Summary: You feel insecure about gaining weight. James cannot fathom the thought.
Note: Please consider leaving a comment/reblogging if you liked it! It helps a lot! đ
It isn't always obvious what James is thinking.
You like to think you can figure him out easily. He is basically an open book. Except for the times like tonight, apparently.
The night starts with a nice dinner you made for him and a movie he picked for the two of you. The movie is something romantic and cozy. Like he wants to make sure the date night will end in cuddles and kisses. See? Easy to read.
However, when his arm slide around you on the couch and he starts giving gentle butterfly kisses to your hair, your shoulders tighten. You immediately try to relax so he wouldn't worry. Yet despite your attempt, he still pulls back to look at your face.
"Something wrong, angel?"
You can't bear to say it when he is looking at you so softly. You shake your head.
"Tell me what it is?" He still says because apparently he can read you just as easily.
"It's stupid." You murmur. He looks at you patiently, like he has nowhere else to be and nothing else to do.
"I realized today that I've put on some weight recently..." You let it out with a tentative tone. Like for some reason you're waiting for your incredibly devoted boyfriend to realize the same thing and pull back. The weight of the insecurity presses harder over your chest, somehow.
He hums softly.
"Does it bother you?" He asks and you almost laugh at the question.
"I was afraid of it bothering you, actually." You don't think your smile is doing anything to soften the sentence.
He pulls back with a cute frown.
"Why would it bother me?" He sounds genuinely confused.
"Because I feel... fluffier than usual?" You try to say it as gentle as you can, but his cute frown deepens with confusion.
"So?" He tilts his head to the side. "If this is about me being able to lift you, you know I go to the gym daily, right?"
His question catches you off-guard and you hear yourself laugh briefly. He looks so clueless.
"Why did your mind go to that? No, I just meant that maybe you wouldn't like your girlfriend to be chubbier than usual. That's all." You manage to get it all out without your chest tightening this time.
"Angel. I like you at all times," he presses a kiss to your forehead, "in all shapes," another kiss to your cheek, "at all places," another to the tip of your nose, "in all versions," he finishes off by plastering a final kiss to your lips.
"You're always pretty to me. All the time." He says softer this time, against your lips.
You can't find your words when he is being like this. All gentle and very convincing. You must've look so, because he continues as he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes properly.
"Does that pretty little brain is feeding you lies, baby? Because I'm being completely honest. Don't listen to that traitor, hm?"
"My traitor brain is pretty too?" You can't help the little smile that decorates your face. He matches yours with his signature bright smile.
"Everything about you is pretty. I thought we established that, gorgeous." He taps your nose.
"Does it bother you?" He circles back to his first question.
"Maybe a little." You shrug. "I was more worried you'd be bothered. I didn't really check what I thought about it."
His hand plays with the tips of your hair.
"If it bothers you, we can maybe have gym dates? I can help you with whatever you want to do in the gym and you can watch your boyfriend look all strong and capable." His brows go up and down as he sends you a playful smile. Your smile widens.
"Well, how can I possibly say no to watching my boyfriend look all strong and capable?"
"That's my girl." He declares with a kiss between your hair.
His playful smile sober up for a moment as he meets your eyes.
"Just for the record though: I'm completely fine with my girl being however she is. Because she is always my pretty girl."
You choose to kiss him then, just because it would hide your warming cheeks.
I saw that youâre taking requests for the boulevard is not that bad, and I thought what if the tables were turned and reader got injured? I wonder how theyâd react! Maybe reader gets lost in the crowd and thinks theyâre gonna leave her, but they actually notice her disappearance and look for her. Theyâd get worried when they find her injured and realise they actually care about her.
Thank you so much! Iâm in loveeee with this storyđŤśđźđŤśđźđŤśđź
Thank you for reading and requesting gorgeous! I hope you're doing well too
cw: crowd crush, rioting, police
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13
rockstar!marauders x journalist!reader ⥠2k words
You're not interviewing the boys until after the show, and you reason there's no point in hanging around their dressing room if you're not getting quotes. So, you go to the crowd.
It's a half-baked plan. You can't ask fans to speculate about an album they don't know about yet, so you figure you'll ask some questions about what The Marauders mean to them or how it feels to be here or whatever. It'll come to you. Or it won't, which would also be fine, because you probably won't get anything you can use in the feature anyway. You just need a distraction.
It does feel good to be down in the action, though. You've loved being backstage at so many showsâwatching the band prepare, seeing all that goes into it, it hasn't lost its sparkle for you yetâbut this is where your heart is.
It's where you started. With your shoes sticking to grimy floor, neck craning to witness the live performance of a song you've heard a thousand times on the record player in your own home. Hearing and seeing the same emotions you've felt intimately grip musicians while they play. Experiencing it, along with everyone else there, all of you losing yourselves to the sort of raw feeling only music has ever given you.
You're back in it now.
The Marauders go on, and you tell yourself you've spent enough time dissecting them. You let go. There are certain things you still can't help but noticeâthe fondness behind Remus' exasperation when Sirius bumps their hips together playfully, how James grins sheepishly at someone backstage when he's handed yet another drumstickâbut for the most part, you just experience the music.
It goes by faster than usual. The songs are mostly the same ones you've heard at every show thus far, though the sparkle of those hasn't worn off for you either. All too soon, the boys are ending on Sweet and Easy, the crowd screaming for more even after they've repeated the riff at the end twice.
You're left buzzing, that raw feeling coursing through you, feeling the best you have in days. You figure you have some time before Lily rounds everyone up to go back to wherever you're staying tonightâyou think it's still Birmingham one more day, if James' Cadbury World plans are any indication, but Lily said something about switching hotelsâso you go outside to smoke with a gangle of fans.
In addition to a bummed cigarette, you get some half decent material from them. The feature isn't likely to include fan quotes, but if the band flakes on you and you need to fluff it up, these will be useable. You manage to sneak in a few questions about the direction The Marauders might go in without letting anything slip about new music, and the fans don't suspect you of knowing anything worth letting slip anyway. They just want to talk about a band they adore, and you're more than pleased to let them.
Even later, you won't know exactly how it began. The street in front of the venue has been crowded since you stepped outside, but suddenly it's crammed with bodies. You drop your cigarette on instinct when somebody pushes past you. Not two seconds later, someone going the other direction stamps it out. Voices rise, a familiar, foreboding thrum charing the air: anger.
You squash down your panic, looking for an exit route. These things happen. Riots are common at rock concerts. Back when you were going to these gigs in a more regular fashion, you would have remembered to find your way out quickly afterwards, before any could break out. You don't know who's fighting who at this one, or what side you might be presumed to be on. You should go before you find out.
The crowd is near impossible to move through. You find the venue doors locked, and your chest tightens. Any other time you'd just go, but you need to get inside to meet up with Mary, Lily, and the boys. You try to make your way around the buildingâweathering a few stepped-on toes, a wayward elbow, and a powerful shove.
The last one nearly sends you to the pavement. Another stranger grips you around the elbow to haul you back up, you gasping out a thanks while your ankle twinges and the man who shoved you doesn't so much as look back.
You find the side entrance you'd come in with the band, knocking on the door and trying to muster whatever professionalism you'd lost in the cigarette-smoggy mayhem a few feet behind you.
A security guard pokes his head out.
"Hi," you say. "Are The Marauders still inside?"
He huffs a laugh, already going to close the door again. "Nope."
You shove your foot in the way. Force down a winceâyou must have tweaked your ankle when you almost fell. "I'm from Spellbound Magazine." You show him your press pass. "I'm with the band."
The security guard looks right past the piece of plastic, unimpressed. "The band's gone. You can catch them at another show, but not here."
A bolt of panic goes through you. You do your best to smother it. Security does this sort of thing all the time. He thinks you're someone who's not supposed to be here, so he's lying to get you to go away. You just have to prove yourself.
The guard looks down at your shoe, still wedged in the door, then at you, and you know you have a short window.
"If you find Maryâor anyone who works with the band, they'll tell you I'm with them. I came in this door a few hours ago, I just stepped outside."
"You can find see band somewhere else," the security guard says. He gives the toe of your shoe a kickânot even a hard one, but your ankle smarts and it does the trick. "Night."
The metal door shuts with a clang.
Deja-vu.
You don't have much time to think of another plan before commotion from the street catches your attention. The shouts are getting louder and angrier, and you know what that means even before the first shrill whistle pierces the air. The police have arrived.
You step closer to the alley wall, hoping to escape notice and hunker down here until someone you know eventually comes out, but it's not long before people are flooding the alley. There are so many of them you don't think they can all have been at the show. One of the fans you interviewed earlier grabs for you.
"Come on!"
"Oh, no, Iâ" You mean to let them pass, but the police are advancing behind, arresting those at the back of the crowd. You don't know if the same press pass the venue security disregarded a minute ago is going to make much difference to them. "Shit."
You let yourself be tugged down the alley, then propelled by the general mass of people when the one who tugged you loses their grip. You know for sure you messed up your ankle now. It throbs with every step, and it doesn't help matters that you often don't know where the next step will land, finding yourself moving left or right by the will of the crowd. Every time you try to break away, it seems like the police are right there, and so you keep moving.
Eventually, you aren't being chased anymore. Those around you disperse, going home or to whatever bars are still open. You go in the opposite direction of all of them.
It takes you longer than it should to retrace your steps back to the venue. When you knock on the metal side door, there's no answer. Not that you really thought there would be. There isn't a single light on inside or out.
It occurs to you far too late that you should have just found the bus. If you'd gone there earlier, rather than wasting your time arguing pointlessly with securityâŚit's what a smarter journalist would have done. But the bus will be gone now. The Marauders have long since left you behind.
You're too hopeless to laugh, though you recognize the humor in it. After all your worrying about them sneaking off on you, you'd been the one to disappear. You practically gave them no choice.
You sit down on the foul-smelling concrete and try to steady yourself enough to think of what to do next. You can find them again. You might have some explaining to do, and possibly they'll be upset with you for leaving without saying anything, but if you show up at whatever venue The Marauders are playing tomorrow and catch the attention of someone you know you're sure they'll let you explain yourself. That doesn't give you anywhere to stay tonight, obviously. You'll be okay, though; sitting in this alley until morning doesn't sound particularly enjoyable to you, but you can do it. You're as safe here as anywhere, and it'll only be a few hours until the sun rises. You just have to stay awake.
The echo of a passing voice makes its way down to you, and you burrow closer to the wall to escape its notice.
"Hey? Hey!"
Your track record for successfully melting into the shadows of this alley is not a stellar one.
"Y/n!"
You look up in surprise. In the mouth of the alley, a familiar shape is jogging toward you, followed by others.
"Have you been here this whole time?" James sounds more out of breath than a short jog would do. "Where were you hiding?"
You stare up at him, sure you've fallen asleep and are dreaming. "IâŚ"
James drops to a crouch beside you, concern written all over him even in the dark. Sirius and Mary are behind him a moment later, then Lily and Remus. They surround you, seeming perplexed when you don't stand.
"Are you alright?" asks Remus.
You burst into tears.
It's terribly embarassing, and very unprofessional, but you find that once you start crying you can't stop. You don't mean to shock them. James gets past his alarm the fastest, putting an arm around you, and Lily murmurs something that sounds like a placation.
"I'm sorry," you blubber. "I wasâI tried to come back, but they wouldn't let me in, and then the cops were hereâ"
"We heard," says Sirius, his voice nearly as gentle as you've ever heard it. It reminds you of how he spoke to Remus after Remus got shocked by the mic stand, "about the riot. Figured you might've gotten caught up in it. Are you hurt?"
You manage to tell them about your ankle. Remus prods at it a minuteâapparently, he's had enough minor injuries to be a de facto expertâand determines it likely sprained. Mary runs to get you a jacket from the bus, apparently still parked nearby after they stayed to look for you. Lily promises to make sure you always have the relevant addresses in case you get separated again, or maybe Mary can get you a press pass that looks more official somehowâbut, she says, it'd probably be best if you stay nearby when you can help it in the future.
Through all of this, you're crying. You're waved off each time you try to apologize for the dramatics. James has resigned himself to sitting on the foul-smelling cement beside you so he can rub your shoulder, and Remus keeps a hand clasped loosely around your ankle while Sirius watches you with dark, serious eyes.
"You got it?" he asks when Mary comes back with your coat and you stand wobbily.
"Yeah." Your voice is a wreck. You put your coat on, and James lifts your arm, encouraging you to put it around his shoulders and let him take some weight off your ankle. You wipe your face. "Sorry forâ"
"That's enough," says Remus, managing to sound more kind than stern.
You murmur anyway, "Thanks for waiting for me."
James scoffs. "You think we'd go on to the hotel without our own live-in paparazzi?" He plants a kiss on your head as you start toward the bus. "No way."
Hi lovely! Speaking of camp counselor James, Iâve always wondered what those training days were like when he and reader first met. I love reading those early first impression moments, and I was wondering how it was for them or what James thought <3
Thank you for requesting lovely!
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
camp counselor!james x fem!reader ⥠824 words
Jamesâ parents raised him to reach out to people. He learned early in life how to go up to anyone, put on a smile, and ask politely if theyâd like to be friends. It may have been a skill he was supposed to adapt as he got older. Remus teases that James has brought preschool social norms into adulthood; Sirius says itâs part of his charm.Â
Either way, itâs that old instinct that makes James choose the seat beside you.Â
Your fellow counselors are cloistered around a long cafeteria table, getting acquainted while you all wait for the camp manager to join you and training to begin. Itâs early enough that the sunlight coming in through high windows is bright and buttery yellow. Those who have had longer drives to camp are nursing paper cups of coffee while watching the others chat, bleary-eyed. Itâs the sort of table where you can only really talk to the few people seated nearest you, but James hasnât seen you talk at all. Youâre smiling, your eyes sweet and attentive while you listen to the others around you.Â
When thereâs a lull, he gets your attention. âSorry, I donât think I got your name.âÂ
You turn with a look of mild surprise. Your smile takes a moment to return, hesitant, as though unsure if James had really been talking to you. âYeah, I think theyâre going to have us do name tags first thing,â you say. âNot many of us know each other.âÂ
âHave you worked here before?âÂ
You give a sort-of nod. âLast summer, for a bit. I only worked the first session.âÂ
âOh.â James remembers vaguely having that option, but he hadnât considered that people would actually choose it. He hopes itâs not common; heâd rather keep you for the full summer. âWhat about this year?âÂ
âThis year Iâm staying the whole time.âÂ
James grins. âMe too. Itâs my first year. Maybe you could show me the ropes?âÂ
Your eyes flicker over him quickly, like youâve done it before you could think. When you blink, theyâve stopped. âYou don't seem like you'll need my help.âÂ
The camp manager comes in to greet you before James can ask what colors youâd like in your friendship bracelet. You donât join in on the murmuring or commentary some other counselors do, listening patiently and raising your hand when he asks whoâs been through the general training before. There are other, specialized ones counselors can take to get certified for various activitiesâswim instruction, archery, management of the ropes course. You raise your hand to volunteer for the last one, and so does James.Â
As he watches you, he decides that he doesnât think youâre completely reticent by nature. Just a tad shy, maybe. You seem like the sort that needs to get comfortable with people.Â
Luckily, despite what Remus says, James can be patient.
He is also tenacious.Â
James collects other friends throughout the day, but he doesnât give up on you. He finally learns your name when you all paint them on wooden rectangles, and he asks you to show him how youâve done the clouds around yours. He partners with you for your ropes course training, talking his way through the awkwardness of practicing taking harnesses on and off of each other. At dinnertime, another counselorâs story about a kid in a previous year who took a shit in her bag (not out of malice, she claims, but desperation) makes James shoot lemonade out his nose, and you laugh, bright and startled. James feels strangely proud for having caused it.
With eyes still watering, he nods at your plate. âNot a fan of grapes?â
Youâve stopped looking surprised when he talks to you; a victory in Jamesâ book. You look only slightly chastised. âJust picky, I guess. These ones are sort of soft.âÂ
âIâll trade you my fries for them.âÂ
You blink. âAre you sure? They donât usually serve fries. You should enjoy them while you can.â
âTwo fries per grape,â he negotiates.Â
You seem to debate with yourself for a moment before deciding they're Jamesâ luxury to give away if he likes. You push your plate towards him, empty but for the few grapes, and take a few fries in return.Â
âPleasure doing business with you.â James crunches a grape (youâre right, they are a bit soft) between his teeth and holds out his hand.Â
You raise your eyebrows, but put your own in it, shaking.Â
âI think we should be friends,â he says. âDo you want to?âÂ
Your eyebrows travel further upward. âI donât know if anyoneâs asked me that since we were little.âÂ
âI donât know if Iâm supposed to take that as a compliment or not.âÂ
You smile; it makes your lashes kiss at the corners. âItâs not an insult.âÂ
âSo?âÂ
âSure, James.â Hearing his name in your voice makes James grin inexplicably, and you grin back at him. âIâll be your friend.â
Our poor sweetheart of a reporter is just being used as Siriusâ punching bag left right and center! If you like this idea I would love to see a continuation of the angst from part 4 of the rockstar series, where reader kinda just accepts that Sirius hates her, and thinks the other boys just see her as a burden they have to deal with cause of the situation. So she just fully detaches, goes completely professional and doesnât bother with the extra effort to be friends with them cause sheâs not about to chase after them like that if theyâve made their feelings clear. I think the boys would realize in the absence that they miss her and maybe James and Remus would knock some sense into Sirius about how heâs been treating her. Also no pressure at all, absolutely love the series!!!
Babe the way I've hoardeddd this request! Thanks for the idea, hope you're okay with it being put to use much later than you originally thought <3
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12
rockstar!marauders x journalist!reader ⥠1.3k words
You donât leave your room until after dark, when the bus loads to bring The Marauders crew to their second show of the weekend. Thereâs no point in it; you wonât have a good opportunity to interview the boys until after the show anyway, and youâre too tired to be around people anytime your tape recorder isnât running. For the feature that comes out of this to be good requires some intimacy, but you can set the limit.Â
You do feel like youâve achieved the exclusivity you were after. Youâve learned a lot. Not just the big stuffânot just Remusâ spells of poor health and Jamesâ encounter with the unofficial queen of music recordingâbut details fans wouldnât know just from seeing the band onstage. That Sirius is funnier than he seems. Not just the loud, showy kind, but funny in how heâll let the others rag on him, how heâll put on airs and allow himself to appear distinctly uncool to make his friends laugh. That Remus is not only moody and mysterious, but bashful at times. Often, he rolls his eyes to cover his blush. That James isâŚwell, James is exactly as he appears. Thatâs the surprise of him. Heâs really not too good to be true.Â
These things are already enough. Theyâll be of interest to fans, invite them in, make them feel privy to something that lingers beneath the music. You donât need the other gossip-column stuff. But what you donât have enough of yet is what you really came along for: quotes about The Maraudersâ upcoming album.Â
Youâve been too pliable. You let yourself get too excited about being behind the curtain. Somehow, while you werenât looking, the curtain tangled you all up until you nearly forgot which side you were on before. The camaraderie between the boys is so easy, itâll sweep you up, make you think youâve known them all along, too. Thatâs part of the magic of The Marauders, perhaps. It worked like a charm on you.Â
Not anymore, you tell yourself sternly on your way down to the bus. Youâre here to do a job. Youâre here for yourself. Thereâs a wall between you and the band by the very nature of your role here, and your role is to make that wall appear transparent, not evaporate it. You wonât let yourself get so close again.Â
Closeness has only given you less to write about.Â
You return Lilyâs polite nod as you step onboard the bus. Sirius is giving you some kind of look, but you pretend not to notice it poking at your periphery. You ignore too Jamesâ patting of the extra space on his bench, passing the boys by to sit instead in an empty seat a few rows behind them. Close enough to overhear; not close enough to engage. As you should have been this whole while.
âHave a lie in this morning?â Remus asks you anyway.
âYeah,â you reply.Â
James turns fully around to speak to you, folding his arms atop of his seat. âI hope youâve rested up,â he says. âTomorrow, weâre going to Cadbury World.âÂ
âOh.â It takes a second, but you find the right smile. Pleasant and distantly apologetic. âYou all have fun, but I think Iâm going to stay back. I have to edit this article for Tuesday.âÂ
James looks put out. You pull out your notepad before you can linger on it.Â
âWhatâs the article about?â asks Remus. It may only be your own new wariness, but you think you detect a hint of vigilance in his tone.
You glance at Sirius on instinct to see if heâs eyeing you with the same distrust. His dark-rimmed stare is heavy, but itâs notâŚitâs not what you expect. Thereâs no accusation there. Sirius seems watchful, but not like heâs anticipating something in particular. Like heâs waiting to see what you do next.
You wonder if he thinks youâre angry with him. Youâre not. You donât blame him for thinking youâd sell James out for a story; Sirius is used to dealing with real journalists. Heâs learnt to be calculating, to put himself as a shield between people like you and anythingâor anyoneâhe wants to protect. To anticipate the worst you could do so he knows when to be ready. If you were half the journalist Spellbound thinks you are, you would have done it.
You just arenât sure if you are that journalist. You arenât sure if you want to be.Â
âItâs something I was working on before I got here,â you say to mollify Remus.Â
âAre you feeling alright?â asks Sirius.Â
You feel your brows draw in tight, forgetting for a moment to control your expression. âI feel fine, why?âÂ
He shrugs. âYou seem rather tired all of a sudden.âÂ
You put your pleasant smile back on. Sirius frowns. âI guess all this staying up from dusk to dawn is finally getting to me.âÂ
âAh, yeah.â James sets his chin on his forearms, his eyes big with sympathy. âI crashed earlier in the tour, too. I think itâs a sort of hurdle you have to get over. Sorry.âÂ
âWe can tuck you in with Remus tonight,â says Sirius lightly. A pink blush blooms over Remusâ cheeks. âHeâs got all sorts of methods for getting a good sleep. Weâll have you fully nocturnal in no time, babe.âÂ
You direct your stare toward your notepad, trying to focus enough to make sense of the first sentence of the article youâre meant to be editing. âIâm not sure that will work out very well for when I eventually have to be awake during the day again.âÂ
âWhy would you ever do that?â Sirius jokes.Â
Youâre tempted to look up and raise an eyebrow at him; you donât. âOnce I have what I need for the feature, Iâm guessing Spellbound will want me working normal business hours.âÂ
Thereâs a pause.Â
âWell,â says Sirius, âI donât know why youâd ever work for them, in that case. They sound unhinged.âÂ
You try not to feel anything about the obviousness of Jamesâ upset when he asks, âAre you nearly done with the feature already?âÂ
Itâs almost laughable. As if theyâve given you near enough information to write the feature; you hardly have enough for a few paragraphs. But, it is like James to be optimistic. âNot quite.âÂ
Sirius tsks. âGuess weâre not going to be rid of you very soon, then.âÂ
You keep your expression neutral as you look up at him. âIâll do my best to work efficiently.âÂ
Dark brows descend over stormcloud eyes. âSure youâre not feeling ill?âÂ
âIâm fine.âÂ
âYou should come to Cadbury World with us,â says James, looking worried now, too. âYou seem like you could maybe use a break.âÂ
The useless mush of your heart softens instinctively at the earnestness in his voice. âThanks,â you say, âbut I think I ought to stay on task. We all want me to finish up and get out of your hair, right?âÂ
Remus makes a soft sound. âNo oneâs said that.âÂ
âMaybe we can do an interview after the show?â you go on. âIf youâre ready, I can ask some more questions about the album. I know itâs not completely done yet, but the point of me being here is to get accounts of the process.âÂ
âI thought we agreed youâd be taking us to dinner first,â Sirius hums, in that teasing way of his.Â
You donât rise to the bait. âIf youâd like to have the interview at a restaurant, that can be arranged.â You have no clue how youâll finance it, but that can be a problem for later (and possibly for Spellbound).Â
Itâs not just Sirius who frowns at you now; all three of the boys look at you like youâve boarded the bus with serpents for hair.Â
âOâŚkay,â says Sirius. âWeâll see.âÂ
âSure,â you reply. The familiar, hard edge of determination slots into place in your middle; a welcome feeling. âWe can see.âÂ
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12
rockstar!marauders x journalist!reader ⥠1.1k words
You stop back at the hotel for a few hoursâ reprieve before youâre meant to leave for Birmingham. Itâs only just midmorning, and your plan is to go back to your room and collapse into sleep. No sooner do you change out of your slacks and top than thereâs an insistent knock at your door.Â
You know by the sound of it who it will be, though you canât fathom why heâd still be awake now that nobodyâs forcing him to be.Â
âListen to me,â Sirius begins as soon as you open the door.Â
Your eyebrows go up. âThatâs new. Youâre usually trying to get me not to pay attention to what you say.âÂ
âY/n, listen.â The use of your name sobers you as much as Siriusâ tone. Youâre not sure if heâs ever used your name before. Itâs always doll, or babe, or gorgeous, or some other flattering but distanced epithet. âYou leave James out of your magazine.âÂ
You feel your eyebrows come back down. âWhat?âÂ
Sirius shakes his head and steps into your room, shutting the door behind him. Youâll think later about how you let him, unhesitatingly, because even after the morning youâve had, you trust these boys. Always the fool.Â
âI could see you thinking about it on the bus,â he says. âDonât you fucking dare. This is not part of your feature story.âÂ
Inexplicably, the realization of what youâve missed only makes exhaustion pull at your limbs more heavily. Youâve forgotten what youâre really here for yet again. Whatever Sirius saw on your face as you listened to James was likely surprise, but it wasnât you doing your job; it wasnât the ambition your new (if they keep you) bosses are expecting of you.Â
âThis is celebrity news,â you say, nearly forgetting, now, that Sirius is in the room with you.Â
It is, though. Itâs huge. Caius Averyâs wife, taking advantage of a young musician too green to do anything about it. Itâs the exact kind of sickening readers will clamor for.Â
âI thought you wouldnât write anything personal,â Sirius snipes.Â
The implied accusation nettles; itâs essentially what you promised when Remus was ill. You meet Siriusâ eyes, guilt like a vine creeping around your ribs and up your throat. âSirius, this isnât the same. This isâitâs Lorena Avery.âÂ
âExactly.âÂ
âWhat if I left James out of it? He could be anonymous.âÂ
Sirius actually scoffs. A crude, mean thing, like he could spit if he put just a bit more effort in. âRight, who would ever figure that out? No one would be curious enough to want to know more, or to match up the timeline, or call you a liar unless you give over a source.â His gaze is as unforgiving as if youâve already done it. âCaius Avery would sink us.â Â
An unexpected swell of indignance prickles under your skin. âIs that what this is about?âÂ
Sirius blinks, his ferocity wavering a moment.Â
âDo you even care about James?âÂ
It returns just as quickly. âFuck you.âÂ
âYouâre just worried about the tour. You never stop to wonder if he might want to hold Lorena accountable, or to talk about itââÂ
âOh, because thatâs your aim, is it? To make James feel better?âÂ
âThis is my job!â Â
âHeâs my friend!âÂ
It stills you. For a long moment, you look at each other, you in your pajamas and Sirius still in the stage makeup he put on for the interview, all dark, impenetrable black. Sometimes, you think you see right through him, but now you have no clue what heâs thinking. Sirius isnât whatâs important now, though.Â
Itâs James. James is your friend, too.Â
âLeave him out of it,â Sirius says again, firmly.Â
âOkay,â you reply. Your earlier exhaustion returns full force. âI will.âÂ
âI mean it.âÂ
âOkay.â Irritation needles at your tone as you brush past him towards your bed. âCan we nap before we have to get back on the bus, or do you want to stay and argue some more?âÂ
Sirius raises an eyebrowâand you donât know how he does this, make it seem like youâre the one impinging upon him. âI think thatâll do for now,â he says, and lets himself out.Â
You push out a breath, fighting down a scream. What good are you to Spellbound, if you keep unearthing stories and then not writing them? If the magazine found out you knew about this and helped to suppress it, theyâd do worse than fire you. Theyâd blacklist you. Youâd never work again.Â
Just like James if the story gets out.Â
You collapse into bed, and donât sleep a wink.Â
ęŠ â§.°. đŚš.°.â§ ęŠâ§.°.𦹠.°.â§
Youâre packed and ready when the next knock on your door comes. You expect it to be Lily telling you itâs time to go, or maybe Sirius itching to guilt you some more, but youâre surprised to find Mary on the other side.Â
âHi.â She offers a smile. Itâs tinged an unhappy hue. âCan I come in for a sec?âÂ
âSure,â you say, stepping aside.Â
âThanks.â Mary doesnât go far, closing the door behind herself and leaning against the wall of the entryway. âHow are you doing?âÂ
You smile. âIâm all good. Sorry for the drama earlier.âÂ
Her brows bend inwards. âDonât be sorry. It wasnât drama, and even if it was, it would have been justified. That guy was pushing it and he knew it.âÂ
You donât know how to respondâto thank her or to apologize again feel equally good options, though you get the sense Mary wonât approve of eitherâbut Mary, blessedly, moves on.Â
âI know youâve already had a shit day,â she says, âbut I heard about what happened on the bus earlier.â Her eyes search yours, deep brown and perceptive. âWhat James told you.âÂ
A hint of the nausea from earlier squeezes the base of your throat. âWhat about it?âÂ
âI need to know if you have any recording of it.âÂ
You blink. âIâno, I donât. I didnât even have my things with me earlier.âÂ
Itâs a reliefâand a mercy, you thinkâthat Mary takes you at your word. âGreat,â she says, âthanks. So, just so weâre clear, that was all completely off the record.âÂ
âI mean, literally.â You shrug. âI didnât record it.âÂ
âRight, and you wonât publish it in paraphrase either. Right?âÂ
Maryâs tone is friendly, but thereâs something beneath it that tells you sheâd stop being your friend for the moment if you opposed her on this. Like Sirius, then. It had to have been him who warned her, who asked her to come in her role as the bandâs publicist to negotiate with you.Â
It stings. Even after how youâd spoken to each other earlier, you didnât think Sirius would have so little confidence in you.
âRight,â you repeat, feeling bound. Not conniving enough to work, not honest enough to have true friends. Youâre a mess of unkeepable promises and competing desires.Â
âGreat.â Now Mary looks relieved, too. She offers you another rueful smile. âI just have to be sure. Itâs part of my job, you know?âÂ
Itâs something you ought to understand. You arenât sure anymore if you do.
I can soo see them all going out again and having someone hitting on r, maybe when she steps away, causing the boys to get JEALOUS.
Sirius would be sooo huffy puffy, soo grumpy.
Then maybe the guy hitting on her takes it a bit too far and they can tell that she is uncomfortable and become soo protective.
OMG! protective angery Sirius!!! eeeh!
I can so see them using this as a way to get r out of the bus and into the hotel because "we can't take our eyes off of you for a second, can we?"
Aahhh! I love it so much! you're so good at setting up a story!
of course don't use this if it doesn't fit your vision for the story I just had to share my excitement!
Love you and your works <3 I hope you have a lovely day/night!
Thank you so much angel!! Love you and hope you have a lovely day/night as well <3
cw: sexual harassment and discussion of sexual assault
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12
rockstar!marauders x journalist!reader ⥠2.7k words
You know itâs not fair to feel like youâre being cheated on when your bandâthe band, The Marauders, not yoursâis booked for interviews. But itâs difficult not to feel like theyâre seeing other people.Â
And when Remus gives the news anchor the same polite non-answer he gave you about the muse behind their song Sweet and Easy, itâs difficult not to feel a bit smug.Â
The tour bus left at five this morning to get you all to this local television station. You were sure to remind Sirius, as he moaned and groaned about the early hour, that you never make him get up anytime before noon for an interview, and he should remember that. (Remus was deadweight on Jamesâ shoulder, but heâs too good to tease. You let him sleep.)
All your jealousy and possessiveness aside, you are somewhat intimidated. This is a more formal interview than youâve ever conducted and a much larger-scale production than youâve ever been part of. And aside from you, Mary, Lily, and one woman who appears to be an assistant, it seems to be being run entirely by men.Â
You know how outnumbered you are in your own industry, but youâre not sure youâve ever felt it so acutely as you are now. Itâs all around you, undeniable. You wish you were someone who rose better to the challenge; youâd like to puff up and feel proud of what youâve accomplished, and you do, some of the time, but here, with the male producers and many male reporters and male anchor asking the boys questions just this side of provocative with a conspiratorial âwe all know how it is to bed womenâ smile, you only feel small.Â
âIs this how they are with you, too?â a man asks.Â
You look up from the monitor youâve been watching the interview on. Lilyâs stepped outside to take a call, but you and Mary are dallying in the control room (well, youâre dallying; Mary is talking shop with one of the stationâs producers) while the boys are on live television in the next room.Â
âSorry?â you say.Â
The man whoâs come to stand next to you nods at the screen. You donât know precisely what his role is, but you gather heâs some sort of coordinator, based on how he met you when you arrived and he and Mary spoke like they were already acquainted. âYouâre their groupie, right?âÂ
âAh.â That feels rather a demotion, but you donât see the point in explaining why a reporter is traveling with The Marauders on their tour. No need to give other reporters any ideas. âI guess so.âÂ
âAnd are they always this charming?âÂ
You huff a laugh. âYeah, they are.âÂ
He raises his eyebrows. âReally? Thereâs not an off switch?âÂ
âNot one that Iâve found,â you say, watching as James animatedly tells a story that makes Remus flush bashfully. âI think itâs innate.âÂ
Sirius being the obvious exception to this. Though, really, you think the charm he lays on for press is just an amplification of what he already has naturally. Even when he was grouchy and whingeing this morning, you were still a bit charmed; itâs a talent of his.Â
The man chuckles, watching the screen with you. âIs that how they won you over?âÂ
You shake your head. âIâm in it for the music.âÂ
âRight.â The shift in his tone is so subtle you canât be sure itâs there. You might be imagining things. âSo no private shows, eh?âÂ
âNo,â you laugh. You think of Remusâ fingers wrapped around his bass. Of James tapping out the rhythm to a song no one else has heard yet on his thighs. But you donât think either of those are the sort of shows this man is referring to.Â
âAre you a virgin or something?âÂ
Your head actually whips up, youâre so caught by surprise. âSorry?âÂ
The manâs gaze is still turned insouciantly towards the monitor. Your stomach sinks down to your knees. âItâs just the only thing that makes sense,â he says, shrugging. âI mean, how long have you been touring with them? And, nothing? Not even one of them?âÂ
You take a breath and try to make your voice firm. âLike I said, Iâm in it for the music.âÂ
This gets you a sideways glance. You donât like how amused it is; like this man knows something already, like heâs got you all figured out. âDo you mean to tell me none of them have even tried?âÂ
âThatâs right,â you say, forcing your own stare back to the monitor.Â
âMaybe youâre just not tuned into the right signals.âÂ
You keep your mouth shut. You can argue with this guy all day, or you can let the boys finish their interview and get out of here. Even if no one in this studio knows it, youâre still a professional; you canât afford to make a scene.
You stop breathing when the press of a fingertip begins running along the seam of your slacks.Â
âYouâre a pretty girl,â the man says, quietly.Â
While the rest of your body is still, your heart has a will of its own. It riots, climbing up your throat and beating against your skin.Â
Youâre smacked by the powerful urge to cry when you hear yourself reply, even more quietly, âThanks.âÂ
The control room doesnât feel like a room full of people anymore. It feels dark and private, and the constant low murmuring feels too quiet. Something inside your head begins to thrum as the manâs knuckles stroke lazily up and down the seam of your slacks, leaving ghostlike impressions in your thigh.Â
You look around to see if anyone is watching, and itâs just as you do that Mary pauses in her conversation and glances over. You catch her stare. You see her dark gaze flit down to the movement of a hand, then back up to your face, and then sheâs crossing the room to you.Â
It breaks you from some sort of petrified trance. You take a step sideways, breaking the light contact. Your heart pounds.
âHey,â says Mary, her tone easy as she links her arm through yours. Subtly positioning herself between you and the man, whose name you still havenât learned. âI think the boys are ready to go. Letâs fetch them.âÂ
You look at the monitor in front of you, realizing with a shock that the interview has finished. âYeah,â you say.Â
She ignores the man standing beside you as she says, âPleasure chatting with you,â to the producer, and then the door is shutting behind you.Â
âYou okay, babe?â Mary asks you, her voice soft but not small. A sort of whispered urgency.
You nod.Â
âYou sure?âÂ
âYeah,â you exhale. âThank you. Sorry, I sort ofâfroze up.âÂ
She squeezes your arm. âDonât apologize. Hey!â She puts on a smile for the boys, jumping up on the platform of the anchorâs desk to hug Remus. âThat was brilliant. They loved you in there.âÂ
âYou must trust us,â Sirius teases. âYou werenât even out here giving us hand signals for what not to say this time.âÂ
âI trusted you enough for fifteen minutes of freedom,â Mary shoots back. She glances around. âRight, so Iâm going to find Lily, but do you all want to head out to the bus?âÂ
âSure,â says James.Â
âPerfect. Umâhey.â She grabs your wrist before you can go, looking at you seriously. Her voice lowers. âDo you want me to say anything to someone from the studio?âÂ
You blink. âOh. No, itâs fine.âÂ
Maryâs lips press together, but she nods. âOkay. No detours, boys,â she says at her normal volume. âWeâre leaving in five.âÂ
âDo you think Lily gives her a script for what to say when sheâs not around?â James wonders aloud as Mary strides back the way you came.Â
Sirius is watching you with raised brows. âWhat was that about?âÂ
âNothing,â you say. âWhere are we headed tonight? Further south?âÂ
Your diversion isnât subtle, but no one pushes you. A kindness, considering how often youâve pushed these boys for answers when theyâve clammed up.Â
âYouâd think with all the research you do, youâd have gotten at least a general sense of the tour schedule,â sighs Sirius.Â
âIs that your way of saying you donât know either?âÂ
âYouâll never prove it.âÂ
âSouth, yeah,â Remus confirms. âWeâre in Birmingham the next three nights.â
âOoh.â Jamesâ face lights up. âThink Lily will let us go to Cadbury World?âÂ
ęŠ â§.°. đŚš.°.â§ ęŠâ§.°.𦹠.°.â§
Things calm on the bus. Remus immediately claims a bench and shuts his eyes. Whatever adrenaline perked Sirius up for the interview wears off, and he starts grumbling about getting coffee; James bounces between consoling him and trying to get you both on board with a team excursion to Cadbury World. By the time youâve all gotten settled, Maryâs coming on with Lily.Â
The redhead peers over the benches, doing her usual headcount. You offer a smile when her gaze lands on you. The one she offers back is thin.Â
âWeâre good to go,â she tells the driver, making her way back to you. Lily kneels on the bench in front of yours, laying her arms across the top. âHi.âÂ
âHi,â you say.Â
âDo you want to goââ She points with her chin to the back of the bus, where a few empty seats remain. ââtalk?âÂ
You really, really donât. âItâs okay,â you say. Smiling, not wanting it to seem like youâre rejecting her out of rudeness. âEverythingâs good, really.âÂ
Lilyâs brows twitch into a frown. âOkay. Yeah, thatâs fine.â Her voice drops to a murmur. âJust, youâre alright?âÂ
You nod, still smiling. Itâs beginning to ache a little in your cheeks.Â
âMary said you didnât want her to say anything, but if you change her mind, she could call the station. Itâs notâIâm glad youâre okay, but itâs not okay. There should be consequences for someone like that.âÂ
You donât know how to reply. You can only look at Lily, an unwelcome pressure behind your eyes.Â
Her voice becomes, impossibly, softer. âShe can still call, if you want. Or I can.âÂ
âItâs fine,â you force out.Â
âIs everything okay?â asks James.Â
You turn to find him watching you with a confused little furrow between his brows. Beside him, Remusâ eyes have opened to slits. Though you canât see Sirius without turning around, youâve no doubt he will have been eavesdropping from his seat, too. Lily winces, her eyes sorry. You suppose this is partly your fault for not going somewhere more private when she asked.Â
âYeah,â you reply to James.
âDid something happen?âÂ
âItâs fine.âÂ
âYouâre using those same words so much youâre going to wear them out, babe,â Sirius says lightly. Now you do turn to look at him. Heâs wearing the contrived sort of smirk youâve come to recognize. âAre you sure you mean them?âÂ
You press your lips together tightly as, to your horror, your eyes begin to well.Â
Siriusâ smirk drops in an instant. âHey, Iâm sorry. It was a joke.âÂ
You shake your head, blinking. âNo, I know. Sorry.âÂ
âItâs okay.â Lily reaches down to rub your shoulder. âYou donât have to apologize, love. You havenât done anything.âÂ
You give a wet laugh. âThanks. Itâs really fine, itââ You glance again at Jamesâ worried gaze, and relent. âIt was just a weird interaction with one of the guys working at the studio.âÂ
Siriusâ expression sharpens. âWeird how?âÂ
You shrug. âLike, flirty. He just asked some weird questions.âÂ
âMary made it sound like more than that,â says Lily, confused.Â
It is getting harder and harder to keep from bursting into tears. Luckily, Mary must overhear, because she summons your well-meaning friend back to the front of the bus under the guise of needing help with something vague. She canât save you from the scrutiny of the others, though.Â
âWas it more than that?â asks James.Â
Remus clears his throat. âMight not be any of our business,â he says, to no one in particular.Â
âIt wasâŚâ You wave your hand. The gesture comes off less flippant than you hope with you blinking so furiously. â...hardly anything. He just touched my leg.âÂ
You donât particularly want to look at anyone. You can feel their stares boring into you, but you donât meet them, looking instead at the empty seat across the aisle from you. Somehow, being frozen stiff in a dark room feels almost less vulnerable than talking about it in daylight.Â
âIâm sorry.â James sounds genuinely heartbroken for you.Â
âItâs fine.âÂ
âAnd heâs still there?â Sirius peers across the bus, looking like he might shout for the driver until Remus not-so-subtly glares him into submission.Â
James crosses over to your seat. âCan I hug you?âÂ
You shrug. âSure. But itâsâJames, itâs okay.â Youâre startled by the strength of his arms around you, how tightly James squeezes. âI was mostly just worried I was going to ruin your interview.âÂ
âNo, I get it.â His voice sounds rough, and you realize with a painful twinge that he might be crying, too. âIâm just really sorry.âÂ
âYou wouldnât have ruined anything,â says Remus. âEven if the interview had to stop, it wouldnât have been your fault.âÂ
You hadnât even considered that possibility. Your worst-case scenario was more along the lines of making a scene in the control room, upsetting your hosts, and causing trouble for Mary, Lily, and the boys as a consequence. The idea of them halting the interview for you seems so outrageous itâs almost laughable.Â
âI know how it feels,â says James, âwhen something like that happens, and you donât feel like youâre in a position to say anything. Itâs soâitâs scary. It makes you feel so helpless.âÂ
You pat his back. âYeahâŚâÂ
âAlright, James,â says Remus gently.Â
You pull back slightly. Jamesâ eyes are wet behind his glasses. âYou know how it feels?âÂ
James smiles ruefully. You decide instantly that you never want to see anything like it from him again. âWhen you make a show of yourself the way we do, people think they have a right to you, you know?âÂ
Your guts twist in a tight, uncomfortable knot. âIâm sorry,â you say. âThatâs awful.â
He shrugs. âIt didnât really bother me. Iâve always been pretty touchyâI mean, you know. But we had our first big event a few months ago, and Lorena Avery sort of grabbed me, and thatâŚâÂ
Recognition runs cold through your bloodstream. Lorena Avery. Singer, wife of Caius Avery. Avery Entertainment is one of the biggest record labels in Europe.Â
Your mind goes to an image of James at his first ever industry event, wide-eyed and shining with new stardom, being introduced to big names heâd probably never dreamed of meeting and shown all the opportunity that lay in front of him and his friends. How was he meant to tell anyone if he was made uncomfortable, when The Maraudersâ position in this society was so fragile? The possibility of being on the wrong side of someone like Caius Avery was a terrifying thing for anyone, let alone a band only about to embark on its first tour.Â
â...that was more than I could handle,â James finishes. Volumes left unsaid.Â
Your throat constricts, and you hug him tightly. âIâm so sorry.âÂ
âDonât be,â he says, choked. âIt was months ago. Iâm past it.âÂ
You donât think thatâs true. You think of the rumors that began a few months back of Jamesâ new, clandestine relationship, sprouting from the sudden shift in how he presented himself at shows. How he seemed less inclined to flirt with fans or flex his muscles for their entertainment. You think of yourself, prodding at him, teasing him about his âsecret girlfriend,â and you feel sick.Â
âIâm only telling you so thatâŚâ James clears his throat. ââŚyou know, orâŚyou get that itâs alright.âÂ
âThanks.â Tears squeeze out of your lashes. Youâre not sure if theyâre for you, or James, or the whole of it all. It doesnât matter; James hugs you tightly.Â
i am all for camp counsellor james! love that energetic man. what about like cabin vs cabin games? obstacle course, rope tugs (is that what itâs called?) etc.?
just a concept, i donât even have a specific idea on how that would go plot wise, but i like âcompetitive but in loveâ james lmaoo
ofc as always, feel free to ignore if it does not inspire :) enjoy the great weather and i hope youâre doing well!
Thank you for your request angel! I hope you're doing well and enjoying the weather wherever you are too :)
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
camp counselor!James x fem!reader ⥠807 words
Itâs the giggling that gives them away. Not Jamesâ giggling. The kidsâ. And maybe a little bit of Jamesâ.Â
They were doing so good. Honestly, it was a rush, sneaking through enemy territory, darting from hiding place to hiding place, the flag your cabin is guarding getting closer with you and the couple of your campers playing defense none the wiser. If James was on a team with Sirius and Remus instead of a bunch of ten-year-olds, the game would beâŚwell, he wants to say cinched, but itâd be pretty much the same, probably.Â
But Sirius never revealed their hiding spots by laughing too loudly. Not since he was eight at least.Â
James hears the chatter between you and your girls go suddenly quiet, and he whispers to his boys, âRun!âÂ
They break away from their trees to find you already heading towards them, all four beginning to sprint towards the bright yellow bandana tied to the post behind you.Â
âGo!â James shouts. Mostly for dramatic effect, but it does work to get a couple of his boys moving faster. âGo, go! Get it!âÂ
Their shorter legs have a considerable disadvantage over Jamesâ longer ones, but heâs not headed for the flag. (Not that heâs not tempted. Heâs working very, very hard not to go for it, actually, but these games are meant to be fun âfor the kidsâ and all that.) Anyway, your team has you, with your longer legs. Coming straight for him.Â
James canât help the grin that takes him (okay, he was definitely contributing to the giggling) as he crosses paths with one of his campers being chased by one of yours.Â
âGo on without me, Callum!âÂ
No protests from Callum. Ouch. James will nurse that wound later.Â
As he suspected, the girl chasing Callum canât resist the challenge of catching a counselor instead. James draws her away, with you on his heels too. He dances around a tree just as youâre catching up to him.Â
âI got you!âÂ
âNo, that was my shirt.âÂ
âThat counts, James.âÂ
âIt does not!â he laughs, walking backwards while you advance.Â
James thinks you might have both been going easy on each other during the various cabin-against-cabin games last summer. Back then, James recalls being rather occupied with flirting with you, and his mother taught him that beating a girl mercilessly in every competition is no way to win her over. Maybe you were thinking along similar lines back then.Â
This year, the competitive glint in your eye is almost frightening.Â
It is also hot.Â
(James is a simple man.)
The thing is, as much as James would love for you to tackle him to the ground right now, heâs competitive, too. And, at least for the moment, he doesnât have to worry about winning you over anymore.Â
âItâs really cute that you think you can catch me,â he taunts, panting a bit. Your other camper that was chasing him has given up and gone back to the action; itâs only you two now.Â
You make an aggravated sort of exhale, your breaths coming also fast as you both run around the forest. âI did catch you!âÂ
âClothes donât count.â James feints left, then goes right. He feels a twinge of guilt when you nearly trip in your attempt to correct, fighting down an urge to reach out and right you.Â
The next time he tries a similar maneuver, you react more quickly. Your hand snares in his shirt again, and this time you hold fast; when you go down, you make sure James comes with you.Â
He manages to get his elbows underneath him to avoid falling flat atop you. Your expression is alight with triumph, your fingers still curled stubbornly in Jamesâ shirt.Â
âDoes this count?â you taunt.Â
âWell, you did only grab my clothesâŚâÂ
You laugh breathlessly and give his chest a push. âDonât even try it.âÂ
James grins. You flatten your hand on his chest, your own eyes dancing with mirth. Despite the clear day, the air between you feels crackly and ripe like the sky before a storm.Â
âYou got me,â James confesses.Â
You hum smugly. âI know.âÂ
âGuess youâll have to escort me to jail.âÂ
You roll your eyes, but James secretly suspects that if he kissed your cheek itâd be warm. âIâm pretty sure that is how it works,â you say, giving him another push so that he stands up.Â
âWhatâs this about?â he asks when you close a hand around his elbow. âYou think Iâm going to run off?âÂ
You send him a deadpan look.Â
âHey, lovely, I know how to play by the rules.âÂ
The look deadens further.Â
James gasps in a manner he hopes is convincingly indignant. âI am insulted!âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â you hum. âIâm not letting you out of my sight.âÂ
i'm obsessed x10000 with previous fwb sirius x reader!!! their dynamic is so cute 𼚠could you maybe do something where they get into their first argument and sirius is just so scared of messing this all up
Thank you for requesting lovely!
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
Sirius Black x fem!reader ⥠1.1k words
Sirius finds you in the corner seat of your neighborhood coffee shop, wilted over a scone.Â
His heart is in his throat as he goes over to you. He shoves down on it to give himself room to speak.Â
âHeyââYou look up with red eyes, and it jolts right back to where it wasââis this seat taken?âÂ
You blink at him for a moment. âNo.âÂ
âThanks,â Sirius says, pulling out the chair across from you.Â
Itâs an unreasonably nice day for the dour mood. Thereâs enough sunlight streaming in through the nearby window to make you squint, and everyone is outside enjoying the weather. Sirius hates to think of how you must have felt leaving your flat like this, teary-eyed stepping out onto crowded streets with no shadows to hide you. He hopes he hasnât embarrassed you on top of everything else.Â
âI didnât think you really liked scones,â he says.Â
For a moment, you look confused. Then your gaze falls to your plate. âOh,â you murmur. âI donât. They were out of what I wanted and I panicked.âÂ
Sirius canât help a small smile at that. Itâs so like you, he wants to tease you and also kiss you on the tip of your nose. âWhy donât we get you something else, lovely?âÂ
âThatâs okay.â You shake your head, not quite looking at him. âIâm not actually that hungry.âÂ
âA drink, then.âÂ
âSirius.â You sigh his name out, and it hurts like a pressed bruise in Siriusâ chest. âYou donât have to get me anything.âÂ
He quiets his voice. âI just want to do something for you.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âBecause you seem like youâd like something to drink. And because Iâve been a dick.âÂ
You donât argue that. Which Sirius deservesâhe would have only argued back if you had, but it stings that you donât.Â
Fuck. He is so, so bad at this. He canât even figure out how to apologize properly.Â
Sirius isâŚhe thinks heâs wholer now than he used to be, but there are still parts of him that are shattered, with jagged edges that cut when you get too close. He doesnât want for you to have to weather his damage.Â
âIâm sorry,â he says, thinking that the basics might be a decent place to start.Â
You nod. Then, quietly, âMe, too.âÂ
It shocks like a jolt. âYou donât have anything to be sorry for.âÂ
âI had a hand in things.âÂ
âNo.â Siriusâ tone firms up defensively, and he has to consciously soften it again. âYou didnât do anything. Iâm sorry I snapped at you.âÂ
It should never have been a fight. Sirius isnât even sure thatâs what it was, only that it was more tense than it had any right to be. Neither of you got much sleep last night. Your downstairs neighbor was on the phone, loud, and you wouldnât let Sirius go say anything. He could have probably slept through it, but he was awake being irritated that you couldnât fall asleep and you wouldnât let him fix it for you. So neither of you were predisposed to good humor when you locked Sirius out of your flat this morning, not realizing heâd gone to take your rubbish out when you left for your appointment. He had to ring you to come back and let him in. You were irritated that youâd be late and he was irritated that he had to wait in his boxers on your stoop, but you both carried on like normal until nearly lunchtime, when you said that it felt like Sirius was annoyed with you, and he said that he was, obviously. It felt obvious to himâyou were both peeved with the other, it only made senseâbut your eyes welled up, and Siriusâ lungs dried out at the possibility that this was how he would lose you. He didnât trust himself enough to try and talk to you about it until now. Here.Â
Where he is still fucking it up.Â
âI should have checked if you were inside before I locked the door,â you say, your voice tight with self-censure.
Sirius shakes his head. âIâm not angry about that.âÂ
Your brow scrunches. You donât look like you believe him.Â
âIâm not,â he insists. âI didnâtâI wasnât even really angry at you in the first place. I was just pissed off about everything, but not at you.âÂ
âWhatâs everything?â you ask, your voice small.Â
âTheâyour neighbor,â he canât help but roll his eyes, it seems so petty now, âand being stuck outside. It was a shitty morning for both of us.âÂ
You swallow. Sirius watches in mute horror as your poor eyes begin to well again. âSorry.âÂ
âDonât be. Donât be sorry,â he says desperately. âYou were fine. You wereâgreat, and I was sharp because I was tired, which is no excuse. Jamesâ toddler acts better.âÂ
You make a wet snort. Itâs one of the most charming sounds Sirius has ever heard, and it makes the bruise in his chest ache again.Â
He stoops to catch your eye. âPlease donât cry, lovely girl.âÂ
You shake your head. âIâm fine,â you say, crying.Â
âWhat can I do? Is it too late to buy you something?âÂ
You laugh again and wipe beneath your eyes. âIâd have a tea if youâre having one.âÂ
Sirius is going to be having tea, then.Â
âYeah,â he says, standing up. He grabs your plate with the unwanted scone, wondering how strange itâd be to offer it to someone sitting nearby. It feels a shame to waste it. âHey.âÂ
You look up. Sirius runs his finger underneath your jaw impulsively, catching a tear off your chin. Your eyes go shy in that way that makes his heart threaten to spill out of his ribcage.Â
âAre we okay?â he asks at a murmur.Â
You blink. âYeah. Weâre good.âÂ
âOkay. I know itâs selfish, but can I ask you to do me a favor?âÂ
âSureâŚâÂ
âThe next time I fuck up, just give me a few minutes to get my shit together and apologize, okay? I donât want to ruin this.âÂ
Your brows furrow. âDid you think we were breaking up?âÂ
Sirius shrugs. His cheeks and heart burning.Â
You take a moment, bottom lip disappearing into your mouth. Then you reach your hand up for Siriusâ thatâs not holding your plate and squeeze gently. âYouâre not ruining anything.âÂ
âWell, give me a minute.â He squeezes back before stepping away. Only to double back and kiss you on the nose. You look rewardingly startled. âLetâs see if I get your order right before we say things like that.âÂ
Hi! Idk if you still write for poly! Wolfstar or poly! Marauders anymore but if you wanted to write for them again could I request a reader that literally never shows when their in pain and the bfs wake up in the middle of the night to the reader crying and throwing up from pain due to a kidney stone/ kidney infection and freak tf out? (Literally what happened to me one time and I never got around to writing a fic about it) obvs if you donât wanna write for them anymore totally fine! Just thought Iâd shoot my shot bc I love your fics and Iâve never requested anything before lol
Thanks for requesting lovely!
cw: vomitting, nausea
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ⥠1.1k words
Youâre so quiet that Remus doesnât wake until the bathroom fan comes on.Â
Heâs aware, in the distant, half-coherent way, that you got out of bed some time ago. Thatâs not uncommon; at least once a night, one of you (usually Sirius, because he has a bladder the size of a mouseâs) will clamber across the mattress in a drowsy obstacle course of tangled limbs to make your way to the bathroom. Remus registered your leaving, and went back to sleep.Â
Now, with the reminder of the fan, he goes to investigate.
Your name comes out soft and scratchy as he knocks on the bathroom door. Behind Remus, Sirius makes a mumbly sound that lands somewhere between irritation (presumably at realizing heâs been abandoned by both of you) and curiosity (presumably at why), but the drone of the fan drowns out any reply from you.Â
Remus knocks again. When you donât answer, he twists the doorhandle.Â
The bright ceiling light is a shock even though Remus thinks heâs prepared for it. He blinks a few times, un-fuzzing your image until he can see more clearly the shape of you, which is curled over the basin of the toilet, your knees on the cold tile and face hovering above the bowl, seemingly trying to hug yourself out of existence.Â
A somnolent coo drops from his lips, and Remus drops to his knees behind you. âHey.â He lays the backs of his fingers to your nape. Youâre clammyâand trembling, Remus can see it in your handsâbut you donât feel warm enough for a fever. âNot feeling well?âÂ
You make a soft noise thatâs likely meant to be a hum of agreement. It breaks partway through and turns to a whine.Â
âThink you might have caught a bug?â he murmurs sympathetically.Â
You might shrug, though Remus isnât sure if itâs only the involuntary jerk of your shoulders as you gag unproductively.Â
âI donât know,â you say after a while. Your voice is raw, and exhausted; Remusâ heart wrings itself out like a wet rag.Â
He hums, sweeping his thumb over your nape as you breathe in and out through your mouths. A sort of breathing Remus recognizes, shallow and controlled.Â
âAre you in pain?â he asks.Â
Your breathing doesnât change as you nod, eyes squeezed shut.Â
Remusâ alarm doubles.Â
Youâre not one to broadcast your discomfort. Youâd rather weather it on your own. This is an instinct Remus understands, and so he does his best to respect it; even when it pains him sometimes to do it; even when it means forcing Sirius to respect it against his instincts as well. There have been times when your boyfriends have learned that you pulled a muscle or hit your head days after the fact because you didnât feel like telling them and youâre nearly frighteningly good at hiding when youâre hurting.
Now, your small nod sends fingers of dread creeping up Remusâ spineânot because youâve never been in pain, but because youâve never admitted to it. Whatever youâre feeling, the intensity of it overwhelms your want for privacy.Â
Before he can fully reconcile with this, Sirius comes stumbling into the bathroom. Remus hadnât heard him coming over the fan (which, he realizes now, was likely a measure you took to keep them from hearing you). Sirius blinks, his face scrunched under the assault of the ceiling light in a way that would make Remus grin any other time.Â
Perhaps itâs because Remusâ expression remains so somber that Sirius asks instantly, âWhatâs wrong?âÂ
(Or a more slurred version of that, but Remus puts it together.)
âSheâs hurting,â he replies.Â
And Sirius, bless him, despite his still bleary eyes and his confusion and the fact that Remus knows it takes him at least a few minutes to wake up fully after getting out of bed, crouches behind you and knows precisely what to ask.Â
âWhere?â he says, smoothing a strand of hair away from your mouth. And at your helpless whine, âShow me, baby.âÂ
Remus watches you lift a trembling hand from the floor. Every movement looks like it pains you, and he feels vaguely nauseous himself at the prospect. You rest your palm over your stomach. âHâhere.âÂ
âCan I feel?â Sirius asks.Â
You look terrified at the prospect. âNo.âÂ
âOkay,â he soothes, âokay.â Remus rubs a slow back-and-forth across your nape, wondering if Sirius has noticed your slight trembling or the wet sheen over your eyes. If heâs as frightened by them as Remus is. âDid it just start?âÂ
You take a moment to respond, breathing through another bout of intensified pain. Remus sees your throat work around a gag. âYeahââ you manage ââjust tonight, but it getsâitâs in waves.âÂ
âDo you feel done being sick for now?â Remus asks.Â
You hum weakly. âI donât think thereâs anything left.âÂ
Sirius makes a pitying sound. He takes your shoulders to help Remus ease you back from the toilet. You look like you want to curl up on your side, but settle for leaning into Remusâ side instead. When you push out another shaky exhale, a tear slithers down your cheek.Â
âFuck, Iâm sorry, baby.â Siriusâ expression pinches and he shuffles closer to kiss your temple. âI know it hurts. Does it feel like itâs getting any worse?âÂ
Your reply is so soft Remus hardly catches it with you inches from his ear.Â
âMaybe,â he repeats for Sirius.Â
Sirius nods, his eyes clearer now and chewing his bottom lip. He sends Remus a grimace.Â
âWhat do you want to do, love?â Remus tries asking you. Because he knows what he and Sirius want to do, but it seems worth checking.Â
Your reply is near a sob. âI donât know.âÂ
âOkay,â Sirius is quick to reassure you. He kisses your head again. âLetâs start by getting some painkillers in you, angel, okay?âÂ
Remus kicks himself internally for not thinking of that sooner.Â
You nod, and Sirius gets up to find them, the bathroom now full of sound between the fan and cabinets opening and pill bottles rattling around.Â
âAnd then,â Remus does his best to make his voice calm and lulling, âmaybe we can go by A&E and see if they can help sort this out.âÂ
He neednât have been so cautious. Youâre in too much pain to do anything but nod, a small miracle that makes Remus feel at once relieved and distressed.
Sirius sits beside you again, but not beforeâseriously, Remus could kiss himâshutting off the fan, extinguishing some of the chaos in the room in favor of a more peaceful sort of quiet.Â
âHere you go,â he says, dropping a couple of paracetamol into your hand. âYouâll be alright, sweetheart. Weâve got you.â
idk if ur requests are open but could i request a sirius x reader who fight(playfully) ALL THE TIME, and its to the point that people think they dont even like each other but its actually the opposite
btw i love all ur ficss
Thank you for requesting lovely!
cw: domestic squabbling
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
Sirius Black x fem!reader ⥠801 words
Siriusâ eyes are flinty, boring into you. âTell the truth.âÂ
âI am,â you say evenly. âI. Donât. Care.âÂ
He scoffs and crosses his arms. âYouâre such a fucking liar.âÂ
âCan you not curse at me in public?âÂ
âMaybe once you stop being so stubborn.âÂ
You glare at him. Between you, a dessert menu sits on the table. Youâre both keeping away from it like itâd be a concession to touch.Â
âWhat about you?â You try to turn the argument around on your boyfriend. âI know you donât want the apple crumble, because of your thing with warm fruitââÂ
âWarm fruit?â Lily asks. Youâd nearly forgotten she was there. Only Sirius can wind you up so badly you forget to be conscious of the four other people at the table with you.Â
âHe wonât eat any fruit thatâs been warmed,â you explain to Lily. You side-eye Sirius and add, with disdain, âItâs a sickness.âÂ
James and Regulus both nod to confirm this assessment.
Sirius spreads his hands in a show of benevolence. âIf you want the apple crumble so badly, letâs get it.âÂ
âNo,â you insist, âthe point is to get something we both like.âÂ
You jolt a little as, under the table, Sirius hooks an ankle behind yours and tugs playfully. âStubborn,â he teases.Â
âYouâre stubborn.âÂ
âWhat a creative deflection.âÂ
You feel your features harden. âFine. Whatever, letâs forget about dessert.âÂ
Sirius makes a bewildered choking sound, like the mere suggestion is heresy. âDonât bullshit me,â he says. âI know you want dessert. You were eyeing that menu all of dinner.âÂ
âWell, now I donât.âÂ
âYou absoluteââÂ
âWhy donât you each get your own dessert?â interrupts Lily, clearly desperate for peace. You feel guilty at distressing her; you and Siriusâ bickering isnât so severe as to warrant that. But you canât think of a nice way to tell her that she doesnât need to get involved.Â
Sirius, perhaps thinking the same thing, sighs laboriously. âWe canât,â he tells her.Â
âWhy not?âÂ
âBecause, she wonât eat all of hersââÂ
âTheyâre big portions,â you defend yourself.Â
ââand then weâll end up taking it home, where it will sit in the fridge, and sheâll say I can have it, even though she really wants it herselfââÂ
âNo, you could have it, but he always forgets about itââÂ
ââand then eventually it goes bad, which is somehow my fault.âÂ
A twinge of genuine irritation goes through you as you remember your moldy chocolate cake from two weeks ago. âItâs your fault because you say youâll eat it and then you donât.âÂ
âSort of like you when you order it in the first place,â Sirius hums. And you know heâs only winding you up for fun, but you must have a dangerous look on your face, because your boyfriendâs demeanor shifts. He reaches for your hand on the table, threading your fingers together. âLovely, just tell me what you want to have. Weâre frightening Mary.âÂ
âOh no, donât stop on my account,â says Mary, looking thoroughly entertained in her seat next to Lily, whoâs faring considerably less well.Â
âI would be happy with any of them,â you emphasize.Â
Sirius rolls his eyes so hard it looks like it hurts. âAlright, sure, but you want something chocolate, donât you?âÂ
You frown. Because Sirius is trying to corner you into making the decision, and not at all because he knows you too well. âI wouldnât mind it, I guess.âÂ
âRight, so if I said I was between the brownie sundae and the lava cake, would you be able to choose between those?âÂ
You study Siriusâ face, trying to pick out the secret preference you know heâs hiding from you. His eyes glint and his mouth is tamped into seriousness, but those clues only lead to what you already know: heâs having a grand time goading you.Â
âIâd want the lava cake,â you relent.Â
Youâre rewarded by a smacking kiss on your cheek, distracting enough that no one else notices when Siriusâ hand slips beneath the table to squeeze your leg. âAttagirl. Knew you could do it.âÂ
You roll your eyes. âDonât fucking condescend to me.âÂ
âRemind me, who was it that had qualms with cursing at each other in public?âÂ
You roll your eyes harder. Regulus catches your gaze partway through its trajectory. âBlink twice if you need out of this relationship,â he offers seriously.Â
Sirius makes an indignant squawking sound, using an arm around your waist to pull you halfway into his chair as though to keep you from getting away. You smile at Regulus apologetically, your face beginning to burn in the aftermath of your squabble.
âDonât worry about it, love,â James tells him. âThis is foreplay for them.âÂ
Regulus makes a noise of surprised revulsion. Sirius kisses your cheek again when it burns too hot.Â
explicit content
Leon taught you how to kiss. He never imagined that heâd be with someone who didnât know how. Simply hadnât fathomed it. Why would he? But you, lovely and kind, smart and silly, had never been kissed, and so Leon taught you. Got you sitting over his thigh with a little bit of pleading and a solid arm coiled behind you like a belt.
He thinks about it sometimes when he needs to, how heâd pressed his thumb into the hinge of your jaw to get you to open up and kiss with tongue, the hesitancy of your hands on him, the soft brush of your mouth and your breathing. He remembers those first few kitten licks, and the way heâd nipped your nose to get you to laugh and calm down. Finds himself aching and hard at even the slightest reminderâyouâll wear your perfume from those shy first months together and heâll strip himself raw remembering how heâd guided you forward, murmured about tongue and teeth and which way to turn your face, how to follow, when to give in.Â
It plagues him more often than it should. Occasionally, youâll kiss him sweet and gentle, your lips more parted than they could be, and heâll wonder if heâs a bad teacher as his stomach turns leaden with heat. Wet kiss or chaste, casual or under his weight, he canât be that bad. Isnât as good-hearted as heâd like to think, maybe, when he gets hard from a peck or entices you to sit in his lap and practice. Itâs spit, heâd murmured, not poison. Jusâ kiss me, honey, I donât care if youâre bad at it. Practice makes perfect, didnât anybody ever tell you that?
Kind of a filler scene because I thought they deserved a bit of a break. Hope you enjoy <3
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9
rockstar!marauders x journalist!reader ⥠1.2k words
Youâve learned there are two kinds of shows that The Marauders perform: the ones that leave the band still humming with adrenaline afterwards, and the ones that leave them utterly exhausted. You think this would probably be easier for Lily to manage if they were all one way or the other; however, unfortunately, this is not always the case.Â
Tonight, for instance, Remus meets you backstage with a post-show afterglow and a worn-out sigh, and James, once he and Sirius are done soaking up the cheers for an encore, skips over and kisses Remus square on the mouth.Â
Sirius makes a choked sort of sound. Remusâ eyes widen, but he doesnât look as surprised as youâd expect, which is then somewhat explained when James wipes his mouth with a look like heâs rather surprised himself, says, âRight,â and then does the same to Sirius and then you.Â
You try to remember how to breathe, distantly aware of the fading impressions of Jamesâ fingers where heâs just gripped your face.Â
Sirius says, in a tight sort of voice, âJames can get a bit overexcited after shows.âÂ
âYeah,â James agrees, his face flushed and mouth a bit wet. Youâd like to stop looking at his mouth, now. âSorry.âÂ
You rub your lips together, then wish you hadnât. âItâs fine. It was a big show.â It was. If you're measuring by crowd size, it was the biggest show the band has played yet, hence Jamesâ overexcitement. âI, um, I get it.âÂ
âIâm going for a smoke,â Remus says, and walks off towards the side door.Â
You stand still for a moment longer, trying to quell the flutter in your stomach before following Remus out. Youâre being ridiculous. It was only a kiss, and your position is tenuous enough without rumors spreading that youâre sleeping with your interviewees. Youâre here to do a job, not get all flustered and fluttery over hot musicians.Â
The alleyway on the side of the building is empty, and dark enough that you all can stay close to the wall without attracting the attention of fans leaving the show on the adjacent street. By years of practiced movements or perhaps some kind of magic, Remus already has a cigarette between his lips by the time you come outside a couple of seconds after him.Â
âAlright?â Sirius asks in a tone you canât decipher, putting out his hand expectantly.Â
Remus nods and digs out another cigarette. Sirius puts it in his mouth, and Remus flicks open his lighter, both of them leaning close to the flame. It lights their faces in an orange hue. You watch the flame flicker in Siriusâ upturned, searching eyes.Â
Your heart stutters, and the fluttery feeling returns.Â
Damn it.
For a while, everyoneâs quiet, even James. It occurs to you that Remus might be more talkative if you werenât here.Â
You arenât sure whether the hurt that blooms in you at the thought originates from guilt or offense. Remus has earned his mysterious reputation. Even though heâs always kind, he reveals very little, not like James who blurts without thinking or Sirius who talks and talks like conversation is a maze he intends to lose you in. After travelling with them for a couple of weeks, constantly in close proximity due to time on the bus and the hotel rooms Remus keeps quietly getting you and the rather clingy nature of your job, you think youâve learned to navigate each of the members of the band fairly well.Â
When it comes to privacy, James is virtually defenseless. He has a way of making everyone feel like he might be their best friend, with how heâll march up to you and put an arm around your shoulders and invite you around to his parentsâ for dinner. Heâs so open-hearted it almost pains you, and such an open book youâve stopped asking him any very personal questions because it feels too cruel.Â
Remus and Sirius are each considerably more cautious. They treat you more like a friend than a prying stranger (a good thing, as youâd like to consider them your friends now too), but the walls come up when your tape recorder comes out. Itâs a little bit disappointing for you every time. The difference is noticeable. Remus is never cruel, but he has a skill for making his tone convey in no uncertain terms when you shouldnât press while he sidesteps a question with perfect politeness. When that failsâbecause polite or not, you are stubbornâhe lets Sirius handle it.Â
Siriusâ walls are bright and glittery. Thereâs a giant, flashing sign posted out front that says Look Over There!Â
Sirius is a performer, and a good one; he knows how to show people what he wants them to see. Itâs worked on many interviewers before you, and though youâre wise to his tricks, youâve also spent enough time talking in circles with him at this point to know when you wonât get anywhere.Â
You can admit, privately, that itâs sweet how these boys protect each other. Thereâs no hiding when a topic is sensitive, because theyâll all fall over each other to divert you from it. One time, Sirius just started flirting with you. Blatantly, with no skill or nuance. It was entertaining enough to succeed in changing the course of the conversation, though by the end of it Remus was a brilliant shade of pink and you suspect you weren't much better.Â
You wonder sometimes if these are skills they developed as children, when they first met in school. It would explain how James has grown into adulthood with his heart still bleeding all over his sleeve. You admire their devotion.Â
Sirius is eyeing you, the cherry of his cigarette glowing between his lips.Â
âNo,â he says.
You feel your eyebrows jump. âSorry?âÂ
âYouâve got that nosy look about you, and the answer is no.âÂ
âItâs not nosy,â James comes to your defense, âitâs curious.âÂ
You tip your head towards James in silent agreement. Not quite looking at him, for fear of thinking again about his mouth.Â
âWhat if I ask you an easy one tonight?â you ask. Your gaze flickers to Remus unwillingly, and you think he must know your restraint is for him, with the way heâs looking back at you.Â
Sirius hums. âNo,â he says in a puff of smoke anyway.Â
You roll your eyes. Because no one has offered you one, you take the cigarette out of his mouth, enjoying a long pull and Siriusâ blink of surprise. Itâs not often that you get to be the one flummoxing Sirius; you savor every victory you can get.Â
You take out your tape recorder and turn it on. âWhat do you love about music?â you ask them.
Sirius blinks again.Â
Jamesâ laugh is loud and bright, echoing in the alley. âI thought you said itâd be easy.âÂ
âYou donât have an answer?â you tease.Â
âI think you know it isnât that simple,â says Remus. Heâs watching you with that same look in his eye, half knowing and half something like amusement but warmer. It makes your stomach feel all liquidy.Â
You shrug. âThis isnât about me.âÂ
âAw, come on, doll.â Sirius grins that camera-ready, lead-singer grin at you. âYou canât really be asking us that like you donât know yourself.âÂ
You inhale again before taking Siriusâ cigarette from your mouth and placing it back between his lips to let him enjoy the rest. âBut I am asking you,â you tell him.Â
He takes a drag, the cherry flaring orange. You see the moment he decides to indulge you.Â
âWell, to start withââSirius leans closer to your recorder, as though making sure you get thisââeverything.â
Reader with English not being her native language, maybe shes from rask or something.
And every time she forgets the English word for something, the ic turns it into a mini game of who can figure it out first, even amren joins sometimes, but when they all can't figure it out (because the only clues they get is her saying "its the thing!! That has the thing with the thing on it!" With vague hand gestures) they ask for cassians help.
Because for some reason he always gets it IMMEDIATELY (Thats why he's not allowed to play until they completely give up)
I wonder why đź
Cassian x fem!reader whose second language is English [1k words]
CW: words lost in translation, family antics, fluff
Rhysandâs not entirely sure whoâs more frustrated right now: you, for everyoneâs inability to understand you, or Amren, when it looks like the ancient being might lose this little game theyâre playing.Â
Thereâs a small competition within the Inner Circle when it comes to you getting tongue tiedâwhoever can guess the word youâre looking for first, wins.
They donât win anything other than bragging rights, but his family is a competitive one, so itâs as cut throat as anything else they put their minds to.
Though, there are three people barred from playing.Â
Rhysand and Feyre arenât allowed to play because while your mental shields are dutifully built, no one trusts the two daemati to play fair.
And Cassianâs not allowed to play either, for obvious reasons.
Well, reasons that are obvious to Rhysand, and likely the rest of the family, not that itâs any of their business; Cassian will tell you in his own time.
So itâs often down to Morrigan, Amren, Nesta, and Azriel to guess what the missing word youâre looking for is, with Lucien joining in when he and Elain visit as well.
Lucien was absolutely delightedâand horribly smug, the prickâwhen he correctly translated the answer to what your favourite fruit wasââan appleâs friendââas a pear, and he hasnât been invited back since.Â
Amrenâs glaring at Azriel like sheâs hoping the shadowsinger might be banned next.Â
âAn echo?â Morrigan tries, huffing when you shake your head no.Â
âAnd youâre saying that itâs something that people, the trees, and the sky does?â Nesta clarifies, narrowing her eyes in your direction.Â
âSome animals too,â you agree, cheek bunched up where itâs resting on your fist. Cassian canât stop smiling at you even though thereâs an obvious tension in his body, poised in his seat like itâs taking everything in him not to blurt out the answer.Â
âDo you know what it is?â Morrigan asks Cassian, who nods his head yes but doesnât move his gaze. âWhat is it?â
âNo,â Amren hisses, eyes still narrowed at you though Rhysand knows the ancient beingâs gaze isnât malicious, but rather dissecting. âI can do this.âÂ
âAnimals too, you say?â Azriel confirms, humming when you nod your head yes.
âYou lost me at trees and the sky,â Nesta admits, eyes staring at the wall unseeingly as she twirls the wine in her glass and ponders your latest riddle.Â
Rhysand shoots you a questioning glance, wondering if this little game has gotten old and is beginning to weigh on you, but you shoot him a wink. Itâs not easy conducting your daily life in a language thatâs not your own, heâs glad youâre able to find a bit of fun in it where you can.Â
âTrees, the sky, people, and some animals,â Morrigan hums thoughtfully.Â
âI am unsure if the sky is responsible for the sound or if it is the clouds,â you admit.Â
âThe cloudsâŚthunder?â Azriel tries. âBut the treesâŚâÂ
âBut in the wind the trees can groan,â Nesta muses, eyes sharpening when you sit up straighter. âGroan?â
âAnimals donât groan,â Amren mumbles.Â
âBut they do roar,â Morrigan tries.
Nesta gives her a strange look. âBut trees donât roar.âÂ
âNo, you were onto something with the groan,â Azriel announces, keeping his gaze on you. âAre we close?â
âClose, yes,â you agree eagerly. âIt is like a groan, but notâŚso unhappy? The sound is not happy, but to groan soundsâŚsad.â
âGroaning is too sad, but the word youâre looking for isnât necessarily happy?â Morrigan confirms.Â
I donât know, Rhysad hums into Feyre and Cassianâs minds, Cassian used to sound real happy when he made this sound in his bedroom.Â
Cassian smirks devilishly but flips Rhysand off so no one else can see.Â
Donât antagonize him, Feyre chastises. Heâs barely keeping from launching himself across the table at her as is.Â
Rhysand hums thoughtfully. Do you think he might-
âGrowl!?â Morrigan shouts, squealing when you nod your head yes and Cassian smiles at his lap and shakes his head.Â
âWhen the hell did trees start growling?â Amren huffs.Â
âThey make an awful sound when theyâre about to fall,â Azriel placates. âAnd thunder does sound an awful lot like growling.â
âThunder,â you hum thoughtfully, running your finger along your bottom lip as you catalogue this new word in your mind. âThat is the sound of the sky?â
âThunder, yes,â Azriel agrees. âIt comes from the clouds, usually followed by rain.âÂ
âSky water,â you hum, causing Nesta to snort at the memory of one of the last games of this type she won.
âHow did we even get onto the topic of growling anyways?â Feyre asks then, Nestaâs brows furrowing and Morriganâs smirk growing dangerously impish as her eyes flit to Cassian.Â
âActually, Y/N was just telling us a story about her trip into town,â she explains, everyone tensing at the mischief in her tone.Â
âOh?â Nesta chimes in, leaning back in her chair as she plays along.Â
âApparently, Cassian escorted her this afternoon, and they stopped by Corvenâs.â
The group simultaneously hums as they see where this is going.Â
âCorven is nice,â you offer warily, eyes darting around the room as you try to puzzle out what page everyone else seems to be on.Â
The cafe owner is niceâtoo nice, oftenâand uncomfortably so to his female customers.Â
âMhm,â Morrigan agrees rather noncommittally. âAnd apparently, Cassian saw him getting a little too cozy with his sweet ma-â
âAlright, thatâs enough story telling,â Cassian announces abruptly, standing and offering you a hand. âWould you like to help me make the pear turnovers?âÂ
You seem confused by his rather rude interruption, butâas mates tend to doâyou canât seem to deny Cassian of his request. The family watches as you place your delicate hand in his and allow him to lead you in the direction of the kitchen.Â
Morrigan coughs into her fist obnoxiously. âCoward.â
The group laughs when the Lord of Bloodshed flips them off over his shoulder, you remaining none the wiser.
Š ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.
hi, i just wanted to say i'm loving the prince!james au and so so excited to see how you end it! much love <3
Thank you angel <3
cw: muggle au, arranged marriage, discussion of war
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
poly!marauders x princess!reader ⥠1.6k words
You wonder if you should be packing. It wouldnât take long; you didnât come to Gryffindor with much. Maybe the prospect of how simple it would be to leave is what keeps you still, sat stiffly on your bed while James paces the room from end to end.Â
You feel half frantic, twitchy, like you really should be doing something but youâre afraid to do anything at all. To move seems dangerous, which you know is a silly thought. The danger has passed, now. The war is ending. You wish your feelings about all that entails werenât so complicated as they are.Â
âHave you eaten?â Remus asks Sirius quietly. The other boy is leant on the wall across from your bed with his jaw deadbolted shut, and what is perhaps meant to be a private conversation carries through the too-quiet room.
âNot yet,â says Sirius.
âWe can go see what they have in the kitchenâŚâ
âIâm good.â
Thatâs it. Where James is wearing a trench into the floor and Remus is in the unusual position of doing most of the talking, Sirius seems to have shut down. The mood has changed from their joy at telling you the news about Riddle, but you canât fully make out its new direction.Â
âJames?â Remus tries.Â
James stops. âHm?âÂ
Remus looks slightly pained, but it doesnât wear away his fondness. âLunch?âÂ
âOh.â James blinks. âRight, yeah. Maybe in a bit? You both ate, didnât you? Sirius, you didnât have breakfast, are youââÂ
âIâm good,â Sirius says again.Â
You feel your eyes darting about like a tennis match, trying to understand what theyâre each thinking. It reminds you of how most interactions went when you first came to Gryffindor, and you donât like it. You thought you were done with feeling on the outside.
When your analysis returns to Remus, sitting next to you on the bed, heâs waiting for you. âWhat are you thinking?â he asks, gently.Â
You swallow, shrugging helplessly. Thereâs less than a meter between you, but Remus feels so much farther away than he did at your picnic an hour ago. âI guessâŚI should talk to my familyâs courtiers.â You look at James. âHave your parents heard anything?âÂ
James shakes his head. âNot that theyâve told me.âÂ
âWhat do they want me to do?âÂ
âIâŚâ James looks distraught, and also like heâs trying to hide it (James is not a very good actor). âI think it matters more what you want to do. They only want us to be happy.âÂ
Itâs the sort of thing you wouldnât have believed a few months ago; anyone involved in politics always has an opinion, a directive, a motive, no matter how they try to soften it with diplomacy. If individual happiness was prioritized over the good of the people, things would fall apart. But you know Monty and Effie mean it as more than a platitude. They really will go along with whatever you choose to do.Â
âWould breaking off the engagement now have any repercussions for Gryffindor or Peleria?â Remus asks.Â
James frowns, tilting his head from side to side. âSome, yeah. But without the war, they wouldnât be anything terrible.âÂ
You nod along. âThings could go back to the way they were.âÂ
You watch them each carefully as you say it. You donât know what youâre looking forâagreement, displeasure, relief.Â
âDo you think you might visit?â asks James.Â
You press your lips into a smile. âIf youâll have me.âÂ
His eyes go melty soft. Your heart mushes similarly. âOf course, lovely. Weâll have you as often as we can get you.â
âIs that what you want?â Remus asks tentatively. âFor things to go back to how they were?â
You ignore a twinge of revolt in your gut. âWhat do you want?â you counter.
âI think that this should be your decision.âÂ
âWhy?â you ask. âIt affects all of us.âÂ
Your tone reveals more frustration than you mean for it to. Since your rather ungraceful fainting incident and the subsequent monumental shift in how each of the boys act around you, they havenât let you feel alone in this for a second. Youâre not going to let them abandon you now.
After everything, all the chaos and uncertainty of the last few months, you finally feel this quiet, steady warmth between you, an ember that might grow into something new if you let it. As grateful as you are that the war is overâbecause you are, that part isnât complicated at allâyouâre a bit disappointed that it means this new warmth you were only beginning to acquaint yourself with will likely fizzle out.Â
âBut it affects you and James the most,â Remus reasons. He casts a look to the side. âJames, what are you thinking?âÂ
James, pacing again, puffs out his cheeks with a big breath. âIt just feels like everything has happened so quickly,â he confesses.Â
âIt was always going to.â Remus sounds almost solemn. âEven with the long engagement, youâd need to get married soon.âÂ
âThat was too fast, too.â James weaves around your vanity chair like slowing for even a moment is out of the question. Sirius tracks him silently with his eyes. âIt was always a tactical marriage. We didnât have time to reallyâyou know.âÂ
You nod, drawing your knees close. âBetter to end it quickly than go through with something that was always going to be premature,â you say.Â
James is nodding, nodding, nodding, but his expression is still all pinched tight.Â
You turn to Sirius. Heâs already watching you, and his gaze seems to catch and hold yours in that way that he does, like a challenge.Â
âSirius,â you say.Â
He makes a short humming sound.Â
âYouâre being so quiet,â you say, rather quietly yourself. Insecurity weaves itself through the fibers of your voice.Â
Sirius sighs and drops his head, fingers pressing into his browbone. âIâm trying not to be selfish.âÂ
You brace yourself. âWhat would you say if you were?âÂ
He shakes his head. âLike Remus said. This is your choice.âÂ
âItâs not just mine,â you say stubbornly. âI want to know what you all think.â You hesitate. There are some things you might feel better not knowing, but youâve never truly thought ignorance was bliss. If you did, things might have gone very differently for you here. âWould it make things easier for you if I wasnât here?âÂ
Siriusâ hand falls away, his brows hooking. âNo.â The word sounds dragged out of him, rough and fast. âI want you to stay here.âÂ
It shouldnât surprise you. Sirius has been possibly the most plain about his feelings of all of youâthough that may be partly because the contrast after he admitted them has been so stark. You keep expecting him to go back on it. For all of them to, honestly. Now would be the opportunity to admit that they only pitied you, that theyâve been spending time with you out of kindness and a sense of obligation, that your presence here causes more turmoil than anything else.Â
But Remus and James donât disagree with him. James looks relieved; Remus watchful. Neither of them argue.
That new warmth flares between you.Â
âI think we all like having you nearby,â Remus says after a while, âbut we know how much youâve missed home.âÂ
Your throat contracts. âIf I went back, I think Iâd miss you more.âÂ
Jamesâ whole face lights with hope. âYou donât have to go,â he says. âYou could stay here, and just visit home when you want. We could go with you.âÂ
âWould that even be possible?â you ask.Â
âAnythingâs possible,â James says easily. A true child of Gryffindor, all confidence and determination. âWe could split our time, if we wanted to. Obviously, I have to be here some of the time, and so does Sirius, butââÂ
âAlright,â Remus quiets him, a sweet curve at the corner of his mouth. âLetâs not get ahead of ourselves.âÂ
James holds his hands up. You feel your own mouth tug. When your eyes wander, Sirius finds them.Â
âYou still havenât said what you want,â he says.Â
You feel yourself shrink under three curious stares. In truth, there hasnât been a question of what you want for a long time. Only whether you can have it. âI donât want to get married,â you say. Your gaze goes to James, holding back the apology on your tongue. âItâs too fast, and it would never not be political. And we wouldnât be able toâŚit couldnât be all of us.âÂ
âIâm not ready either,â James agrees. âI could do it, if we had toâand IâI didnât mind that it was you, you know.â Heat rises to your face, and his cheeks darken too. âBut if we donât have to, Iâd like to slow things down.âÂ
âCould we do that?â you ask. âIf I stayed here?â
âYou always seem to forget that youâre royalty,â says Sirius, apparently feeling well enough to tease now. âWe can do whatever we want, gorgeous. Is that what you want?âÂ
You do. You want to explore Gryffindor on your own terms, knowing Peleria is safe and open to you when you want it. You want to get to know James, and Sirius, and Remus, without the need to solidify an alliance like a noose tightening around you. You want to see summer in this place, and to develop an earnest friendship with Lily and Marlene, and to let the warmth between you grow and grow and grow.Â
âI want to stay,â you say.Â
Remusâ eyes are flickering with warmth, too. âThen you should stay.âÂ
Your first beginning in Gryffindor was forced. A stiff dress, a foreign home, a myriad of strangers who seemed to both pity and distrust you. A rough tumble into love, with a prince with a nice smile and a guard with a quick tongue and a seneschal who spoke gentleness into every breath. An engagement you didnât know you weren't allowed to want. A war. A cruelly good kiss.
would love to see some aftercare w tasm!peter where reader is just soo sleepy and he is so tender <3 i adore the way you write him
Thank you for requesting!
cw: mature themes (mdni please), afab reader
tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ⥠551 words
Peter might be a pervert for thinking youâre most beautiful like this, but heâs not that worried about it.Â
Maybe he is a pervert. Itâs only for you, specifically, so whatever. He has a feeling youâll forgive him.Â
Youâre lying on the bed, your limbs lax now, like the last hour or so has taken it out of you so completely that you canât move a muscle. Peter loves that he gets you like this. Completely unselfconscious. Your lips are kissed swollen, and there are little love marks on your chest to match the ones on Peterâs neck and shoulders, and your eyelids are as droopy as if they have weights sewn into them. He loves to get you like this too; completely tuckered out.
You rouse enough to hiss when Peter brings a wet washcloth between your thighs.Â
âHey,â you say, almost scolding. It makes a laugh bubble up in Peterâs chest, which he generously swallows.Â
âSorry.â He tucks his grin inside your knee, kissing softly. âIâll be quick.âÂ
He sweeps the cloth through your folds, and you hiss again, one leg coming up protectively as though you canât help it. Now, Peter frowns.Â
âIs it really that sensitive?â he asks you.Â
He guesses he couldnât blame you. You and Peter spent more time teasing each other tonight than you have in a while, and you werenât exactly begging him to go easy on you. Your labia are as kiss-swollen as your mouth, maybe more.
The look you give him says you know he knows. âYeah.â You heave a sigh, like speech is exhausting, your eyes drifting shut again. âIâm sore all over. Aren't you?âÂ
Peter is, but he also spends his free time doing acrobatics and heaving himself around by his arms. If he twinged a bit walking to the bathroom and back, he bets youâre feeling worse.Â
He rubs over your hip consolingly. âWanna take a bath?âÂ
You think on it for a while. Youâre tempted, Peter can tell. âI donât feel like getting up.âÂ
âIâll carry you.âÂ
You hum somnolently. âThanks, but youâŚâ You fumble for Peterâs hand. When you find it, you squeeze his fingers, his sweetheart. Peter squeezes back. âYou have to get up early for work.âÂ
âYeah, but I donât mind.â He catches his voice softening, as if heâs trying not to disturb your sleep when really heâs trying to keep you awake. He doesnât do anything to correct it. âIâll have coffee either way. Let me give you a bath, pretty girl.âÂ
Itâs a visible effort to open your eyes. You look at Peter like he hung the moon. âSure?âÂ
He grins. âYeah, Iâm sure.âÂ
âYouâd do that?âÂ
Peter groans, his head dropping to your leg. He lets his voice buzz against your skin. âAre you serious? God, I know youâre tired, but letâs use our brains for a second.âÂ
He picks his head up to take yours between his hands. You look slightly more awake than you were a moment ago.Â
âI would do anything for you,â he says. âGot it?âÂ
Peter watches your surprise meld into a more startled kind of pleasure. He kisses it right off your lips.Â
âDramatic,â you accuse, settling back into your pillow as Peter stands to start your bath.Â
hi Mae!! I saw your comment about camp counselor James and after sitting out for 5 hours in the heat, I feel the same. Could you maybe write something with him teaching reader how to swim over the summer but shes too busy ogling him?
Thank you!!
Hi angel, thank you for requesting! I did this slightly differently but I think the important bits are still there
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If youâre new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
camp counselor!james x fem!reader ⥠882 words
âOkay, so the wallâs going to help us keep our head up, yeah?âÂ
Amina, clinging to the edge of the pool dearly, nods.Â
âPerfect.â James smiles at her. His ease in the water and confident tone emanate reassurance. âAre you getting sick of me ordering you about yet?âÂ
Amina laughs. âNo.âÂ
James pffts. âYou donât have to protect my feelings.â He makes eye contact with you where youâre sitting on the edge of the pool nearby, your legs swishing idly in the water. Jamesâ eyes glint with a conspiratorial sort of look you havenât quite figured out how to interpret yet but makes your stomach swoop every time.Â
Ostensibly, youâre here because you want to be certified as a swim instructor, like James is. Amina is also your camper, the only one this session who showed up without already knowing how to swim, and so your boss thought it would be helpful for you to observe her daily lessons with James. These are all very true and practical reasons for your being here.Â
Another one is that youâd been so shocked at Jamesâ handsomeness the first day you met that you hadnât said a word to him for fear of embarrassing yourself, and still heâd been friendly enough to come over to you in the mess hall that night to try and make friends. You have more than one reason for wanting to be around him.Â
âWell, you have a golden opportunity here,â says James, his eyes leaving yours after a drawn-out second to focus on Amina. âIâm going to step back here, and I want you to kick your legs and splash me in the face as hard as you can. Okay?âÂ
Amina nods. You press your lips together as James puts on a good show of dread, stepping behind her and helping to lift her ankles to the surface. âReady?â he asks, a put upon waver in his voice. âGo!â
Amina starts kicking, and James throws up his hands, pretending to fall back.Â
âAh, oh my god! Youâre so strong! I bet if you kicked with your whole legs instead of just your feet itâd beâwoah, yeah. Wow, youâre drowning me back here!âÂ
Seemingly for effect, James does allow himself to get completely soaked. By the time he tells Amina to stop, his curly hair is dripping and slickened in spots to his forehead and his chest shines with tiny water droplets. You do not get at all distracted by either of these observable facts.Â
âThat was brilliant,â he says, helping Amina off the wall so she can find her footing again in the shallow end. âWeâre almost done for the day, but before you go I want to practice floating one more time, alright?âÂ
You watch your camperâs expression cloud over. They practice this at the end of every lesson, but itâs the skill Amina struggles with the most. Jamesâ eyes seek you out.Â
âMaybe y/n can help us out today,â he says. âWhat do you think?âÂ
âYes!â Amina agrees excitedly, while you tilt your head at him.Â
âMe?âÂ
James nods. âDo you mind hopping in? I need a floater.âÂ
You shrug, standing to strip out of your clothes to the one-piece you wear underneath. Itâs not a sultry process, but youâre conscious of how on display you are as you slide your shorts down your hips, stepping out of them. You accidentally meet Jamesâ eyes when you turn around to get into the pool, and you think his cheeks may be a tad darker than they were a minute before.Â
Amina cheers as you lower yourself in. James wades over to you. You donât let yourself notice how heâs become taller than you again now that youâre on even footing.Â
âIâm going to do with you just like I do with Amina, okay?â he asks, and you nod, knowing what heâs really asking. Iâm going to touch you. Will you let me?Â
You lean back, letting your legs rise to the surface. Jamesâ hands come up under you a moment later. One pressing up lightly beneath your knees, the other at the small of your back. Making like heâs holding you up even when you donât need for him to. James grins down at you, his face blotting out the sun, then looks up to say something to Amina you canât hear with your ears below the surface of the water.Â
You donât really know what to look at. It feels silly to close your eyes, so you keep looking at James. At the shape of his neck, the way his jaw casts the top half of it in shadow, the sun-warmed shelf of his shoulders. His voice is a lulling, indistinct thrum.Â
After a minute, his hands fall away, showing Amina how you float on your own, and a short while later James is tapping your shoulder to signal that you can stand up.Â
âThat was some superb floating,â he praises as water empties from your ears. âBut I think you can show her up, Mina, what do you say?âÂ
You back out of their way, but James grabs your arm.Â
âDonât go far,â he says, his hand warm around your wrist. âWe might need you again.âÂ
Okay this is kind of a broad request, and plz feel free to take the parts you like (if you want ofc) and run with them.
Iâm like an ABSOLUTE sucker for an injured reader. Exhausted reader. Reader who absolutely needs to be cared for. Reader who is physically unwell to the point that those around her are mentally unwell, and then reader thatâs upset she made others upset and sheâs a mess. If youâd be interested in writing literally anything along those lines for any acotar guy or any poly acotar ship I would eat it right up.
I was read your requests for high stake hurt/comfort and I think this should be good? If not plz ignore lol but sometimes I just love a damsel in distress.
Love you!! MWAH
one damsel in distress coming right up đŤĄ
Azriel x fem!reader found in the snowy Illyrian forest [1.4k words]
CW: hypothermia, discussion of near-death/dying, possibly incorrect treatment of hypothermia, mating bonds, hurt/comfort
Azriel will find the time to be ashamed about his actions later, but right now his steps falter as he tries and fails to understand what heâs looking at.Â
He knows exactly what you are though, knows exactly what the violent burst of golden warmth that rattled in his chest the moment he laid eyes on you means; itâs a feeling heâs been praying to experience for centuries.Â
Youâre his mate.
What his faulty, ill-equipped brain is having trouble comprehending is what youâre doing here and how Azriel came to stumbleâalmost literallyâupon you in the dense, snow-covered forest in the Illyrian mountains on the brink of death.
Youâre not Illyrian; Azriel doesnât even think you look like youâre from the Night Court at all.Â
But youâre his mate.
Heâs your mate, yet Cassian is the first one to shake himself out of his shock at finding a nearly frozen fae in the Illyrian wilderness. The Illyrian General moves towards your unconscious frame.
âDonât touch her,â Azriel growls, his mouth moving faster than his brain for once in his life.Â
Cassian gives his brother a bewildered look.Â
Thankfully, it spurs the shadowsinger into action.Â
Heâs on his knees beside you in a heartbeat. In a heartbeat of his own, at least; your pulse is dangerouslyâlethallyâslow and weak.Â
âAzriel?â Cassian cautions, taking a few tentative steps towards the heap that makes up your lifeless body and Azrielâs hands hovering over it.Â
Azriel tries to respond, but the breath that leaves him is nearly sob-like. âM- mate.â
âAzriel.â
âSheâs my- sheâs my mate, sheâs my mate. My mate.âÂ
Cassian curses under his breath and rips off his top layer of Illyrian leathers, the one he wears for chilly flights in the high altitudes.Â
Azriel doesnât have time to fuss about you being bundled up in another maleâs clothing, nor that youâre going to reek of his brother now, and the thought of Cassian flying home without any protection from the north-chilled wind doesnât even cross his mind as he quickly wraps you in the fabric, not even bothering with arms holes and the like.Â
âGo,â Cassian commands, bending to pick up your jacketâthat you seem to have peeled off your frame in your hypothermic stateâand giving it a sniff, trying to figure out how you got here and who did this to you.Â
âBut-â
âIâll be fine, Rhys is coming to get me and Feyreâs collecting Madja. Go.âÂ
Azriel tucks you tightly into his chest and dissolves into his shadows.Â
Rhysand seems to have spurred the House into action at Cassianâs silent call. Azriel can hear the bathtub in his bedroom running and smells a pot of lavender tea coming to a boil in the kitchen.Â
He nearly flattens Morrigan as he barrels into his bathroomâher and Nesta having quickly arranged a pile of towels a mile high and placed some clothes that look like they more-or-less will fit you once youâve warmed upâand barely manages to kick his boots off before heâs lowering the both of you into the room-temperature water.
Azriel curses, the water feeling bitterly cold as he sinks into it fully clothed with you in his arms, but you gasp as the water saturates your clothing, face screwing up in pain.Â
âI know, I know. Iâm sorry, youâre okay. Youâre going to be okay,â he murmurs into your temple, slowly unravelling you from Cassianâs jacket to help submerge you further into the tub. You let out a choked sob.Â
âOut,â Madja orders the two females, Morrigan immediately complying and Nesta shooting you a concerned glance and Azriel a warning one before quickly following. The ancient healer lowers herself to her knees beside the tub and feels for your pulse before moving her fingers to your pointed ears.Â
âHow long has she been in the tub?â
âMaybe a minute,â Azriel replies.Â
âYou need to submerge her more. Lay her back so that her head is floating.âÂ
The order is blunt and Azriel doesnât think heâs ever heard a thing so cruel, but heâs just found you and heâll be damned if he loses you to the cold.
âShadowsinger-â Madja warns at his hesitation, but Azriel does as told.
Your entire body tenses, arms immediately reaching out and fisting the material of Azrielâs leathers. He leans forward, hovering over you and holding you close to his chest while still keeping your ears beneath the surface.Â
He focuses on consoling you, holding your shaking frame tightly to his chest as Madja drains some of the tub and adds warmer water.Â
âBurns,â you whisper, teeth chattering and giving away how cold you still are.Â
Azriel focuses on not snapping at the healer as her hand shoves between the two of you and she feels for your pulse again.Â
âPlease.â
Azriel considers pulling you out of the water now that you seem lucid enough to beg him for reprieve, but Madja grabs Azrielâs shoulder and pushes him back towards the water when he tries to sit up.Â
âSheâs experiencing vasomotor failure, Shadowsinger. Sheâll have no recollection of this conversation.â The healer turns the tap to add more hot water as she chastises him. âRhysand told me you found her without her jacket. That is called paradoxical undressing which is a result of muscles that had once been constricting blood vessels becoming exhausted and failing, releasing blood back to the extremities and causing the victim to feel hot. It is the final stage of hypothermia; take her out of this water and her chances of survival plummet.âÂ
All that leaves Azrielâs lips is a desperate, devastated please. He doesnât know who heâs begging; Madja to save you, you to stay with him, or the Mother not to take you from him.Â
Madjaâs hand leaves your frame and pats Azrielâs shoulders. âSheâs shivering again, Shadowsinger; thatâs a good sign.â
The treatment continues and Azriel remains silent; itâs easier to do now that youâre no longer begging him, but heâs wildly uncomfortable that youâre unconscious. The only consolation is that Madja is still here, still working, which means sheâs got faith in you and your growingly steady pulse.Â
Eventually, Madja deems you warm enough and drains the tub, forcing Azriel to look at the ceiling as he helps her rid you of your soaked clothing and dress you in the warm layers Nesta and Morrigan provided for you earlier.Â
Azrielâs carrying you into his bedroom where he finds Feyre and Rhysand speaking in hushed tones behind the sofa that theyâve pulled towards the lit fireplace, pillows and blankets warmed by the fire piled up and waiting for you to be bundled into.Â
âAzriel,â Feyre gasps, watching the spymaster as Rhysand pulls back the bedding for him to tuck you in.Â
Like in the forest, Azriel finds himself on his knees before you, ensuring youâre adequately tucked into the heavy quilts yet still within the flamesâ radius of heat. His hand shakes as he moves to brush some damp hair from your temple.Â
Feyre dries the strands easily with a wave of her hand.Â
âWhat do you need?â she asks, and Azrielâs face crumbles as he lowers his head to the edge of the couch cushion, his hand remaining on your blanket clad shoulder.Â
Rhysandâs warm hand lands on Azrielâs own shoulder. âYou need to eat, brother.âÂ
âI canât leave her,â he responds instantly, never raising his head.
âIâd never ask you to.â Rhysandâs hand tightens. âGet changed, Az. Get into something dry, Iâll get you something to eat.â
âCan-â
âAnd Iâll make sure thereâs something here for her when she wakes,â Rhysand agrees, knowing exactly where his brotherâs mind went. âGet changed.âÂ
Azriel spares one more look at your sleeping faceâyour cheeks and lips having far more colour in them now than when he found youâbefore standing and doing as told. He keeps his attention on you, his ears locked in on the even tempo of your heart, the long, deep pulls of air you inhale, and the rise and fall of your chest against the fabric youâre surrounded by.Â
Azriel doesnât bother with the chair beside your couch, instead lowering himself to the floor and resting his back against the arm of the sofa, wings shifting awkwardly as he makes sure not to disturb you.Â
Two bowls of stew appear on the low table before him a few moments later, and Azriel makes himself comfortable as he eats his serving and waits for you to come to.
Š ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.