cw: big fat breeding kink, exhibitionism, over the top dirty-talk
the dinner reservation is a two hour exercise in restraint and john spends most of it losing.
wine barely touched; answers getting shorter; his thumb pressing slow circles into your palm across the tablecloth, ocean eyes dropping to your mouth every time you speak. and by the time the check comes his voice has sanded down to smoke and you’re pressing your thighs together under the table because you’re familiar with that register.
outside, the pavement is wet, gold from the streetlamps reflecting in the puddles. it’s nice and crisp out, a relief to your wine-warmed cheeks, and john takes your hand.
he tugs you quick and to the left and your back meets brick, and his mouth is on yours — deep, open, tastes like the chocolate dessert you shared, his hands are already dragging the silk of your dress up your thighs in fistfuls.
‘can’t make it to the car,’ he gets out in a huff against your mouth, ‘need you now.’
‘me too,’ you breathe.
he groans and your underwear doesn’t come down your legs so much as comes off them, ripped down the length of you and shoved into his jacket pocket. his fingers slide easily through your dripping center.
‘already?’
‘you were using that voice,’ you complain.
he breathes a smug smile as he starts pulling at his belt, then his zipper, quick and graceless.
‘wanted you wet at the table,’ he admits. ‘wanted you thinkin’ about it — about me puttin’ a baby in you—’ he hauls your thigh up over his hip and tucks his chin to line up, then looks back as he drags his tip through your slick while your foot starts to slip out of its heel — ‘you want that?’
‘yes—’
‘say it.’
‘i want you to fuck a baby into me— please.’
he drives in on the please.
one thick stroke to the hilt that knocks the air out of both of you and pins you flat to the wall. he moves, hard and fast and purposeful, his hand clamping over your mouth when your first moan rings too loud off the alley walls.
‘quiet, darling,’ he grits, hips never slowing. ‘unless you want the whole street to hear me breed you, hm.’
your walls flutter and clench so hard around him he swears.
‘oh, you do.’ dark and delighted. he shifts closer, deeper, every thrust grinding your clit against him, and his voice pours into your ear low and filthy and reverent. ‘look at you, hm, gorgeous thing, letting me fuck you in a filthy alley — legs always open for me anywhere, huh? because y’wanna be caught.’
you’re whimpering into his palm, nodding, past pride entirely, and your fingers dig into his shoulders as you rock into every thrust, taking him, wanting him, matching his pace because you need it as deep as he does.
‘gonna come,’ you gasp when his hand slips from your mouth to hike you higher.
‘fuck— me too,’ he grunts, the hand comes back up, slapping to the brick just above you.
you break with your face buried in his neck to smother the sound, shaking apart around him, and the clenching of you drags him right over the edge — he slams deep and holds, buried to the root, pulsing into you with a groan pressed into your hair, his whole body shuddering and crushing against yours, hips grinding in slow like he can press it deeper, make it stick.
his heart’s hammering against your chest, both of you breathing like sprinters.
finally, he moves, kisses your temple and he gently lowers your to the pavement. his hands smooth your dress down. ‘keep that in for me, hm?’ he pats the side of your thigh.
‘you took my underwear,’ you remind him.
‘—oh. right, yeah.’ and just like that the growl’s gone, replaced with something more sheepish, and he’s fishing the scrap of lace out of his jacket pocket. ‘here, love. hold onto me.’
he crouches down and you place a hand on his shoulder as he holds your underwear open at your ankles, one warm hand braced around your calf, guiding.
‘step in. there you go. other one.’
you giggle softly because the whiplash he’s capable of is going to kill you one day.
‘can’t have you walkin’ to the car with nothin’ on under that dress.’ he draws the lace up your legs, settles it at your hips. ‘it’s cold out, and i’m a gentleman.’
you bark a laugh, ‘you are not—’
‘i am right now,’ he amends, rising, and the grin on him is completely unrepentant, and yours is just as bad, and you stand there in the alley beaming at each other like two people who should be institutionalized.
he tucks you under his arm for the walk to the car, pulled in tight against his side to help with your wobbly knees. his lips land in your hair somewhere above your temple, chest rumbling with a low satisfied hum like everything in his world is exactly the way he wants it.
at the car he steps ahead and opens your door.
‘miss.’
you get in still smiling, ‘captain.’
he shuts the door soft, rounds the hood, and drives home with one hand resting heavy on your thigh.
Behold my Bee Dress, as photographed on my trip to Italy. It was a happy coincidence that my dress this year thematically aligned with my vacation plans!!!
pairing: regulus black x reader
summary: sirius gets the honour of discovering what his brother regulus is like with his friends in more intimate settings, and can't help but be enthralled by how he behaves with his girlfriend.
wc: 1.7k
There’s nothing like being invited to a function by someone you’re not too close to. You get to witness the friendship dynamics between your friends and the people closest to them and weasel your way into new friendship connections. Their friends become your friends, and your life becomes an endless circle of beautiful social interactions. The marauders are no strangers to being invited to parties by their friends, but it’s definitely a first for them to be invited to anything by a group of slytherins, let alone Regulus Black’s own friend group.
Sirius and James have their guard up a little too high, because while they cradle their beers and huddle like a pair of penguins, Remus and Lily seem to be having fantastic conversation with a couple of Regulus’s closest friends across the garden. Sirius looks around the vast backyard — just minutes ago you had been singing with your friends to muggle music Sirius had to admit was in fact amazing, and Regulus had been mixing drinks by the makeshift bars and offering them to some friends who chugged them then instantly gagged at the strong taste.
Now, Sirius spots Regulus cradling a tall glass in his hands. The liquid inside it is colourful, and a small plastic straw is sticking out of the glass as Regulus makes his way towards you, trying not to spill the cocktail he made you. Sirius’s gaze is glued to you and his brother, even as James suggests for them to join in on a conversation somewhere. Sirius nods, but it still attentive to the way Regulus holds the glass up higher for you, and you lean down to latch your lips around the straw, taking eager sips from the drink as you carefully shield your face from your hair. Regulus carefully watches you, moving the glass to one hand so he can settle his second arm around your waist as you straighten up, immediately wrapping your arms over Regulus’s shoulders. You instantly press a kiss to your boyfriend's cheek, lips moving softly as you thank him for the drink. Despite Regulus creating abominable drinks for his friends mere minutes ago, this one is absolutely perfect for you — not to sweet nor too strong, but something you'll ask him to make you again.
Regulus grins widely and freely, and Sirius immediately assumes that Regulus is extremely intoxicated to be so overtly happy. But Regulus can’t be drunk, not when his movements are so graceful and co-ordinated. Sirius’s eyes widen when you slot your lips against your boyfriend’s and Regulus immediately reciprocates the act, tilting his head to the side slightly so you can deepen the kiss when you press your body against his, nudging your tongue into his mouth. Sirius averts his gaze when he realises he’s been stood there watching his brother snog the girlfriend he hasn't even met yet.
It’s a good call, because Regulus blindly reaches behind him to put down the drink so he can put both hands on your body, gripping your waist softly as he tangles his tongue with yours. Barty passes behind Regulus, smacking a strong hand onto his shoulder, causing your boyfriend to stumble forward and subsequently causing a moan to tumble from your lips. Regulus’s lips break from yours with a sigh falling from between them. You both turn to find Barty and playfully glare at him, still clinging onto each other, and Barty laughs into the rim of his beer bottle as he catches his best friend’s eye.
Regulus presses a kiss to the corner of your lips to retrieve your attention once more, and he brings up a hand to wipe away at your smudged lip gloss. You stand quietly, letting him brush the excess makeup away with his thumb, holding his hand in place when he begins moving it away so you can press a sweet kiss to his thumb. When Regulus lifts his eyes back up to meet yours, he smiles softly at you, hugging you close with one arm as he spins you both so he can fetch your drink from the counter. He takes a small sip from it then offers it to you, smirking to himself when you open your mouth to chase after the straw. Regulus takes that time to glance around the room, scoffing in amusement when he finds his older brother standing with his arms crossed as his friends make conversation with people.
“Wanna come say hi to my brother?” Regulus asks, immediately noting the slight nervousness that appears in your eyes at the mention. He smiles when you nod nonetheless, index finger coming up to brush against the line of your lips to hide evidence of the passionate kiss you had shared with Regulus. Your boyfriend lifts his hand to cradle your face, his other one abandoning the drink again so he can clean the skin surrounding your lips — seriously this time. He digs a hand in his pocket to retrieve a familiar tube of lip gloss, and you smile widely when he unscrews it, lifting it up to your lips. You part your lips slightly, eyes glued to your boyfriend as he carefully drags the item across your plump bottom lip, pressing his own lips together for you to mimic the movement before lifting the wand again to apply product onto the delicate line of your top lip. You so desperately want to kiss Regulus for the intimate act he has just displayed, but you don't want to ruin his precious work, so instead you mutter “Thank you” and take the hand Regulus offers you when he lets go of your waist.
Regulus calls out his brother’s name, and Sirius instantly feels relieved to partake in conversation with someone familiar to him. Yes, they may still be patching up their relationship, but Sirius definitely prefers Regulus’s company over anyone else’s.
“Y’alright mate?” Asks Sirius as he approaches you both, bringing a hand up to dap up his brother. Regulus lets go of your hand so he can pat his brother’s shoulder as they go into a weird half-hug that only men ever seem to do. “Sirius, this is-” You cut your boyfriend off to introduce yourself to Sirius, holding a hand out respectfully. “A shaker, huh?” Sirius asks as he shakes your hand, and you glance down to where your hands meet, frowning softly. “No actually, I don’t know why I did that.” Sirius smirks, glancing back towards Regulus, who tilts his head to the side with a smile.
“She wants you to like her, is all.”
“Is that so wrong?” You ask quietly, pressing yourself into your boyfriend’s side. Regulus presses a kiss to your temple, shaking his head softly. “Hey, why don’t you go meet some of Sirius’s friends while I show him around? See if anyone’s giving them trouble?” You nod quickly, letting Sirius get dragged away by Regulus. You let your shoulders slump in relief. Now Sirius is going to think you’re shy because you were barely able to utter a single word in front of him. Maybe you just need another drink.
When you snap yourself out of it, you realise you’re being watched by a certain trio. They make their way over to you, Lily leading the pack, and you shortly consider turning around and pretending you didn’t see them. “Scary, huh?” Lily suggests, and you eagerly nod your head. “Most terrifying interaction of my life, I think, and I’ve been given a detention by Professor McGonagall before.”
James laughs loudly at your comment but nods nonetheless, as he mutters “I know that’s right.”
Remus shrugs, lighting a cigarette as he mumbles, “I don’t know, I would’ve thought meeting the parents would be scarier.”
You huff out a laugh, shaking your head in disagreement. “You’d be surprised by how little their parents care. The second they found out who my parents were, I was in the clear. A sad thought, really, but at least they leave us alone." You freeze, eyes widening at your own words, adding "Sorry, I tend to overshare a little when I drink and Pandora isn’t by my side to censor me.”
“At least you have someone to hold you back - all these three do is encourage each other.” Your eyes turn sympathetic at Lily’s words, but you laugh a little at the offended look in her boyfriend’s eyes. You lean in closer to Lily, mumbling quietly “Look, honey, if you need more girls around, we’re here.”
“Come on, Black, don’t try to steal my girlfriend, that’s not classy.” Argues James, but you just raise an eyebrow at him, echoing “Black?”
He freezes for a moment, unsure how to recover from calling you by your boyfriend’s last name, but a hand appears on your waist accompanied by a voice that says “No, that’s right.”
Your face goes hot at Regulus’s words, and you twist your torso to get a good look at him. He shrugs as he meets your eyes, asking genuinely “You do know I’m going to ask you to marry me soon enough, don’t you?” Rendered speechless, you’re unable to do anything but stare at Regulus as his brother and his friends stare at your reaction. “I mean, well, I did, but I…” You trail off, blinking slowly, and Regulus grins, excusing you both from the conversation with the few outliers.
Regulus waits patiently as you open and close your mouth, gathering your thoughts into words before finally saying “I guess I hoped more than I really knew - I just didn’t know we were advertising it to people.” Regulus scoffs lovingly, squeezing your hips “Gonna marry you and build you a nice house our parents won’t know of. And I’ll keep loving you until even after I die.”
You lift yourself onto your tippy toes to press a kiss to Regulus’s lips, mumbling against them “Drinking makes you sappy, you know?”
He hums, replying “I’ve said too much, haven’t I?”
“Nonsense.”
Sirius stares from across the room as Regulus brings you into another kiss and sighs; he thought they had been invited to a party, not an engagement celebration.
Hi angel!! I had an idea but no worries if it doesn’t spark inspiration for you :) I love anything you write!!
But I was thinking about a fic where the reader has to go out of town for a business trip or to visit family or something and James is soooo pouty and clingy about it because he’s going to miss her. I love sweet Jamie and you write him so perfectly!!
Thank you sm my love <3
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 544 words
James knows in his brain that he doesn't have to be with you all of the time, but good luck telling that to his heart.
You've neglected packing until the last minute, so your flat is lamplit and darker than it probably ought to be the night before your early morning flight. You move from closet to drawers to suitcase with a pensive pinch to your mouth, the lamplight preserving you in soft, warm amber. Which is a particular sort of cruelty, because it makes you look especially romantic and only makes James' heart all the more twitchy about letting you out of his sight.
"I can't believe you're doing this in front of me," he says.
You turn with a few pairs of balled-up socks, delivering them to the suitcase sitting open next to James on the bed. In the corner of your mouth is something that could be a smile with some coaxing. "You wanted to be in here."
"I want to enjoy my last night with you, not watch you prepare to leave me."
"When do you think I should pack, then?"
"Never." James makes a face, but you only roll your eyes and circle back to the dresser. "But if you must, in secret after I'm asleep."
You make an amused scoffing sound. It turns into a laugh when a ball of socks sails across the room to land in the drawer in front of you again. There's the smile James was waiting for.
"You're unbelievable," you chide, picking the socks up to return them to your suitcase. "If I only get a couple hours of sleep because you made me stay up all night packing, I'm going to be so annoyed with you."
"You could sleep in," James suggests, then grins at your droll look. In truth, he has had whims of taking something from your suitcase that you can't go without and hiding it away so you're forced to stay, or turning off your alarm in the middle of the night so you'll miss your flight, but really he's only teasing you. It has the dual benefits of entertaining you both and conveying the degree to which James will genuinely miss you.
He sighs, flopping around on the bed until he's lying on his stomach watching you with big eyes. "What am I even supposed to do while you're gone?"
James thinks you probably roll your eyes again, only where he can't see. The next time you come back to drop more socks into the suitcase you stop to comb a hand through his hair. "Don't you have plans with Sirius tomorrow?" you ask.
"S'not the same. I'm going to come home to a cold bed."
"I bet he'll stay over if you ask."
"But"—well, that's probably true, actually—"I'll be thinking about how far away you are."
You press your lips together, a mixture of fond and amused. "We'll be okay, James."
He props his chin on a hand, looking poutily into your suitcase. "How many pairs of socks do you need, anyway? Will I ever see you again?"
"I might be overpacking," you admit. "It's only a weekend."
"Ugh. Only?" James throws himself back down with his head in his arms. "That's two whole nights."
I'm gonna put this out there because it's 8:47am and I am now laying in bed crying because of a fanfic-- please tag your fics correctly. Don't leave out tags because you think it'll spoil the story. It won't. Generic tags like, "Hurt no comfort" or "Major character death" will maybe spoil your story a singular plot point, but it won't spoil 1. how you kill off your character, 2. what character dies, or 3. the main plot.
Tagging fics helps people avoid tags they wouldn't necessarily want to read either because it's not their cup of tea, or because they don't want to be in that mind space. Tagging SOME tags, but not others can lead to a reader being misled about the content of your story, and thats not right or fair to anyone.
🌼Your head's full of unwelcome thoughts, Simon knows without you saying a word about it.
🌼content(s): Ghost/Simon Riley is your roommate, reader is neutral, mentions of anxiety and the feelings that come with it, Simon comforts the reader, could be seen as platonic or romantic
despite this being tame, the rules of my blog apply, so MDNI
Simon Riley knows a troubled mind when he sees one, knows what it's like to be so deep inside of your own head that you have chronic tunnel vision. He knows the feelings too well and knows how it feels to feel them alone, without another soul around.
He knows that tight feeling in your chest that extends up to your throat, creating a dam which no words can bypass. That godawful sensation of your heart beating a thousand miles a minute, or so slow it feels like it's not beating at all, all while being caught in your throat regardless. The churning in your stomach and how it's so fucking hard to breathe. And despite it all, you can't cry a single tear. No, it's as if they're backed up, or like your ducts have dried completely.
So full of emotion, yet unable to release any of it.
So when Simon sees you, his usually happier housemate, sitting on the steps to your shared home... Shoulders all tensed up and fingers picking at your cuticles while your eyes are looking off in the distance miles away... He can't ignore you. He can see it, practically feel it coming off of you in waves. Your head is busy, your mind miles away.
So Simon heads over and gives the railing to the stairs a knock. Ever the wordsmith, he asks, "Somethin' the matter with you?"
This startles you, reminds you that you're not inside of the house where nobody could see you. Right, you went outside because the sun's out... Well, it was out. But now it's just about gone, barely there over the mountains and trees where it set. It was supposed to help clear your head, embrace the beauty of nature or something, right? But instead, you retreated back into your thoughts. There truly was no hell like your own mind.
"... Yeah." Realizing he didn't ask if you're okay you quickly stood from the step. "I mean no, nah. I'm okay." Forcing a smile that was barely there, you began heading back up your steps.
Scoffing, he props a hand on his hip and looks you over, his intense brown eyes being the one thing you can see thanks to his black face mask. "You're a shit liar, y'know that?" He grumbles before walking up the stairs past you. "Y'look terrible, too."
"Wow, rude..." You mutter as you follow the taller man inside. If anything, he was very honest.
"The circles around your eyes are so bloody dark that I thought a raccoon was tryin' to get into the house." He threw over his shoulder before taking the mask off of his face. "Now you get out of those clothes and into something for bed."
"I'm sorry, but... You come home, insult me, and now you're ordering me around?" You ask, watching his back as he started the kettle.
"You need some bloody sleep," He grumbled, taking out your favorite mug from the cupboard. "If you're tired, whatever's going through your head is only going to sound worse. More amplified."
Silently, you watch his back a moment longer, arms crossed over your chest and nails digging small half moons into your arm. The nerve of him... The nerve of Simon Riley not being wrong. Grinding your teeth and shifting on your feet a moment longer, you finally heave a sigh and turn around. You shuffle to your bedroom.
After getting dressed into your pajamas, you shuffle back out just in time to see Simon pouring your tea. After making one for himself, he turns and looks you over again. The scars on his lips and cheeks are prominent under the glow of the kitchen light. His nose looks like it's been broken once or twice, which it probably has been. And his short blonde hair looks almost white in the light, but seems to darken to its normal shade as he tilts his head.
"Better, Si?" You ask, the words coming out weaker than intended. A testament to your dry throat, since anything not related to the storm clouds in your mind was put on the back burner.
"Hardly." He murmurs, and you have half a mind to go over and punch him. That feeling grows tenfold when he motions for you to come over.
When you cross the floor, padding on bare feet to the man, he does something he's never done... Something you could recall doing to him a few times in the past, but he was never the one to initiate. As soon as you made it over to Simon, he tightly wrapped you up in his arms, crushing you against him. You stopped breathing for a second, blinking in shock as he just held you.
"Simon, what...?"
"Relax. Easier said than done, I know, but just try." Simon instructed, rubbing your back. "Don't know what's going through that head of yours, y'don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
Swallowing around the lump that formed in your throat, a lump that formed a few times today, you slowly brought your arms around Simon's big frame. Taking a shuddering breath, you let your forehead fall against his shoulder. Just like before, no tears came, but your eyes burned all the same.
"I'm tired, Si."
"I know."
"It just won't stop. I can't turn it off, even if I distract myself from it it's still there."
Simon gave a knowing hum, his one hand still rubbing your back idly. His grip tightens around you, as if he's trying to wring out the anxious thoughts. He'd be willing to take them directly from you if he could.
"I know... Awful, isn't it?" He muses, breath ghosting over the top of your head. Then, in barely a whisper you swear you hear him say "I've got you."
Both of you stayed silent, listening to his heartbeat and feeling his warmth put your own heart at ease. Somehow, it seemed a little easier to breathe... Even if it meant taking in the faint scent of sweat and whatever cologne Simon uses. It was an odd comfort.
"Don't want to over-steep the tea, now." Simon finally said after a long few minutes, loosening his grip. He got rid of the tea bags and carefully pressed the mug into your hands. "It's chamomile, should help you fall asleep."
"Did you make yourself the same thing...?" You ask, smiling to yourself as you sipped the tea when he nodded. Big, bad Simon Riley, the Ghost, drinking chamomile.
"I should get some sleep too..." He mutters, watching as you drink your tea. "So my eye bags don't get as bad as yours." The corner of his scarred lips twitched ever so slightly.
"Excuse me? I'm pretty sure yours are permanent." You retort, a genuine smile making you feel a stretch in your cheeks that you haven't felt all day. "I bet you have to pay for extra for those bags at the airport."
"Busting my balls after I make you tea... Where's your manners?"
You laugh and stifle a yawn, deciding to finish off your tea in a few more gulps. "Well... Thank you, Si."
"That's better." Simon said, eyes crinkling for a moment with a smile. He walks with you to your room, leaning in the doorway to make sure you actually got into bed. "And you know... I'm always here. Either in the next room or a call or text away."
Unable to hold back your yawn, you cover your mouth and nod before casting a grateful look his way. "I know. Same goes for you."
"Don't worry about me. Just lemme know if and when you need anything."
"I'll worry about you as long as you worry about me," You said as you laid down, resting your head on your pillow. "And that's final. Goodnight, Si."
He let out a loud exhale through his nose, a bit over-dramatic but not serious. "Goodnight, mate."
Simon stayed in that doorway until your breathing slowed, kept an eye on you longer than he'd like to admit, and finally left for his room.
Hey! I LOVE the comic you posted of the reader going to a club pre-relationship! I was wondering if you could write a part 2 to that of all of them going to a club together. With some jealousy, like when the reader goes to the bathroom on her way back she is getting flirted with by a random guy and the marauders reaction. Feel free to ignore
(Also I adore you comic that make my day every time I have re-read all of them at least 3 times!)
Hi lovely, thank you so much ! This took me forever to get to sorry, hope you enjoy it <3
part 1
cw: alcohol, unwanted/nonconsensual touch
roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words
Your shriek cuts through the loud music, and you turn to Remus with an open-mouthed grin.
“This is my favorite song!” you shout.
He laughs. In the past half hour, four songs have been your favorite. “Yeah?” he asks.
You nod happily, throwing your hands above your head as you spin. You’re tipsy twirly, surprisingly sprightly considering you’ve downed enough shots to get Remus hammered, and he’s got several inches on you and has been drinking since he was thirteen.
Sirius is in a similar state. Remus and James have been steering the two of you around for most of the night, but now James has put himself in charge of crisis prevention, playing goalie between either of you and the bar.
“Oh be fun, Prongsie,” Sirius wheedles after getting spun around by the shoulders for the upteenth time. “I know you can be fun.”
“I am fun,” James agrees. “I have my most fun when I’m not cleaning up your vomit. Go dance with y/n.”
You’re game for this plan, giving Sirius an enticing smile and moving your hips to the music in a way that makes Remus’ mouth go completely dry. He knows he’s not the only person in this club who’s noticed, but thankfully the little circle the four of you have made in the dance floor stays clear of intruders. Thus far, your prediction has proved correct; no other men have come up to you with your roommates around. He’s not particularly distraught about it.
You seem oblivious to your own allure, laughing when Sirius hurries toward you like a called puppy. You take his hands, letting him twirl you around and then holding your arms up to twirl him in return, and at the chorus, you both jump around so that your hair flies all about. Your laughter is loud and sparkling. Remus sips his drink, entranced.
There are two more favorite songs before you careen towards him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt. He hastily grips you by the elbow, wary of a fall, but you seem to have done this intentionally. You beam up at him, your smile lopsided and far less shy than anything he’s ever seen from you.
“M’gonna go to the toilet,” you tell him, one word leading into the next like they’ve been sloppily tied together with string.
“Oh, okay.” Of its own volition, Remus’ hand coasts up the back of your upper arm, then down to your elbow again. “Do you think you’re gonna be sick, honey?”
Your face screws up as if this is taboo to mention. “What? No.” You make a funny pffting sound. “I’m miles off from that, I’m fantastic, it’s just,” you lower your voice, expression turning grave, “I think it’s time to break the seal,” you tell him meaningfully.
This time it’s entirely intentional, but he also can’t help it. You’re just too cute. Remus sets his hand on the top of your head affectionately, grinning at you. “Alright, love, sounds good.” He looks around for the women’s bathroom, locating it a short distance away. “Want one of us to go with and wait outside for you?” It’s not like he can’t see it from here, but a girl as intoxicated as you probably shouldn’t be going anywhere by herself.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” you say, patting his chest lightly. “Back soon.”
It’s like you’ve disappeared into a mist, the way you fade into the crowd so quickly. It takes Remus a moment to spot the top of your head moving towards the bathroom. You turn around just before you go in, giving him a dazzling smile paired with a dorky thumbs-up.
“Where’d she go?” James asks, holding his drink aloft while Sirius grabs for it. “And what has made you smile like that, Moony?”
Remus makes a dismissive sound, but he feels his face heat as he takes a long sip of his own drink. James’ grin widens.
“Ooh,” Sirius catches on. “What’d she say to you?”
“Nothing. She’s gone to the toilet.”
Sirius’ kohl-rimmed eyes bulge, and James laughs, following his train of thought immediately. “Did she ask you to follow her? I didn’t think that was your style, you rake.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “You’re depraved.”
It’s not long before you reappear, catching Remus’ eye on your way out of the bathroom like you knew he’d be looking. You give him another of those heart-stuttering smiles and head his way, weaving your way through the crowd with a drunken expertise.
A happy glow of anticipation starts up in his chest, but you’re intercepted on the way. Another head, taller, steps in front of you, blocking Remus’ view. He cranes his neck, but he can’t see you.
He must make some sound or simply be emanating discontent, because James is back at his side in an instant. “What’s wrong?”
“Someone’s talking to her. I can’t see her anymore.” He sounds ridiculous, like an overprotective douche, but he can’t imagine one can be too cautious when a drunk girl is surrounded by guys in a place like this. Remus is being purely practical.
“Let’s go get her.” James is on board immediately, taking Sirius by the elbow and beginning to bulldoze his way through the crowd. Sirius grabs Remus’ hand just before the gap closes behind them, dragging him along.
Remus hears you before he sees you.
“Really, I appreciate it, but I’m not looking for anything.” Your voice sounds slightly tight, and Remus knows you well enough to tell by the sound of it that you’re giving whoever you’re talking to one of your big, fake smiles.
A man’s voice says, low and sure, “You don’t mean that—” and that’s as far as he gets, because you interrupt to exclaim, with no small amount of relief, “My friends!”
“Hi, sweetheart,” James says, and you’re right in front of them. You’ve cleaned up your makeup in the bathroom, the eyeliner that had transferred sweatily under your eyes now pristine again, and your smile is indeed giant and thin-lipped as you look between them and the man in front of you, subtly flaring your eyes. He reads the look clearly: Help, please!
Remus looks you over. The man has his hands on your hips and one of yours is around his wrist, a cautious touch. Sirius takes care of that quickly, wrapping his forefinger and thumb around the wrist closest to him and removing it like it’s a piece of trash he found on the street.
“Do you two know each other?” Remus asks. Without permission, his voice comes out gruff and accusatory.
“No,” you say speedily, taking a step towards Sirius. Towards them. “I was just on my way back to you guys, actually.”
“We were talking.” The man looks between the three of them scrutinously, like they’re threats. Remus doesn’t hate the thought of being a threat to this guy.
“Sounded like you were done talking, mate.” James smiles easily. You’d have to really know him to hear the sharpness in his tone.
Sirius snakes an arm around your waist, but you don’t shy from the bold touch. In fact, you lean into him, your smile slowly beginning to resemble the genuine article. “Wanna get another drink, baby?” Sirius asks you, gaze salacious.
“Mhm.” You bob your head eagerly, and he leads you off, James and Remus following. “Thanks for the help,” you tell them as soon as you’re away. “He didn’t, like, do anything, but it was a bit intimidating.”
“Anytime, sweetheart,” James replies, expression going a bit stormy now that he’s done feigning lightness. “And I wouldn’t say he didn’t do anything, he shouldn’t have put his hands on you like that.”
“It’s whatever,” you wave it off so easily Remus’ heart gives a little throb. “What’re we drinking?”
“Oh, that was a ploy,” Remus says. “We’re done drinking, remember?”
You pout, and Sirius hugs your side sympathetically (entirely for your benefit, Remus is certain). “You mean we’re done,” he sneers. “You and Prongs get to have however much you want. Who made you king of the beer?”
“I think you did, actually,” Remus says thoughtfully. “At Mary’s New Year’s party, remember?”
I ADORE your writing it is so so so amazing. Could i request poly!marauders x fem!reader who works in a store (maybe like a supermarket or something) and they keep coming because they "need" stuff but they actually just wanna see her and its all cute and flully and stuff?? If you don't wanna do it, no worries at all<3
Thanks lovely! Hope you enjoy it :)
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
You’ve barely flipped the sign in the front to open and begun restocking the tomatoes when the door opens. “Good morning,” you say automatically, a Pavlovian response to the chime of the bell.
“G’morning, lovely,” a familiar voice replies, the curly-haired boy flashing a smile at you as he stops below your ladder. “How’s your day going?”
“Well, it’s—” you look at the clock behind the counter “—quarter past seven, so…so far so good.”
“Happy to hear it.” His dark-haired, sharp-edged friend appears, startling you, and the curly-haired one holds up his hands, ready to steady you if you need it.
“Shit, Pads,” he says once it’s clear you’re not going to fall, “you don’t sneak up on someone on a ladder like that. You scared her.”
You give them both a tense smile. “It’s fine,” you say, mustering your best customer service voice (not an easy task with two of your best-looking customers standing so close to you). “I’m alright.”
“Sorry, dollface,” Pads says, sending you a half-sheepish grin in return. You don’t really understand these nicknames they have for each other, but embarrassingly, they’re the only names you know them by. The same group of three boys has been coming by your store for months, almost every day, and it’s reached a point where it’d be too awkward to ask for their names. They’re by far your favorite customers, but you only know them as what they call each other. There’s Pads, Prongs, and…
“Moony, weren’t you saying we’re out of eggs?” Prongs asks.
The tall one comes into view, already holding three cartons of eggs. “Yeah, but I can’t pick. What’s better, free-range or organic?”
“Free-range,” you say, feeling your face heat when they all look up at you. “I mean, it depends on your preference, but that’s what I’d get.”
There’s a beat of silence wherein you suspect the boys are exchanging silent communication and have to force yourself to keep your gaze on the tomatoes, and then, “Dove, I hate to trouble you, but would you mind helping us choose?” Moony’s voice is soft, unobtrusive but compelling. Of the three boys, you find him the easiest to talk to. Prongs oozes charm and Pads flirts like it’s breathing, but something about Moony’s calm demeanor is disarming. “You seem like you know a lot more than any of us.”
“I don’t know about a lot.” You shake your head dismissively, but you’re already starting down the ladder. You miss the last step, and warm hands grab your waist, lowering you cautiously to the floor.
“Easy,” Prongs murmurs.
Your heart’s in your throat, more from embarrassment than from the alarm at your near fall, and you understand why you’re blushing, but you don’t get why he is.
Your “thanks” comes out as more of a breath than a word, but he gifts you one of those dazzling smiles anyway. You turn to the egg cartons like they’re your lifeline, trying to steady your breathing while you read the labels.
“Um, yeah, so.” You clear your throat. “It’s pretty self-explanatory, but organic just means they give the chickens food without chemicals or anything, and free-range means they get a certain amount of space to roam in. I don’t think it changes how the eggs taste or anything, it just depends on what you think is most ethical.”
Moony nods, looking like he’s mulling this over, but you can’t stand to stay under his gaze any longer than that.
“Let me know if there’s anything else I can help you with!” you squeak, abandoning your ladder to go tidy behind the counter.
You’d think after months of these guys coming in you’d be used to them, but you’re not. They wind you every time. They’re obviously close, and you like to imagine them as housemates, maybe even lovers, with the way they seem to interact with such casual intimacy. So many of your customers barely look at you as they go about their business, and you don’t blame them for that, but these boys always have something to say to you. They’ll ask how your day is going, or whether you’ve tried the coffee shop down the road, or what you think of a new jacket. The way they talk amongst each other is so easy, and they talk with you like it should be easy too, but somehow you always manage to make it difficult for them. You’re too quiet, too nervous, too awkward. And yet they keep coming back.
You’re not allowed much reprieve before Pads is sauntering up to the counter, free-range eggs in hand. He sets them on the counter. “Thanks for the advice, sweetheart.”
“It’s no problem,” you say, distracting yourself with the manageable, routine tasks of your job. Scan the item, open the cash register, ask “Would you like a bag for that?”
“No,” he replies just as cordially, “but thank you.”
Before he goes, he tucks a bill into the tip jar on the edge of the counter, just like always, and just like always, you don’t really know what to do with yourself. It’s not like it’s ever a massive amount of money, but still. They’re only your age. Unless they’re all heirs to separate fortunes or something, they probably have about as much money to spare as you do. And it’s so, so unnecessary, especially considering they come here every day to buy one or two items, and then leave you a tip—for what? For ringing them up? For having limited knowledge of chicken ethics?
“You really don’t have to do that,” you blurt, shrinking in on yourself sheepishly when all three boys turn to look at you, nearly out the door. “I just mean, you guys come here all the time. You only ever get a couple of items, it’s really not necessary to leave a tip every time.”
The three boys look at you with varying degrees of bemusement, and Moony gives you a small smile. “We don’t mind,” he replies, at the same time as Pads says, “We like coming here.”
“I just…you shouldn’t feel obligated to leave a tip just because you need something from the corner store. I’m sure you live nearby, right? It’s not like you have a bunch of options in this area.”
The ensuing pause stretches a moment too long, and you tilt your head curiously as both Moony and Prongs begin to blush faintly. “Well,” the latter says, looking about the store with forced casualness, “actually…”
Pads isn’t so tactful. “We don’t live nearby,” he says, gray eyes frank and unflinching.
“We used to live around here,” Prongs supplies. “We just don’t anymore. Haven’t bothered to find a new store.”
“Oh.” You hadn’t taken them for creatures of habit, but what all do you know about them really? “Um, where do you live now?” you ask, then want to hit yourself. “Sorry, you don’t have to answer that, I don’t mean to intrude—”
“No, it’s okay,” Moony says, in his usual kind way. “We moved down onto twenty second street.”
Your mouth actually drops open. A giant O, and you can hear your mom telling you you’ll catch flies. Pads snickers at your reaction. But fuck, that’s nearly across town. It has to take them at least a half hour to get to your store from there, and that’s if they have a car. “I, um.” You shake your head, collecting yourself. “Sorry, that’s just so far. I used to live around there, actually.”
Prongs perks up. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, there’s a Tesco just a couple blocks down, on twenty third? And a Sainsbury’s and—oh! There’s a great local corner store not far from there, you should definitely check it out. They make their own bread.”
“Neat,” Moony says, nodding. “Thank you.”
You smile, happy to help even though you’ll be sad to see them go. “Of course, anytime.”
“Yeah, thanks gorgeous.” Pads grins at you, tucking another bill into your tip jar and ignoring your squawk of protest. “See you tomorrow.”
You blink, wondering if you’d just invented the previous conversation, but they’re all starting for the door, acting as though nothing is amiss.
Perhaps you’re feeling extra bold today, because you halt them for a second time. “But don’t you want to go somewhere more convenient?”
Prongs turns around, walking backwards towards the door. “Really appreciate the advice,” he says, “but we like this store just fine.” Moony shoots you a bashful sort of grin, and Pads winks—actually winks—over his shoulder. “So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
And, well, if they want to keep crossing town to come in every morning, far be it for you to stop them. You’d hate to drive off your best customers. “Yeah,” you echo. “See you tomorrow.”
emt marauders where they go away on a hokiday and reader gets sick but hides it so they can have fun?
cw: some phlegm talk? idk hardly a trigger but a little gross depending on your tolerance of all that
emt!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
“Ow,” Sirius whines.
“Sorry,” says Remus, clearly being as gentle as he can in smoothing sun lotion onto Sirius’ pinkened shoulders. “It wouldn’t hurt if you’d reapplied earlier.”
“No one else had to reapply,” he grumbles, then hisses as Remus moves to a new spot.
“You’re extra special.” James simpers, kissing Sirius’ cheek. “You can always hang back in the room if it hurts too much, you know.”
Sirius glares. “I’m not going to sit in the room by myself while you all play Baywatch and make out in the ocean.”
“We don’t do that.” Remus frowns.
“I’ll stay with you,” you offer. You hope your eagerness doesn’t sound as obvious to your boyfriends as it does to you.
Sirius softens some. “You don’t have to miss out for me, baby.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I’m not going to waste a day of holiday anyway,” he says decisively, just as Remus puts the cap back on the sun lotion. “Onward!”
You try not to deflate, resigning yourself to spending the afternoon as you spent the morning and all of yesterday before that: camped out under an umbrella, using toilet paper stolen from your hotel room as tissues when the boys aren’t looking.
“Can we stop for ice cream on the way?” you ask as you make your way out of the room.
“Again?” James laughs. “Angel, at this rate you’re going to be going through sugar withdrawal on the flight home.”
You shrug. “That place by the boardwalk is really good.”
You wouldn’t actually know. Your taste buds have gone rather lackluster since the onset of your cold; you wouldn’t know much difference if you got strawberry or bubblegum or peppermint candy cane. It makes your sore throat feel much better for a few minutes, though.
Ordinarily one of your boyfriends might push back against you eating sweets for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but because it’s a holiday you’re sitting on the sand finishing off a cone of pink something a short time later. Sirius has taken up residence by your legs, slowly covering them with sand to fulfill his vision of making you a mermaid tail. You’re trying not to wince as the sun worsens your headache.
You want to enjoy your trip, you really do, but the beach is just too hot and too bright and too coarse when what you really long for is your bed and a cup of honeyed tea. No one drinks honeyed tea at the beach. You wouldn’t even know where to begin to look for some.
“Do you think you ought to have scales?” Sirius asks.
You hum, furrowing your brows like you’re paying attention. “I think so. Most mermaids do, right?”
“Probably right.” Sirius leans forward, kissing you before you can stop him. “Brilliant girl.”
You think you’re a horrible girlfriend. Even when he does sweet things like that, you want him gone badly. Before Sirius got sunburned and took shelter under the umbrella with you, it was him and James in the water all day long and Remus lying next to you but too absorbed in his book to notice you occasionally sneezing or blowing your nose. With Sirius here, you can feel the buildup in your sinuses like a dam ready to break.
You know it would be easier to just tell your boyfriends you’re feeling under the weather. Easier for you, but not easier for them. They’d want to look after you, and they’d be giving up their own fun to do it. You won’t ruin their holiday because you’ve got the sniffles.
“Hey, if you lay back I can give you a mermaid torso too.”
You frown. “Don’t mermaids have human torsos?”
“Yeah, but with a seashell bra.”
Before you can come up with an excuse for why you don’t want to lie down and let Sirius cover you up to your neck in sand, James comes bounding over. He’s dripping wet dangerously near to Remus, who pulls his book closer with a reproachful look.
“No one wants to come out in the water with me?” James asks.
Sirius pouts at him. “You need a playmate, babe?”
“Yeah, I do actually.”
“Too bad. Get the sun to be nicer to me, and I’ll come out.”
“Why is that my job?” James looks to you, pleading. “Come on, lovie. You haven’t been in the water nearly this whole time. Do you really want to go home without having been in the ocean?”
Guilt eats at you. “I’m okay,” you say, apology in your tone. “I’m having a good time here.”
“Why don’t you go for a little while?” asks Remus. You hadn’t realized he was paying attention. “Just to say you did.”
“Don’t make me carry you out there,” James teases.
You try to smile before eating the last piece of your cone. “Okay,” you say, “just for a little while.”
“Fine.” Sirius throws up his hands as though he’s lost a long and onerous argument. “If you’re going to leave me here with boring old Remus” —he drops a wink, though Remus only rolls his eyes— “I’ll come too.”
James half drags you both to the water, you and Sirius grimacing at the sun for different reasons. The water isn’t terribly cold, but you shiver still, grateful when James pulls you close before starting to make his way out to a sandbar he found this morning.
Only, the sandbar seems to have gone away further than where he left it. James and Sirius don’t mind, laughing and splashing each other and trying to coax you into their games. You smile tersely, using all your energy to continue swimming. You’ve gone far enough out that the tips of your toes are barely skimming the sand, though when you turn around Remus and your umbrella really don’t appear so far away.
It’s because you’ve turned to look that the wave takes you by surprise.
You’re underwater in an instant, thrown head over heels and tumbling like a piece of litter caught in the tide. You choke on saltwater. It takes you what feels like forever to figure out which way is up, but then you push down on the sea floor, shoving yourself towards the surface.
You emerge coughing. Sea water streaming from your nose and mouth, tears welling in your eyes. It stings.
You hear the boys laughing, James’ warm hand landing between your shoulders. He rubs consolingly.
“Aw, sorry, lovie. It happens. That really took you down, huh?”
You try to laugh along with them, but it’s hard when saltwater seems to flow endlessly from your nose. You realize at the same time as James that it’s not all saltwater.
“Whoa. Needed a purge, did you?”
“Sorry.” You wipe your nose on your arm, rinsing it off in the water. You feel disgusting and embarrassed.
“No, don’t be.” James palms your face, smiling as he wipes the couple of tears that have escaped your eyes. “This is what saltwater does. It cleans out your nasal passages. It’s a good thing, getting all the muck out.”
You’re about to respond with something equally positive when you sneeze violently. More snot comes out of your nose.
“Shit, baby,” says Sirius. “You were really clogged up. You feeling sick or something?”
You think that maybe it could be a joke, but your guilty expression gives you away.
James blinks. “Really?”
“I’m fine,” you say. You know it’s not very convincing when you’re trying and failing to stop the globs of mucus leaving your nostrils.
“You’re sick.” Sirius sounds aghast. “For how long? Why didn’t you say?”
“A couple days,” you admit, “but it’s really not bad. I didn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.”
“Ruin everyone’s fun,” Sirius repeats, muttering. He pulls you into a hug, mindless of the snot getting on his shoulder. “You are the fun, baby.”
You nearly snort. “Not like this.”
“Did you ever think that maybe I like making you tea and bossing you around? Hm? Did it occur to you that that might be fun for me?”
“I think it’s occurred to all of us that being bossy is fun for you, babe,” says James. His smile has a pitying edge as he begins to shepherd you both back towards the shore. “Come on, let’s go.”
“Please don’t let my cold mess this up for you,” you plead.
Sirius gives you a stern look. “Shush.”
“Angel, how could it?” James asks in a nicer tone. “We’ll still be together, won’t we?”
~strength can be found in quiet, gentle places~ @sparkling-ariaria - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
