#mafia remus

[remusslove]

Mafia!james + mafia!remus and sub!reader when she accidentally draws on Remus’s important papers and go to James for back up.

“Daddy Daddy!” You chanted running towards James at full speed. He quickly put down the dumbbell he was carrying and hoisted you up on his hip.

“Hi my little love” he said giving you a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi daddy” you said avoiding eye contact by putting your head on his shoulder.

He sighed knowing you already did something wrong. “What did you do this time princess?” “Nothing! It was an accident I swear! But remmy got all mad at me n’ now I feel all bad” you blabbered out quickly.

“You didn’t answer my question baby, I asked what you did.”he clarified with more assertiveness in his voice. You whimpered before admiring the truth.

“When I was in his office cause he let me, I accidentally wrote on his important papers. But it was only because I thought it was the blank paper that I could use!” You explained while nervously playing with your fingers.

He let out another sigh and tutted at your explanation.

Remus walked into the room with a stern look on his face. “Now remus, she didn’t mean to ruin your important papers hm baby?” James said looking at Remus then to you for confirmation.

You nodded your head making Remus sigh. “If this happens again your getting spanks.” He said simply holding up the papers filled with little flower doodles on the back of them.

“And running to James isn’t going to help you not get a punishment.” He finished grabbing you from James’s arms. You nodded with a giggle before giving him a kiss on the cheek.

Not proofread<3

[msmoony7]

mafia au remus

go check out the fic my friend and i are working on! it’s called dusk till dawn by inkymoon16 on ao3! read it here!

[kquil]

REMUS LUPIN | 13:53 — ONE NEGRONI

SUM : to help pay the bills and your tuition fee, you get a new job at an elite club where the tips are incredibly generous. you’ve met a majority of the clientele already but they don’t match the stranger who ordered a simple negroni

TAGS. : mafia au ; modern au ; muggle au ; mobster remus ; mafia boss remus ; bartender reader ; reader is a hard working sweetheart that must be protected! ; catching remus’ eye ; remus lowkey wishes he can be the one to do the protecting ; and maybe more ; for now, he’s a low key stalker ; but sexy… ; stalking is bad, don’t do it! ; this is just fiction! ; but hey! remus owns an elite club! wooooo! ; i don’t know how to feel about my interpretation of the marauders as mafia men/mobsters ; it’s growing on me… ; also, im casting peter pettigrew as Dane DeHan in this!

LENGTH : 1.5k

It wasn’t as if you were new to the job; you had previously worked some years as a bar tender for a pretty well-established club, it paid well and managed to help pay for your rent and utility bills for most of your higher education years. However, all the built up stress and sleepless nights finally caught up to you. And you found yourself repeating a year, meaning that you needed to pay for your own tuition this year atop all the other monthly bills and necessities you keep up with. Perhaps it was the universe telling you that you needed to stop and change the direction of your life — you needed to choose an easier path, a doable path. But you were stubborn and also quite the optimist. So you kept at it, determined to finish what you started and earn your degree. 

Yes, it was a let down but you were still breathing. Life just gets hard sometimes. 

Thankfully, your past experience and phenomenal recommendation letter from your previous manager earned you another bar tending job at a very elite club, where tips were more than generous, considering the clientele composed primarily of the privileged class, some with multiple businesses under their belts, some who were phenomenal investors and some living off their parents’ money. You didn’t care to look too much into it, you were there to work and you were going to work hard and honestly. 

The patrons surprisingly had very similar tastes and so, you fond yourself making the same types of drinks repeatedly. It made the job a lot easier and you were able to focus more on your delivery and interaction with customers, leading to more tips. Times were rough after having to accept defeat with your studies and repeating a year with your own funding but things were looking up. If you keep at it, you’ll make it out alive. 

Your only complaint was the dress code. Make up was advised with a bold red lip but must be kept simple. You felt like a showgirl of some kind, squeezed into a high collar, white dress that came down to your mid thigh and with a low-cut, open back. The sleeves aren’t as long as you would like but, at least, you were permitted to use black kitten heel court shoe pumps as opposed to stilettos — your only saving grace, along with the higher salary and generous tips. 

“Looks like we have a newbie working the bar,” Sirius points out, drawing all attention to your lively figure as you served drinks with a sweet smile and airy voice. A hum of curiosity vibrates through Remus’ chest and up to his lips at the sight of you, “certainly easy on the eyes, huh?” the tattooed, right-hand comments again as he looks towards the head of the table where Remus holds up his glass of Negroni. 

“Very… innocent— a sweet, pretty, little thing,” James comments on Remus’ other side, which Peter grunts at in agreement as he takes a sip of his whiskey-sour. 

“Looks like she doesn’t belong,” Peter nods before smirking and letting out a light laugh. The domino effect had James and Sirius laughing too as Remus smirks behind his glass before proceeding to down the rest of his drink. 

“Exactly your type, eh? Moony?” 

Sirius’ teasing comment is ignored. Instead, Remus calls for there server and orders another drink with an additional request that only confirms his smirking friend’s disregarded statement, “Have the new bartender personally deliver my drink for me as well,”

There was no higher authority that could dismiss the club owner’s personal request. 

It was a strange request but you steeled your nerves and asked your fellow bartender to minister your unattended station while you made quick work on the order. It wasn’t unusual to receive requests like this from an isolated table that had privacy curtains for convenience. However, it was usually for drinks that you could make a show out of like a Holy Water cocktail, a Phoenix cocktail and even a Dragon’s Blood cocktail — a performance that you liked partaking in for the flammable aspect. But this was a Negroni. A cocktail of equal parts gin, saccharine vermouth and bitter Italian Campari. It’s a very egalitarian drink that was enjoyed by everyone, men and women alike, simple but elegant and definitely didn’t require a performance. Despite the odd summons, you were eager to fulfil your curiosity for who the client may be. 

With a professional smile, you place refined mix in the middle of your circular tray with it’s classic orange garnish and set off to the table. The standby server, who made the order, saw your approach and quickly announced your arrival through the small front opening, momentarily disappearing into the shadow of the curtains. He reappears a moment later and pulls the heavy drapes fully apart, to reveal the guests from beneath the, once, opaque shadows. 

To say that you were stunned was an understatement. 

It was pure luck that you didn’t stutter in your stride and spill the cocktail prematurely. At the table was seated four men, all dressed in suits and ties that were in various states of disorder. Among their collection of suits, you could spot Armani and Tom Ford, however, you were sure that their unconventional styles were not the way those suits were intended to be worn. 

One man with long, midnight-black hair and paper-pale skin had an array of mismatching tattoos littering both arms, revealed to you by his lack of a suit jacket and rolled-up sleeves. Another wore cute circular glasses and a cheeky grin with a suit jacket but no button up shirt and his chiseled upper body on full display. The last was a dirty blonde with piercing eyes and a deceivingly boyish smile. He had his ankle propped up on his opposite knee and several buttons undone where a tie should have been fastened over, his sleeves also rolled up as his suit jacket lay beside him.

It was the man at the head of the table, however, who stole your attention. If you had to guess who ordered such a simple but elegant drink, it would have to be him. He had his suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders and also had several of his top buttons undone, revealing some faded scars marked across his toned chest. His neat brunette hair and kind brown eyes gave him a deceivingly gentle appearance but his close company revealed a duplicity that caught and tensed your nerves.

You ignored the creeping goosebumps that prickled your skin, down from your toes all the way up to your ears. 

Just do your job…

“Gentlemen,” you addressed kindly with a slight tilt of your head, which they acknowledged with their own hums of acknowledgement, their eyes lighting up in subtle surprise at your actions, “I have an order for a Negroni,” you raise your tray with the drink and scan the four for some indication as to who the order belonged to. 

“That would be for me,” just as you suspected, it was the brunette with the kindest eyes but also the most ominous air. His voice is a deep and smooth lullaby, patient with it’s seduction on your senses. It was a trap that you resisted but are so hopelessly tempted to fall into, “Thank you, sweetheart,” he meets your eyes as you lower the drink into his large, outstretched hand. You notice how his knuckles and fingers are littered with scars also, some fresh, some faded with time and some hidden behind luxurious rings. Nevertheless…

He’s beautiful 

She’s precious 

“Not a problem,” you reassure with a soft voice, “have a good evening,” with your circular tray pressed against your side, you offer him an innocent smile and dismiss the butterflies in your stomach urging you to linger, “gentlemen,” you acknowledge the remaining three once more before offering another sweet smile. Turning on your heel, you leave the group and ignore the stares drilling holes into the back of your head.

She doesn’t know… 

Once you were out of earshot, Remus turns to his closest friends and most trusted colleagues. They all share a look, one that conveys a unanimous thought. It isn’t long before their agreement manifests into knowing smiles and a ring of laughter shared between them.

“Don’t get greedy now, Moony,” Peter chimes in as Sirius throws his head back with a barking laugh. 

“That’s not gonna stop him Wormtail, you know that; she’s a rare one,”  

“So what’s the plan, bossman?” James asks with a raised brow as he brings his drink up to his lips.

Remus doesn’t answer right away, he simply requests that the curtain remain open so he can fix his fond gaze on you for the remainder of the evening. The group already knew what to do and sat at the edge of their seats, awaiting orders eagerly despite their slack shoulders and composed expressions. Only they were able to observe the shift in the air between them; it became charged as soon as you entered their circle and slowly started accelerating, parallel to the climbing affection in Remus’ eyes as he watches you smile at customers while making their drinks. 

He takes a singular sip of his Negroni, bitterly sweet with a citrus edge. 

Heaven in a glass. And made by an angel. 

“I want a background check and profile put together immediately,” Remus finally orders, “I want to know everything there is to know about her,”

A/N : i downloaded some fics and read some over the holidays and there some mafia/mobster aus and i couldn’t help but picture remus as a mob boss, i’m sure im not the only one to ever imagine this but goddamn! why is it so easy to imagine sweet, gentle, responsible remus like that?!

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @rosalyn-s

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob

mafia!Remus Lupin x fem!reader | 3200 words

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

CW: mentions of spiked drink (no one drinks it), reference to past spiked drinks, complaining about misogyny, bad reputation of American tourists in the UK (I'm sorry!)

The short of it was: it had been a long day.

The long of it though, by God, was that you really, really needed a drink.

You got to your favourite pub which was only a brisk 7-minute walk from the university; a tiny, hole-in-the-wall Irish pub which probably had several thousand identical pubs lined across the UK but that didn’t matter, dammit, because this one was special – this one was yours. You chuckled at the irony that you had moved half-way across the world to England only to sit yourself in an Irish chain pub that you’d likely be able to find back home a mere 6000 kilometers away.

You relished the feel of the warm air hitting your rosy cheeks after marching your ass down to the pub in the biting wind in naught but a long coat and a scarf. The warm air stung but in all the best ways as you shucked off your outer-layers and plopped down on a stool by the bar, unawares of anyone else within your vicinity other than the bartender promised to serve you your drinks.

“Alright there, Lass? What can I get for ye?” The fellow asked and you could have kissed him right then and there.

“Can I have a negroni and your tallest pint please.” You asked, hoping the desperation in your voice wasn’t noticeable – the fact that the bartender didn’t comment on the odd combination of drinks let you know that is was noticeable. No matter – you were desperate, what did you care?

Turns out you should have cared more.

“I’m sorry but I must tell you, that is an awful combination of drinks.” A lilting voice came from your left side. You groaned audibly and held your hands up to your temples like blinders to avoid even looking at the voice who dared to speak to you after such a day.

“S’pose its good nobody asked you then.” You muttered darkly. You didn’t make a habit of speaking to people this way often – people already spent enough of your time in the UK mistaking you for an American on account of your accent anyway, you needn’t add fuel to the fire by adding to an already bad reputation.

“Please tell me that you’re ordering for a friend. You’ve surely just ordered for someone who’s meeting you here?”

You knew better – you really did. You don’t let strange men in bars know that you’re alone; make them believe someone could show up to save you at any minute. But dammit, you’ve been fending off jackasses all day – what’s one more?

“Apparently, I live to disappoint men, sir, so no – both drinks are for me. Is that quite alright with you? I didn’t realize I had to pass this decision by the board.” You spat, finally turning your what you were sure was a burning gaze to this mystery guy on a stool to your left.

You hesitated in your ire for a moment: the man was quite a bit larger than you had pictured in your mind – not large in a particularly broad way but the man seemed to be excruciatingly tall; he sat basically spilling off his stool, while still managing to look elegant in doing so. He was dressed sharply but not in a way that made him stand out – respectable but forgettable, he blended into this bar well. Or he would if he hadn’t been so fucking handsome.

He had warm, honey-coloured curls that seemed to artfully fall in front of his face, and eyes to match. You’d never seen amber coloured eyes before, but you couldn’t seem to pull your gaze away from them. You did – by god you did – because the rest of the man was too enticing not too. He had a chunk missing out of his left eyebrow which was arched mischievously at what you assumed was your attitude with him, and his crooked smirk matched. He had a few scars littering his face – most were small, but there was one large one that crossed the bridge of his nose, and another nick on the right of his upper lip that may have continued onto his lower, but you didn’t want to get caught staring at his mouth. And of course, of-fucking-course he’d have a dimple. Why wouldn’t he? Could this day get any worse.

“What was the thought process, then?” He asked, his smirk growing deeper.

“What?” You guffawed. He couldn’t seriously be doing this; people didn’t do this, right?

He gestured between the two drinks sat in front of you with his own – a rum and coke if you guessed correctly. “Why those drinks, specifically? They don’t exactly pair well together.”  

You stared dumbly at this hot, audacious man. You hoped he’d decide you weren't worth the breath and move along. He only stared back at you.

“There wasn’t any.”

“Hm?” He queried.

“There wasn’t any. Thought process, I mean.” You muttered, taking a sip of the negroni. “I like both drinks – usually separately, but I’ve been dreaming about getting my ass down here since practically 9:30 this morning and I couldn’t choose which I wanted first and I knew that I planned on getting at least a little bit tipsy in order to pretend I didn’t have a completely mind-fucking day so I thought ‘fuck it, I’ll order both’ and I thought since it was no one’s business but my own what I put into my body that I could get away with it but clearly, I was wrong.” You felt winded after your mini rant as you looked back at the man. He seemed genuinely entertained at your story, though his eyes grew a bit softer.

“Thinking of drinking at 9:30 am, hm?” He pondered out loud. “You know, that’s usually the sign of a problem; one might call it alcoholism.”

You barked a laugh. “Yeah, you call it alcoholism, I call it Gilderoy Lockhart.”

“Ah, so boy-problems then, is it?” He asked in a laugh.

You shot him a warning look. “It is not like that.”

“I didn’t mean to offend.” He offered with his hands in the air in mock surrender. “Tell me what it’s like then.”

You sighed dramatically. “It’s really not that big of a deal, I’m just mad about stuff at school.”

“Ah, you’re a student, then?”

“PhD candidate, but technically, yes.” You offered, downing the rest of the negroni.

“Very neat. What’s your focus?” He asked again as you began sipping on your pint, trying not to grimace at the change in drink. You're sure you failed.

“Music.”

“Hm, I didn’t know one could get a PhD in music.” He queried.

“Music theory, but yeah.” You offered, moving your drink back and forth between your hands.

“And that brought you here? To England? Why not stay in Canada – if that’s where you’re from, pardon my assumption.” He quickly apologized.

You smirked at his correct assumption – thankful that you didn’t come off ‘too American’ today.

“She goes wherever the wind takes her.”

Your statement was met with silence, so you turned to see the man had frozen in his movements and stared at you incredulously.

“Are-are you quoting Disney movies to me?”

“So, you did get the reference.”

“I did, I just fail to see how Pocahontas relates to a PhD program in England on music theory.” He mutters, looking up at you from the rim of his drink.

“I finished my Masters, then the wind changed.” You offered with a shrug, “It brought me here.”

He seemed to study you for a few moments before coming to the conclusion that you weren't going to elaborate further. “And what does this Gabriel fellow have to do with the winds of musical theory?”

You snorted indelicately. “Nothing. He just, I don’t know, it sounds stupid now that I try to say it out loud.”

“None of that, now.” The man said gently with the same smirk on his face, “a smart girl like you doesn’t strike me as the type to overreact to male foolishness.”

He seemed honestly interested in your answer, at least, the most interested anyone has ever seemed in your ramblings about your toe headed fellow PhD’er. You tried facetime’ing your friends from home about him many-a-times before, and they listen but they don't get it. And your schedules don’t align and with the time-difference one of you is always either just waking up or going to bed. But this random, handsome guy in your bar making fun of your drinks has done nothing but listen so far and you really wanted to get it off your chest.

So, you did.

You told him how your morning started terribly as you ripped a hole in your stockings and only noticed once you got to campus and you usually don’t dress this formally to campus, but you were guest lecturing for Minerva and you know professors didn’t technically have a dress code, but she always looked well put together so, dammit, so were you. You explained that your mother always was the superstitious type and had you carry an emergency pair on you at all times, so you were thankfully able to change, but only after you spilled coffee on your blazer and had to shrug that off for the day and the lecture halls are ridiculously cold always; you know these stone buildings were built before electricity but surely with the great minds this school has churned out, they could find a way to keep the warm air in and cold drafts out?

And if all that hadn’t been bad enough, the other PhD candidate working under McGonagall is this absolute bell-end that you're almost positive has plagiarized half of his written work because everything he spews is absolute nonsense. He’s rude, and condescending, and spoke over you throughout all of your lectures to wax poetic about different Opera’s he’s performed in across the world - that you swear to God you will fact-check one of these days - that had absolutely nothing to do with the course content. And then, and then, he had the audacity to suggest you were only here because the school was required to accept a minimum number of foreign students and since you were, quote, just a woman, you also checked off their minority requirements too.

“People don’t get accepted here because of their nationality or their gender or their status as a minority. They’re supposed to get here because they’re good.” You muttered, finishing your pint you hadn’t realized you had guzzled during your rant

“And how’d Gavin get in, then?” He asked. You choked on the last of your beer.

“Fucked if I know.” You sighed.

A few more pints were placed in front of you as you continued to rant about the ins and outs of being a scholar in the world of music [for Christ’s sake, what was I thinking? I’ll never work a day in my life.] The man interrupting only to say that switching back to liquor would be a choice you would regret in the morning, and who were you to argue?

And he listened. He scoffed at some parts when you quoted Gilderoy suggesting something ridiculously altruistic that he’d done for the less fortunate while being nothing but condescending, he sprinkled in a few you’re kidding me’s, and even asked you to repeat something he couldn’t fathom the first time.

“See? I knew it. A smart girl like you wouldn’t overreact like that. Sounds like you’re perfectly justified in your ire.” He said.

You hummed as you finished your last pint. You felt thoroughly warm and heavy which was your intention of coming to the pub in the first place. You looked over to notice that the man – whose name you still hadn’t got – was still holding the same drink he had when you first arrived.

“Who are you here waiting for, then?” You asked him.

He looked confused for a moment. “How do you know I wasn’t just in desperate need of a drink myself?”

You nodded toward his still half-full cup in his hand. “Because you really haven’t been drinking.”

He narrowed his eyes and smirked at you. “Observant, aren’t you? Clever girl.” You rolled your eyes at the compliment.

“I was supposed to meet a business associate, actually.” He offered as he looked behind you towards the bar door. You turned to take in the rest of the bar yourself; it didn’t seem like the sort of place one would meet a business associate. The bar was dimly lit and somewhat claustrophobic; it didn’t offer a lot of privacy to talk business. You liked it because it was small - you’d be able to see everyone who was currently in the building with one sweep of your gaze save those who may be in the washrooms, and you could see out onto the street from your seat at the bar.

“I think it might be safe to say they stood you up.” You offered with a smirk as you turned to look back at him, only to find him already looking at you.

“I think you might be right.” He offered, looking you up and down.

You couldn’t help but admit he was quite attractive – and not just in his honey-blond curls and mischievous smirk and long limbs way, but he seemed clever, smart, and clearly he was a good listener. You sort of hoped he’d offer you his name, maybe even his number. You wouldn’t mind waiting around for a business associate of his with him again sometime.

You had no such luck.

He began to stand with an expression that bordered regret crossing his face.

“It appears I must be off.” He offered with a sad smirk as he placed some bills down on the table. You weren't quite familiar with the bills in the UK yet, but it seemed like an awful lot of money for the one drink he had at the bar that was still unfinished. You took notice of said drink as you came to this conclusion and got a weird feeling in your gut as he took the drink by the rim and brought it to his lips.

“Wait!” You said as you grabbed his arm. He tensed immediately and you pulled your hand away as if it burned. “I’m sorry. Just, is that the same drink you had when I first arrived?”

He looked from the drink back to me with furrowed brows. “Yes, why?”

You pointed to the drink he still held in his hand. “It’s old.”

He smirked. “Are you a drink snob, miss orders-two-incompatable-drinks-together-and-drinks-them-at-the-same-time?” You rolled your eyes and snatched the drink out of his hand as he brought it to his lips once again, which earned you an indignant ‘oi!’

“No, you berk, what I mean is, this drink is old. It’s warm to the touch, the ice has all melted and it should be as flat as a board but it’s bubbling, like, a lot.” You said as you held it in front of his eyes. He watched you for a few moments before you continued.

“It looks like someone put something in it.”

His gaze shot back to his drink where, sure enough, his should-be-flat diet coke was fizzing wildly as it began to turn a slightly murky shade.

You watched as he gently plucked the drink from your hand and casually put it back down on the bar and shrugged on his jacket.

“It appears you’re right.” He said in monotone. “Looks like we both ought to take our leave, hm?”

You nodded and followed suit; replacing your jacket and scarf you had ripped off unceremoniously as you had entered and headed for the door. The alcohol made you wobble for but a moment, but you were quickly righted by a gentle hand pressed to your lower back. Mortified, you put your best foot forward and marched out the door, hoping your embarrassment wasn't to evident in your cheeks.

You had to admit, you were beginning to panic. Why were you trusting this man? You had spent the last – you checked your watch – nearly two hours talking to this man whose name you still don’t know completely unaware of what was happening around you, and it turned out that there was someone here drugging drinks.

What if it’s him? An unhelpful part of your brain supplied. Why would he spike his own drink and then almost drink it? You argued back.

“You should be more careful.” You offered in what you had hoped to be a playful manner, but it came out strained. “Do you know of any reason why someone may want to spike your drink?”

He seemed to consider your question as you both walked somewhat briskly down the busy street to the subway station.

“No reason that would be suitable to share in the presence of a lady, I’m afraid.” He offered with a wink, leaning down slightly with his hands in his pocket. This answer didn’t make you feel any better.

“Any particular reason why you’re familiar with the signs of a spiked drink?” He offered back.

“I have a feeling most girls would be able to answer that.”

“Hm, perhaps. But I do not believe all would be as quick to catch it as you were.”

You didn’t answer him; you decided you had shared more than enough with this stranger tonight, and you were officially feeling all sorts of uncomfortable with the situation. You were mostly uncomfortable with how not uncomfortable you felt. It felt easy, walking with this stranger, as if you’ve been walking down dreary streets of London together for ages and this was just another Tuesday.

He stopped suddenly and flagged a taxi. You scowled at how quickly a cab stopped for him and his long as arms.

“Here, it’s too muggy for such a lady to brave the underground.” He offered as he opened the door. You began to protest, you had a tube pass through school for a reason, but his hand was on your lower back again as he gently led you into the car and closed the door before sticking his head in the window of the front passenger seat and tossing a handful of bills at the driver.

“Anywhere she wants to go.” He said, stepping back to the middle of the sidewalk and waving you off.

Between the alcohol, your nerves and being disarmed by the attractiveness of this man, you simply spouted the address of your flat to the driver and turned your face forward. The whole evening seemed otherworldly – like you were missing a big chunk of information of what happened tonight, even though you could account for every minute of it.

Your suspicions would have been proven correct if you had turned around to see your mystery man again, who was now accompanied by two other similarly dressed men - one with an unruly mop of brown curls and a shorter man with long black hair tied back haphazardly - who began chasing a fourth man in earnest down the street in the opposite direction.

Continue to part two here.

[vxntagedior]

Mafia marauders picking you up from the police station because you and lily stole the McDonald’s sign after you went clubbing

as much as they hate the police, they're on speed dial because of you.

it wouldn't be normal for them not to call once a month whenever you had a girls night that ended to far, all of you too drunk and end up do something stupid.

"on the way." remus just sighed into the phone, calling out for james and sirius, who were already waiting in the garage.

coming into the station, they could already hear the two of you giggling.

seeing the familar yellow M in the corner, sirius just looked over at the office who nodded, confirming his thoughts.

"jamie!" you smiled, running into the arms of your husband, james catching you easily, while giving lily a smile.

"really?" sirius looked at the two of you, remus already occupied getting the two of you out, "a mcdonald's sign, how did you even get it down."

the two of you just looked at each other before laughing. the three men just sighed, standing behind the two of you as the two of you had your arms wrapped around each other, stumbling out of the station.

[ddejavvu]

maybe mafia!marauders who trick bimbo!reader into stripping every time during strip poker even when they lose

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You're too preoccupied with reapplying your lip gloss between rounds that you don't notice Remus stuffing cards into his sleeve. James is hand-feeding you chex mix, hovering his hand over your mouth and dropping pretzels and peanuts and crackers into your mouth as messily as possible, so that your lips pucker around his fingers and your tongue lavs over his skin to get the cheese dust off. In doing so, all of your gloss is shiny on his skin, and you have to layer on a new coat.

"Alright, sweetheart," Sirius checks to be sure Remus has the cards he needs, "How are you feeling this round?"

You peer at your cards, and a frown slips over your features. You've never been good at poker faces.

"Um," You deliberate, glancing up at the pot, 'I'll... raise."

"Two layers?" Sirius raises an eyebrow, "You sure, angel?"

"Mhm," You nod, confident that you've thrown them off for now, "Two layers."

When you reveal your cards, Remus wins. You swear he's magic or something, he always seems to have perfect hands. Your shoulders slump as you reach for your jacket's zipper, "Do I have to? It'll be cold."

"You raised," James chides, watching with rapt attention as you peel away your jacket and begin unbuttoning your shirt, "Don't start something you can't finish, love."

[velvetcloxds]

LITTLE BIRD | S.B.

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mafia!sirius, secret agent!regulus (not related to sirius in this au), prince!james, princess!reader, potter!reader, bodyguard!lily, future prince!remus- when I tell you I want to make this a series sooo badly, I've so many ideas

summary: when your parents go missing and hoards of people are trying to get into the palace to hurt you and your brother, you have no choice but to go and get help from the last person your parents would have you be associated with

There was a vibrant hum in the palace as you walked down the stairs, hearing aggravated groans filled with words that you simply knew they’d have swallowed had you already been in the room. You expected no less in your parents’ absence, everyone wanting to have their say in managing the situation at the gate, nearly hundreds of men and women gathering in angry hoards as they tugged at fencing, threw at windows, and cursed into the air. There were many opinions, always were, however, a queen and her husband missing and leaving her children to command her country while she was indisposed, prompted all the more than usual.

The door to your mother’s office opened from inside, strange faces meeting you as you stepped into the doorway, a silence shivering over the small space as James sighed, almost relived as men backed away from the corner, they’d talked him into, merely bowing their heads in acknowledgment of your presence.

“Ah,” he began and brushed his shirt into place as he nodded towards you. “Little sister, I assume you’ve come to enlighten us on the only right way to handle our little predicament?” he mused, and you knew his tone to have a familiar mix of sincerity yet belittlement to it.

Your brother was an odd creature, unlike either of your parents, unlike you for that matter. Never one for the politics of your home, the weight of your family, much rather cooped up in his room with his paintings, he’d have himself starved yet inspired instead of sitting about the throne dealing with issues of state. He was wise in his personal endeavors, but foolish in his belief that the Potter name held no purpose in his life, despite your shared responsibilities he’d always managed to twist your lives to benefit his own, though admirable for some, it left you plastered in his misfitting shoes.

“Consider the problem already solved,” You began and as if on cue, Lily came stumbling into the room behind you, momentarily stealing the men’s attention before demanding eyes fell back onto you. “Though I’m sure my parents appreciate council being offered so graciously to their children, I can assure you that we are capable of managing our own affairs,” You explained and cleared your throat as you stepped aside, hands folded in front of you as you waited for them to understand your request.

“I think what my sister is far too kindly trying to say, is that our mother fairs well without a bunch of old men telling her what to do and so will we,” James agreed and with a tired shrug he plumped down onto the leather office chair, gesturing the gaping men out of the room with an outstretched hand as he smiled at you. “So, what’re you going to do?” he asked once the room had cleared, assuming you’d miss the way his gaze lingered but a second too long on the woman who hovered at your side, hand resting on her gun halter as she looked at her feet.

“What I always do,” you informed him, allowing an arrogant smile to tilt into your lips, knowing it had no place there yet having no control over it all the same. “Clean up your mess.”

It was not long before you were pulling your coat around your body, ignoring the warnings that Lily was mumbling, a well-known mantra much like the one she’d heard from Regulus when he was training her to be your guard and much like you did to him, you paid the words no mind. You pulled the hood over your head as you reread the map on your phone to guide you in your escape, feet leading you past the staff rooms, through the fire escape that led you right into the hidden gardens where James thought he could smoke in secret.

“Princess, your parents wouldn’t approve of this,” Lily whispered, peering around the lawn as you opened the hidden latch that was made by the very person you were running to see. “Now is not the time to take this risk, not when they’re not here to get you out of trouble.”

“I have no choice, you know that, and they’d know that as well,” you bargained, knowing she had no intentions of making you stay when she followed you out of the gate and to the outside, the shouting and stomping growing louder as the two of you looked around for the car that he’d sent for you.

Not a word more was exchanged on the way from the palace, familiar apprehensive looks shared as the driver kept his eyes on the road, only looking down when his phone chimed with a text from the man in question, you presumed. You were unnervingly accustomed to the entire ordeal, knowing that despite the risk you were taking, the reward would be far greater, worth much more as you considered your choices. Lily was right when she spoke about your parents. You were making your own bed, as they’d taught you to, but they’d never approve of who you were inviting into it. You thought you’d have more time, time to butter them up to what was shaping up to be a yearlong conversation in hope for peace, but you’d never accounted for riots at your front door or death threats with blood stains thrown through your window.

The car eased to a still in front of the cold brick building, a hand on your back guiding you out of the street, away from wondering eyes as you looked back to see if Lily was close behind, the route was no different than before, the unhappy glares and whispered musings of disapproval being of no bother as you waited to be taken to his door.

“Princess,” a voice snarled, and you had no restraint as a frustrated breath left your lips, your mission was brought to a stop as a man stumbled into your way. “It’s been quite a while since we entertained royalty on this side of town,” he noted and you mustered a look of faux surprise, shaking yourself from the grip on your back as you looked him up and down.

“That might be true, but I am not here as royalty.”

“Aye? Who are you here as then?” he persisted and you scoffed, knowing that by the sudden silence that sauntered into the air the man in question was not far from the little scene that’d been formed, disrupting his time.

“My friend,” the thick accent fled through your senses as though it filtered through your veins, his frame begging your gaze to drift to him and it obliged, always did, a teasing smirk on his lips as he looked down at you from atop the stairs. “Does anyone have a problem with that?” he prompted, and it was as though the simple words held piles of threats as the men separated to make room for you to walk.

“Princess,” Lily gave a frustrated scoff as she was stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Be careful,” she insisted before you followed the man of the house to the office that you’d spent many nights hiding from the world, debating a settlement for families only known as foes.

“Sirius,” you sighed, closing the door behind you and smiling when he pushed himself onto the empty desk that sat askew in the corner of the bare room, his eyes trailed slowly over your face, trying his best to decipher why you were there without you saying anything, he had a frustrating habit of doing so quite successfully. “I need a favour,” you breathed after a second that seemed to last forever, squirming slightly under his gaze despite it being far from strange.

“I assumed as much,” he teased, nodding for you to go on as you walked towards him, tugging the hood from your head, fingers moving to ease everything back into place.

“There are people rioting in front of my home, threatening us, promising to kill us,” you began and stilled right at his side, looking down at the city as it lay in the streets, cars pulling up and then pulling away after mere minutes, a notion that you would’ve questioned in the past had you not learned to keep your nose from his business.

“I saw,” he leaned back against the wall to see you again, no doubt missing the smile that dipped into your mouth as he proved without much prompt that he cared at least slightly if you had managed to escape unharmed. “How did you get out?”

“Same way you get in.”

“Clever girl,” he tutted, and you’d have laughed at him if you weren’t to be in his debt in the future. “What exactly do you want me to do, hmm? Riots at the palace seem more like a job for the police, no?”

“They’re wearing your name, Sirius.”

You didn’t know how long you were supposed to pause after that. You were somewhat expecting him to jump to his own defense, half expecting him to accuse you of mistrusting him, yet you knew neither was to happen. Trust was a rather strong word to use for whatever the relationship was that you had. You knew he was true to his word, knew he would not allow you to come to any harm and though your power was much less than his own, you’d try to do the very same for him. Though beyond all of that, you knew that as many troubles lay with your name, there were many that laid with his own. He was a criminal, after all, some of the worst of his kind and you were in his home, begging him to help you when you knew it would earn you heaps of problems in turn. Your mother would have your head, she’d have his too. She didn’t take out his family, his entire line of kin just for you to allow their kind right back into your lives.

“They’re not mine,” he offered, and his hand settled on the table next to yours, tilting his head to see what you were looking at, humming as if to acknowledge your train of thought. “That’s part of our little agreement, is it not? Our little settlement of peace? I may not harm your family as revenge for what your mother did to mine, and you let me make a quick buck off taking out the bad guys the police miss,” he sighed at that, noticing the way you rolled your eyes at his almost mocking tone as he mimicked words that you’d spoken out of serious intents to do good. “Those men are trying to hurt you, Y/n, if they were mine then I’d have them tied and beaten already, you understand that don’t you?”

“Of course, I do,” you sighed, and though you should be very much appalled by his words, you found an odd sense of comfort in his reassurance, smiling with him as he nodded at you.

“Good. Now, do you want me to take care of it for you?” he asked and needed no answer to know that that was exactly what you’d come here for. “I sent men down as soon as you texted me. The gate will be cleared by the time you get home,” he explained and chuckled softly at the shock that sifted onto your face. “You think I’m not the first one to know when you’re in trouble, little bird?  Though, I’ll admit, you were very brave coming all the way here, would not have known you were nervous had it not been for those,” he informed you as he pointed to your shaking hands, you’d hoped your grip on the table would’ve hidden it, but it seems you were very wrong, warmth spreading across your cheeks.  “You’re shaping up to be quite the leader, you know, your mother would be proud.”

“So would your father.”

“Oh, I would not say that, bowing to a Potter is what he regrets most.”

“I’m sure,” you smiled, looking up to the door when Lily stumbled through it, just like before, the same look on her face as she looked between you and Sirius.

“Your parents were just brought home by Regulus and the rest of the CIA,” she explained, holding the phone out to show you the picture of them arriving at the palace and you had to shake your head at the timing, Sirius’ words being anything but empty as there was not a single soul out on front of the place, barely any evidence left behind of the reason for your visit except for abandoned signs and makeshift weapons.  

“I have a new car waiting for you outside,” Sirius announced and shrugged when you looked at him with what any normal person would describe as awe, though you’d never dare to label it as such, merely an appreciation for his capabilities. “I’ll call when you get home.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

thinking ab mafia!remus and announcing that ur engaged to his friends🤭 he'd be so cute and grumpy with it while sunshine!reader is so giddy oaoaooaoao

he’s not even unhappy, remus is beaming.

he’s just a lot more reserved with it.

you on the other hand, you’re flaunting the ring to sirius, james, lily and marlene who came over for brunch.

“it’s so pretty! i’m so excited to plan everything!” you can’t stop glancing at the ring- your dream ring.

james is right there on the brink of overexcitement with you- gushing about the ring like he hadn’t had lily do some incognito ring sizing for remus.

sirius uses your distractedness to turn to remus, “you look chuffed,” he says it sarcastically, but remus really is.

“i can’t wait to just marry her,” remus says, sipping his black coffee and you marlene and lily get carried away in flower arrangements.

“she stop talking about the ring yet?” that gets a chuckle from remus.

“hasn’t stopped talking since i went down on one knee.” but he’s glad you haven’t, he can’t imagine listening to anyone else ramble about anything.

[mymiraclealigner]

I only write for older Remus Lupin. [*] indicates smut

If you didn't know me like you do*

Remus and his ex-student have gotten really close during the Christmas Break

Pointless Jealousy

A guy is flirting with you and Remus has to do something about it.

Teatime

Y/n struggles to take her tea.

Let the rain in*

reader is worried that the window is open.

Femme Fatale*

Remus is crazy about his student; but she likes playing too much.

No crumbs left*

Remus and Y/n spend New Year's at home.

Conversation deviated

Remus invites you to his office to discuss the new reading club, but the conversation deviates.

The third night*

Remus is infatuated with his flirty student and he can't help acting on his feelings.

[morwap]

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑—𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟔

mafia!sirius and remus, maid!reader, could be read as a little special blurb for my mafia!sirius fic. anal and p in v, praise, dom!sirius and remus, sub!reader,

Your uniform was long gone, practically torn off you once the three of you got started. Your stockings had ladders running up them. Sirius’ breath tickled your neck as was holding your waist, Remus' hands on your thighs as he thrust up into cunt while Sirius was thrust into your ass, both of them filling you up so much it was almost too much but you couldn't help but beg for more.

Your hands planted on Remus’ chest as you could barely hold yourself up.

“Aint she just the best girl” Sirius praised, he eyed Remus and watched him smile. His and Remus’ relationship was complicated but it was a relationship nonetheless and you were a part of it, going from a person that worked for Sirius to a partner in their relationship.

“Absolutely, Been so good for us lately while we're busy” Remus cooed, one hand leaving your thigh and going up your torso to your boobs. You mewled and your head went back onto Sirius’ shoulder. Your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth opened. Sirius’ skin was so hot against yours and you could barely focus, every thrust from Remus would hit a sweet spot and stimulate your clit over and over.

Your thighs trembled and you clenched around both of them. “Whos our good girl” Sirius cooed in your ear.

“I am” you whimpered. The sensation of both of them being in you was almost too hard to handle but it felt so good.

“Wow look at that she can still comprehend” Remus quipped, making Sirius laugh.

“Barely, just a bit more then she’ll be fucked dumb” Sirius replied.

tag @bunnyweasley23

[sunflowerxthoughts]

mafia!au remus lupin where he is stone cold and terrifying with everyone but reader?

IMAGINE it had been a specially bad day, to the point where Remus is the first one through the door and everyone else cowering behind because he is not only covered in blood but he still has the gun in his hand and they know he will shoot them; no questions asked.

That is until he sees you in your pjs. You hurry to him, take the gun with a cloth and his hand with the other.

“Dove?”

“It’s okay Remmy, you just need to change. I know you hate wet clothes.”

“I’m covered in blood, dove.”

“You always say the same! I don’t mind, love. I just want you cleaned so you can cuddle me on the couch.”

“They’ll think I’ve gone soft with you.”

“But you have! Besides you terrify them. Not Jamie and Siri though.”

“I’ve known them forever! Would be weird if they did.”

“You just need a little loving, Remmy. If they think you’ve gone soft I can scare them a little for you.”

“You?”

“Yeah, little old me. I can be a little mean, you know?”

That night while Remus is napping on the couch you absolutely tear them appart and they just understand. Remus and you work because not only do you love and respect eachother, but you are willing to scream and yell in a room full of armed men all because Remus might feel disrespected.

Needless to say after that, not only are they affraid of Remus, but they start to look at you in a different light too.

[remusslove]

Imagine son of mafia boss!remus who is soon to be the leader once he leaves Hogwarts with bimbo!reader who he swears that he absolutely envy’s due to them being in different gangs but he can’t help but melt every time you give him the sweetest smile and a flower you freshly picked.

[prettybabybaby]

mafia!poly!marauders or any of them takes reader to kill someone who’s in debt with them. they let reader pull the trigger and blood splatters all over her. and they’re just.. TURNED ON they fuck her then and there

¡ 18+ only ! ¡ minors do not interact !

content: mafia!poly!marauders, fem!reader, blood

¡ marauders masterlist !

james and sirius hold the guy up as remus keeps your shaky hand still, cooing in your ear as he puts his finger on yours and pulls the trigger.

you start sobbing when the noise of the gunshot fills the air and your body’s pushed back by the impact. blood lands in your mouth, the thick, metallic liquid pooling on your tongue as you refuse to swallow. james and sirius let him fall to the floor as they shake off their hands and sirius runs a hand through his silky hair, eyes trailing down your blood splattered body. remus takes the gun from you before you can drop it, shoving it into his waistband as he kisses you, forcing you to swallow the mixture of your bloody spit and his.

you bury your head into james’ chest as he approaches you and hugs you, praising you as sirius settles behind you, pushing your hair to the side so he can kiss your neck, lapping at the blood drying there. james’ hands join sirius’ in roaming your body as he tilts his head to kiss you, rough fingers tickling your waist as he lifts your shirt.

“y’did so well, baby,” remus murmurs beside you, “want us to show you how well?”

[of-many-fandomss]

Guess who loves mafia!au’s?? *raises hand* I do! Send in some requests :)

[ellecdc]

The Drink Snob (part 4)

mafia au!Remus Lupin x fem!reader - 3k

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4

You stood on the sidewalk staring dumbly at the sign that hung above the door of the restaurant - La Luna – with a list of references under your arm.

You’d thought long and hard about showing up today, and you weren’t sure which part of you was the part that won. Was it the part of you who saw things through? The part of you who had a lovely conversation with a motherly sounding woman on the phone and had promised her you’d be here? Was it the part of you who sort of wanted to see The Man™ again? Or was it the part of you who didn’t like being told what to do?

You supposed it didn’t much matter now which part of you won, seeing as it found you here.

Now you just had to make it inside the restaurant...which should be easy...seeing as you had two functioning legs...so why the hell aren’t they moving?

Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe you shouldn’t have come. Who voluntarily works for a criminal? Or at least for a criminal’s mother. He’s proven to you that he’s nothing but trouble. 

What if it was the good kind of trouble? The kind that led to fun banter and teasing remarks. The kind that made life more exciting and adventurous. The kind that made him really fun in bed.

Stop it.

He wasn’t the good kind of trouble. He was a criminal. Just because he stopped one guy from drugging you doesn’t mean he’s any better than him. Just because he spent hours with you at a bar listening to you lament about your life. Just because he took the opportunity to warn you about his mother’s restaurant. Just because he seemed to give a damn about you...

No, that was wishful thinking. 

You shouldn’t be here.

Your option to leave was taken from you, however, when a man exciting the restaurant paused to hold the door open for you.

Fuck it.

You thanked the man and squared your shoulders as you entered the restaurant. 

It was fairly quiet inside, which you supposed made sense seeing as it didn’t open until 4pm. There were some serving staff behind the bar readying glassware and silverware for the evening, and a few men moving a large piece of furniture covered with a moving blanket to the corner of the restaurant.

“No fucking way. You came!” A voice called. You turned to see the same curly haired man from the restaurant the night that The Man™ saved you from Tan. He was smiling widely at you as if the two of you were old friends that hadn’t seen each other in years.

“Uhm...me?” you asked dumbly. Kill me now.

The man just laughed as he approached you and gave you a bone crushing hug. “Yeah you! You’re The Girl.”

“The girl?” You muttered as you stepped away from the overly affectionate man.

“James, step away from the girl; she doesn’t even know you.” A shorter man with black hair and silver eyes said as he smiled politely at you. “Sorry about him. He’s mostly harmless, just an idiot.”

The man...James...beamed at you as if his friend hadn’t just insulted him.

“I’m James, this is my boyfriend Regulus.” James introduced finally. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” You said as you gave him your name in turn.

“Oh, we know.” Another man said as he entered the dining area. He looked startlingly similar to Regulus, though his hair was quite a bit longer and he was littered with tattoos and silver jewelry. He was also accompanied by The Man™.

“Don’t be fucking weird.” The Man™ muttered to his companion.

“Sorry Moons, no can do.” He said salaciously as he waltzed his way over to you extending his hand. “The names Sirius, doll. So glad I finally get to meet you.” He said with a wink.

You choked on a laugh. 

“Fucking hell. You’re unbelievable.” You said instead of hello.

“Thank you!” He beamed, puffing his chest not unlike a peacock.

“That wasn’t a compliment...”

James barked a laugh. “Oh Moony, can we keep her?” He said as he wiped a fake tear from under his eye.

“You’re name’s Moony?” You asked incredulously.

The Man’s murderous glare softened as he looked from James to you. “One of them.”

“The sods name is Remus, dollface. Don’t mind him, he’s emotionally constipated.” Sirius interjected.

“Sirius!” Remus chastised from across the room. 

“What is goi-oh! You must be Y/N!” A lovely woman exclaimed as she made her way into the dining hall. “I was wondering what had my boys so rowdy.”

You flushed under the insinuation and extended your hand quickly.

“You must be Hope. It’s nice to meet you; I’m terribly sorry if you’ve been waiting on me.”

The woman waved you off and threw a sarcastic glance over her shoulder. “Oh, I’m not fussed. It’s hard to get almost anything done with this lot ‘round. Come, leave the boys to their folly.” She said as she ushered you down the hall. 

“Those are your boys?” You asked as the two of you made your way to what looked to be Hope’s office.

“Yes! Well, technically just Remus. But they’re a package deal, those boys.” She said with the fondness only a mother could manage. It made your heart hurt.

“I suppose that’s an important quality...in his line of work.” You offered. You chose to attend the interview regardless, but it was important for you to understand exactly what was expected of you here.

Hope looked at you with a knowing glint in her eye as she sat at her desk, seeming to size you up. “Yes, I suppose so.”

She pulled out some papers and you placed your references in front of you.

“So, what kind of questions do you have for me?” She asked casually.

You felt your eyebrows furrow as you calculated her question; you’d never been asked that at the beginning of an interview before.

“Erm, I... well I guess I’d like to know a little more about what the job entails.”

Hope smiled widely at you – you could see now where Remus got his dimples from.

“Well, we were looking for someone who had a license to serve liquor, perhaps to help with serving and bussing tables. But really what I’m most excited about is your music.”

“My music?” You asked quietly.

“Oh yes.” Hope offered enthusiastically. “I’ve always wanted live music here, but we’ve never had anyone to do that! I must admit, I looked you up after I received your CV – you’re very talented.”

“Oh, god.” You murmured as you felt you face heat in embarrassment. “I’ve really only played with orchestra’s – I’m not sure that’s an example of any talent.”

“Hm, and modest too. Tell me, do you make it a habit of downplaying your worth?”

You felt like you’d been slapped.

“Because you shouldn’t. You ought to be proud; I sure am.” She carried on like she hadn’t just rocked your world. You cleared your throat and tried to fight against the tears clamoring their way to the surface.

“As for...this line of work.” Hope carried on, emphasizing your phrasing regarding Remus’ job. “This is indeed a restaurant. We deal with mostly restaurant matters. Some of our patrons may be...more colourful than average, and we may see the boys come and go from time-to-time, but there’s nothing you’d need to be concerned about.”

You nodded, a little stunned by the speed of this conversation, but feeling like you got the gist.

Restaurant. Shady business behind the scenes. Nothing for you to worry about.

Good enough.

“Look. You’ve worked at bars in some of the largest cities in North America – that tells me you work well under pressure and in a fast-paced environment. You’ve worked with orchestras across the continent as well, which tells me you work well in a team environment. You’re working towards your doctorate which tells me you’re dedicated and hard working. You’re an ideal candidate, Y/N.”

Remus was right – how does one say no to Hope Lupin?

“Do you work well in a team?” She asked plainly.

“Yes.”

“Do you work well under pressure?”

“Sure.”

“How’s your right hook?”

You laughed. “Not bad? I guess...I’ve not had to use it much if I’m being honest.”

Hope shrugged her shoulders. “We can work on that.”

You laughed again before taking a deep breath. “Okay. Alright, well...whatever you need then.”

Hope smiled. “You’ll play for us?”

You grimaced but shifted it to a smile. “There’s no saying no to you, is there?”

Hope beamed. “And you’re a quick learned. Excellent! Come with me.” She called as she stood and marched out of her office. 

You followed her obediently back out to the dining hall where James, Remus, Sirius, and Regulus were still loitering – each having taken a seat at a different table. And that large piece of furniture they’d been moving in when you arrived? It was a piano.

It was a Concert A 192 Bechstein grand piano.

It was a brand-new Concert A 192 Bechstein grand piano.

You thought you were going to faint. These pianos were not cheap.

“Think this will work for you? I’m sure we could swap it for something else if needed.” Hope commented as she moved towards the piano.

“You got this...for me?” You murmured. Hope smiled at you but bit it back when she saw the emotion on your face. 

“Well, we got it for the restaurant. If you need something else though, we can likely exchange it.”

She was interrupted by a scoff from Sirius. “I am not breaking my back dragging that thing back out of here again, mummykins.”

“You’ll damn well do whatever the hell I tell you too, bubs.” She shot back.

Sirius conceded immediately. “Absolutely. Whatever you want mum.”

“So, are you gonna play us something?” James interjected.

“Now?” You asked apprehensively. 

“Well, someone’s gotta test it out.” He shrugged. “They tuned it at the store but said it might shift slightly during the move.”

You hummed in acknowledgement but made no move to sit at the piano. James sighed dramatically and stood from his seat.

“Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

Regulus groaned and brought his hands up to his ears as his boyfriend sat at the piano with a flourish, cracking his knuckles, and began pressing keys at random.

Sirius bobbed his head in encouragement as if what James was currently producing could be considered music. Regulus banged his head against the table with his ears still covered, and Remus shook his head with a grimace.

“Okay, okay! Oh, you poor thing what has he done to you?” You cooed at the piano as you swatted James’ hands away.

“Uhm, I was playing it. Duh.” He muttered as he stood from the bench.

“That was a crime, is what it was. This piano is a work of art – it costs as much as a bungalow in America.” You said as you sat at the bench, staring at the keys in awe. 

You’ve played some pretty spectacular instruments throughout your life; the New York Philharmonic certainly provided for their pianist, no holds barred. But those were instruments you had to give back once you finished playing with them. Granted, this belonged to the restaurant, but...it was here for you to play.

“What are you going to play us?” Remus asked quietly.

You turned your head to him, surprised out of your musings, to find him looking at you softly.

“Any requests?” You asked the room.

“James’ knowledge of music that one can play on a piano expands no further than heart and soul, dollface. Don’t ask us.” Sirius smirked as he dodged a swat that James sent his way with an indignant squawk.

“You’re the expert.” Hope encouraged you from the side of the room.

You took a deep breath and turned back to the piano. You felt horribly exposed; no orchestra to hide behind, all eyes on you. Make it count.

You opted for a piece you’ve played an unholy amount of times.

It was your mother’s favourite. 

It wasn’t anything particularly difficult or challenging; it was not a technical piece in the slightest. But something about it spoke to you.

It felt like sitting in a sunroom on a rainy day and watching beads of raindrops race down the panes of glass. It felt like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds after days of overcast skies. It felt like a hug from your mom.

Turns out, it sounded even more beautiful on a Bechstein. 

The last few notes echoed through the predominantly quiet restaurant as you stared down at the keys.

“What’s that called?” Remus asked quietly.

You looked over at him to find that same soft look on his face.

“It’s called Sorrisi.”

“What language is that?” James asked.

“Italian, I believe.”

“What does it mean?” Sirius interjected. 

You smirked before responding. “I believe it translates to I smiled.” 

Remus watched as you seemed to shake yourself out of some sort of reverie. The piece was simple, but it was deep. Remus swore he could see years of memories and feelings oozing out of your shoulders as your hands danced across the keys.

And he wasn’t the only one. He could tell his mum was crying – most people wouldn’t have likely noticed, thinking she was just farsighted - but he knew that she only ever removed her glasses from her face if she was tearing up.

And then you had to go and act all bashful like you hadn’t just moved the room to tears with a few simple notes. Like you had no idea how wonderful you were. How beautiful you were.

Remus was fucked.

Here's the song you played for (Remus) the boys and Hope 🥰

[vxntagedior]

Mafia Marauders coming home early from there trip and finding you on your period watching Bluey before bed 

cuddled into the bed, smack dap in the middle, all the blankets covering you, your heating pad on your stomach and your show on, you were comfortable.

the boys had came home earlier than they expected, but were happy to see you and hopefully spend some time together.

sirius was already taking off his tie, starting to unbutton his shirt coming into the bedroom.

"dove." you looked up at sirius, his shirt halfway off. you knew what he had wanted, knowing feeling a little guilty.

"hi love." remus cooed, seeing you in the bed, coming to lay down next to you, kissing your temple. james followed en suite, coming to the other side of you.

wrapping his arms around you, he felt the heating pad, confused, looking under the blankets to see your heating pad.

"you feeling a little better?" he asked.

"yeah." you nodded, "took some medication and got my heating pad, can we cuddle?"

the last part was directed at sirius, whose eyes softened, agreeing with you, coming to join the rest of you.