Regulus: *cooing at baby Harry and giving him all his attention*
James: *disgruntled noises*
Regulus: If you have a baby you can’t be the baby.
regulus: hello, i’m here as sirius blacks emergency contact
nurse at st. mungos: oh great, he took a nasty fall off that mechanical bull, are you here to pick him up?
regulus: no im here to be removed as his emergency contact.
can I request more bodyguard James? he’s just the cutest and I’m happy to read anything about it!!
thank you for your request! you and James go shopping and get mistaken for a couple ♥︎ fem!reader 1k
James looks like your boyfriend, sometimes. There are moments that he deems low risk in your life where he won't wear his radio or his utility belt, opting instead for plain black civilian clothing. In those moments, you aren't proud of yourself for doing so, but you like to pretend he is your boyfriend.
He's looking through broccoli's for you. You hadn't asked him to. His hands sift through huge trees until he's found the most vibrant, holding it up for your inspection.
"Perfect," you praise, opening your small paper bag so he can drop it inside with the rest of your hand-picked veggies.
The only thing left on your list is extra virgin olive oil, but you don't want to go home yet. You like the way people look at you and James when you're together, awed and a little jealous. They might wonder how you nabbed a man like him, and of course you haven't nabbed him at all. That's your secret to keep.
You meander down the vegetable aisle, your eyes skipping over snap peas and cabbages, bags of wonky carrots and parsnips. James grabs a bag of rooster potatoes before you can stretch over the crates for them.
"Gotta wake up earlier in the morning to beat me, angel," he says.
"I don't think I could."
James wakes up at 3AM every morning, if he's to be believed. It makes sense. He wakes up, does bits around the flat, works out, has breakfast, and is waiting smiley and bright-eyed when you emerge from your room at 6:30. You're never as put together as he is, usually in your nightgown or one of those matching pyjama sets that make him look you up and down (though you both pretend he doesn't).
No matter how bleary your vision is, it's impossible to miss the way he smiles at you every single day, like you're the sun coming up over the horizon. His pretty brown eyes squint, his thick crop of eyelashes threading together at their corners, and he says some warm variation of, "Morning, princess. Is it me or did you get prettier while I was gone?"
"We could try it out. Of course, if you wake up at three, I'll have to start waking up at midnight," he says now.
"I don't know how you do it," you say. Your voice is softened by genuine admiration.
"I get to see you. Makes it easy."
He's flirting, but with James you can never make out where the line is. Does he want you to flirt back? Does he want you to want him? You'd say without hesitation that James is your best friend in the whole world. He'd say without hesitation that his best friend is actually a duo, Sirius and Remus. That makes it hard.
But it's okay. You don't need anything more than this: his hand on your shoulder guiding you across the aisle to the fresh fruit punnets, the smell of his cologne a familiar treat.
You pick up a couple of things you like, mostly stuff you know you can convince James to share. He likes oranges best, so you grab a bag of huge ones and drop them in your basket with the veggies. It's getting heavy. You can practically see James' holding in an offer to carry it for you.
You're somewhere in the spreads and grains aisle when an older lady approaches you, or rather James, tapping him on the elbow gently.
"Hey, hun, you couldn't help me reach something?"
"I'd be happy to!" he says cheerily.
"Thanks so much. I've never been very tall, and every year I seem to shrink. It's just over here."
James legally isn't supposed to stray from your side, so he threads his hand under your upper arm and pulls you with him.
The elderly woman points to a box bragging organic, dehydrated strips of applesauce. "It's those right there if it's no trouble for you, hun."
"No, of course not."
James grabs her box with little to no effort expended. He doesn't even need to go on toes.
"God, he's so tall," the elderly lady says to you.
"He's super tall," you echo, your sunny talking-to-strangers voice in play.
"And very handsome. You're a lovely couple."
You fall into silence with your lips parted, not sure what to say. It isn't worth correcting and potentially embarrassing her for a harmless assumption, especially when you like that she thinks it, but you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of James by looking to eager.
"She's the lovely one," James says, offering the applesauce with a huge beaming smile.
She presses her hand to her collar, basket proffered until James places the applesauce carefully on top of a punnet of plums and a TV magazine.
"Thank you," she says. "Getting old's no fun when you're short. And my husband was even shorter than I am! You hold on to this one, love, you never know when you'll need something from a tall shelf."
You and James laugh in a mirrored delight at her easy-going joking, his hand falling against the top of your shoulder, fingers spread and clasping. You swear, heat radiates like the sun from his touch alone.
"I'm holding on about as tightly as I can," James says, "she couldn't get rid of me if she wanted to."
You look at him, startled, and meet his earnest gaze. "I don't want to. I don't think I'll ever want to."
The elderly woman nods like this is something she'd suspected.
"Good. You're a perfect pair," she says.
James rubs the space between your shoulders affectionately while he finally steals the heavy shopping basket from over your arm. You're too flustered from his touch to kick up a fuss.
"I've been thinking the same thing," he says.
Time may change me, but I can’t trace time… *
regulus "at least im trying" black PLEASE
husband!remus x wife!reader ; fluff
In which remus and his wife are waking up beside each other in their newly bought house
The sheets moved swiftly around you, their soft fabric complimenting your gracious body. You were asleep with your hair spread across your face and falling in a cascade on your back and arms. You were feeling warm. Not the uncomfortable warm, though, the one you feel when waking up and tightening the blanket around you. You also felt safe. This was something you loved. An arm passed over your waist as a protection to keep you in bed and close and warm. You loved waking up and feeling the heaviness of your husband’s arm. Remus was always one to go to sleep late, the one not to sleep at all even. But since you two had settled in this cosy place, he was spending more and more time with you in bed. He would often fall asleep before you as you played with his hair and massaged his scalp. Remus felt home between your arms. He had hidden for so many years that being able to be himself and not be afraid of hurting someone was just heaven to him. You and Remus had found that old water mill house some months ago, and you two fell in love with its peaceful atmosphere. The house was in a quiet neighbourhood surrounded by a lovely little cottage with extensive gardens and vergés.
The forest on the other side of the little river was beautiful and perfect for Remus to spend his full moons. You felt reassured to know he wasn’t too far from you during this time of the month. Thanks to your good wedges, you could get some wolfsbane for him, and you knew that Remus would pass the long nights wandering in the forest. You imagined he would follow the fairies around and run after the little magical creature. Remus saw a future with you here, and you were forever grateful. It had been so hard to find an isolated place to protect your husband from the others. It felt unreal to establish somewhere like here.
The feeling of the cover being torn away from you stopped your reasoning, and you turned around to look at your gorgeous husband rolled into the covers.
‘I love you, Lupin. But you promised to share all your belongings, that includes the cover.’ You said, tickling his nose with your pinky as you watched him softly blink his eyes open.
‘I don’t think it means all my belongings. I’m sure there’s some kind of exception for the sheets, cover and probably the food too.’ You chuckled at his comment and kissed him.’Good morning, dove.’
‘Good morning, darling.’ You smiled. ‘Did you sleep well?’
He nodded and stretched his arms over his head before wrapping you in them.
‘I slept alright, and you? Are you hungry? We’ve got some fruits. The neighbours gave them.’
‘Slowly, Rem.’ You kissed his hand and gently put it in your hair.
‘One at a time?’
‘One at a time.’
Remus sighed and started petting your hair, wrapping his long, thin fingers around the strands. In this instant, he thought he would have been more than happy to die beside you and keep this as the last thing he would see in his life. You were his everything, after all. You had been there for him when he needed comfort back at school and would be with him when he grew old. And more than anything, you were with him right now, right at this instant. You were giving him this look full of love and caring, and he swore he had never seen a more beautiful thing in his life than your bright smile and tired eyes looking at him. He was eternally madly in love with you. Remus was sure of that because he knew that if you were an ocean, he would let himself drown. If you were a fire, he would eat himself burn, and before all this, if you were the earth, the dirt beneath the grass, he let his body crawl to you and rot. Remus would love you even if you killed him because you only mattered now. Remus never thought he would have the chance to be loved and love like this. Ever since Remus was a child, he saw how dangerous love could be for others, and he wanted nothing dangerous for his loved ones. But his soul deceived him the day he saw you under that cherry tree, in your little lime green dress with your hair tied with a ribbon. Remus knew he was doomed right at that moment. He knew he was your slave for eternity.
‘… Rem? Are you listening?’
‘Sorry, darling. What did you say?’
‘You know, sometimes I really wish to know what’s going on in that head of yours.’ You scoffed and slowly made your way up. ‘I was saying we should slow down on heavy food. I think I took some weight.’
‘Oh, but my darling, I’m the happiest man alive if I can get more of you.’
source dividers: @cottage-writings
tag list : @masivechaos @padfootagain
james or eddie x inexperienced!reader who bursts into tears the first time he slips his hand under her shirt to touch her stomach/hip/waist because no one’s ever touched her like that before!!! and he’s like what did I do 😟
summary james touches you where no one else has before. it freaks you out for a moment.
content james potter x fem!afab!reader, hurt/comfort
James is really tall. He knows this, obviously. He's been the height he's at since he was fifteen years old. With years of using it to his advantage under his belt, he knows how to tease you with it.
All night at Sirius's shindig, he has you planted in his side. He leans against the wall outside in the backyard where everyone has congregated and you lean your entire weight into him.
To have you so close to him in such a setting is a treasure he really shouldn't take for granted. Though the face you make whenever he leans down to pretend to kiss you is one he wants permanently branded into the back of his eyelids.
You pout because you can't reach him to get what you really want and then flush with embarrassment for reacting that way in the first place. It's a cycle James thinks is adorable.
So as soon as the both of you get back to his flat that night, he knows you're just itching to kiss him. You hold his hand and let him guide you to the kitchen.
You're new to the whole relationship thing. You don't know when you should kiss him, or when you think you're allowed to. You pick at your nails when you really want to hold his hand and go quiet when you're around other people. James loves nothing but keeping you all to himself. Knowing he's the only one lucky enough to see you like this. But he wants you to know he'd let you eat his face off in the presence of the Prime Minister if you wanted.
Still, he feels like the luckiest guy on the planet right now. Leaning up against his kitchen counter with you between his legs. You reach up to kiss him gently on his cheek. He tucks his fingers under your jaw to encourage your lips back to his cheek like he wants another one. He catches your mouth with his quickly before you can land another.
You gasp and let him kiss you, a pleased, giddy sound that lights his chest on fire. He has to pull away before he loses his breath. He blames it on you.
He lets his hands find your hips and says, "Burt's Bees?"
"What?" you say breathlessly. You blink.
You laugh, a startled, girlish thing that makes the ache in his chest even worse. "Yeah," you nod. "Yeah, the shortbread cookie flavour."
James chuckles. "Of course, it is."
He kisses you again and you seem more than happy about it. He lets his hands slip under your shirt and then you tense. You pull back and stare at his shoulder. The feeling in his chest plummets like concern into the pit of his stomach.
"You all right, lovely?" he asks, voice warped with confusion. He holds you back to catch your gaze. Your eyes look glassy so quickly and he gets whiplash. "Sweetheart?"
You blink back the mist. "Sorry," you choke, shaking your head. "Uh, sorry, you just-"
James stands up straight, ducking his head down, and lets his hands rub a soothing path up and down your arms. "What happened? Did I do something?"
You squeeze your eyes shut and focus on the feeling of his hands on your arms. "No, you didn't do anything." You lean into his hold. "No, it's just- no one's ever touched me there."
He softens, though his heart is thumping like a kick drum in his ribcage. "Shit, I'm sorry, honey," he curses himself, fixing where he's got his hands. He lets them fall to his side and thinks he might've made it worse. You fold in on yourself. "Sorry, I won't do it if you don't want me to."
You step forward, closing up the tiny gap of space you subconsciously created and look up at him with teary eyes. "No, no it felt good. You - shit - you didn't do anything bad it just startled me."
You're not sure if you're crying because it felt different or because you've embarrassed yourself. You're sure it's a bit of both.
He knows you want him to hold you. He pushes his second thoughts aside and wraps you in a tight hug. You deflate once he's got you against his chest like you were earlier, maybe more relieved than you were before.
You let yourself cry because it's easier than holding back the tears that burn in your throat. Especially when he kisses you firmly on the top of your head. Murmuring something that sounds like, "I'm really sorry, angel. I should've set a boundary or something."
You feel worse because you've worried your poor boyfriend to death. "It's okay. You're allowed to touch me, James."
"I shouldn't assume things," he says with a firmness you lack.
"You didn't assume anything," you tell him and try to ignore the fact you're dirtying his shirt with your sticky tears. "It's okay. I'm okay. It just felt different."
James squeezes your sides. "Did you like it?"
"I did," you tell him honestly. Because you did, it felt more than nice. "Yeah, it felt great.''
He pulls back looking softer than he did before he got you into his arms and you calm down a tad. He swipes the tears from your cheeks and wipes them on his shirt. You laugh wetly.
"Good," he smiles. "You wanna go to bed? I'll let you kiss me some more."
You can't help but smile back. He's adorable. "Let's shower first," you laugh. "You smell too much like Sirius's flat."
"Do not!" he gawps but lets you lead him in the direction of his ensuite. "Is that a bad thing?"
"If you think cigarettes and leather aren’t a bad thing, then you can skip the shower."
"I don't think so."
ok here me out: sirius black, with acrylic nails
they’d be black, and he’d get little stars and moons on them
Peter: Poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses.
Sirius: This knife is actually a magic wand.
James: Meet me in the Denny’s parking lot for a wizard duel.
Remus: *cocks gun* Magic missile.
Lily: What the fuck is wrong with you people
Sirius didn’t canonically have tattoos. For all we know, he could’ve been scared of needles.
Lily: we’re going to the tattoo parlor
Peter: wicked what’s everyone getting?
James: a stag wearing bright pink glasses because I lost a bet to Lily
Remus: the moon phases but as a joke because I can never forget them
Lily: I’m thinking being real original and getting some lillies
Peter: what about you padfoot? Getting some cryptic ancient runes or cute little dog paw prints?
Sirius: if I wanted to be stabbed by tiny knives for three hours, I’d go visit my mum
written with @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: inspiration
Remus looked warily down at each of his three best friends, who were sitting on the floor of their shared dormitory, looking confused but patient as he paced uneasily in front of them. Remus paused, faced them and took a deep breath.
“I’m gay,” he said.
His breaths came out shakily. He twiddled with his fingers. His eyes were nearly all white with how wide he had stretched them.
The reaction was sort of disappointing, really.
“We know,” Sirius said bluntly.
Remus blinked once, fiercely. “What?” he rasped, then cleared his throat. “What do you mean?”
James looked rather amused. “Oh, mate,” he said softly, “You don’t have to be so worried. We all figured it out around 4th year.”
At this, Remus looked positively mortified. “You— But— I—”
“It’s alright, Moony,” Peter crooned, hiding a fond chuckle, “We don’t care.”
“Wait… really?” Remus asked, sounding heartbreakingly hopeful and yet still weary, as if he didn’t quite believe them.
“Of course, mate!” Sirius assured him, grinning, “When have we ever lied to you?”
Remus raised his eyebrows sardonically, but sat down between his friends feeling sufficiently lighter.
“Well then,” Peter started, sounding suddenly business-like, “What prompted you to make this sudden confession? Any particular inspiration behind it?”
He shot a pointed look at Sirius, who was casually leaning back on his palms and staring fixedly at Remus, an odd, flaming sort of look in his eyes.
“Ah well…” Remus replied, “It’s our last year at Hogwarts. Figured it was about time you guys got to know anyway.”
James hummed understandingly, but there was a mischievous look on his face.
“So…” James purred, slowly leaning forward and reaching out a hand to trace circles over Remus’ bicep, “Any other confessions you want to make?”
He waggled his eyebrows and exaggerated a lip-bite.
“Prongs!” Remus protested, shoving James away as they all barked with laughter.
Undeterred, James sat cross-legged, elbows on his knees, head propped up on his hands. “Oh, come on, Moony,” he said, “You can’t look me in the eye and honestly say you’ve never wanted to snog me.”
“Nope,” Remus said, grinning, “Never.”
“Don’t be shy, Moony,” James insisted, ruffling his hair and winking, “There’s got to be at least one time—“
“He said no,” Peter cut in, “because his one true love is obviously me.”
Remus laughed loudly at the scandalized sound that James made. As he and Peter got into a heated argument over the rightful owner of Remus’ heart, Remus himself looked over at a smiling Sirius, and knew with certainty who his heart truly lied with.
A random Gryffindor when Reg says something mean: James, keep your boyfriend in check. He has no self control!
Regulus: if I didn’t have any self control, I would have killed my parents and shaved my brothers head.
Regulus, with further pause: Do you think everyone just stays safe around me naturally?
Regulus, running a hand through his hair: it takes a lot of work to be this sane
sirius: guess what i’m about to get?
regulus, not looking up: on my nerves?
hi!! could you maybe do a little blurb with remus lighting readers cigarette? ik smoking is so bad for you but it’s so hot when a cute guy lights ur cig😭
thank you for your request! ♥︎ fem!reader
You're huddled under the smoking shelter of the pub hiding from the rain when Remus makes his way out to join you.
"Hey," he says, sliding out his pack of Lambert's, standing all too close. "Was wondering where you went."
You like that he's a smoker too. There's definitely a stigma around smoking for lots of people, and it's a bad habit you can't kick anyhow. At least with Remus you don't have to wax about how much you've been meaning to quit, or how you're smoking your way to an early grave.
He must know how it feels. Heat, relief, a cough in the morning.
"I was trying to be quick, but the wind keeps blowing me out and this clipper barely works," you lament, a tiny bit awkward and a lot frustrated.
He takes a step toward you, his sandy brown hair blowing in the wind. The short scar atop his lip tugs against his smile.
"I have you," he says lightly, lifting his lighter. He rolls his thumb against the flint and shields the tip with his empty hand, a cigarette of his own skewed between his index and middle finger.
The tip incinerates, glows bright as you inhale, ash already eating up the insides. You feel both an immense relief to again have a lit cig, and the heavy knowledge that Remus is very, very close to your face, his gaze a weighted thing as it roves the bump of your lips, the tip of your nose, and the nervous fluttering of your lashes. He doesn't pretend for a moment that he's not looking at you.
You blow your line of smoke away from him and share a smile.
He puts his own between his lips, lighting it far quicker than he'd lit your own, and leans against the wall beside you. He's close enough to feel the fabric of his coat brush your own, and for the smell of his aftershave to surge up through the thick of smoke.
He smiles around his exhale. His words curve with an amused fondness. "You're welcome… It's a bad habit, you know?"
You groan. "Not you, too."
"No, I'm not telling you off." He flicks ash on the pavement, his head dipped ever so slightly to yours. He has nice eyes, a light brown like maple leaves in the early winter. "Do you indulge in anything else that's bad for you?"
Your lips part of their own accord.
He snorts at your expression and pulls the cigarette from his lips, careful not to touch you with its smouldering tip. "Not my best line, I suppose."
"I indulge in all sorts of things," you say, heart tumultuous as a wave against your chest.
You fluster so visibly that he bursts into laughter, a sound smooth and ever changing as silt near the riverbed. It warms the night air, and your wind-whipped cheeks.
Sirius: siblings are so different to couples.
Remus: not in Alabama.
James: HAH! good one Moony
Sirius: with siblings you could have a fight in the morning but by the afternoon neither of you even remember the fight and you dont even need to forgive each other for it to be all fine between you.
Regulus: ...you must be talking about other siblings huh.
Sirius: IT WAS ONE TIME! I SAID I WAS SORRY-
Regulus: that was my chocolate bar-
Remus: CHOCOLATE?! WHERE.
Harry Potter was the youngest quidditch player in a century, and when he achieved that gryffindor wrapped around him like a blanket and celebrated him.
But I know James Potter was smashing his bloody fists against the barrier between the living and the dead because his heart was hollow where his son should live.
Imagine Lilly holding him to her chest, as he screamed.￼
Imagine Ron, an old man transcending into that white space to be met with a 21-year-old with messy hair pulling him to his chest.
Because Ron Weasley was proud of Harry Potter when no one else was, when no one else could be.