hi hii jade! Was wondering if you could do something sweet and fluffy w poly!marauders where reader wakes up in a very cozy and giggly mood 🤭 just some warm domestic love hehe
thank you for requesting! fem, 1k
Someone is kissing his waist. Sirius squirms in his dozing, not expecting it as those kisses travel up his naked chest. Your laugh is breathy and soft as you kiss his shoulder, your weight strewn across his side and arm, your hand finding his cheek.
Your fingers feel inhuman in the best way, like an angel. They spread across his face and neck as you hold him in place and kiss the skin where his neck meets his shoulder. “I love you…” you whisper, the ‘you’ turning long and slow like honey slipping down his front. “I wish you didn’t sleep so much.”
You kiss him again, and with that you’re out of bed. Out of the room before Sirius has time to gather his wits, but he does gather them, because he needs more of whatever that was.
What sort of sweetheart kisses somebody with such gentleness thinking they won’t remember? To press affection into him with want of nothing in return. He doesn’t even bother getting dressed, just scrubs at his sleep-swollen face and fishes the crusties from his eyes as he descends the stairs, numb-legged.
James is grabbing you by the hips, helping you up onto the counter. His curls bounce at the back of his neck. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks.
“Love, for sure.”
“I can see that. Eggs? Omelette?”
“Jamie, you can make anything. Actually, let me make you something–”
James pushes you further onto the top. “That’s okay, I’m cooking. I want to cook.”
Sirius isn’t insecure, exactly. He feels he’s quite handsome when he attempts to be, and he knows you like him whether he’s trying or not, but he doesn’t know if you want to be interrupted, either of you, and it’s his private agony to wonder what to do. Then you spot him over James’ shoulder and your eyes practically sparkle.
“Siri…” you sing-song, melodic as he crosses the kitchen linoleum to be with you and James. “Did I wake you? I’m sorry.”
Sirius touches James’ elbow with love but swoops in on you. “Did you wake me?” he asks, kissing your cheek, his arms working behind you to hold you as his lips travel downward. He isn’t half as sweet as you were, too busy trying to squeeze your torso against his and mould you into a perfect fit against him and under his arm to really think about what he’s doing.
“She did it to me, too.”
Sirius pulls your face into his neck and turns to James with a grin. “And Remus?”
“He was already awake. But she kissed him and did that thing where her eyes somehow look bigger and shiny and he had to go for a walk.”
“He didn’t have to go for a walk,” you mumble from Sirius’ neck. “He always walks on Saturday mornings. He’s just getting some herbs from the greenhouse.”
The back door opens on cue. Remus reappears with an aura about him much like yours, dropping the cut herbs on the cutting board, and stopping just shy of everyone to smile. “Did she do it to you, as well?” he asks.
James squeezes Remus’ face in his hand, a quick thank you for the herbs that has the latter turning pink.
“She waylaid me with kisses like a common whore.”
“Sirius,” James says scornfully.
“Me being the whore,” Sirius says. You laugh into his neck, seemingly with no inclination to leave the circle of his arms. “Will I ever see your face again?” he asks.
“It’s cozy here. I wish we’d stayed in bed.”
“We can go back.”
“After breakfast,” James says, popping an egg on the edge of the frying pan, breaking the shell one handed as he gives the sizzling oil a shake.
Remus not so subtly crosses the last of the space to slot himself between your right thigh and the counter. Sirius has the urge to cup his cheek as James had done —Remus has an extremely holdable face— but is distracted by your nose nuzzling the line of his throat.
“I love you,” you say.
Doesn’t matter who you’re talking to. All three boys melt.
“I’d like to do some really weird things to you,” Sirius says.
“Me too,” James agrees. “But we do need breakfast first.”
“No one is doing anything weird to me, it’s the weekend.” You beam as Remus laughs, seemingly your intention.
Sirius backs away to a polite but still close proximity. He isn’t selfish; being in a ‘strange’ relationship like this one is a lot of reading cues, and a lot of just plain old climbing into people's laps when you want them, because nobody can truly read minds. Yet Sirius can see that you’re in the sort of mood where everything you touch turns to gold and all the boys want a piece of you, and who is he to get in the way of that?
Well, he’s your boyfriend. He takes a kiss before he delegates himself to being herb-chopper, stealing glances of you from the corner of his eye.
You tease a strand of Remus’ hair behind his ear.
“Weird stuff is for weekdays only,” you’re murmuring. “What I want today is the real romantic stuff.”
“Then you can have it,” Remus murmurs back.
Sirius will happily be doing very romantic things to both of you after his omelette. James, too, if he’s so inclined.
the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.
summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.
pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.
wc. 4.1k
tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.
cws: brief mention of violence and blood.
note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.
i.
SIRIUS BLACK did not love you—not even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.
After Peter Pettigrew’s slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peter’s—or yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brother’s plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? He’d have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.)
He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peter’s body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for death—until the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for you—beholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mind—he could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked him—all of them.
He wanted—
He did not know what he wanted.
For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the deserts—mistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing there—Sirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlife—Sirius could care less. He’d have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks.
Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays.
No, he did not love you—even as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you.
“I didn’t know, Sirius,” you whispered—your voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. “Y-You have to believe me. If I knew—Gods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.”
He thought so, too.
“Did you know?” Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. “That when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had died—you would have been the last thing I saw.”
You had not replied.
Sirius grit his teeth. “Go,” he said, voice hoarse.
“Go!” he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strike—but it was him who scared you.
(But you had done so first.)
When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.
It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you.
It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brother—Sirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.)
But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love.
ii.
JAMES POTTER had no love for you—make no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trust—defiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harry—he thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddle’s bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the same—if you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.)
The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive.
But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it.
No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his being—that simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (“Poor thing,” McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the members’ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. “We can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .”)
What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb?
It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you lovelessly—hands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. “I’m sorry.”
It was a plea this time.
He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for it—but he could not love you.
Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love you—but he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (“You need sleep, dear,” the matriarch fussed. “There’s nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.”)
In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. “Wake up,” he demanded.
“Wake up or else you’re the traitor everyone thinks you are,” James hissed.
But his words held no heat—and his heart held no love for you.
Make no mistake about that.
Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parched—a hazy recollection of the weeks before—James made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himself—James had faced him once already, after all—threatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.
(But not to love.)
“We need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,” said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not care—he just wanted you safe.
(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brother’s keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his family’s sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, James’s heart and soul had known the truth all along.)
He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfoot’s way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you.
James did not love you.
But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you?
Not. Love.
iii.
REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in him—to wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No.
Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brother’s crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that.
“P-Peter?” you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on you—just as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, they’d wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestranges’ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain.
He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones.
“They. . .” Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? He’d rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. “They’re looking for him at the moment, love.”
One question lingered in your eyes: Why?
Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. “He was a traitor,” he spat like acid. “A traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. He’s no friend of ours. Not anymore.”
But Sirius knew—better than anyone else—how difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once they’ve gone.
“No. . .” You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms.
Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)
“Hush, love,” Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, he’d gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return.
“Don’t cry,” said James, a shadow cast over his frames. “Not for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get what’s coming to him.” He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. “I’ll make sure of it.”
They all would.
But not because they loved you.
It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungo’s could offer—as if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile.
It was the least he could do.
For failing to protect you.
But that was not love.
(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)
iv.
LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered.
And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screaming—Lily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a mother’s love was entirely different from any emotion she’d ever felt before.
This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly crying—screaming, even, every night—red-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at wit’s end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldn’t let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasn’t getting better.
“Lily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,” worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. “We can call for another Healer from Mungo’s to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .”
Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. “Might what, Mrs. Weasley?” She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a mother’s perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peter—then let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you.
She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (“I’m going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said I’d be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I can’t wait to tell Peter that I’ve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungo’s after graduation.”)
And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)
Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight.
“There is no one else I trust more with my life,” replied Lily.
And that was that.
Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side.
“Hello, love,” she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much.
“Is that. . .?” you croaked.
Lily nodded. “Harry, meet—”
One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever.
Lily’s smile wilted. “A friend.”
Later, she would place Harry in your arms—her little hope embraced by her dream—and Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence.
For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?
But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.
(She would die for Harry, yes—but she would live for you.)
v.
YOU did not love them, either.
The very idea, thought—insinuation—was absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friend—how much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, you’d never know.
Because you did not love them.
Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love.
Surely not.
Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lily—for all your history together—called you a friend.
The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common room—there was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawney’s talks of providence and destiny.
Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel?
Falling—not in love—for four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows.
Was love that unkind? That merciless?
Then, you did not want to love at all.
Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish.
You were no different.
You wanted.
Oh, how you yearned.
“I LOVE YOU.”
You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts.
“Quite a random thing to say, husband,” you murmured, leaning into his warmth. “What for?”
“Just because,” he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. “Well, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?”
You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. “I love you too, quite unfortunately.”
He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. “Let’s go home.”
–
“I love you.”
In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and love—James said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him.
And you had loved him fiercely for that.
“I’ll be home early tonight,” he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. “Wait for me?”
“Of course,” you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. “I love you. Be safe.”
-
“I love you.”
“Are you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?” you teased from where you laid on Remus’s chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remus’s chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice.
“Both,” he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skin—a miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch.
You hummed. “Then, I love you, too.” Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. “You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.”
And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remus’s smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.
“My heart, my light, my desire,” Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. “In vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
–
“I love you.”
Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. “But, please, go,” she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. “It’s a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.”
You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. “And I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,” you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. “Besides, Harry here has something to tell you. He’s made friends at school. One of them is Molly’s little one.”
“Oh, you did?” Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. “That’s lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.”
“That’s not all, Lily mine,” you began mischievously as Harry’s eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. “This friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.”
“You what?” Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread.
“Did you really, Harry?” James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. “Good boy. Father approves.”
“Of course you would,” Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. “And where are you all coming from?”
“Outside,” announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. “Sirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things that’ll make you feel better, Lily love.”
And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.
You loved them.
And they loved you.
a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!
Dude, I read the one where you talked about pregnant reader and you said it'll be a cute fic.... are you really gonna write it!!? Poly moonwater with pregnant reader!?? Will you? Will you? Will you!!?? Please, will you!!!!!???
well.....since you asked so nicely........👀
poly!moonwater x afab fem!reader who finds out she's expecting
CW: mentions of pregnancy, how people get pregnant (nothing discussed in detail, SFW and minors), reader is concerned the boys will leave her, reader wishes to keep the pregnancy, based off a discussion on this post.
Now that you knew, you weren’t sure how you could honestly feel surprised. In fact, now you were kind of surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner.
For all the claims that wizardingkind makes to be ahead of the curve in comparison to muggles, they don’t exactly have the best contraceptives.
Potions are fine if you remember to take them, the same can be said about charms, and condoms are a foreign concept to the likes of wizarding society.
You’d been feeling so incredibly exhausted lately, and it had gotten to the point that you couldn’t make it through the day without having at least one nap. It was when you’d actually fallen asleep at the dinner table that Regulus started to fret, though Remus found it terribly funny at the time.
Then came the aches and pains that never seemed to dull no matter what you did. You’d tried potions, over the counter muggle medications, hot baths, cold showers, lying flat, sitting up – nothing stopped the aches that seemed intent on plaguing you. Remus had even given you full body massages that, whilst absolutely heavenly, did absolutely fuck all.
“Maybe you’re coming down with something?” He’d queried, holding the back of his hand to your head. “Reg? Can you bring me the thermometer?”
You swore you heard whatever Regulus had been fussing with in the kitchen fall unceremoniously onto the counter in his haste to come over to you.
“Why? Is she poorly?” He asked severely, placing the back of his hand against your head like Remus had, only far more aggressively and to the point that it actually made a slapping sound as it made contact.
“Och, babe! If she wasn’t poorly yet she’ll surely have a concussion now!” Remus chided, pushing Regulus’ hand away and cradling your head protectively to his chest.
Needless to say, the thermometer didn’t pick up a fever either.
So, when you woke up the next morning and spent most of the day hunched over the toilet bowl, Reg insisted you see a Healer.
Once the Healer started to ask the more...pointed questions, the pieces all started to click together in your mind.
Are you sexually active? Yes.
When was your last menstrual cycle? They weren’t exactly regular so... you supposed it had been late.
Any nausea? Yes.
Fatigue. Uh-huh.
Body or muscle pain? Fuckin’ hells.
So now you were standing outside of yours, Remus', and Regulus’ shared flat with a copy of your test results in your hand wondering what in the buggering fuck you were going to do now.
Both Regulus and Remus were pretty set on not wanting children of their own. They loved children, and they were both really good with children (in their own, very different ways); but with Regulus’ past, his family's reputation, and “the sodding inbreeding, amour; I’d be surprised if it didn’t come out with everything upside down and backwards”, he was sure that it’d be better for everyone if he stayed childless.
And Remus.
Poor, sweet Remus.
Too ashamed of his own affliction to a) pass it onto his own biological child or b) force any child to live with the knowledge that they had a ‘monster’ for a father.
And that was that.
Children just wasn’t in the cards for you three.
Yet here you were...
Suddenly, you weren’t just worried; you were terrified.
They didn’t want this, they never wanted this. They had always been clear about that. They could have been more careful to prevent this, but here you were.
Here you were.
There you stood; outside of your shared flat, unable to bring yourself to open the door.
They were going to leave you; they’d leave you, surely. Yeah?
They didn’t want this.
They wouldn’t want you.
Fuck.
“For the love of Circe, I’m jus- Salazar’s saggy balls, Y/N!” Regulus said as he stumbled in the doorway, startled after having been in the middle of shouting something over his shoulder only to nearly collide with you. “How long have you been standing out here?”
You stared dumbly at him; you weren’t ready to go inside. You weren’t ready to have this conversation.
Too bad.
“Not long?” You stated in the form of a question. He furrowed his brows and looked you up and down before offering you his hand up the two steps to your doorway.
“I was just opening the doors and windows; you’re lovely boyfriend tried to make us dinner.” He explained with a fond eyeroll, stepping into the flat and squinting through the smoke flooding the living space.
“Yeah, yeah. Last time I try something new in the kitchen.” Remus muttered as he threw away an entire baking dish.
“What was it supposed to be again, sweetheart?” Regulus asked with a mischievous smirk you knew he picked up from spending too much time with Remus, Sirius, and James.
“Just never you mind, you tosser. Hi dove.” He muttered to Regulus, though his tone changed dramatically once he turned to you, his eyes softening as he took in your form.
“How was your appointment?”
Your appointment? Your appointment. The appointment you just had. The appointment where you found out. The appointment where you were told you were pregnant. That appointment. The appointment you were still holding the slip for. The slip with your results. The slip with your pregnancy test results. The slip with your positive pregnancy test results.
That appointment.
“I-”
And you took off to the bathroom, slammed the door behind you and heaved into the toilet.
There was a gentle knock on the door as you sat back against the tub with your knees to your chest, trying to catch your breath. “Dove?”
Another knock.
“Okay, we’re coming in.” Came Regulus’ more authoritarian voice through the door before it slowly opened to allow both of them entrance.
Remus had to fold himself a number of times in order to sit on the bathroom floor beside you whilst Reg flushed the toilet (while you flushed in embarrassment) and closed the lid to sit on it, facing you and Remus.
“Did you get any answers from the healer?” Regulus asked quietly.
You smothered a humourless scoff and nodded your head in the affirmative.
The boys let you sit there with your head laid back onto the edge of the tub and your eyes closed before Regulus couldn’t seem to handle it anymore.
“And? Are you... okay?”
You took in a deep breath and pulled that paper - now crumpled within your fist - cast a gemino duplication spell on it and handed one to each boy.
You curled yourself inward and rested your forehead on your knees, reminding yourself to breathe even though you knew these two men now knew that you were expecting, that you were expecting their child.
It could have been moments, or it could have been hours; but it was Remus who broke the silence.
“Pregnant?” He whispered on an exhale.
You cautiously raised your head to look over at him by your side, noticing that his eyes were shining with unshed tears.
You brought him to tears.
He never wanted this.
He wouldn’t want you.
“You’re really pregnant?” He asked again.
You nodded and swallowed around your gag reflex; unsure whether the nausea was nerves or...pregnancy related.
“You’re...” Reg started, still looking down at the paper in his hands. “You’re... gonna have a baby?” He whispered in awe.
You felt your brows furrow when you heard an emotional chuckle from beside you.
You turned back to see Remus wiping tears away from his eyes as he looked back down at his own paper in front of him.
“We’re gonna have a baby?” Remus corrected, nudging Regulus’ calf with his foot.
“Wait, you... you guys aren’t upset?” You asked urgently. Both boys snapped to attention to look at you in various degrees of worry or horror.
“Upset!?” Remus gawked as Regulus started shaking his head emphatically.
“Why? Why would you be worried of such a thing?”
You shook your own head and looked down at your hands as you began picking at your nailbeds. “Neither of you were ever interested in having kids of your own.”
“Oh, dovey.” Remus cooed and quickly pulled you into his side. “When was the last time we talked about this, huh? When we first graduated Hogwarts? I think we could manage a kid now, yeah?”
“Or four.” Regulus added, causing you and Remus to straighten up significantly.
“Four!?” You and Remus chorused.
“Since when did you want kids?” You questioned incredulously.
“The moment I saw you hold Harry for the first time.” He answered without hesitation.
“Ha ha.” Remus taunted. “Mine was watching her shop for Lily’s baby shower.”
“What!?” You nearly screeched.
Regulus sighed before ultimately moving to sit on the floor on your other side; you knew this was very serious considering he was a notorious germ freak.
“I was always a little afraid of having kids of my own, you’re right. I mean, you’ve seen the way that Sirius and I turned out, yeah?”
You and Remus scoffed at that.
“I just hated the idea of ever being anything like my parents, because that’s all I know. Or I guess, that was all I knew. But... I think you guys have taught me an awful lot.”
You watched Regulus’ stormy grey eyes as they moved between you and Remus. “You’ve both taught me to slow down, to be more patient, to see the fun in the mess and the burnt food and the change of plans. You’ve taught me that I won’t perish if I sit on the bathroom floor for a minute. And, I think most importantly, you’ve taught me how to love. And when I see how happy Harry is, I realize that’s all a kid really needs, yeah? Love?”
“You... you really want a child? This child?” You asked in a whisper.
Regulus’s face turned heartbroken for a moment. “You’re child? Absolutely, amour. There was never any doubt.”
“I always thought I’d pass on only the worst parts of me to any child.” Remus added, turning your attention to him. “But I find I’m only ever my best self when I’m around the two of you. And any child that’s even a fraction of either of you, well, I’d be one... one lucky man to call them mine.” He whimpered the end of his sentence before breaking out into a sob.
“Oh, Rem.” You murmured empathetically, pulling his larger frame into your side. He chuckled through happy tears as he moved one of his hands tentatively to your abdomen.
“A baby...” Regulus breathed, looking back at the paper in his hands. “We’re really going to have a baby?”
You and Remus exchanged a shy glance, understanding seeming to pass between the two of you before you both turned back to Regulus.
Hiiii! I have a request, poly!marauders x animagus!fem reader (you decide what type of animal) and everytime it’s full moon she turn into an animagus and watches hboyfriends (kinda lurks around secretly) as they take care of Remus. The thing is they don’t know that she’s an animagus, and what would their reaction be when they found out?
(You’re an amazing writer and your fics makes my day🫶🏻)
this was so sweet - thanks for your request and for your patience in me getting this to you!
please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.
poly!marauders x fem!reader who's a secret animagus
Prongs was very confused.
This was the third moon in a row that he, Padfoot, Wormtail, and Moony had been romping through the woods when Moony seemed to get caught up on something.
He wasn’t sure what had changed; they always followed the same routine: transform in the shack, let Moony out, follow their trail where they can run (and roll, in Moony & Padfoots case) down a large hill, chase each other along the river bank, drink from the edge of the Black Lake, and slowly make their way back to the shack for Moony’s transformation.
Except, once again, they seemed to be caught up under this unassuming tree.
Prongs looked to his canine companion who offered what he could only assume as a doggy shoulder shrug as Moony yipped and stood on his hind legs in an attempt to see through the lowest bows of the tree.
The first time this happened, Moony almost took one of Padfoot’s legs off for trying to encourage him to leave the tree.
The second time, Moony could only be convinced to leave as his bones actually started stretching and reorganising themselves as the transformation started.
What was even stranger, though? After both of those moons, Remus woke up in a panic asking where you were and if you were ‘okay’.
It took Sirius shifting back into Padfoot and laying across Remus’ chest in order to provide grounding pressure to his chest before they could get him to calm back down and convince him that you were safe.
James hated seeing this side of Remus; the side of him that none of them had seen since before the Marauders told him that they knew his secret. He felt horribly paranoid, reclusive, and entirely too guilty.
Guilty for daring to love you even though he felt you deserved better. Guilty for allowing you to love a werewolf. Guilty for not telling you that you were in love with a werewolf. And guilty for lying to you about it every month.
Sirius and James hated the secrecy too - but it wasn’t their secret to tell. They loved you, but they couldn’t take away Remus’ autonomy when it came to his infliction.
But, tonight - the third moon in a row of this nonsense from Moony - and Prongs had had it.
Prongs bowed his head and scooped Wormtail up into his antlers, hoisting him up to the lowest branch of this damned tree Moony was fucking obsessed with and encouraged him to investigate.
Moony let out a little whine and a huff as he sat and watched the little rat disappear through the bows of the grand pine.
A squeak alerted the two animagi and one werewolf to trouble when the top branches began to move and out flew a large black crow with a rat trapped in its talons.
The crow gently glided to the ground about ten feet away from the trio and let go of the rat who quickly ran up Prong’s leg and situated himself in the safety of his antlers.
Padfoot - ever protective of his pack of misfit toys animals - began stalking toward the offending bird, sure that Moony was just as excited as he was about this impromptu hunt. It wasn’t their favourite - it was not a rabbit - but it would do.
However, much to both Padfoot and Prongs’ surprise, Moony quickly leapt in front of the crow and grumbled warningly at Padfoot, going so far as to bare his teeth at his pack member.
Padfoot tilted his head in confusion at Moony as if perhaps the situation would make more sense at a 45 degree angle, but it appeared that it made no difference when Pads ultimately huffed and turned back towards Prongs.
Prongs wanted to laugh - but deer stags couldn’t do that - so he let out a ‘bleat’ as the crow flew above Padfoot and teasingly landed on his head.
Padfoot, ready for a fight, turned to nip at the bird who simply jumped back up and hovered just out of reach of the dog.
Prongs was suddenly even more confused.
What crow willingly releases a plump, likely juicy, rat from its talons instead of enjoying it as their meal? And what crow willingly teases a large werewolf sized dog in front of his werewolf friend?
This one, apparently.
And Moony - usually very possessive and exclusionary when it came to the other creatures they came across in the Forbidden Forest - seemed not only accepting of this new addition, but really quite pleased with it.
But it was time to go if Moony’s flinches and groaning was any indication; the transformation would happen soon.
Padfoot moved towards Moony and affectionately nudged him with his shoulder, hoping to encourage him towards the Shrieking Shack.
Moony seemed to understand that he ought to go, but couldn’t bring himself to leave without his newest friend.
Somehow - to Prongs’ absolute astonishment - the crow seemed to understand what the hold up was and flew over to situate itself on Prongs’ antler.
Prongs - far too tired after a night full of romping with a werewolf directly after a full day of classes - acquiesced to being a glorified chauffeur for his smaller friends and led the way to the shack.
The crow sat quietly on the top of the old fireplace as the Marauders went about business as usual.
Padfoot convinced Moony to curl up on the bed so he would wake up at least semi-comfortably, whilst Prongs used his antlers to encourage a blanket up around Moony so he wouldn’t wake up completely nude, and Peter ran back towards the castle to give the lovers some privacy.
Once Moony returned fully to Remus, Prongs and Padfoot took a moment to shift back to their own human forms and started up on the healing process, completely forgetting about their interloper.
With a groan, Remus came to after James encouraged healing potion down his throat.
“I’m sorry, Moons.” He apologised in a whisper as he handed the empty vial to Sirius’ waiting hand.
“Where is she?” Remus croaked.
“Where’s who, babe?” Sirius asked, sharing a concerned glance with James.
Remus choked in his attempt to respond and both boys began shushing him. “Dovey.” He finally got out.
“She’s at the castle, Moons…she’s safe.” James placated.
“No.” Remus argued. “She was there.”
James turned to see if Sirius had any idea how to handle their boyfriend’s insanity when he spotted it behind Sirius.
The crow.
“You.” He whispered in awe, causing Sirius to whip his head around.
The crow hopped down from the mantle of the fireplace and landed gracefully on the floor before it spun and grew back into you.
“Dovey.” Remus groaned. James turned to see there were tears in Remus’ eyes, though he knew not what for.
“Hiya Moons.” You answered shyly, shooting guilty glances at Sirius who was still staring at you in shock and to James who was looking frantically between you and Remus.
“It’s been you?” James asked incredulously.
“How long have you known?” Remus asked at the same time.
You smiled sadly at Remus and knelt down beside him. “Long enough to become an animagi?”
“You sneaky little witch.” Sirius finally let out with a breath, sitting down unceremoniously at the foot of the bed to look at you.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad.” You begged quickly; eyes darting nervously between your three boyfriends.
“You’re worried about us being mad?” Sirius asked disbelievingly.
“Angel, you’ve caught us sneaking around and lying to you.” James teased with a certain level of sincerity, nudging you with his shoulder.
“Do you hate me?” Remus whispered, eyes still trained steadfast on you.
You looked at him like he had grown three heads.
“Remus, I love you. That’s why I’m here.” You pressed severely.
Remus laughed out a sob and covered his face with his hands.
“I’m sorry, but what the fuck were you thinking?” Sirius asked suddenly.
“What?” You responded warily.
“Casually inserting yourself into a werewolf pack! What would you have done if Moony hated you?” He barked, flinging a hand towards Remus’ general direction.
You scoffed derisively and shot Remus a look like ‘can you believe this guy?’ “I’m impossible not to love, Sirius. Do keep up.”
Your cheek earned you a scoff before Sirius was launching himself at you and the two of you fell to the floor, disturbing layers of dust and causing the particles to dance through the air.
“You’re so lucky you're cute.” Sirius said in faux contempt as he peppered your jaw and neck with kisses.
James sighed in relief as he looked back over at Remus who was watching the two of you with a look so full of fondness, James was surprised he couldn’t see hearts pouring out of his eyes.
“You okay, Rem?” James asked him quietly, pulling one of his hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to his palm.
“Perfect, Jamie. Just perfect.” Remus said with a content smile and a single happy tear trailing down his cheek.
hi my love i’m obsessed with all your works and this is my first request!
poly! marauders and cuteness aggression. like maybe reader coming home a bit tipsy from girls night and just seeing her boys and losing it. grabbing remus’ face and just kissing all over his cheeks, gnawing on james’ biceps and playing with sirius’ hair or tracing his tattoos.
Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!
cw: alcohol
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 589 words
You leave a trail of things down the hallway that you swear you’ll pick up in the morning. Your bag, both shoes, your jacket. There’s no time to put any of it in its proper place, not when you know your boyfriends are all cozy and waiting for you in your bed. Everything else is secondary.
The moment you get your eyes on them, it’s already too much. Remus is reading while Sirius chats to a nearly-asleep James, and you don’t know whether to scream or hug them or burst into tears. One feels more socially acceptable than the rest.
A grin spreads over Sirius’ face as you crawl clumsily up the bed, so you go to him first.
“Hi, baby.” You smear a kiss over his lips, burrowing your hands in his lovely, silken hair. It smells like his conditioner, smokey and heady and just slightly sweet. You wish you could snort it up into your nose like a drug.
“Hi, baby,” Sirius says back at you, amused. “Did you have a good night?”
“No,” you lament, though you think you might have enjoyed it at the time.
Impulsively, you move to Remus, clambering across James to get on your quietest boyfriend’s lap. He’s already set down his book, so there are no barriers to your whims as you take his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks up and kissing them all over. You think you can hear the other boys laughing somewhere beyond your lovesick haze. Remus’ skin grows warmer with each ardent press of your lips.
“None of you were there,” you go on. It’s impossible to articulate the full extent of this injustice. “You were here, being so lovely and perfect and lovely without me.”
“That’s lovely twice.” Remus seems to recover somewhat from your surprise attack. His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, a touch just for touch’s sake. “How much have you had, dove?”
You make a petulant, whiny sound, burying your face in his neck. There will never be enough of them, your lovely boyfriends. Or maybe it’s that they’re enough, but you just can’t get enough. Regardless. You’re doomed to remain just on the brink of satisfaction.
“Enough to know that I missed you a lot,” you say pitifully.
“Awe, babydoll.” James’ laughter is at odds with his compassionate tone. “Come here, m’love.”
This sounds like a grand idea to you. You wish they’d simply all squish together so you could lay your affections on them one by one, in rounds.
James puckers his lips as you approach, readying for a kiss, and so is taken entirely aback when you forgo his face entirely.
“Oh, well,” he says as you suck a hickey on his bicep. “I feel properly objectified.”
You’re too pleased with yourself to be sorry. He flexes playfully, eliciting a string of giggles from you as you latch on tighter.
“Do you think she’s been drugged?” you hear Remus ask.
“Dunno.” James’ tone is fond. His big hand lands on the back of your head.
“No, I sort of get it,” says Sirius. The mattress dips slightly, and then you feel him plant a wet kiss on your shoulder. “You just need to get it out of your system, yeah, sweetness?”
You hum in affirmation. You wrap your arms around James’ middle, squeezing tight.
“I love you so much,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m gonna kill you.”
Your boyfriend’s frame rumbles with laughter. “Okay, lovie,” he says indulgently. “You go right ahead.”
Could I request poly!marauders and fem!reader when one of the boys cries during a sad film ? IMO, I think James would be the one to shed tears. I wouldn’t put it pass Sirius though haha. If this isn’t for you please disregard and apologies!
Thanks for requesting lovely <3
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 369 words
Your throat clogs, and you press your lips together, keeping your eyes on the screen as the scene plays out. It’s a heart-wrenching one. An elderly man bent over a hospital bed, choking back tears as he fumbles through saying goodbye to the granddaughter he never should have outlived.
You’re curled up against Sirius’ side, his hand that had been flirting with the hem of your shirt gone still as the emotion of the scene sinks into you both. Your heart feels heavy.
On your other side, the softest murmur. “Jamie.”
You turn, and James has a fist pressed to his mouth. Remus is palming the back of his head, lips nestled in his dark curls and eyes somewhere between compassionate and amused. The light from the screen paints molten colors in your boyfriend’s glossy eyes.
“James,” you let out a little laugh. You change positions, twisting to wrap your arms around his neck. Your cheek slides against his on the way, wetness transferring. “Honey, it’s okay.”
“It’s just,” James’ voice is fraught, “old people, you know?”
“Fucking old people,” Sirius agrees. He sounds a bit fragile himself.
“Jamie, we’ve seen this before.” Remus’ voice is still muffled by James’ hair, but you can hear the smile in it. Can picture it, small and bemused. “You already know how it ends.”
James’ shoulders give a tiny hitch under your arms. You hug him harder, the pressure behind your own eyes worsening empathetically. “I know,” he squeaks out.
“James,” you plead.
“Oh shit, not you too.” The sadness is gone from Sirius’ tone, pushed out to make room for humor. The sadistic, heartless kind, you suppose. Remus chuckles softly as his hand comes to rest atop your head.
“Sorry, angel,” James chokes out, his arms coming around your back. He rubs between your shoulder blades as you both wet each other’s necks with tears.
“You’re such a couple of softies,” Sirius teases.
“Shut up,” you say, turning your head to glare at him. “You were sad too.”
“Yeah, but Rem and I have to keep it together.” He grins, totally unintimidated by your glowering as he kisses you on the cheek. “We’ve gotta take care of our crybabies, don’t we?”
hihi mae!! in honor of the season, could i request reader convincing bodygaurd!james to carve pumpkins together. and it’s basically just him on the brink of cardiac arrest bc reader is using the biggest butcher knife possible, like an absolute menace, and he’s 100% convinced she’s gonna saw her fingers off lol. thx for considering ♡
Thank you lovely!!
bodyguard!James x fem!reader ♡ 814 words
James has half a mind to find you a plastic knife and let you make do with that. It might take you a while longer, yeah, but at least he wouldn’t have to feel every muscle in his body tense each time you stab the knife you’ve picked through your pumpkin.
“I thought you were doing a cat,” he says, watching you push another piece out from what will be your pumpkin’s mouth.
“I am.”
“Why does it have fangs?”
“It just felt like it should.” You shrug. “Sort of spookier that way, right? Maybe it’s a vampire cat.”
“And here I thought it was going to be cute.”
You smile at him. “No, Jamie. That’s yours.”
With all his attention on making sure you don’t slash yourself, James has made pitifully little progress on his own pumpkin. He’s only managed to cut out the nose, but when he’s done it’s going to be a classic, smiling jack-o-lantern, except with hearts for eyes. You’d beamed and called it fitting when James told you his plan. He’s been ruminating over what you could have meant by that ever since.
For his own project he’s using a small paring knife, mostly because he’d hoped you’d follow his example (what wishful thinking that was) but also because James doesn’t tend to do well with precision and he didn’t see a big knife helping matters. You, however, have selected what may be the largest knife he’s ever seen. He can’t comprehend what a beast that size would even be necessary for in a kitchen, much less for carving a pumpkin. Your unskilled grip on the handle makes the hairs on his arms stand on end.
“I think we ought to find you a different tool,” he tries again.
“James, you worry too much.” You roll your eyes, hardly looking as you shove your knife through the flesh of your pumpkin. He flinches. “This one is working fine.”
“Right, I just feel like—” You do it again. James worries he’s developing an eye twitch. “—like possibly I’m not doing my job by letting you handle a weapon like that.”
“It’s not a weapon, it’s a kitchen knife.”
Again, not a clue what in the kitchen could require a knife that large.
“I think its capacity for injury is the same regardless, angel. Let me have it, please? That way I can keep working here and you can keep all of your fingers.”
“You need to chill out,” you say, unnervingly serene for someone who seems to James on the precipice of life-changing injury. “This knife is the perfect size for how big I want my eyes to be. If I have to saw using another one, they won’t look as clean.”
“Is that really worth risking your hand for?”
“Yes. I want the triangles to look nice when I stick them onto the top as its ears.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“With toothpicks.”
Right. A more moderate risk of injury, for sure, but James is now too high-strung to imagine anything other than disastrous outcomes between you and sharp objects. He imagines you skewering one of your lovely fingertips on a toothpick, the surprised look on your face when it happens. His own heart bursting straight out of his chest from overexertion.
“Maybe I could do that part for you,” James suggests weakly.
“Shit.” You’re looking into your hollow pumpkin. “The eye won’t come out.”
“Let me try.”
“No, I’ve got it.”
Before he can stop you, you’re sticking your knife inside your pumpkin. It comes spearing out the other side a moment later, the triangle of one eye impaled on its tip. James chokes on a gasp as you stop it within inches of your abdomen.
“There,” you say satisfiedly.
James makes a strangled sound. “No,” he says, seizing your wrist and carefully removing the knife from your hand. “No, I can’t do it. We’re swapping.”
“What?” You look at him with wide, wounded eyes. It’s adorable, compelling even, but James won’t allow himself to budge. “But your knife is so lame.”
James guffaws. He feels half delirious. This is it, he thinks. His love for you has finally driven him insane.
“It’s not lame.”
You pout. “It’s tiny.”
“Sweetheart.” James sets the knife down to hold your face in both hands. You go still with surprise. “If you stab yourself with your giant knife, I won’t be around to get fired. I’ll die of heartbreak. Do you understand?”
You roll your eyes at him, but you’re softening. “You really like my hands that much?”
“I like all of you. In tact. You’re perfect as you are.”
“Fine, whatever.” You pull your face from his grasp, picking up the smaller knife. “I know you secretly just wanted to be the one with the bigger knife, though.”
“Yeah, you’ve caught me. Can’t get anything past you.”
hi lovely I was wondering if you could do a fic about a touch starved reader where she’s just really needy and wants to be held but is nervous to ask? and it’s just very fluffy and sweet, thank you so much!!
Hi sweetheart, thanks for requesting!
modern au
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words
Sirius is cozied up between James’ legs on the couch, tuned into his phone while James watches the football match on TV, and you’re oozing a jealousy so tender it hurts.
It’s silly, but you can’t help thinking about how warm they must both be. James has one of his forearms draped over Sirius’ chest, their hands linked casually. Sirius’ bony, pale fingers intertwined with James’ thicker ones. They look comfortable and at ease with each other in a way that feels so out of reach. You wish you could join them, but they look too happy like this. You couldn’t ask them to move.
“Dove?”
You blink, focussing back on Remus. “Sorry?”
“I asked how your meeting went.” A bit of concern digs into the space between his brows as he continues stirring the pot of soup on the stove. You give him a little smile, and it melts away.
“Oh, not bad at all.” Today you had your first team meeting at your new job. You’d been nervous leading up to it, worried your boss would ask you to introduce yourself or present something, but it had blown over smoothly. “I was stressed for nothing, I didn’t even have to talk.”
“Mm, good for you.” Your boyfriend gives you a knowing look, well aware that your shyness can sometimes get in the way of you sharing your ideas. “I’m glad it went well. I hope you start to feel comfortable enough to talk soon, though.”
“Maybe,” you say agreeably, moving closer to him so you can rest the side of your head on his bicep. It’s an awkward sort of lean, but the most you’ll allow yourself.
You can sense Remus’ confusion even without him making a sound. You know that if you pulled back to look, you’d find a familiar little indent hovering above his nose. “Tired?” he asks.
Your heart gives a pitiful throb. Remus isn’t the most tactile of your boyfriends, but it would take so little for him to reach up with his free hand, wrap it around your shoulders. That’s all you want.
“No,” you reply, though you do sound tired, voice soft and breathy, “just love you.”
“Sweetheart.” His voice is sticky with affection, and your heart balloons with hope. You feel his arm shift underneath you. His hand comes up to hold your cheek, keeping you steady while he presses a brief kiss to the top of your head. The hand falls away. “I love you too.”
It feels ungrateful and a bit traitorous to feel so dejected after hearing those words, but you do. You leave your head where it is, heavy with a loneliness that’s completely invalid, while Remus continues stirring the soup, humming now.
“Look at them.” Sirius’ voice gets your attention from the living room, dripping with faux rancor. He’s glowering at you over the top of the couch. James begrudgingly turns from the match to look at him, half curious what he’s on about. “They’re being all ooey gooey in the kitchen without us, can you believe it?”
You sort of want to laugh at the irony.
“You were given the opportunity to join,” Remus reminds him mildly. “I said I needed help chopping, and only y/n came to my aid.”
“Yes, well I didn’t know there’d be declarations of love involved,” says Sirius, never one to be made to feel guilty.
James, on the other hand, looks a tad penitent.
“I didn’t hear you,” he says helplessly, climbing out from under Sirius. “Do you still need an extra pair of hands?”
“No, almost done now,” Remus says, but James comes anyway. He peers over Remus’ other shoulder, pecking him apologetically on the cheek.
“Smells great,” he notes appreciatively. He leans across Remus to see your face, grinning in that way of his that makes it seem like someone’s brought the sun inside. “Thanks for taking up the mantle.”
You make a quiet sound of amusement, and James’ smile fades. You hate yourself for doing it to him, even though it wasn’t intentional.
“You alright, lovie?” He scrutinizes your expression. You’re reminded that James is often more perceptive than you give him credit for. “You look a bit sad.”
“No, I’m good.” You give him a smile. Remus’ shoulder shifts under your head as he looks down, trying to see you.
James appears unconvinced. He moves behind Remus, over to where you stand. “Hug?” he offers.
God, you feel like you could cry. That wouldn’t be good.
“Sure,” you say, as if it isn’t the deepest, most desperate desire of your heart.
You turn into his arms, and he wastes no time in enveloping you. James gives the best hugs. Somehow, intuitively, he always knows just the amount of pressure you need, when to squeeze your back and when to rub it, exactly the right time to let go. It feels like he’s pouring love into you through his touch. He sets his chin on top of your head, and you swallow a happy sigh.
“I can tell something’s bothering you,” he says quietly. He sweeps a hand up and down your spine, and you shiver, pressing your palms into his back. He does it again. “Talk to me, angel.”
“I’m good,” you promise him. It’s a lot more truthful now.
Still, you can feel James’ dissatisfaction. He cups the back of your neck, thumb brushing the baby hairs at your nape. “Anything I can do?”
You clutch him to you, the fabric of his sweatshirt bunching in your hands. It smells like laundry detergent. “Just this, please.”
“Aww,” Sirius croons, and it’s not until then that you realize the other two boys have been silent. Probably worried about you. You feel instantly sheepish. “I get it. You just wanted some love, didn’t you babydoll?” You look at him over James' shoulder, and predictably, he’s insufferably smug. He sees you watching and pats the top of the couch invitingly. “Come here, sweet thing, let me fix you up.”
“I think I’m doing just fine,” James teases, but his grip loosens, one hand remaining on the small of your back as he walks you over to the couch.
“Yeah, but we can share.” Sirius rolls his eyes. He grabs for you the second you’re close enough, hauling you up against him while James flops down on your other side. “What game are you playing, standing over there and looking all forlorn?” he asks you, peppering your cheek with kisses. A startled giggle spurts out of you, but he remains completely serious. “If you wanted a cuddle, all you had to do was ask.”
“It seemed dramatic,” you admit, though now that Sirius has got your face squished in his hand and James’ arm is draped around your shoulder, your silence feels a bit dramatic too. “And kind of needy.”
“Babe.” Sirius is heartbroken, pulling back to give you a horrified look. “Being needy is my thing. I hardly think asking for a hug could challenge my hard-earned reputation.”
“You’re not needy,” you say warmly, but Sirius only rolls his eyes as if you’re being difficult.
“Anyway, wanting a hug is hardly needy,” James chimes in. “I’m always happy to give you one.”
“Same here,” Remus says from the kitchen, sounding a bit apologetic. “Though I wish you would have asked, dove. I can’t read minds like Jamie can.”
Your chest tightens guiltily. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he says easily. “Listen, dinner’s almost done, but want to put on a film to watch while we eat? I could make it up to you with a cuddle.”
“That sounds great,” you reply thankfully, and James grabs the remote to begin going through the movies while Sirius gets comfy against the side of the couch. He lifts your legs to drape them over his.
“Good luck getting you away from me,” he murmurs conspiratorially. James chuckles, arm a welcome weight around your shoulders. “I’m not giving you up.”
hi bae, can i pls request reader who’s recovering from eating problems and is gaining a bit of weight and gets insecure with poly marauders but they just find her more attractive cause of it
fighting demons rn
🫶🏻🫶🏻
Hi sweetheart, apologies for the wait! I was hunting your demons with a crossbow. Thanks for requesting <3
cw: implied past disordered eating, body image issues
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words
Your favorite high waisted jeans used to sit just so on your hips, practically hanging off your hip bones. Now, they hug your waist, which you try to reason is where they were always meant to be, but it feels so wrong on your body. Everything about your body feels wrong. You jam your fingers in the waistband, and there’s little give. You’re beginning to wonder if you should even bother with these, when you know you’ll eat and they’ll start to bite into your midsection like a punishment. But they’re your favorite jeans.
James comes through on his way to the bathroom with a careless “Hi, lovie,” and you drop your hands from where they’ve been pinching critically at your waist.
“Hi,” you echo halfheartedly.
James pauses, pivoting slightly to give you a curious look. You have an out here, you know. You could fake a smile or feign confusion, and he’d let it go. Perhaps he’d be keeping a closer eye on you today, but James will never push the issue if you don’t feel like talking.
Maybe it’s the option that makes you think it might be nice to externalize.
“I’ve gained weight,” you say plainly. There.
James’ eyebrows shoot up, more surprised at the abruptness of your complaint than the complaint itself. “Well, I should hope so. You’ve been doing really well lately.”
“It’s just,” you sigh, “my jeans don’t fit.”
He gives you a quick look-over, then an odd sort of smile. “They look great to me. Do they not feel right?”
You feel your mouth quirk to the side. A dissatisfied pinch. “They used to feel different.”
“That’s alright, sweetheart,” he says, going into the bathroom. You hear the satisfying schwick of his deodorant cap sliding off. “Do they still sell those same ones?”
You give a tentative nod as he emerges from the bathroom again, and he shrugs at you, a funny scrunch at the bridge of his nose.
“Then get them in a bigger size.”
Not what you want to hear. Not necessarily his fault, either. James doesn’t get it. How could he? The only time James’ body doesn’t look like it was drawn into a superhero comic is the few weeks of off-season where he doesn’t train as hard and gets a bit of pudge around his middle. And even then, it’s a very lovable pudge. James Potter wouldn’t know insecurity if it slept in his bed every night. (Which it does. You do.)
“That’s not the point,” you say, and despite your best intentions your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “I just—I liked how these ones looked on me before. Don’t you think I look…different?”
The scrunch migrates from the bridge of his nose to just above it, an unhappy notch between his brows. “Well, yeah. But I mean, I like it.”
You give him a deadpan look.
“I’m being honest.” James holds up his hands. “Really, sweetheart, I didn’t want to—I know talking about your body can be an issue for you, so I didn’t want to bring it up, but you’ve been looking fantastic lately.”
You’re quiet, stuck. You aren’t sure what you’d wanted out of this anymore (validation, maybe?) but you’re not going to get it this way. You only feel bad for putting James in this position. He’s your boyfriend and a good one, he only ever had one way out of this.
“Sorry,” you say, wrapping your arms around your torso, “I didn’t mean to fish for compliments.”
“Hey.” He steps into your space, hooking his fingers through your belt loops to turn you towards him. “You’re not asking for anything I don’t want to give. You look amazing, I mean it.” Your eyes fall to his chest and he stoops to follow them, dark brows rising incredulously. “What, you don’t believe me?”
You sigh. “I’m sorry I brought it up, okay? Can we not—”
“Nope.” James lets go of one of your belt loops but keeps a firm hold on the other. “Sorry, no longer an option.” He begins tugging you out of the room. Your hips follow disloyally, and though you wrap your hands around his wrist, he holds fast.
“James, come on.” You give a little resistance, but he drags you doggedly onward. You could tear away if you commit to it, but these really are your favorite jeans and James is just as likely to take your belt loop with him.
In the living room, Sirius is mending a pair of James’ trousers while Remus does the crossword, which involves him reading the clues aloud and Sirius firing off unrelated and too-long words until Remus gets it himself. Remus hears your protest first, brows rising as James brings you into the room.
“What’s going on?” he asks, somewhat warily.
“She doesn’t believe me when I tell her she’s lovely,” James says, like Can you believe it? Remus blinks and Sirius’ eyes flit up from his work, one brow quirking.
“That’s not what I said,” you defend.
He releases you, and you step away, crossing your arms over your midsection. “Go on, then.” James sounds truly encouraging, though dubious. “Tell us how lovely you are, angel.”
You roll your eyes. It’s difficult not to feel frivolous when they put you on the spot like this. “I was only saying that I don’t like the fit of my jeans now.”
If you hadn’t had Sirius’ full attention already, you do now. He sets down James’ trousers, beckoning you forward, “C’mere, let’s see.”
You go to stand between his legs, dread coiled like a snake around your ribcage that only squeezes tighter at the unflinching intensity of Sirius’ gaze while he analyzes your face.
You look down to escape it, sticking your thumb into the waistband of your jeans. “Look, they’ve gotten small—”
“I can see for myself,” he says softly, moving your hand out of the way and replacing your thumb with his own slender fingers. They’re cool against your abdomen. He slides them around to the side of your waist, tugging experimentally at the denim. “Gorgeous, these fit great. This is exactly where you’d usually want them to be. What’s the issue?”
“It’s just—they don’t—” You feel more and more ridiculous by the second, and you can’t figure out if you’re frustrated with yourself or with them for that. “They used to sit lower, and now I—I just feel like I look weird.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” James insists, seating himself on the coffee table and setting his elbows on his knees. Sirius nudges your ankle with his foot, silent encouragement to sit between him and Remus. You comply. “You don’t look weird, sweetheart, you’re—listen, you’ve always been beautiful, but lately, it’s like—you’re just, you’re stunning.”
You shrink from the compliment, face humiliatingly warm. “Thanks, Jamie, but you have to say that.”
“No, he’s right,” Remus chimes in. He sounds so matter-of-fact, as if he’s simply recounting how traffic was on the way home from work today. “You don’t look the same as you did before, true, but it’s not a bad change. You’re just not used to seeing yourself healthy, is all.”
“Exactly.” James throws up his palms, relieved.
You consider this. It was warped perspective that had gotten you into this mess. Maybe you’re still not seeing things clearly quite yet.
Sirius wraps a hand around the inside of your thigh, tugging it over one of his. “Babe, if these jeans are evidence of anything, it’s that you’re finally growing into the size you were always supposed to be. If you eventually have to get a larger pair, then fine. It still won’t mean anything about you. You’re exactly right, understand?”
You nod, feeling thoroughly chastened, and Sirius grins. His fingertips dig into your thigh as he leans over to kiss your cheek.
“Honestly, I don’t know how you can’t see it,” James says, looking pleased to have some validation from the other boys. “You’re radiant, lovie, your skin is glowing, you look happier—really, you’ve never been more lovely.”
“It helps that we know you’re doing better, too,” Remus says, a bit quieter. “Frailty doesn’t suit you, dove. It’s…I love you no matter what, but it does make it easier when you’re kind to yourself. Feels more like we’re on the same team.”
“Thanks,” you say softly, then once more for good measure. “Thanks, guys.”
“Told you already,” James says, “you’re not asking for anything we don’t want to give.”
“You liked it when these jeans fit a bit saggier, showed more skin, yeah?” Sirius asks. You nod with a shrug. It doesn’t feel quite so important now. “We can do that. We’ll get you the same ones, if you want, or another pair that might sit a bit more on your hips.” He gives your thigh a squeeze through your jeans. “Gotta show off this bod, right, babydoll?”
Could you write about poly!marauders and how fem reader and the boys dote on Remus during his cycle? If you’re not up to it you can disguard:) love your works
Hi, thanks for requesting honey! To be real with you, I don't know much about how Remus' werewolf cycle works, but I did my best! Love you :)
poly!marauders x reader ♡ 564 words
Sirius won’t stop bouncing his knee. You and James have told him half a dozen times to stop, but he can only seem to quiet himself for a few minutes before the incessant bump bump bump of his heel against the floor picks up again, seemingly without his notice.
You’re about to give him a nudge, but you don’t get the chance.
“Sirius,” Remus growls into his pillow, and the dark-haired boy goes immediately still. Remus sighs, some of the muscles in his neck visibly relaxing.
Sirius looks to you with wide eyes. He’s awake? he mouths.
You shrug. Apparently.
What do we do?
You’re looking between each other helplessly. You’d think after all this time you’d be used to it, but you and the boys still act like chickens without your heads in the absence of Remus’ guidance. There’s an air of desperation about the room, each of you wanting to do something to help your boyfriend but none knowing what. Remus doesn’t tend to respond well to being coddled, especially when he needs it most. So close to the full moon, you know he’s hypersensitive and likely sore all over, but anytime one of you offers to help he only snarls at you to go away. You’re not going to leave him, but it’s difficult to know how to care for someone who insists they don’t want it.
I don’t know, you mouth back. Be quiet?
James moves to sit on the edge of the bed and holds up his hands to the both of you, signaling that he’ll handle it.
“Rem.” James’ voice is as quiet as it ever gets, and he’s being careful not to use the nickname that would be a sore spot at this time of the month. “Do you want something to eat, my love?”
“No.”
“What about a hot chocolate?” you pipe up, doing your best to sound casual but unable to keep the worry from your voice. “Maybe that would help?”
“What would help is if you all left me alone,” he says, words muffled as he turns his head even more deeply into his pillow. Silence falls over the room. After a moment, Remus sighs. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” you say gently, and you mean it. You’ve long gotten past taking anything he says before the full moon personally. “I get it, honey. Or well, I don’t, but, I…I know it’s hard.”
“Can we touch you?” Sirius ventures. “Or would that make it worse?”
Another sigh. “I don’t know. You can try.”
That’s all the encouragement Sirius needs, slipping into the bed and curling his body around Remus’ as best he’s able. Remus removes his face from the pillow, allowing Sirius to tuck it under his chin.
“Okay?” Sirius asks.
Remus' voice is quiet, but its edge has dulled. “Yeah. Thanks, Pads.”
James scoots closer on the bed, beginning to massage delicately at the tensed muscles of Remus’ shoulders. You shoot him a commiserative smile, your gazes meeting with matching concern.
You crouch beside the bed, voice soft and tentative. “What can I do that will help?”
The quiet stretches on a moment longer, and then Remus sounds almost sheepish when he replies, “Hot chocolate sounds nice, actually.”
Sirius chuckles into Remus' hair, and you grin, standing. “Coming right up, lovely boy.”
Remus’ thanks is muffled into Sirius’ chest, but it brightens your smile anyway.
can i request poly!marauders x female reader where she’s on her period and gets horrible cramps/back pain so the guys do what they can to help? With maybe the reader taking advantage of how hot Remus runs and using him as a heating pad? Thank you so much!!!!
The amount of times I've wished for almost exactly this is embarrassing. Thanks for requesting lovely, hope you enjoy it :)
cw: period pain, marauders are unbearably sweet and caring
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 943 words
“Feeling any better?” James murmurs, setting a cup of cinnamon tea down in front of you.
Blankets rustle as your hands emerge from inside them, taking the mug. You blow gently before taking a tentative sip. “A bit,” you say, but grimace as another cramp comes to defy you, pain twisting through your abdomen and lower back.
James frowns in sympathy, and Sirius makes a terribly soft soothing sound, petting your head where it rests on his lap. You set your tea back down to cool, curling in on yourself. It’s a feeble protection against the pains that have plagued you since the early hours of the morning, when you’d woken and found yourself unable to go back to sleep, lying curled up in your bed as you throbbed with waves of dull agony.
You’re all supposed to be watching a movie, but try as you might, you can’t focus on anything but the pain. Your tits are sore, your back hurts, and your emotions keep ricocheting from grouchy to teary and back again. Your boyfriends don’t seem able to concentrate on the TV either, taking turns shooting you concerned glances and asking if you need anything. You appreciate their desire to help, you really do, but having to say “no, there’s nothing you can do” over and over again is beginning to grate on your oversensitive nerves.
“Want another pain reliever?” Sirius asks.
You look up at him hopefully. Truly, nothing would make you happier.
“No,” Remus says sternly, his gaze turning sympathetic when it falls on you. “Sorry dove, you’re maxed out. You can’t have more for a couple hours.”
Sirius pouts on your behalf, but you’re not so ready to capitulate. “It’s not going to kill me to have a couple more.”
“Not immediately, but it’s not good for you.”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t care right now,” Remus reasons, “but you will if your kidneys fail someday because you had half a dozen pills over the course of an hour. Drink your tea, it might help.”
You huff. “None of you know what it’s like.”
Remus softens. “No, we don’t, darling, I’m sorry.”
You don’t want him to be sorry, though maybe you do just a little bit. You wouldn’t wish this torment on your boyfriends, but you can’t help but harbor a tiny bit of resentment for the fact that they’ll go their entire lives without ever understanding what you’re put through for an entire week every month.
Another cramp seizes you, and you press a hand to your stomach to hold your heating pad closer against you, only to find it barely warm. You press the button, waiting a minute for it to start up again. Nothing happens.
You let out a quiet whine, tucking your head under your blanket and bringing your knees further into your chest.
“You alright, sweetheart?” James asks tentatively, and you can practically feel the attention of all three boys as someone lowers the volume on the TV.
“My heating pad broke.”
James makes a pained sound, and then a hand lands on your shoulder, rubbing soothingly through the soft fabric of the blanket. “I’m sorry. Want me to warm you up a water bottle or something? Or maybe one of us can run and get you a new one.”
“Or,” Sirius says pensively, “Remus is always burning. You could try using him, see if that helps.”
You poke your head out from within your nest of blankets in time to see Remus cock an eyebrow at the word use, but when his eyes slide to you they’re contemplative.
“What do you think?” he asks you. “Worth a try?”
You hesitate a moment, unsure if you really want to be touched in your bloated, uncomfortable state. But your cramps are growing noticeably worse without your heating pad, and Remus does run awfully hot… “If you think it’ll help,” you say quietly, a note of pleading in your voice.
Sirius eases your head off of his lap, moving to give Remus room to slip underneath you. You move around a bit, not quite sure of how to position yourself, but it’s no matter, because then Remus is worming his hands between your legs and stomach, wrapping his arms around you. You relax into him, giving James a small smile as he adjusts the blankets over you both.
“Merlin, you’re a furnace,” you breathe appreciatively.
Remus smiles slightly, seeming relieved and a bit proud that he’s able to help. “Is your back hurting you too?”
“Mhm.”
He moves one of his hands from where it’s resting on your side, flattening it over your lower back and pressing down lightly. You sigh as his warmth seeps into you and relaxes your tensed muscles, your eyes closing in bliss.
“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling like you could cry from relief and the exhaustion that’s catching up to you now that your pain is abating. “Sorry for being mean.”
You feel Remus’ chuckle rumble through his chest. “You weren’t mean, love. You’re just grumpy, and I understand. Don’t worry about it.”
“You make it very hard to despise all of mankind when you guys are this sweet to me, you know.”
“Ah, well then, our work here is done,” Sirius says, poking teasingly at the blankets covering your feet. “You can leave ‘er be now, Remus, our nefarious scheme has been a success.”
You exhale amusedly, but latch on a bit tighter to Remus, just in case he decides to go along with Sirius’ bit.
He chuckles again, resting a hand on the back of your head with reassuring weight. “Don’t worry, dove, I’m not going anywhere.”
im gonna start rebloging fics on this account instead of my main!! idk why i haven't been, seeing as this is my fic account but wtv! get hyped to see every fic ive ever read on here
warnings - smut! starts angsty, fluff and smut later :))
a/n - this is my first smut, but i had like all of my friends proof read so im super excited to share this with yall! songfic based on how you get the girl by taylor swift (and a bit of i wish you would)
Things had ended with Jason, but it hadn't had the desired effect.
It was just too painful when you were together, the not knowing. Not knowing if he was safe every night. Not knowing if you were safe. You were scared constantly, just never knowing. All you wanted was for him to be safe.
—
You realized you couldn't do it anymore when he went no contact for two days.
You had thought he was dead. You were pacing your townhouse nonstop, music following suit. Trying to drown out the silence and your thoughts. You plopped onto the couch, picturing every other time this had happened in your mind. The pain you felt every night, that worsened every time another hour went by. So you made your decision.
When he finally came home that night, ready to run into your arms, you closed them. and you fought. The front door opened and shut and all the built-up anger from two years of sleepless nights and not letting yourself be selfish flooded out of you.
“What the hell, Jason? Are you okay? I thought you were dead, you asshole!”
The tone in your voice shocked him, you could see it in his eyes. “What?”
Your tears were threatening to spill from your already red eyes, but you didn't let that stop you. You pressed the back of your hand to your cheek. “I'm sorry, it's just-, I can't do this! Every week, I have to grapple with the fact that you could be dead! And what if you were? You can't come back every time you die, you know that!”
“What- what do you want me to do? There are always going to be people getting hurt, you know that.”
“Exactly. And I will never come first. You’re just too fucking good a person, Jason. you never let yourself be selfish! I wanted you to put us first.” You look at him; “Just go.”
“Is this for real?” And now tears were welling up in his eyes. “This was all so fast.”
“This was the opposite of fast. I just tried not to see it. Because I love you so, so, much Jason, that's why I can't do this. Just- send one of your siblings to get your stuff tomorrow.”
He pauses. “Okay, Doll, if this is what you want, I will go.”
“Don't call me that, you're gonna make this too hard,” You hear yourself let out an embarrassing snort through your snot and tears.
“Then can I kiss you goodbye, instead?”
Already sobbing, you nod.
—
And now you can't get him out of your head. It's been six months, and he won’t get out. Every time you see lights through your window coming from the street, you think maybe. Maybe he came home to you.
And you just hope that when he's out every night, saving more damsels, he thinks about your home in the center of the city.
Every night you prayed that he would come back. And say that he wants you, no matter what. Even if it was you who broke his heart, because you also broke your own. You wished for it like it was the only thing that kept you going, because it was.
But you never really believed your wish would come true. You had already burnt that bridge. And in doing so, burned away your past. Your friendships with the Waynes, every late night spent tending wounds.
2 A.M. another late night, doing anything you could to get your mind off of him. Especially tonight. The twenty-seventh of April. For the past two years, on this day, Jason had been in your bed. You held him, and told him he was safe. Safe from what happened to him on this day, years before you were able to take care of him. Your bed was empty, and it killed you to know he was probably in his own, having the nightmares you worked so hard to keep him safe from.
2 A.M. A rough and fast knock against your front door cuts through the sound of the pouring rain, and you find yourself looking through the peephole of your townhouse. Eye level with you is Jason Todd, curly hair soaked. You could see his breath in the cold, and how little his unzipped leather jacket was doing to keep him warm. You pull the door open.
“Are you insane?”
“I know, I just- I need you. Sweetheart, I need you back. God, it's been a long six months. I know, I fucked you up, I fucked us up, and that is reason enough for you to slam the door in my face, but..” he trailed off and made eye contact with you; “I will make it up to you. I just need you tonight. You know what tonight is, I know that you didn't forget,” He was pleading, eyebrows furrowed and tears welling in his eyes. “I can't get through tonight without you,”
And before you can process it, you're leaning in and your lips are on his again, and it feels like home. They're soft against you and feel the same as they did the last time you touched six months ago, if just more desperate. He wraps his arms around your back, embracing you tightly. You pull away for a quick second just to say: “Come in, stay the night. I missed you too. We can talk this through in the morning.”
He enters the home that had missed him so much, and you close the door behind him as fast as you can. He dives back for your lips, like a man who had been lost in the desert finally getting water. It was passionate, and for a moment made you forget that you had waited for so long. It just felt like before, and for the meantime would put a band-aid over the months of pain. You kissed him through the hallway, pushing him back to your room, and somewhere along the way, he lost his jacket. When you got to the bedroom, you shoved him against the door, biting his lips and letting yourself absolutely lose control on his mouth. When you pulled away, you could see that it was swollen and redder than when you had started.
You slowly moved down his neck, starting with a hickey on his jaw in a spot that you knew was his favorite place. He breathed out your name, giving you motivation to move down and kiss his adams apple. “Jesus, doll,”
You spread out, leaving marks all over his neck. The closer you got to his collarbone, the more vocal he was, letting out a dozen sickly-sweet nicknames for you. You start to make another bruise on his neck, but he squeaks out a “stop,”
You pull back. “Is something wrong?” for a moment fear creeps into your mind, and you remember. You haven't seen him in months, what if this is too much? This is the anniversary of his death, for god's sake-
“Can we move to the bed?”
Oh.
“Yeah, if you're ready-” you cut yourself off when Jay removes his shirt as youre speaking, revealing a tapestry of scars. A breath catches in your throat. Shit, you had almost forgotten how good he looks shirtless. Almost. “Yeah, okay,” You follow suit, pulling your shirt over your head and fumbling at your bra hooks.
You both stumble down the hallway, when you sit on the bed, back against the headboard. Jason looks at you like you're his last meal, and sits in between your legs, hands already reaching for your breasts.
Almost immediately, his fingers are tugging at your nipples and his lips are suckling at them. you squeal each time he bites at your nipples and he's moving back and forth between each like he can't choose his favorite, and humming nicknames for you every time he stops to breathe. After a couple minutes of sweet bliss, you put your hand in his still damp curls and push him off of you.
“Jay, I think you need some attention too.” you put his hand on his chest and push him down so he's lying on his back. You struggled with yanking his jeans down his legs as they were still wet with rainwater, but you managed. He starts: -wait, I didn't even get to- When you get down his boxers, his erection springing free, and he gasps, cutting himself off at the sensation of the cold air hitting him.
You settle in between his legs, wrapping a hand around him. Your thumb finds his tip and spreads his precum over his length, lubricating it for your hand to move. This elicits a reaction from him. “Jesus sweetheart, you never stop,”
You're confused. “Stop what?” you ask, pressing a kiss to his tip. He grunts.
“Making my heart pound out o’ my fucking chest, Doll,” He puts a hand on your cheek. “Never - fuck - stop.” you tighten your grip on his cock halfway through this phrase.
This makes you smile profusely, and to mask the grin, you open your mouth and fill it with the familiar feeling of Jason's member. He nearly howls in response, a string of profanities falling out of his mouth.
You look up at him with eyes you know he loves, and you hollow out your cheeks to - just for a second - suck harder. After this, you run your tongue along his base and pull off of him with a pop.
“Wait no- why- why did you stop? Baby, why did you stop?” Jason starts to whine, a sound you would never forget in your life, and you giggle.
“Relax,” you smile as you move to sit on top of him. You pull your shorts off, taking the panties with them. “I just want to ride you,”
“You're ready? Doll, I didn't even touch you, are you sure it won't hurt- ohmygod!”
You had started to lower yourself onto Jason's cock as he spoke, enjoying the way he was extra vocal when he didn't expect it. You leaned down to kiss him, and it was softer this time. Sweeter, romantic. Loving, not just lustful. And you can feel it, the affection for you that he had never lost. You pull away, your breathing fast and heavy, to say:
“I still love you,”
“I love you too,”
And just like that, it feels normal again. No time has passed and you got through another year together, trying to make what had once been the worst night in his life liveable. You laugh as you continue to lower yourself onto him, but the sound is garbled through a moan.
“What?” he asks, voice gruff from the pleasure.
“Nothing, it just did hurt a little, you were right.” Your eyes are sparkling, and your smile is somehow more beautiful than he remembered.
Jason smiled at you from his place on the bed, starstruck by you, and reached his arm between your legs to rub at your clit. You let out a whine that made you feel pathetic, but Jay reached behind your back to hold your chest against him, letting your bodies line up in an embrace that you were unsure if he knew was reassuring, or was just doing it to be closer to you. Either way, you were glad for the contact, and the feeling of his arm pressed between yours and his chest.
Jason's grin glinted in the warm lighting of your bedroom. You're reminded of a chip in one of his front teeth that you find all too endearing before he speaks. “Can you move, baby?” He punctuates this with pressing a circle against your clit. He smiles wider when you arch your back, pressing your tits harder onto him. You take a moment to regain words, but respond after a moment.
“Yeah,” you responded breathily, returning his smile. You lift your hips up and slowly lower yourself back down. Jason groans loudly, something that resembles your name falling from his mouth. Something snaps inside of you at the noise you had missed so much, and the next time you pull up, you slam yourself down on him.
“Holy fucking shit! Sweetheart, don't you need to take it sl- oh my god, oh my god, you're so perfect,” you continue this pattern, speeding up when he rubs your clit in that perfect way he would never forget.
You continue, sick slapping sounds filling the room. The muscles in your thighs and lower back are sore, and you start to slow down, sitting up so you're no longer lying on him. “ ‘M sorry Jaybird, I just - haven't done this in a while.” You look at your lover apologetically, but he doesn't speak a word back. All Jason does is grab your waist, looking into your eyes for a nod before he takes control.
He pumps up into you, hips lifting off the mattress and pushing deeper into you. You let out a pleasured scream, putting your hands on Jason's pecs, rolling a nipple in between your fingers absentmindedly. His thrusting speeds up when you start doing this. “Jason- Jesus Christ, so good.”
“Yeah? I know baby, I know it feels good,” another of his moans interrupts his sentence, but he continues- “You make me feel good too. So good.”
Somehow his thrusts get more rushed, pushing deeper into you. You let out a pitiful scream when he presses against your cervix, pain mixing into pleasure at the feeling of him bruising you. Jason hears you, and you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. You can tell he's close. “Baby, I'm gonna- where do you want it?” He whines, and your walls tighten at the sight of his eyes pleading with yours.
“Inside.”
“Baby, are you sure-”
“Please, Jason. Pill,” You start to beg, even though he hadn't asked for you to. “I need it. Need you. Missed you so much. Please!”
During your last word, you feel him release into you. Jason's hips sputter as he lets out another slightly pained moan. He lets his cock sit inside you for a moment, before he pulls himself out, his still hard cock sitting against his stomach. “Baby, get off. Let me make you cum. Let me clean you off.”
You blush at his words, as if you haven't fucked him a million times, nodding as you move off and onto the mattress. Jason repositions so you can rest your head on a pillow, pulling another to rest under your ass and lift you up.
Once you've settled as quickly as possible, Jason puts his face right against your pussy, admiring the way his cum mixes with your juices, spilling out of you. He starts with licking a stripe up your slit, and the image of his cum on his own tongue will never leave your brain, and causes your walls to tighten before he even puts a finger inside. He swallows, and goes back to licking into your hole, one hand absentmindedly rolling your clit in between his fingers as the other one squeezes your thigh. He moves them down from your clit to press into your hole, mouth instead focusing on your clit.
“Fuck, Jason!” He looks up at you, puppy dog eyes somehow turning you on more than you already were. He holds eye contact with you as he presses a third finger into you, curving to press against your sweet spot. You tangle a hand into his damp curls, pressing him onto your cunt.
Your walls tighten around his fingers, and he puts all of his effort into sucking and lapping at your clit. He hums on the bud, sending vibrations through your core. When you approach the edge, he starts licking at it instead, flicking the muscle back and forth. He talks into your pussy, praises for you being drowned in the flesh.
He lifts his head up for a gasping breath, still moving his fingers inside of you and quickly muttering: “Cum for me,” before diving back in. You listened, one last touch of your clit sending you over the edge. As you cum, Jason laps up the liquid that had leaked out of you over the night, flattening his tongue against your skin as he collects the last he can without a towel.
You shudder as he sits up, leaning forward to press a kiss onto your stomach before getting up from the bed. A moment of panic comes over you before-
“Are your washclothes still in the same place?” He asks softly. You nod at him, feeling too fucked out to speak, and watch him leave your bedroom.
After 30 seconds, he returns with a damp washcloth, and settles back in between your legs to wipe off your legs, pressing kisses on your inner thighs. As he moves up to your overstimulated cunt, he reaches for your hand. When the cloth passes over your sensitive spots, you squeeze his hand. After a few minutes of tender silence, he returns to your side, head on the pillow next to you.
“Hey.” He smiles.
“Hi,” you giggle back. After a brief pause, you continue: “I'm sorry. I was inconsiderate. When we broke up. I know what you do is important, and people need you-”
You're cut off by a kiss. “No. I needed to communicate more. And either way, it doesn't matter.” You quirk an eyebrow at him, “This is a fresh start,” he takes a breath in. “But really, I love you so much.”
You giggle, which seems to confuse him. Through your laugh, you attempt to speak- “Would you say- most ardently?” He rolls his eyes at the reference to his favorite book, but still leans in to press a peck to your lips.
hey yall im back! finished the semester so was kind of not in a writing mood for a while even if it wasn't for school but i am back and writing with a vengeance
as a MASSIVE spence fan for like a couple years now and someone who literally writes fics about him, this new wave of fans has been VERY creepy towards him.
i get seeing a pic of him and saying "oh my god hes so hot" but people are being genuinely gross with how they talk + write about him
like i dont feel comfortable even writing kisses about real people!! "he pressed a kiss to your lips" is literally the furthest ill go and its super weird how people have been treating him. especially as he is a person who probably hasn't delt with stuff like this before! when all this attention was on shayne, he was at least KIND OF used to the attention from being an actor but spencer isnt even an official cast member! its insane!!
anyways thanks for coming to my ted talk ig
yesyesyesyesyes
it’s honestly soooo insane like i am attracted to spence and i’ll reblog the occasional edit or cute pic but the parasociality of it all is really fucking insane like step back and think for a moment. it’s definitely the “shayne-ification” just like people have been saying & i’m so so glad people are finally speaking up about this because it has gotten so bad.
like people need to remember spencer is a real human being who very likely is uncomfortable with smut fic being written about him it’s just so weird and gross tbh. i hope he’s not seeing any of this but knowing how online he is and how much of a problem it is on twt now he probably has :/
it’s okay to be silly but it’s gone too far really
felt important to reblog this as a spencer writer! it isnt okay to be creepy towards him!! no matter how hot he is there is a line and its been crossed too much recently!!
areudirty
gracieabrams
gummygunk
ellievsbear
stormborns
titsay
