you all, Jamie and I were just talking about—” Miriam trails off, her gaze fixed on James as he smoothly takes the shopping bag from you, allowing you to take Henry. Had you been fully listening, you would’ve frowned at the use of your nickname for James.

The transition is so effortless that it’s clear it’s well-practiced. You settle Henry comfortably on your hip, deftly rummaging through your purse until you find a pacifier. You gently pop it into his mouth, and Henry’s head droops onto your shoulder as he begins to suck contentedly, letting out a sigh that suggests he’s found his perfect spot.

James’s gaze is lovesick as he watches you. His heart catches in his throat as he sees you effortlessly produce a pacifier for his son. He’s well aware that your purse likely holds other baby essentials, even if you’d deny it. As he observes you, his thoughts drift, overwhelmed by the profound realization that Henry has a mum in his life— you.

You’re so focused on settling Henry that you don’t even notice Miriam’s silence, and James, so absorbed in you, is barely aware of her presence. You smile up at him while gently rocking his son, and James thinks, This is it. I have everything I’ve ever wanted.

Miriam turns to Sirius with a lowered voice, “I thought they were just friends. They were in school.”

“They were never just friends. Y/n has always been James’s weakness. Now she’s his son’s too.”

please reblog or comment with your thoughts! they are very appreciated and keep me motivated to keep writing! 🤍

Dad!James and Bsf!Reader Masterlist

[ellecdc]

How about a fic where Remus falls for reader who is Sirius’ sister? If Sirius freaks out with Regulus and James, just imagine how protective he would be with a sister! Specially if she is sweet and kind (totally opposite of him and Regulus)

will I ever make a sibling fic that isn't chaotic? no, likely not. also, I didn't exactly make her the opposite of Sirius and Regulus but it could be argued that she's better than them anyways. ALSO, I've always refrained from reader-inserts with Black!sister reader simply because I see her as Reggie's twin who looks the way he does, and also can't get beyond the fact that she would have a celestial name SO, in any Black!sister fics going forward, please note that her middle name will have been Soleil which is French for sun, and the boys call her Sunny as a nickname <3

Remus Lupin x Black!sister reader who he has fallen head over heels for [1.5k words]

CW: siblings, threats of murder

Most boys at some point in their lives will be asked the following question:

Are you a mummy’s boy, or a daddy’s boy?

If a boy wasn’t asked such a question, it was likely because the answer was painfully obvious.

“Little Lucius Malfoy is such a daddy’s boy.”

“That James Potter, such a mama’s boy”.

“Oh, sweet Peter Pettigrew, he has always been a mummy’s boy.”

Since the answer was so painfully obvious, neither Sirius Orion Black or Regulus Arcturus Black had ever been asked this question. For them, the answer was simple:

They were their sister’s boy’s.

It was this fact that made Remus Lupin’s current predicament so bloody difficult. 

“Where is she!?” Regulus barked as he stormed over to the Gryffindor table where Sirius was sitting beside James across from Remus and Peter.

“Goodmorning, Reggie.” Sirius offered instead of answering his brother.

“For Sala- hi, Sirius. Where is she?”

“Where is who?” 

“Your sister.” Regulus spat, causing Sirius’ brows to furrow as he chanced a look over his shoulder at his brother. 

“How is she my sister? She’s your twin.”

“Nevermind that, do you know where she is?” Regulus muttered.

Sirius sighed and stood from his seat to scan the Great Hall. 

“Nope.” He offered with a pop of the p before returning to his breakfast.

“I’m going to avada that meddling witch!” Regulus hissed as he stormed off; Remus, James, and Peter all watching after him as Sirius continued happily with his toast.

“Are….you not worried about her?” Peter asked cautiously then.

“Not really.” Sirius responded quickly. 

James let out a breath at that and shook his head in disbelief. “Siblings are weird, mate.”

“Thanks, Siri.” You chimed as your head popped up between James and Sirius; the former shrieking not unlike a displeased mandrake plant as he clutched at his chest. 

Neither you nor Sirius paid him any mind as Sirius nudged his plate closer to you so you could pick from it. 

“What’d you do now?” Sirius asked.

“I simply told one of Reg’s admirers that he was already seeing someone; I hardly see what all the fuss is about.” You offered simply, causing Sirius to look at you in bemusement and mutter “Reg is seeing someone?” at the same time James looked at you in horror and hissed “Reg has an admirer!?” 

You simply smirked and looked at Remus who was sitting across from you and shot him a wink.

He hoped to all get out that no one noticed the heat radiating in his cheeks as he smiled nervously down at his plate, though he was relatively certain he could feel a set of spectacled eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. 

“Wait, why do you look like that?” Sirius asked then, causing the table to look at him to see he was surveying your form.

“Like what?” You asked him slowly, looking down at your uniform as if to see what Sirius could possibly be talking about. 

“You look…like…nice.” Sirius muttered as if that was a particularly bad thing.

“I always look nice.” You argued then.

“That’s not true, you usually just look fine.”

“You’re such a git.” You spat, taking the piece of toast he had in his hand and taking a bite of it.

“Doesn’t she just usually only look fine?” Sirius asked then, and Remus was horrified to see he was looking at him. 

“Me?”

Sirius nodded impatiently as if saying “yeah? What about it?”

“Why are you asking me?” Remus asked somewhat shrilly. 

“You’re objective.”

“And Peter and James aren’t?”

Sirius huffed as he kicked Remus in the shin under the table. “Would you just answer the sodding question?”

“I…well,” and Remus looked at you - you, who always looked nothing short of lovely and radiant and dauntingly perfect in every way, and today had been no exception. But he couldn’t very well say that. “She…she looks fine, yeah.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed further as he turned back to look at you, and Remus tried to pretend he didn’t notice a brief look a hurt cross your features. “You do, though. Look lovely today, that is.” He added awkwardly, simply receiving a half-smile in response. 

“Sunny!” Regulus barked then; apparently having found his way back to the Great Hall in his search for you.

“Oh, Merlin and Morgana.” You grumbled as your head fell back in exasperation.

“What did you tell him?”

“Who?” Sirius and James parroted. 

“Sunny.” Regulus repeated, his gaze never moving from you as he sidled up behind you. “What did you tell him?”

“Oh, stop with the theatrics, Regulus; you’re embarrassing yourself.” You drawled, sounding like a true upper-classman as you refused to look at your twin. 

“What did you tell Fenwick?” He gritted out slowly in a way Remus was sure would make a lesser man cower, but you simply rolled your eyes at him. 

“I simply told him that he was grasping at billywigs because you were already seeing someone.” 

Regulus held your gaze as you raised your eyebrow at him. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” You hissed, completely unimpressed. 

“Who in the hells are you seeing?” Sirius asked then, causing the two of you to look over at him.

“Nevermind, Siri.” You responded in a bored tone around another bite of his toast.

“I will too mind, thank you very much! Who is my baby brother seeing!?”

“Oh relax, Sirius, there’s no need to call the DMLE; it’s not like Sunny’s seeing anyone.” He chuckled, causing Sirius to snort in laughter.

“That’s true.”

You made a disbelieving sound as you looked between your two brothers. “What in Merlin’s name is that supposed to mean?!”

“That means, my dear baby sister,” Sirius responded curtly as he yanked his toast back from you, “that you must never date, otherwise your big brother will end up in Azkaban.” 

“Oh give us a little credit, Sirius; we’d get away with it.” Regulus countered. 

“Why!?” You beseeched. 

“No one is good enough for you, obviously.” Sirius responded simply, as if you were quite ridiculous for even needing to ask. 

“And anyone who thinks otherwise will end up dead.” Regulus continued earnestly, causing James to bark a laugh.

“Don’t worry Moons, Pete and I will make sure your funeral is nice.” He said as he brought another spoon of cereal to his mouth.

Remus felt all blood drain from his face as everyone turned to look at him.

Regulus stared at him in a confused sort of horror, Peter looked at him with a sympathetically worried expression, Sirius didn’t look exactly horrified or disgusted as Remus had thought he would, but he definitely looked disturbed to some level, and you were looking at him with what he thought (and certainly hoped) was hopeful surprise.

James looked up at the silence to see everyone staring at Remus, whilst Remus just stared at him in betrayal.

“James!?” Remus whisper shouted; his voice having apparently run off along with his bollocks. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Regulus finally asked then, staring daggers at Remus as Sirius raised his hand slightly as if warning Regulus off of his best friend, though never removing his own scrutinising gaze from Remus. 

“James, what’d you mean by that?” Sirius asked James - eyes still glued to Remus.

“I, well, erm. I’m actually, not entirely sure? I just…well…”

“Do you fancy her, Moony?” Sirius whispered as if it was some horrid joke and so completely unfathomable that Remus could possibly find you as enchanting as he admittedly did. 

No, he wanted to say, of course not, Pads. That’s your baby sister, I’d never fall so head-over-heels for the sister of my best friend, that’s absurd. 

But that wouldn’t be true.

And he’d already been outed. 

His gaze moved to you and offered what he hoped was an apologetic smile before opening his mouth to respond. 

“Regulus is shagging James!” You blurted then, causing James to flinch so violently that his knees hit the bottom of the table top, and Regulus deflated severely from where he’d been staring down Remus like some well-trained guard-dragon. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” Sirius shrieked then, turning to point his glare at someone other than Remus, finally.

Remus had been so caught up in the verbal volleying taking place between Sirius, Regulus, and James that he hadn’t noticed you had disappeared from your spot beside Sirius until you popped back up beside him and were encouraging him up by the sleeve of his uniform jumper.

And you looked so sweet and so lovely and so hopeful and so mischievous and Remus really was helpless in the pull you had on him, which saw him rushing out of the Great Hall with your hand in his as you dragged him away from your brothers and laughing all the while. 

So yeah, this made Remus Lupin’s current predicament incredibly bloody difficult.

Because if Sirius and Regulus were sister’s boys, you were your brothers’ girl.

And that made Remus Lupin a dead man walking.

[lesbojournals]

Could you poly!maraduers x reader with now a baby? Since i believe that you've made some pregnant ones, and i just can't imagine them taking care of a cute little baby🥹🥹 please do when reader is postpartum

Poly!Marauders x Postpartum!Reader

a/n: i hope this is good! i wasn't sure if you wanted reader to have postpartum depression or not, so if you do let me know and i'll write another part !

You groaned at the sound of your baby’s cries. Turning, you nudged whichever boy was next to you at the moment. 

“Whoever’s turn it is, it’s not mine.” You mumbled, attempting greatly to fall back asleep.

“It’s Jamie’s turn.” Sirius let out grumpily.

Remus yelled out. “Jamie!!”

“Huh? What?” James responded, shooting up from his lying position. 

“The baby.” You groaned again.

“Oh. OH!” He jumped up from the edge of the bed, and ran to the baby’s room.

You leaned up on your elbow to see him shushing and cooing the baby on the monitor. He brought the baby close to his chest, and your heart melted seeing the baby calm down at his touch. 

You leaned back down and shut your eyes, feeling Sirius embrace you. 

When you woke up, all of the boys were out of bed and you glanced at the alarm clock. Wow, 11AM. You hadn’t slept that late since before you got pregnant. You rolled out of bed, sliding on your slippers and putting on your robe. 

You entered the kitchen after freshening yourself up, seeing all three (wait, you guess it was four now?) of your boys there.

“And here comes the broomstick!!” You heard Sirius call, and your baby boy looked up at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. 

He ate the food while still staring at Sirius lovingly, and you could see your boys admire him in his highchair from just their kitchen seats. 

“Hi my loves,” You greeted, taking a seat next to Remus, who gave you an affectionate kiss on the cheek.

“Mama!” Your baby laughed when seeing you, and silence struck in the room for seconds before complete chaos erupted.

“What did he say?”

“Mama? Did you say Mama?”

“Say that again, honey!”

Your baby looked around defensively before looking back at Sirius and making grabby hands for the food. Sirius was distracted looking at you though. You had your hands up to your mouth and tears in your eyes. 

Remus rubbed your back comfortingly. “Baby? Are you alright?”

You sniffled, moving your hands from your mouth. “Yes, yes. I’m just…so happy.”

Your baby looked at you and smiled big, making grabby hands towards you. “Mama!!”

You leaped up from your chair, tears flowing down your face, and lifted your baby from his highchair. He giggled as you held him close, swaying back and forth.

“Oh my love, we love you so much.” You whispered to him, continuing to sway. “Your daddies and I love you so so much.”

[stargazingtranquility]

Mamas boy this and daddys girl that. The marauders era kids have a favorite Potter parent and it’s like this.

Effie’s children: Sirius, Peter, Marlene, Evan, Pandora, Lily

Monty’s children: Regulus, Remus, Barty, Dorcas, Mary

James is the exception because he fucking loves his parents and is happy to share them with his broken home friends.

[goformoony]

give me your favorite marauders head cannons i need it heres mine

regulus’s hair was a lot like narcissa’s when he was younger when he was a boy he had blonde streaks in his hair, but when he was about 11 his hair went all black.

regulus has a grey eye and a blue eye

he’s autistic, but hides it

trans regulus has been roaming my mind and i love it.

james is latino and a really good cook curtsey of mama effie

when he’s angry he yells in spanish and only when he calms down you can understand him

james carries tampons/pads for regulus so he can just grab the bag and regulus can get it without asking.

james has adhd and anxiety, but with those it’s more physical actions like fiddling with a pen or wand and talking fast.

i love the head cannon of deaf remus tbh it’s really interesting to think about.

he is diagnosed as disabled so he has to use a cain everywhere because back problems and he gives out every once in awhile making him fall.

remus get’s grey hair early, but it’s not full out it’s like streaks.

remus has bpd and sirius and his friends make sure he takes his meds and knows his body language to help because he gets into fights easily.

sirius plays the drums to get his emotions stabilized and he always has his drum sticks on him to fiddle around.

to go with the deaf remus to get to know him more he learned sign language and always speaks up for him because remus is mute most of the time.

whether i get hate for this one idc i see him as genderfluid, but it’s more of subtle looks and like his actual face that makes him look it because it gives off a little confusion because his face is just both feminine and masculine and how he presents himself too.

demisexual sirius. yes you can thank crimson rivers for that one.

peter likes photography and likes to capture the world and the people he loves on film

his love language is definitely quality time to me and like he just silently does things for people

i feel like him and regulus could get along well as well

let me know if you want my headcannons for the girls! or just more in general

[sometranssoup]

My really out there Harry Potter head canon is that Hermione and Remus are cousins. Also here's a rough family tree so y'all understand my vision.

Faith and Hope's last name is Lupin. Hope took lyalls last name whilst they were married but she changed it after they divorced (in 1965). Faith isn't quite sure who Angela's father is. Everyone was given religious names except for Remus. Hermione started going by her middle name at the start if Hogwarts. Faith and Hope's mother and father were southern but moved to England in the 1957 when Faith and Hope were about 15 (yes that means Hope had Remus at 17-18) Faith and Hope are twins. Angela was born a few years after Remus and they grew up very close. Close enough that Remus is considered Hermione's uncle.

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

three | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Julianna is a real princess. As a granddaughter of the Queen, step-daughter of a prince, her title is official. She’s been a princess nearly all her life, and it’s a detail you can’t miss. 

James’ hand is hot but amicable against your shoulder blade. He hasn’t stepped away from you since Julianna arrived, though what threat she poses has yet to be seen. She doesn’t seem particularly volatile. You can’t imagine her in all her dewy skin and fine clothing lifting a finger, let alone her fist. 

“Mama says you’re an artist,” she drawls. 

“Not really.” How her mother knows anything about you is a mystery. “It’s a hobby, is all.” 

“And you didn’t finish university?”

“No.” You don’t owe her anything. You know you don’t. But it’s not just her you want to defend yourself to, not when Remus is sitting by the window of the parlour and James is close enough to hear your heartbeat. “I tried to, obviously, but I couldn’t, uh, afford to not work.”

“Ah.”

You don’t expect her to understand it. You know most people don't. Studying and working, the majority can handle both. You’d been ashamed of yourself for failing, but you’d come to the realisation that it was sink or swim. You could sink —resent yourself for needing more time, more space, more accommodation— or you could swim. Accept your ‘shortcomings’. Make the most of what you have. 

Find yourself in a foreign country surrounded by the highly educated and the ridiculously wealthy. People who might never comprehend why you’ve struggled, or how. 

In that moment, you decide to treat this heart-wrenching trip as nothing more than a holiday. James is nice to you. The food is free and apparently plentiful. The grounds… 

Fuck, the grounds. The scenery. The royals aren’t currently living in their most famous residence, Loswell Castle, but are instead mourning the Prince at the more private and more subtle Bellaverden House. Subtle, yet gorgeous. The grass is green and stretches as far as the eye can see in all directions, broken up only by the silhouette of the alps to the east and the shimmering Lake Orlo to the west. The palace itself is nothing like you’d expected, and so far from the capital city of Genovia it is no surprise to find that the royals let their personal tastes bleed into every corner. It’s tasteful, silent wealth, no crystal chandeliers hanging from the eaves but instead a Rembrandt in the hallway. No solid gold cutlery, but instead Noritake porcelain tea cups and their matching exorbitant saucers.

“Loswell is the gaudier of the two houses,” James had said, evidently pleased by your wide-eyed surprise.

A nice boy who’s being paid to spend time with you and his funny friends. All you have to do is survive the paparazzi (check!) and your suspicious possible relatives (less so).

Any hour now, the paternity test will come up negative and they’ll be shepherding you home in search of the actual princess, wherever she may be. 

If she exists at all. 

“You haven’t eaten anything today,” James says softly, for your ears only. “Should we go down to the kitchens?”

It’s hard to describe the true and daunting scale of Bellaverden House, but James’ use of ‘kitchens’ rather than ‘kitchen’ sums it up nicely. 

Julianna rolls her shoulders, reaching for a black telephone on the side table. “No need. We’ll have it brought up. What do you like? They have yards of fresh pasta prepared by now. Doesn’t matter, I’ll ask for some of everything.”

“Oh, no,” you say, stepping out of James' reach. “I don’t want to be an imposition while I’m here.”

“That ship has sailed,” she says neatly. 

Ouch. You look back to James without intending to, an automatic movement. He’s become your safety net too quickly. His job is to protect you from harm, not your catty maybe-cousin’s mild disdain. 

“Sit,” Julianna says. “James, you can take up station in the hallway. Go on.”

Her voice possesses all the snobbish airiness you’d expect it to. She’s regal, elegant, and rude. James’ hand stretches toward yours, your fingers not quite touching. You think it might be his silent way of saying he won’t be far.

He gives you a reassuring half-smile. “If you need me,” he says. 

“Tutor,” Julianna adds once James is at the door, “you can leave us.”

“Remus, please.” You smile at Julianna appealingly, piping up before she can steal your last lifeline. “I need him to tell me what silverware to use. If I have any hope of catching up, I’ll have to start learning about proper etiquette straight away.”

You look to your tutor to make sure he’s on board. Remus gestures for you to sit and crosses the hardwood floors between you, his footsteps soundless. Julianna sniffs, your suggestion agreeable but tiresome for her, and pulls the telephone receiver to her ear. 

Remus settles into the chair next to yours at the table. 

“Don’t worry. We won’t leave you for wolves,” he says.

You’re grateful. You nod to the book in his hands. “What are you reading?”

He turns the book around. A Comprehensive History of Contemporary Genovia. 

“I’ve never had to educate someone who didn’t already know a very specific, very intricate history of our country,” he says in his melding voice, the barest hints of his accent peaking through. He says our country like you already belong as he does, not native but citizen anyhow. “I provide supplementary education for the well-educated, I… I’m like a second chance for rich slackers. You’re neither, and so I’m not sure how I can make this easy on you.”

You admire his thinking. You’ve been lucky to find yourself in the care of people who put your comfort first. Remus, James, Sirius, even the ambassadors of the country, and the matron you’d been introduced to upon your arrival here, they’ve all been so conscientious. 

But it won’t matter. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says. 

“You do?”

“You’ve made it clear how much faith you have in the current situation. I believe…” that you’re who we suspect you are, you think he might say, but he parts his legs to bump his knee into yours. “I believe we’re going to be good friends.”

That is… “Thank you,” you say softly.

The telephone jingles as Julianna slams it down. “So, what’s with the bruise?” she asks. “And the bad makeup. Mean boyfriend back home?”

Her cavalier attitude chafes. “I was a little too close to the door when someone opened it,” you say.

“Ah.”

Again with the Ah. Extra syllables must be at cost. 

Positivity, you remind yourself. This is a vacation. This inane and insane need to constantly prove yourself to the people around you is going to make you crazy, especially when all of this is temporary. Who cares what princess Julianna thinks of you now when, in a day or two, she’ll remember you as nothing more than the girl who they brought by mistake? And wouldn’t it be nice to just… not care? Who cares what Julianna thinks?

You stand and walk to the door where James is standing, because calling for him would make you feel like an entitled dick. He turns his head to you obligingly. 

“Would you come back inside? The painting is giving me the jeebies.”

“That’s a portrait of your great great grandmother.”

“She’s scary.”

He claps your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “If the test comes out negative, I’ll happily commit royal espionage for you and fix the results.”

“That is not a joke you should make,” Remus calls mildly. 

“Probably not. I’ve made it now. Sit down, Princess, the food’s arriving.”

The food they bring up to you is Genovian specialty cuisine, recipes borrowed from the Italians hundreds of years ago, and how fortunate you are for that. You have no clue where to start, surrounded by rich smells of broth and stewed vegetables, the spritely aroma of white wine and tomatoes so fresh their roasted skins split under the gentle bottom of your spoon. 

James refuses to eat with you, as he’s on the clock, but Remus sits down at the table as promised to guide you through the fascinatingly intricate etiquette it takes to be a new royal. 

“That’s Cioppino,” Remus says, pointing to a dark red stew bragging large pieces of crab, smaller chunks of a white meat you’re unsure of, and the distinct dark brackets of mussel shells. “It’s actually an Italian-American dish. It’s served with sourdough or French bread, but in our case, where you can’t necessarily use your hands, we’ll go without.”

“There’s nobody here I need to impress, right?” you ask quietly. 

You swear you can hear Julianna twitching. 

Remus doesn’t respond to your comment, though his voice is riddled with amusement when he continues. “It’s more common for the crab to be served in its shell, but I don’t suppose they want the royals using crab forks and crackers." He points to a second bowl. “This, from the looks of it, is a variation of stufato di capra e fagioli, Italian for ‘stew of goat meat and beans’. Self explanatory. It’s very popular here in the winter, it’s,” —his voice drops to a lower register— “Sirius’ favourite. Shoulder meat, onions, carrots, celery, white wine and white beans. I don’t suppose I have to tell you what that is.” He nods to a heaping bowl of gnocchi coated in a green, buttery sauce, and its familiar wingman — fettuccine alfredo. 

“Now there’s one I know,” you say with a smile. 

“I think they’ve gone easy on you,” Remus says. “Given you something they knew would be familiar. The head cooks, Marlene and Marsha, hardly ever serve fettuccine without ragù di pollo. Chicken ragù. It’s a sacrament in Marlene’s eyes to separate the two.”

He moves so easily from English to Italian. You wonder if he speaks Genovian. Is there a Genovian language? You’re too embarrassed to ask, instead piling a mound of unadventurous fettuccine into your bowl. 

Julianna picks up the telephone again and you let yourself relax as her conversation begins. She pokes at her food and talks in Italian down the line, staring straight at you as she says the word, ‘principessa’. You don’t have to be a linguistics expert to know she’s talking about you. Eventually, her attention fades. Remus loosens at your side. 

“This spoon,” he corrects, before opening his book and sagging into his seat.

You're famished, yet all the rich food makes you nauseous. You toy with your fettuccine and a little of the cioppino. Weirdly, you miss the ordinary smells of your kitchen.

A figure moves behind you, James’ shadow shifting to cover your hands. “Unladylike as it might be,” he says, “you’ll regret it if you don’t try the bread, Princess. Freshly baked, soaked in pesto, it’s what us peasant folk fight over at the end of a shift.”

You hold your hand to a beautiful sliced baguette, “This one?”

“That’s the one.”

You pull the bread apart and enter a stodgy, olive oily sort of heaven. The only thing better than how it tastes is James' happy sound when you set aside a huge slice in a napkin and usher it behind your back, as inconspicuous as you can possibly be. He has no choice but to take it. A telltale crunch comes quickly and poorly smothered. 

Julianna excuses herself, and a maid comes to take her plates and dirtied cutlery on a silver cart.

You lean toward Remus with a hand over your mouth. “What do you call them? The ladies in uniform?”

“Princess, you can call them whatever you want to,” James butts in, returning to your side now Julianna is absent. He wipes his mouth with a napkin and sits in one of the chairs facing the door.

“But what’s nicest?”

“You’ll learn their names in time,” Remus says easily. “You’ll be fine. Officially, they’re ‘attendants’. Maids, cleaners. Oh, you’ll have a lady in waiting–”

“A what?” 

“A personal assistant,” James says. 

Your face heats up like an instant flush, all hot pinpricks and embarrassment, “No,” you beg, standing up, “please, that would be entirely unnecessary, it’s not like I’m some sort of–”

“Princess!” A familiar voice shouts. Sirius has weaselled inside the door and closed it tight, his back pressed against it for a moment like he’s keeping someone out. He wears an exuberant smile and a brilliant dark ensemble with fine pinstripes that mess with your eyes as he approaches. He’s practically running. “I’ve spoken to Delilah who’s spoken to Beau who’s spoken to Lily who’s been in contact with the legal team in charge of your care here in Genovia, and they’ve heard from the medical team who have been fighting tooth and nail to be put in talks with you,” —he looks at you emphatically now, and there’s something about his expression, part wide-eyed awe, part sympathy, that freezes you to the spot— “because it’s technically your care, and–”

“Sirius, get to the point, please,” James says. He’s looking at you in a different way. Like he’s waiting for you to fall over. 

“Your father,” Sirius says, promptly deciding to start again. “The paternity test is positive. Your DNA is a conclusive match for the Prince, may he rest in peace. You’re a princess. You’re the Princess, by blood. You are a Renaldi.”

There’s a stretching silence. You wrap your hand around the back of your chair and stare at the velvet upholstery of the seat. 

“Terrible last name,” he adds sympathetically. 

You don’t want to be the girl who faints. That would be ridiculous, to fall over and crack your head. So, though you hate to ask for anything, you mumble, “James?”

He wraps a shapely arm behind your shoulders and under your armpit before you lose the feeling in your legs. 

“I think I need to sit down again,” you say. 

“Reckon you do," he agrees, as he pulls the chair around with his foot and arranges you in it efficiently, the tip of his thumb pushed into the pulse point on your neck. “We’ll get you something cold, Princess. You can breathe.” He gives you a little shake, hand spreading wider as it drags down your collar. The pressure is like the safety release of a suction cup. You take in a huge breath. “Breathe, lovely.”

“I’m fine," you say meekly. 

“It’s alright,” he says, with his impossible softness. He’s unafraid to be kind even when there are people watching. 

“I’m fine. I–” You can’t finish your sentence. You’d wanted to say you’ll be okay. That this is just some melodramatic episode, but it isn’t. This is a human reaction to unbelievable news. Because you’re a– you’re a princess. 

You cover your face with both hands and curl in toward your thighs. Silence pervades, your ears abuzz with white noise. You aren’t sure how long you sit there paralysed, but soon James’ gentle murmuring and shushing cuts through the ringing. “It’s alright,” he’s saying, his hand at your elbow, “I swear, it’s alright. You take as long as you need.”

“Mickey’s at the door,” Sirius says. 

“Good. Tell him to radio in a level two security detail and stay there for now. Who else knows, Sirius?”

“By now? Everybody in the castle. Including government officials.”

“And you’re sure?” Sure said severely. 

“Of course I am.”

You’re trying very hard to keep your pasta down. This can’t be happening. It can’t be right. Their test is wrong. They swabbed the inside of your mouth wrong, or got it mixed up with some other person test, or the doctors are lying. Not once in your whole life has there ever been any indication that you are more than the nothing you’ve always been. All your worst insecurities rip to the surface. Not me. Not me.

“Level two isn’t as bad as it sounds,” James says, still so gentle. He’s been talking to you again. “All it means is that I’m not at full attention, and I need someone else to watch the room. That’s all it is.”

“I’m not,” you say. 

“You’re okay.”

“I’m not a princess,” you say, peeking at him through your parted fingers. 

His hand curves around your arm. He pulls it toward him. Encouraging rather than demanding. You let him. 

“Whatever it is that you are,” he says, meeting your eyes, “I’m here to take care of you. Okay? Try to calm down for me.” He nods, hoping you’ll nod back no doubt. You worry at your lip, your teeth scratching delicate skin. 

“Sorry,” you say. 

“No one’s expecting you to feel a certain way right now,” Sirius says.

The urgency in his expression has departed completely. He has an air of regret about him now, an uncomfortable set to his jaw. 

It’s not just James in the room witnessing your wobble. You cover your face again and try to become one with the furniture. 

James stands off of his knees, having seemingly decided that you aren’t in any mental peril. He stays hovering behind your chair. You think you might’ve found them all at a loss for what to do. 

The door opens. You imagine a nightmare, Julianna coming to play nice, but it’s the British ambassador Lily once again. She looks as perfect as she did when you saw her last with an immaculately straightened sheet of hair fluttering behind her, her steps hurried. Despite her speed, she doesn’t look unhappy. She’s smiling. The Genovian ambassador Emmeline follows behind her. 

You try to straighten up. 

“We have wonderful news,” Lily says.

“You’re the Princess!” Emmeline squeaks, her tiny stature no bounds for her excitement. “Welcome home!”

She begins clapping. It slows when nobody joins in. 

“What?” she asks cluelessly. “Has something bad happened?”

That’s what you’re trying to work out.

—

James can hear you sniffling.

He rests his shoulders against the wall by your bedroom door and sighs. You'd held in tears for hours after the announcement. Sirius' last announcement has toppled you over. You have to meet your grandmother tomorrow to begin preparing for your father's funeral. James thinks you might have reached your breaking point. He can't imagine the grief of losing a father you didn't know you had, and the stress of being pulled out of your life so suddenly, carted across Europe and left under the judgemental eyes of royals and officials with little direction. Now that the paternity test has been found positive and checked by many, many professionals, your confirmed identity should provide a more stable schedule. From James’ perspective, the days ahead will be easy. For you, they are going to be very, very hard. 

You'll meet the Queen tomorrow at breakfast. The plans for your permanent residency in Genovia will be decided. Your entire life is about to change, and there's nothing you can do to stop it. 

Well… James doesn't really want you to stop it, but it's not entirely true that you can't. You could reject your heritage and go home to your flat, your art, your degree equivalent classes. Maybe you're crying because you're scared you don't have options. 

James thinks about knocking on the door to talk to you. He meant it when he said he has a duty to all aspects of your health, the mental as well as the physical, but it's difficult to define the line between professionalism and being friendly. He's already crossed it. 

He sighs and rubs his weary head. He's tired. Today has been the longest day ever. You'd slept for an hour in the car from the airport to Bellaverden Castle, and James had watched you half jealous and half enraptured. He won't mind looking after you no matter how you look, but your being easy on the eyes is a brilliant plus. Well, when ignoring the huge bruise staining your cheek. 

"Fuck," he says. 

He hasn't been doing very well. Honestly, his failure to keep you from harm in your flat (even if the harm had been him) and then his screw up with the paparazzi has left him off kilter.

James pulls out his pager. He should swap with one of the night guards, and he trusts them all, having picked them himself, but he won’t feel right walking away while you're crying. 

He clicks in Remus' code and waits until he hears it back. It's shorthand between them: if Remus wasn't awake or didn't want to see James, he could've ignored James' page and there'd be no hard feelings. But he answered. Tonight, once James has made sure you're okay, he'll crawl into Remus' bed like when they were kids in a cold dormitory and missing home to sleep for a glorious eight hours. He might even tell Remus how stressed he is. He knows his friend will listen. 

He'd invite Sirius, of course, (and that's assuming he isn't already there) if it weren’t well past ten. Sirius is definitely asleep. 

James hasn't had a proper night's sleep in a week. He feels poorly. He misses his mum. He's hungry. This job is great, he loves what he does; he gets paid to take care of people. It's also too much. It eats at him. 

"Fuck," he says again. 

"James?" 

He flinches hard. 

There it is, his third mistake. He's very lucky that the chief of royal security is busy making funeral arrangements, because if Mary were here she'd gut him. 

You've crept up on him in his distraction. How could he not notice your footsteps across the floor, or your door handle's heavy metallic thunk?

"Princess," he says, biting his tongue when you wince. He'll have to call you something else. "I'm sorry, I–" James squints at your sore eyes. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to ask… are you alright?" 

"Am I alright?" 

“I just heard you and I wanted to make sure you were doing okay. You sounded… stressy." 

"You don't have to worry about me. That's my job." He frowns at the remnants of your tear stains, dampness shining at the corners of your eyes and your lashes sticking together in darkened triangles. "I was just about to come and see you, actually. I know today's been hard, and I know I haven't helped. I'm so sorry, again, for hurting you. And at the airport, I know the scuffle with the photographers didn't help your nerves. I know," he stresses, "this is hard. I swear things will be smoother from now on. You have my word." 

You rub your elbow wordlessly. He's about to backtrack, perhaps dig himself a bigger hole, but then you give him one of the softest smiles anyone's ever given him in all his years. 

"It's forgiven. Believe me, James, this is the least of my worries," you say, gesturing to your cheek. It only takes a second for shame to stick its hooks in you, yanking your gaze to the floor. You're wearing an expression he's seen a thousand times on the people closest to him. 

He flicks you under the chin gently. 

"Things are gonna get easier. I swear it," he says.

You plaster a smile on. James figures he can push it some more and wipes the smudgy shine of old tears off of your cheeks. 

"There. Looking good, angel. Why don’t you try and get some rest now, yeah?" 

He keeps getting this odd feeling like you're an old friend and not his charge. It's fleeting and it's making him stupid. This and the sleep deprivation. He swears to himself he'll be better tomorrow. 

You bid him goodnight. James listens to your night time motions until another guard comes to release him from duty, rushing to his room for a shower and a cereal bar, giving his teeth a half-hearted brush before he sets off for Remus' room halfway across the castle. Remus and the other scarcely employed scholars don't have to sleep in the servant quarters like he and Sirius do. Schmucks.

He finds the door unlatched. Mercifully, James decides to spare them both the safety-related lecture. He tries to be as quiet as he can, a head of sandy brown hair turning his way just two steps into the room.

"James?" Remus asks, his voice thick with fatigue. 

"Sorry. You can go back to sleep." 

"I was waiting for you. Drifted off." 

James scrubs a hand through his damp hair and closes the door. He can find his way in the dark. 

"Sirius isn't here?" 

"James…"

"What, are we still pretending?"

"James."

"I'm sorry. Forgive me, Moony." 

"Yeah. Don't lean on my left side. I'll move over." 

"What's wrong with your left side?" 

"I don't know. Maybe from carrying the bags. Maybe not." 

James slides into the warm space Remus has made for him and tries not to feel overprotective. Loving someone who's constantly in pain can be confusing. You don't know how much love you're allowed to give before it starts to be patronising. Remus can take care of himself, but he doesn't need to. 

"Anything I can do?" James whispers. 

"Tell me what's bothering you." 

"Oh, you know… Everything. Nothing. I'm so happy we're all together again, I mean, what are the fucking odds? How long has it been since I could come and see you guys after work without making an appointment? … I didn't love the Prince, but I hate that he's dead, and I…" 

Remus turns his head to James. They're a pillow apart. When James looks at him, he can't remember what Remus looked like when they were young, but he can feel the years of knowing one another stretching out between them. A straining cast of light from under the door catches the edges of Remus' features. James can see the corner of an uneven smile. 

"Go on," Remus says quietly. 

"She's nice. She's really nice. I don't want her to get hurt, but I don’t know that I’m up to this, Moony."

"James, you're up for everything. Always have been." 

"I thought this was a demotion." 

"Isn't it?" 

"If it is, it's one I deserve. I deserve another one. Once Mary sees the mess I've made…" 

Remus reaches across the sheets to pinch James' bicep. "Nobody is good at their new job. Sirius didn't touch up the princess' bruise when we got off the plane, and while they're paid off for now, someone who needs the better payout is going to publish those photos, and soon. Sirius should've been doing his job, but he was too busy looking after me." 

"I tried to cover it–" 

"I know. You did a good job and I'm not blaming you. My point is that he made a mistake. Does he deserve a demotion?" 

James wrinkles his nose. Hate you.

"And I should've better prepared her for meeting Princess Julianna. It was my fault that she felt embarrassed. I tried my best to fit in some coaching for breakfast tomorrow but the poor girl doesn't know a butter knife from a paring knife." 

"That's not true." 

"No," Remus agrees. "I'm making her seem less educated than she is to prove my own point… James, she isn't a princess. She has the blood, and soon she'll get the official title, the land and the money and the education and maybe some of the bad bits, as well. But right now, she's new to being a princess, and she's not very good at it." 

"I get it." 

"Yeah, I know." 

Remus readjusts in bed. James almost misses the pain in his friend's exhale under the sound of crunching fresh sheets. 

"Are you sure I can't do something for you?" 

"I wish," Remus says. He isn't depressed. The opposite, he sounds way too spritely for the time. "You could stop hogging the blankets, for starters." 

James feeds Remus some more blanket and sighs. The mattress is heavenly. The quilts and sheets and pillowcases are soft and thick. By all means, James should've fallen asleep the second his head touched Remus’ pillow.

"You've asked Mickey to look after her tomorrow, right?" Remus asks. 

James had radio'd Mikkelson after his shower to put the early morning shift and protocols in his jurisdiction temporarily. That means James will hopefully be able to sleep until his body feels like it can hold itself together again. He doesn't like leaving you to face the Queen by yourself but it's not as though she'll hurt you, and Sirius will see you bright and early to help you get dressed. James isn't worried. 

"I have. How did you know that?" 

"You're the only one of us who knows how to properly take care of themselves," Remus explains easily. "Good. I'm glad you did. You haven't been sleeping."

"How do you know that?" 

"I love you. I know everything about you." 

James smiles at the ceiling. There is nothing quite as valuable to him than his family. He would do more to keep them all safe and healthy than he should admit on the record, so he keeps it tucked inside and out of view. It's terrifying and freeing at once to look at someone you love and know you're going to do something awful one day if it means they'll come out on the other side of it alive. 

"Not everything," he murmurs. 

"Everything, James."

"Yeah? How many fingers am I holding up right now." 

"One." 

"Which?" 

"Middle."

"Lucky guess." James laughs at their childish squabbling. "I love you, too. I'm really glad we're in the same place again."

"What did you say? What are the fucking odds?" Remus quotes, so tired now that his words are running together. "I'm not sod enough to do the maths, I think it's gotta be deep in the decimals. Lily's and Mary's involvement definitely helped, but to have someone come along who needs security detail, special education, and a lady in waiting is unfathomable." 

James laughs and feels his abdomen shaking. "I'm telling Sirius you called him a lady in waiting." 

"Sorry," Remus says, and James knows his friend is genuinely repentant, though Sirius would've laughed himself if he'd heard the joke. "I'm not trying to put him down. He's worked so hard, he– He's working so hard. He thinks it's easy work because he's good at it. He doesn't realise it's easy because he worked hard to be good at it." 

James has to chew it over for a moment to understand what Remus is saying. Once he understands, he vehemently agrees. Sirius is skilled in many areas. He's a media liaison, a sleuth, a sweet talker. He understands the inner workings of Western media — Sirius can deduce the honesty of a smile from a precursory glance. He may not always trust what he's seeing, but he sees it undeniably. And he can dress well.

"He's the best of us," James sighs agreeably, stretching down the length of the bed until his spine pops and his calves burn. "Shit. I need to start working out properly again now we're here." 

"Tomorrow. We'll figure it all out tomorrow, James. Go to sleep." 

James is obedient. He falls asleep, and doesn’t wake until the sun is warming his cheeks. His hair is still damp at the back and he feels awful in a new way. Better for having slept with someone close by, and catching up on the hours he’s been missing. But his back is stiff. 

He goes back to his room. His neck aches as he brushes his teeth. He does a workout and stretches his rigid limbs until he feels human again. 

The black telephone on his nightstand starts to ring.

“Hello, sir,” Lily says cheerfully down the line. James can picture her sweet smile. “I couldn’t help but notice your absence this morning.”

“How did it go?” he asks, trying to tug on a new pair of socks one handed. 

Lily hums. “It wasn’t awful. It wasn’t good, but it could’ve been worse. Her majesty liked her. Y/N was quiet, she was awkward, but we all know they prefer quiet to mouthy. The last thing they wanted was another Julianna. I felt kind of bad, really. Like I was handing her over.”

“She…” James sighs. “She didn’t seem upset, did she, Lils?”

“No, I actually think she was feeling good. Your boys took good care of her.”

“Brilliant. Oh, and to answer your unasked question, I’m being slovenly. I’ll be back on duty by noon.”

“Slovenly,” she repeats. “I’ve never known you to be any sort of lazy.” She laughs. James is happy that the sound doesn’t break his heart anymore. “Alright, James. I’ll see you later.”

He appreciates what she’s doing, letting him know you’re okay while he’s away. It’s uncanny how fast the people in charge of your care can band together, and Lily has always been kind.

James gives himself a minute to wipe away yesterday and prepare for today. He closes his eyes and shakes his head ferociously, his hair flying every which way. He sorts through all his worries one by one, letting that anxiety eat at him methodically —he’s a bad bodyguard, he’s a bad friend, he doesn’t call his mum enough, he’s chicken shit scared of dying alone, the works— and then pushing it away. Today is a new day with new opportunities. He can prove to you and to himself that he’s good at his job, he can make sure his friends are doing alright, he can call his mum tonight before dinner, and dying alone? He isn’t dying today. That one’s on the back burner. 

He makes his way from his room in the quarter and into the main building, wary that he might come upon a duke or duchess. His radio, clipped as it always is against his left shoulder, chirps with chatter. He bites back a scolding about keeping the line clear and looks out of a Goliath glass window at the grounds below. A marble water fountain spurts proudly at the foot of the stairs, and an elaborate hedgework stands at pruned attention. It’s a nice day. He wonders if you’ll be up for walking. 

He looks for you in the secondary parlour, the den, the library, the dining room. He swings by your room, and when you aren’t there he admits defeat and unclamps his radio, cutting through an inappropriate joke unapologetically. 

“Afternoon. Location on Princess Y/N?”

He imagines his subordinates scrambling to answer, embarrassed by their unprofessionalism, but it’s likely they just don’t know where you are. 

“If I don’t get an answer in the next five seconds, you can all expect to be running laps tonight. That includes you, Mikkelson, I don’t care how much overtime–”

“Sir, this is Daniels. Me and Roma are with the princess in the south wing.”

“Why?”

“She wanted a pencil sharpener.”

James grins to himself. The south wing (or, as James might put it, the guest wing), houses the scholars, the ambassadors, and whatever government official the royals are trying to butter up at the time. He’s feeling positively joyful when he finds you sketching, your face pressed to the window. The Genovian mountainscapes take shape on your page one confident stroke of graphite at a time, a small leather bound sketchbook pressed flat to your knee.

“Settling in?” he asks. 

You raise your head but not your eyes. “You could say that.”

“How was meeting Her Majesty?”

You frown. 

“That bad?” he asks. 

“No, I mean. You know. She’s a queen. It was terrifying.”

Despite your unhappy mouth, you look as relaxed as you have since the moment he met you, dressed in a casual Genovian dress with subtle but remarkable stitching a shade darker than the dress itself and a squared neckline. Your calves are out and glossy in the daylight. They’re rather distracting. 

“You look good,” James says carefully. 

“I’ll miss the fancy lotions,” you say. Your pencil scratches away. 

James’ hands falter where they’re clasped behind his back. “What?”

You meet his eyes properly. He hadn’t realised you’d been avoiding his gaze until you weren’t, your face ringed with guilt, an explanation slow to come. 

“I’m not staying. I can’t be a princess, James.” You shake your head mildly. “I’m going home.”

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

thanks so much for reading! oh no, you want to go home!! rest assured, james and co aren’t letting you go too easily. i hope you enjoyed, reblogs are always appreciated, a thousand kisses for all of you either way <3<3

[remusslove]

no because i am begging to see your take on james being edged for hours and then they finally let him cum like 🦋🦋🦋

I am frothing at the mouth

“Mommy please! Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m gonna-” he moaned bucking his hips up wildly as you jerked him off. You harshly took your hand off and gave him a slap to the face. He yelped as tears streamed down his face.

“Please mama, can’t take it anymore” he whimpered before hiding his face in your chest. Your smirked at his fucked out state. “Fine. Your lucky Remus is gonna come any minute.” Your words made him gasp through whines of overstimulation.

His wide eyes made contact with your shit eating grin. “R-remy is gonna come back?” He asked with a slight stutter as you wrapped your hand around his throat. “Yeah. So we could keep going until your cum and get caught by Remus. Or you could not cum until tonight.” You suggested making him shake his head to the last option.

“No! Please keep going! Need to cum mommy please!” He sounded almost like a girl with how high pitched his voice was. You couldn’t blame the poor boy, you’ve been edging him for almost an hour. God knows how much he hates edging.

Which is why it only happens when he’s been really really bad. And it is why his hands are each tied on the other side of the bed. Today he cursed at you more than a few times and didn’t apologize. He really tested his limits tonight when he talked back even after he was bent over your lap.

You squeezed his cock again making him mewl and fall back onto the mattress. You swiped his tip and used the beads of precum to wet his needy cock. The poor thing was all hard and red begging for release.

A few minutes later he was fighting against the restrains wanting to hug you as he came. “Mommy yes! Love you so much! Thank you!” He blabbered out words of gratitude towards you without shame.

Your eyebrows raised in amusement hearing the words coming out of his mouth. “Oh really? Gonna be a good boy for mommy now?” You teased. “Mhm! Gonna be the best boy!” He mewled feeling the knot in his stomach tighten even harder than before.

He let out a scream bordered on a moan as ropes of cum shot out of his cock. He painted softly little whines coming out every time. You chuckled placing a kiss on his forehead. You laid down next to him. He instinctively hugged you placing one of his legs on top of yours.

The door opened making the sub gasp and cover himself with the blanket. “Don’t worry jamie, I waited till you guys were done. Mommy did a number on you hm?” Remus asked giving the boy a wink. James blushed embarrassingly but giving him a nod.

[until-the-house-shakes]

Sensitive Regulus.

A regulus that never fully learned to shut away all his emotions, so he cries fairly frequently and gets his feelings hurt incredibly easily.

A regulus that finds comfort in Barty, Evan, and Sirius. If Mulciber or Avery hit a sore spot, if he fails a test, or if Snape won’t stop calling him Mama’s Boy, Regulus runs to one of them and sobs in their arms. He rants about how cruel people are and how much he hates a certain class subject. He’s safe in the arms of Evan/Barty/Sirius so he’s allowed to say whatever he wants and feel however he feels.

A Regulus that wears his heart on his sleeve. Who has a giant crush on James and makes it so incredibly obvious. Who blushes and fumbles over his words anytime James even looks at him. Who begs Sirius to help them get together and cries when Sirius says no and then cries again (but from happiness) when he finally caves and James asks Reg out not even a week later.

A Regulus whose comfort person isn’t Barty, Evan, or even Sirius. But is Remus. They smoke together, read classic muggle literature together and gossip about it, and even take naps together because they both fall victim to the 3-5pm nap time. Anytime Regulus feels particularly stressed out but not overtly emotional, he’ll seek out Remus and mentally recharge with him

[coyotelip]

thoughts on marauders and their internal homophobia.

you just can't convince me that james can have some internal homophobia, anyone from marauders seems like that to me, but not james, I'm too deep into my crash on the best parents in the whole world, effie and monty potter, to think that there's was something in their parenting, what makes james thinking bad about being gay.

sirius and regulus? internal homophobia is their canon event, being from family like that, where being not like everyone want you to be can lead to disowning, you clearly would feel a lot of shame because of some unpurly thought about your mates.

it's also okay with remus and his insecure nature, like that boy can be alright with queers around him, but the moment he starts to feel like that himself, it seems wrong, because anything about him Is wrong, you know?

and I can see it in peter, some mama's boy, I'm sure his family is ridiculously religious, and they believe in good old arrange marriage, so his internal homophobia is strongest and I can't imagine him really work through this trauma.

[ellecdc]

Can you imagine pregnant medic reader feeling baby kick for the first time and not wanting to interrupt the boys in practice/at a game but knowing how much they’d want to feel the baby?? (Can be with any of the boys or all of them LOL)

so cuttteeee

hockey!marauders x team medic!reader who interrupts practice [877 words]

CW: pregnancy, afab fem!reader, poly!marauders

The boys have been conflicted about you still working ever since they found out you were expecting. 

On one hand, they liked having you close by; within their sights should you need them, and just getting to enjoy the pregnancy with you even when they were traveling for away games.

On the other hand, they hated that you spent so much of your job on your feet, they were extremely nervous having you so close to the action of the game, and don’t even get them started when you have to step out onto the ice. 

But you were determined to work for as long as you possibly could, and you couldn’t deny that part of you enjoyed getting to spend as much time as possible with your boyfriends during this very exciting time of your lives.

Were there times you wondered if you wouldn’t perhaps benefit from a little space from them? Sure. Especially when James tried to sit in on all of your appointments with the guys to ensure you weren’t straining yourself, or when Sirius stood directly in your line of sight at every game in an attempt to ‘save you from the tomfoolery, babe’, or when Remus shoved anyone who tried to help you out onto the ice so he could chaperone you himself.

But there were moments - like this - that found you so grateful to have them close by. 

“You okay, mama?” Coach Moody asked, though he didn’t bother moving his gaze from the ice where head coach Albus was standing with the boys for practice. “You seem jumpy.” 

You hummed in agreement as you placed a hand on your stomach; gently pushing and prodding what felt like a hard part of a little body, wondering if you were only imagining it. 

You’d become aware that you weren’t simply growing at about eighteen weeks into your pregnancy when you felt the baby move for the first time. It was like you remembered that your pants were shrinking for an actual reason. But any movement on the baby's part could only be felt internally.

Today, however-

“Oh.” You whispered, and Moody wrenched his eyes from the ice to grab your elbow.

“Doc? Are you okay?” 

“Yes, yes. Sorry.” You let out with a laugh; looking to the ice to ensure the boys couldn’t see you being fussed over even though you sort of wanted to call them over here yourself. 

“What do you need?” Moody gruffed, though he kept his voice low as if knowing any attention directed your way would result in cacophony from nearly half the team.

“No, nothing. Sorry Coach.” You laughed. “I just…I think, well, the baby’s kicking.” 

Moody furrowed his eyes at you as he examined your face; one blue eye piercing and intuitive, the other glass eye which saw the iris and pupil replaced by the Gryffindor Lion’s logo seemed just as knowing.

“First time?” 

“First time I can feel it with my hand, yeah.” 

He looked you over one last time, cautiously removing his hand from your elbow and looking out onto the ice before blowing his whistle. 

“Gather ‘round.” He barked, and though Albus looked confused, he allowed the team to head to the bench. 

“Did ya miss us, Moody?” Sirius sing-songed as he made his way over, James laughing and Remus rolling his eyes in response. 

“The only time I get any peace is when the lot of you fuck off.” Moody barked back, but his face stayed soft. “Your baby’s kicking.” 

Sirius’ teasing smirk fell quickly as he whipped his head to you, James nearly fell over in his haste to make it to you and Remus quickly skated around the clump of bodies to join him; all three of them leaning against the boards in front of you.

“You didn’t have to stop practice for this…” You chided Moody gently, but it seemed that Sirus, James, and Remus weren’t the only one’s excited about it. 

“Oh my god! Can I feel!?” Fenwick called, earning him an elbow in the side from Remus. 

“Not before us? What the fuck…” Sirius mumbled, keeping his eyes on your stomach as if he could see it. 

“Well hurry up then! You’ve got a line behind you.” Grönvall hollered then.

“Goalie first; is rule.” Krum muttered as he placed himself in front of both Fenwick and Grönvall, though politely stayed behind the three boys who all tucked one glove under their opposite arm and held their hands out to you. 

The practice arena fell quiet as the entire team held their breath, and you felt sort of horrified at the sudden pressure to perform.

“This will be so embarrassing if it doesn’t happen again.” You admitted quietly, suddenly very embarrassed to have interrupted practice.

Remus made a humming sound in dissent as he brushed his thumb over your belly, and then it happened.

“Holy shit!” James cheered, Sirius’ head snapping up to beam a smile at you.

“Did you feel that!?” Sirius asked no one in particular, but you, James, and Remus all confirmed that you did.

“Okay great! Next!” Dearborn called from behind Grönvall, and that’s how you ended up spending the rest of the practice with various hands on your stomach at any given moment.

[accio-sriracha]

No because what even are the Marauders? Like the dynamics are just so absolutely wild with these four characters.

Okay so we have Remus: Literally a werewolf, stone cold sarcasm, could kill a man with one look, sharp mind and sharper tounge, like 6'4 and could 100% tower over you, in general just does not give a shit.

But we also have Remus: Soft Boi, tall and lanky, incredibly socially awkward, just wants naps and chocolate all the time, blushes furiously, way too stressed out about absolutely everything, can't go twenty minutes without complaining that he's cold.

We have Sirius: Punk Rock Badass tm, drives an illegal flying motorcycle, has the coolest animagus form to date, scary dog best friend privileges, the most Noble and Ancient House of Black reject, could kill you without hesitation if you look at his friends wrong, could tower over you even though he's shorter??, his voice is somehow even more threatening when it's quiet.

But then we have Sirius: Perpetual gay panic, will willingly fling himself off a bridge if any of the marauders told him to, terrified of Lily Evans (who's the shortest of all of them), sings along to Dancing Queen every time it plays, needs affection or he'll die, will break down crying because he cant get his eyeliner right, absolute hot mess.

We have James: Over protective, strong enough to manhandle someone easily, also incredibly tall, doesn't care what anyone thinks of him, popular jock, secret charms genius and could come up with a spell to haunt you forever, known for being a Prank God, is best friends with the House of Black reject and a literal werewolf, the untouchable quidditch captain, could probably down eight firewhiskeys and still shoot a quaffle perfectly through a hoop, his angry glare could melt fucking steel.

Then we have James: chased after the same person for seven years, crooked glasses and always messy hair, big doe eyes, literally and figuratively deer in headlights, won't stop whining about everything, takes an hour long shower because he needs to find the right playlist, refuses to eat sandwiches with the crusts on, wears mismatched socks, such a mama's boy, wears croptops for fun, likes being choked.

Well... and then there's just Peter: Not a mean bone in this kid's body, he will bring the snacks to the study group and there is nothing you can do about it, likes cheese, always down for a road trip, desperately needs validation, pins photos of all his best friends to his wall, likes cheese, can make you cry just by pouting at you, literally just a big tedy bear, needs at least three hugs a day, LIKES CHEESE.