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moonstruckme · 2 days

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Can you maybe do something with one of the marauders being protective of reader (not poly just a marauder of your choice)

Thanks for requesting!

cw: slightly possessive behavior

roommate!James x fem!reader ♡ 883 words

“Who-oa.” James gawps as you walk past his room, and you turn your head to hide a little smile. “Where are you going so dolled up?”

Your smile slips, brow pinching. “Do I look dolled up?” You backtrack a couple of steps, stopping in front of James’ doorway. “Is it too much?”

“I don’t think so,” he says, regarding you from where he sits on his bed. He leans back on his hands. “You look nice. I only say ‘dolled up’ because you’ve got a tad more makeup on than usual, and you’re wearing that top that makes your eyes look pretty. I guess, ah, whether it’s too much might depend on where you’re going. Which is…?”

“Is the makeup that obvious?”

“No, but I see you every day. Where are you going?”

“Dinner.” You blow out a breath, starting back down the hall.

You hear James’ mattress squeak, and then he’s following you. Down the stairs and into the kitchen. “Dinner with whom, may I ask?”

“A friend of a friend. Have you seen my chapstick?”

“Is this a date?”

You pause for a second in your search before jump-starting again. “Using the word makes me nervous.”

“Sorry,” James laughs, the sound like sunlight refracting off water. It relaxes you slightly. “I thought you hated going on dates.”

“I’m trying to get over it.” You check behind the coffee maker, frowning. “Seriously, I don’t have another tube of chapstick. I thought I left it in here yesterday.”

“Did you maybe put it in your bag when we went for pizza last night?”

James’ eyes crease with his smile when your expression lightens. “You’re so right,” you say, starting back for the stairs. “Thanks.”

“No problem. So, have you met this guy before?”

“Nope.” In your haste you miss a step, but James’ hand is right there to steady you. You keep going. “It’s like an arranged marriage, except instead of meeting him at the altar I’m meeting him when he picks me up.”

“Charming. And when is he picking you up?”

“Any minute now.” Your voice is pitchy with false cheer, betraying the hummingbird-fast beating of your heart.

“Doesn’t it worry you that you’re entrusting your safety for the night to this man you’ve never met?”

Your hands are actually trembling as you grab the chapstick from the bag you’d used last night, sticking it in your pocket. “It does, yeah. Thanks for the reminder.”

You turn back around, but James catches you. His hands are warm on your upper arms and his gaze is kind. Steady.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’m not trying to freak you out. I just want to make sure you’ll be okay. Are you bringing your alarm?”

“It’s a public place, James. Ideally he’s not the type to try anything regardless, but surely he won’t in a restaurant.” He looks dissatisfied. “But yes, it’s in my pocket.”

“Attagirl.” James gives your arms a squeeze before releasing you, flopping down on your bed.

It’s not a second later that the doorbell rings and he’s popping right back up again, hot on your heels as you go down the stairs.

“What are you doing?” you hiss, batting him away as you go for the door. “Go be somewhere else!”

James holds up his hands in surrender and sits down on the couch, but his eyes are trained on the door as you open it up to greet the man outside.

“Hi,” you say, plastering on a smile.

“Hi.” He smiles back. He’s handsome, well-dressed, and carrying flowers. You’re instantly charmed. “Are you y/n? My friend gave me this address.”

“Yeah,” you laugh, and it comes out awkward and pitchy. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“And you are?” Suddenly James is behind you, leaning over your shoulder.

Your date blinks. He says his name like it’s a question.

“Sorry, this is just my roommate.” You laugh again, the nerves in it even more prominent now, and try to shoulder James back from the door.

Unfortunately, James is an immovable wall of solid muscle. He acts like he doesn’t notice. “Nice to meet you. And your last name?”

“James!” You turn to him, appalled. Tell your date, “Ignore him. I’m so sorry.”

“I just feel like it’d be good information to have,” James says with a shrug. You think he’s trying to look intimidating, but it’s really not a very practiced air on him. His big frame does something to make up for it though, biceps bulging where they’re crossed in front of his chest. To you, he still looks decidedly huggable, but your date appears as though he’s garnered a different impression.

“But anyway, you two have fun.” James smiles. You’d have to really know him to know he doesn’t mean it. “Enjoy dinner, and have her back by ten.”

You and your date both chuckle, though you can tell from your roommate’s expression that he’s not fully joking. He keeps up the affable grin anyway.

“Okay, dad,” you tease, squeezing out the door and starting down the front steps. Your date follows. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you at ten.” James steps into the doorframe, waving. “I’ll be here. Don’t forget that your safety alarm is in your pocket!”

Your face heats. When you get home, you’re going to kill him.

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my-castles-crumbling · 13 hours

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You wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum where they raised me. - Sirius and Regulus Black

#ttpd #Taylor swift #marauders #the marauders #black brothers #Sirius black #regulus black #hp marauders #harry potter #marauders era #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #Sirius Orion black #regulus

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moonstainn · 1 day

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Remus Lupin you will always be famous

#fanart #digital art #art #marauders #hp marauders #marauders era #hp #remus lupin #remus lupin fanart #james & peter & remus & sirius #wolfstar #marauders fanart #the marauders

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ecstarry · 1 day

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@jegulus-microfic / voice / 355 words

“He doesn’t have the right voice,” Regulus stated firmly.

Barty bursted out laughing along with Evan, “What does that even mean?”

They had spent all night trying to figure which Hogwarts bachelor would be Regulus’ best match. They started by house and went through the list of every student from sixth and seventh year. Even the most handsome and brilliant students apparently were not good enough for Regulus.

There was always something. Too short, too tall, too dumb, too full of himself, too anything.

“At this rate the only other boys we haven’t gone through is your brother, and I’m guessing that’s another Black tradition you are no longer following. Then we have Lupin, but you don’t seem like the ‘stealing your brother’s boyfriend type’, and of course there’s Pettigrew which you never have the patience for. And finally-” Barty paused and his eyes widened. He slowly approached Regulus, who was trying his hardest to conceal the flush creeping through his cheeks.

“Well, all that’s left is Potter. But I never thought you to be the ‘falling for my brother’s best friend’ type either,” Barty remarked, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

Regulus couldn’t help it; a small smile appeared at the corner of his face at the mention of James’ name. He was perfect. James had just the right height, and he was brilliant but not arrogant about it, he was funny and attentive and truly perfect. And his voice – Regulus loved it almost as much as he loved his smile.

He was so obviously and pathetically in love with him that his little reaction was enough for his friends to know just how enamored he was.

“I can’t believe this! Regulus Black, member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, practically the prince of Slytherin, is in love with the golden boy from Gryffindor?” Barty teased loudly.

“I am not!” Regulus retorted, though his tone was anything but convincing.

“Tell that to your face,” Evan quipped, earning a playful glare from Regulus.

“Fuck off,” Regulus rolled his eyes, but a bright smile peeked through—one that only James Potter could provoke.

more microfics here

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moonyswarmsweaters · 3 days

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”I’m tired, I think I will go to bed”

She said, opening yet another fanfic about dead gay wizards form the 70s.

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that-bitch-kat3 · 3 days

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lily: honestly it’s a miracle they gave you a license at all

sirius: what do you mean? i’m an excellent driver.

lily: let’s put it this way, everytime you get on that bike i say a prayer

remus: you’re not religious

lily: i am aware. that’s how bad of a driver sirius is. i pray to a god i do not believe in every time he is on the road

sirius: fuck off

lily: no genuinely i think we need to have an alert that goes out every time the key turns in that ignition. it just warns everyone that sirius is about to be on the road. just so that everyone is on edge.

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samisamousa · 2 days

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I just read a Marauders fic about the Marauders era characters' children, and it was kinda interesting. I just have a few things to say :

Why is almost everyone white ? I mean, even James Potter lol

Why is Remus dating Sirius' cousin ??? That may be the most disturbing thing I've ever saw.

Where are Regulus, Evan, Mary, Pandora, Marlene and Andromeda ??? I mean, they barely talk about them !

#marauders #hp marauders #the marauders era #the marauders #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #remus lupin #lily evans

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wingedhallows · 1 day

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misunderstandings ; remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader | 1k words plot: misunderstandings are best undone ontop of the astronomy tower at night with a cigarette in hand. authors note: i promised you this work last weekend but something came up and i couldn't post but here I am, hope you enjoy :)

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“How am I supposed to focus?” You whispered, mouth in a scowl. His hand was in yours, his eyes focused on the workbook in front of him. The sun lit the yard in warm light, you loved spring at Hogwarts. His thumb stroked your skin, his mouth in a small smile.

“Figure it out, love.” You couldn’t focus on the words in front of you, the letters swimming together in an effort to keep your cool. Your hand seemed to burn, was it desire? Desire for something you couldn’t have.

You knew that Remus wasn’t someone for relationships, he had told you himself.

He had made it awfully clear.

Though the common room was packed, loud music, alcohol in your system, you had heard his words loud and clear.

“I don’t do relationships, Y/N. I’m not the one for you.”

You couldn’t get over how breathtakingly beautiful he was. His hair was unstyled and seemed to stick out in different directions. The scars which decorated his face was faint, but prominent for you. You knew what he was, you had seen it.

In third year you had caught his friends and him sneaking out, demanding for them to take you with them.

Remus wasn’t fast enough to get away, almost ripped your throat out that night. It still weighed on him, everytime he looked at you.

This secret of his felt like a connection, a connection which wasn’t all that deep, you figured.

The fact that what he did to you, how kind and affectionate he was, was hard. It was hard to not see him in the way you saw him now, to not desire his love and care. It was unfair and frankly, cruel.

“I gotta go.” You managed, your things already packed and you face in a cold mask, desperate to conceal the pain.

“Oh, alright.” He spoke before he pushed his hand in his lap, face in a kind smile.

The astronomy tower was quiet, pieceful. The moon was up, the air cold. The cigarette in your hand felt like it lifted some weight off your shoulders, like it brought you some piece of mind. A tear left your eyes, heart heavy.

You had avoided Remus and his friends for the rest of day, excusing yourself when you caught sight of his brown hair.

You wanted to get away, to not think about the gryffindor any longer, you wished for the man to leave you alone, to not hog your mind for every minute you were awake. You blew some smoke into the night sky as a voice spoke.

“Here you are, I looked everywhere for you.” His face was adorned with a smile as he walked up to you, his hands pushing a cigarette between his lips and lighting it. You brushed the tears away, your gaze anywhere but him.

“You missed some real fun in-Are you crying?” You shook your head, taking another drag from your cigarette.

“No, but you are.” He stated, walking in front of you. He bent down and put a finger under your chin, lifting your head.

“Who hurt you?” He asked, brows furrowed.

How dare he ask who had hurt you?

How dare he be up here when all you wanted to be away from him, to forget the pain he put you through. How dare he.

“Stop doing that.” You said, as you got up, swatting his hand away. He huffed a chuckle, pausing to take a drag.

“What do you mean? Worrying about you?” You turned around, throwing the done cigarette at his feet.

“Stop doing this.” You spoke louder.

He leant against the railing, eyebrows still furrowed. “I don’t know what you mean, love.” You had to laugh, rolling your eyes as you stared him down.

“Don’t call me love, don’t be kind to me, stop holding my hand all the time, stop giving me love eyes, stop being like this when we both know that it never will be more.”

He took another drag as he pushed himself off the railing, eyes focused on you.

“Who said that?” You stared at him, face angry.

“You! You did, third year.” He let his head fall back, heaving a sigh. “What?” You scowled at him.

“Third year, house party, does that ring a bell?”

“I was drunk.” You shook your head, arms crossed.

“You were sober enough.” He took a step towards you, cigarette long forgotten on the ground.

“So that’s why you gave me the cold shoulder all those years?” You didn’t answer as his hands found your elbows.

“Because I was thirteen, drunk and not in my right mind?” You shook your head as you looked at him.

“Your words were bright and clear.” His lips twisted into a small smile.

“I was drunk.” You huffed again, looking over his shoulder, to avoid his eyes. “As you said before.”

His hands found the side of your face, his lips still in this stupid beautiful smile.

“If I had known that what stood between us was a stupid drunk mistake I made when we were thirteen, I would’ve taken back every single word, love.” Your eyes found him, your lip caught between your lips.

“I’m sorry.” He said before his lips connected with yours. Your arms found his as he brushed your cheek.

“We should’ve spoken sooner.” You said, your hand still on his arm. He laughed as he caressed your arm.

“Not that you would’ve let me speak a word.”

#harrypotter #hp fanfic #marauders imagine #the marauders #marauders era #harry potter fanfic #remus lupin #remus lupin x you #remus lupin angst #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x y/n #marauders #hp marauders

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bobluvbot · 1 day

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birthday blues

pairing: sirius black x f!reader summary: first time godfather sirius goes shopping to find the perfect first birthday gift (jily + baby harry ♥️) wc: 5k a/n: me tryna heal canon trauma ❤️ because in my world everyone lives happily ever after !!! my lil celebration piece for hitting 200 followers! thank u all <3 not proofread, english is not my first language so plz be nice heheh

“What’s the store called again, sweets?”

even as a young kid, one of your biggest pet peeves is repeating yourself for more than four times. three is pushing it. your parents told you its a bad habit to take to adulthood because you’re bound to meet people who just don’t get what you’re saying the first or second time around. But one Wednesday morning, when you asked from upstairs where your favorite periwinkle socks were and your parents downstairs said something that the loud dishwasher and vacuum covered up, you asked them to repeat it again (still can’t hear), and again when you moved closer to the staircase down (barely heard any), then you heard your father’s heavy footsteps up, personally shoving in your waiting hand the said pair of socks.. only damp. “Honey, I said three times already, that they were still in the dryer,” your dad had huffed before heading back downstairs. That’s when you knew it was genetic.

But, you love Sirius Black. It’s gotten to the point where in the honest, sensitive hours past midnight, while there was nothing much to do as you let sleep creep up from your tired limbs to your fluttering eyelids, but to watch peace settle on the raven-haired boy’s sharp features, ethereal and glowing like an angel even in the dark of the night; that you realize he may be the love of your life. It’s a scary thought, with fears of being too eager, too soon, too much—- so you tuck it in a little pocket and give it a nudge when you need a reminder of how big and true its growing with each second spent together.

You love him, so you breathe out the snarky irritation away in slow heavy puffs and inhale peace, choosing to exercise patience because you know Sirius is nervous.

“It’s Spintwitches Sporting Needs, love. ‘s right across Ollivanders if I’m not mistaken,” you say, taking his free hand in yours and rubbing small circles on his knuckles to calm some of his nerves down, while he drives through busy muggle London streets to park by the Leaky Cauldron. He throws you a soft smile and gives your hand a quick squeeze as thanks, grateful to the heavens that you’re here to keep him from going insane.

You know him enough that, while the day in question is not about him, or you, or your relationship, it meant a great deal to Sirius.

He had one chance (even if you’d argue otherwise) to make things right, do things the right way the first time around with Harry. James knew this fact by heart, which is why he and Lily agreed in a heartbeat that Sirius should be little Harry’s godfather, as it was meant to be. He would do anything, go beyond means, hell, even against Merlin himself just to ensure the safety and happiness of his godson.

No one, however, was expecting it to backfire and it caught you and Sirius off guard. Once the tears dried and elation diffused, the anxiety kicked in for Sirius, and in turn you. He knew what the opposite was, parents who robbed their own sons of happy childhoods and disowned him when he got brave enough to find happiness and protect it, he had lived it. And now that he has a chance to save an innocent soul from a similar fate, he was determined, but this fact scared him shitless.

He wanted everything to be perfect (who wouldn’t?) and gave everything he physically could to make James and Lily’s Harry’s life easy and happy. Seeing Sirius buy ‘How to Dad?’ books and pour over them at night or on his free time at work was undoubtedly an attractive and loving sight. In a span of a week, he knew which is the best formula to supplement with breastfeeding, toys to pick that stimulate early brain development, even clothes made with hypoallergenic materials that won’t irritate the sensitive newborn skin. It came to a point where James would ask him for advice when Lily’s at work, and Sirius would put on his trusty reading glasses and point at a specific passage of ‘How to Dad?’ that answers James’ question perfectly.

Eventually, you did have to put your foot down when you found Sirius writing a howler to a baby food company when rumors started going around that their baby snack puffs (which Harry was obsessed with) had harmful chemicals in it. In typical Sirius fashion, he wasn’t convinced that easily. You’d bet that what pushed him off the howler letter route (and in turn protect the statute of wizarding secrecy) was seeing you spend lots of time in the kitchen to perfect making banana and strawberry baby snack puffs from scratch until the recall was over and the food was deemed safe to be consumed again by experts and Sirius himself.

Hearing many iterations of how the newborn days and months go by so fast was difficult to believe at times, especially when you and Sirius were babysitting to let the exhausted parents get some sort of reprieve multiple times a month. It was almost always the same. Harry would sleep for four hours straight during the night, and almost hourly right after; and while you and sirius had gotten pretty good at dividing up the tasks like bottle feeding and nappy changes equally, the shrill cry of a hungry baby is difficult to ignore and sleep through.

So despite of Sirius’s best efforts to crawl out of bed and tip-toe to the bassinet quietly not to wake your sleeping form, he gets sad but unsurprised to see you pad towards him and the baby, yawning soundlessly as you squeeze yourself between the soft armrest and Sirius’s side, head resting on his shoulder. It was his idea to get a spacious, soft recliner in the bedroom and it came in handy for situations like these, where getting back to bed once Harry sleeps is too risky as the boy would just wake up with the slightest movement, so the next best option was to try getting rest wherever you ended up in. The cries that once overpowered Sirius’s hushed whispers and cooing finally quiets down. A sigh of relief leaves both your lips, basking in the comfortable silence and bodies finding solace in each other’s warmth.

You want to say so many things to your lovely boyfriend, things he just has to hear: that he’s doing such a great job, that you see him and all the extra steps he has to take to become and do better than what he was raised for, that you love him for every single bit of it— but the right words don’t come easy when sleep-deprived and exhausted at 4:25am in the morning. So you lift your lips up to meet his temple, the side of his mouth, then his lips; hoping it’d convey what words couldn’t at the moment.

But time is an experienced thief. It was a Saturday afternoon in the middle of May and it was warm enough for you to whip out the frilly spring dresses that had been pushed to the back of your closet by the thick woolen coats from colder months. The boys had gone on a day trip to help Peter move into his first solo apartment, assembling furniture and stocking up on necessities to ensure he could survive on his own. Without the booming voices and bumbling energy of his father and godfather, little Harry had no choice but to match the calm and peaceful ambiance that you and Lily curated inside the Potter house. While it’s certainly different from what his everyday looks like (living with the likes of James), he seems to enjoy it. Gentle breeze from the windows Lily left open while she baked carry the smell of lemons and vanilla throughout the entire house, making it smell heavenly. You’d been sat on the floor by the dining table, surrounded by toy trains and colorful blocks, watching the ten-month-old munch on a toy graphorn adoringly. Recently, he’s been on a phase where he has to run anything he could get his hands on with his mouth. Some secret test or screening must be up there or something because that’s how Harry decides which toys are deserving of his attention for the day.

You’d picked up a toy set of magical creatures after work yesterday, and it won the almost toddler’s attention for the whole day. James had to snatch the toy niffler away from Harry’s grasp so he could say goodbye to his son and ask for a kiss. Safe to say there were no kisses exchanged because the little boy was too busy wailing and screaming at his father’s face. Lily had to create physical distance between her two boys so the younger one can calm down while the older got mopey. Sirius had to whisk his best friend away from the scene of the crime so that they can get on with the day, but not without leaving you a kiss.

The said niffler had soon been replaced with the hippogriff, then now the graphorn, and it’s been sitting on your lap since. Harry suddenly pulls the toy graphorn out of his mouth with a resounding pop. You both share a second or two of shocked eye contact and silence, his bright green eyes wide with surprise, before triggering a belly flipping laughing fit. This child could shock himself with a sudden burp or an unexpected sound of hitting random things with a fork, and you’d laugh every single time like its the funniest cutest thing you’ve seen in your life. It’s likewise for the rest of the marauders. Being the first baby of the group had all the adults wrapped in his pudgy fingers and he has no idea.

Harry’s eyes drop from your smiling face to the Niffler on your lap, and makes grabby hands. You almost, almost give in, but you decide to encourage him to go get it himself. Maybe today’s the day he starts to walk. You move to him a bit closer, probably a good seven baby steps in between.

“You want the Niffler, bud? You have to go get it from me!” You make a show out of grabbing the toy from your lap multiple times, hoping it’d make sense to the little boy.

He whines something sounding like your name and does more impatient grabby hands. But you weren’t giving up without a fight. “C’mon, Haz! You can do it,” you say enthusiastically.

Harry did know how to stand and good thing you were both sat near the dining table chairs, so to alleviate some of your aunt guilt you tuck the niffler away and out of Harry’s reach, before helping him up to his feet and urging him to grab one of the chair legs for support.

He stays upright, eyes still on the toy that you place again on your lap as you return to your original spot, and you clap with glee. “Great job, buddy! Okay, only a few steps to me and you’ll get the toy!”

Lily, curious to see the commotion happening on her kitchen floor, leans against the counter for a better view. Harry sees this and does the same thing, he looks at her pleadingly while making grabby hands and pointing to the niffler on your lap. You can tell the redhead’s fighting the mom urge to make her child’s life easier, but thank the heavens when she gives your same answer. She even moves to kneel beside you, waving to get her son’s attention and pointing at the niffler on your lap.

“C’mon, my sweet boy,” Lily says. “Mama knows you can do it!”

Motivated by frustration as his aunt and own mother won’t just hand him his goddamn toy, Harry whines angrily but makes a sideways step closer, death grip still on one of the chair legs. You and Lily squeal and clap in delight, urging the boy to do it again.

He makes a move for another step, but realizes that there’s no more legs to grab onto. Reluctantly, his right hand lets go and in turn faces you and Lily. This results in another round of applause, which serves like a drug to these little babies.

An anxious expression fleetingly appears on his face as he looks to you both, but the encouragement and cooing seemed to scare those big feelings away. Determined, Harry makes an unsure step forward without support, which then makes both yours and Lily’s heartbeat jump. It all happened so quick, the fear of losing balance triggered Harry’s other leg catch him on impulse, then the same on the other leg, then the other. Harry’d made four successful steps on his own before his mom catches him in her embrace before he topples over to the floor.

You and Lily were a sobbing, exultant mess. Harry, clearly confused about the commotion, whines for the niffler while Lily kisses him all over his face. You hand it to his waiting palms like a trophy before ruffling his unruly hair. An attempt for words has been made, but all that came from your mouth are garbled phrases about the miracle that just happened. Lily nods in agreement and you hug them both back.

This ten-month old just walked. This is the same baby that kept you and Sirius up at night for his feedings. The same baby responsible for the drool and spit up marks on your shirts. The same baby that laughs and babbles with you like he understands when you tell him random stories. The same baby that squeals in delight when you blow raspberries on his belly.

It felt like he had just been born a few days ago, memories of changing hundreds of nappies and preparing bottles of milk still vivid in your mind. But it’s earth shattering to consider that he’s closer to being a one year old than to the little bundle handed to you by James in the hospital room.

Time is unrelenting, stealing mundane moments behind your back and when you realize the loss, poof! The newborn you held in your arms is now a walking toddler. Soon, he’ll be the one talking your ears off, going to Hogwarts, driving a car.. You shiver at the thought. He was growing up so fast that blinking felt like cheating, afraid that you’ll miss a precious moment that you’ll never get back.

His first birthday came in the same manner— too fast for both yours and Sirius’s liking, but the wistful feelings came with excitement as Harry being a toddler opened up lots more opportunities to play and discover the world around him. James and Lily had spent the whole month planning a big birthday bash to celebrate the kiddo’s life, inviting all their loved ones to share the special day with them. And with that, the pressure was on for Sirius, as the self-proclaimed best godfather to get the perfect first birthday gift.

It’s like the heavens knew it was a special day for you both that it made sure to put out the best shopping weather one could ever ask for—- not too warm or too cold. It was a Tuesday afternoon, which meant the adults were kept in workplaces and children sent to Hogwarts or in homeschooling, leaving Diagon Alley nearly deserted, minus the occasional stray shoppers entering and leaving shops here and there. Clad in color coordinated couples outfits (that was your thing recently, Sirius more than happy to oblige) and hand in hand, you begin the mission to locate Spintwitches Sporting Needs.

Nostalgia always finds a way to seep into your bones whenever you find yourself in Diagon Alley. One blink and suddenly you’re ten again, both hands tucked in each parent’s as your mom pours over the list of school supplies you’ll need again for your first year at Hogwarts. You and Sirius see Ollivanders at a short distance and hear the entrance bell chime, the very same sound you heard when entering the shop for the first time, the shopkeeper taking one good look at you before immediately rummaging around the store, grabbing a specific box located on a random shelf four stories up. The look of confidence when he says it’s made just for you, a magical glow enveloping your tiny frame while opening the magenta box. That same magic guided you to a world where you truly belonged in, a castle that felt so much like home, and friends that soon became found family and lifelong partners. The thought of Harry soon experiencing these moments leaves a giddy feeling in your chest.

The smoky sweet scent of freshly roasted chestnuts catches your attention and you discreetly look for the source of your favorite warm snack. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Sirius (hardly nothing ever does, even the things you wish he’d miss or forget), and he gives your hand a small tug. You try to be aloof as you return his waiting gaze, complete with a quirk of your eyebrow, to which he responds with an impish smirk towards your bad acting.

“You’re not fooling anyone with that look, sweets.” The amusement in his voice is palpable as he steers you away from the main walkway and towards the small chestnut stall tucked in an alleyway, almost hidden by the bigger shops surrounding it.

“But, the store’s right there, Siri,” you try to protest. He had been anxious and stressed out about this day in particular, you knew if you were in his shoes, you’d be beelining to the store as soon as you get off the car. But he just shakes his head like its the obvious choice and nods towards the cart. “Can’t have my girl hungry now.”

After a failed attempt of trying to pay for the warm brown bag (you were no match for Sirius’s lithe, agile fingers in basically everything), you accept it with a sigh, giving yourself a few seconds to sulk before starting on the chestnuts. You weren’t the best at accepting things from other people just because, it always felt like you had to do something in return for them just to deserve it. Maybe that’s why the universe conspired to have you meet and fall for Sirius, who is a very enthusiastic giver, teaching you hard lessons on the daily.

As you begin the journey back to the shop, you carefully crack open one and hold it up to Sirius’s mouth, to which he happily obliged. “Mm, somehow chestnuts taste better when you handfeed me, dove. Do it again.”

You roll your eyes in response, but you find your fingers starting to peel another. “You’re lucky you’re good looking, Black,” you mutter to save some face, that you weren’t head over heels for this man and he to you. That’s a conversation to be had in another, less stressful day.

The shop, painted electric blue and orange, wasn’t hard to miss. One step in and the welcoming aroma of broom polish, rubber, and smoky wood brings you right back to the Quidditch locker rooms; memories of frantically lacing up your boots a minute or two after James called you as backup for an injured beater, helping Marlene comb out the tail end to fix the broom alignment after practice, and getting pinned to the cool lockers during post-win celebratory makeout sessions with Sirius, replaying vividly in your head.

It looked deceivingly small on the outside; aside from the expansive selection of different broomstick models, they had books and magazines about Quidditch strategies and featured famous matches, repair and maintenance kits for maintaining broomstick qualities, complete Quidditch gear for all shapes and sizes, and tiny practice snitches flying around the room. Squint and it’ll just be like how each Hogwarts common room would be decorated when there’s a big Quidditch match between houses or international ones in the world cup: streamers and accessories like horns and banners representing each team, posters of Chudley Cannons and Holyhead Harpies (in opposing corners to prevent unsolicited fights) accompanied by autographs of famous players and collectibles littering almost every surface of the walls. It was Quidditch dreamland.

Still in awe admiring the displays as you both walk through aisles hand in hand, Sirius breaks the silence first. “What do you think Harry will play as in Quidditch?”

You hum in response and he continues, running his hands through the bat display they had for little kids. “I bet he’d be a beater like me. You remember how that punk hit me straight on the face last week?”

You nod in amusement. Sirius had played it cool as he gently laid Harry back in his playpen, still laughing and cooing, then as soon as little Harry turned his back on his uncle, Sirius ran to you for first aid and whined the whole time you were healing the already forming bruise. But not a few hours later, he’s bouncing the baby in his arms again as he gave him a tour of the backyard.

“Yeah, those little fists definitely pack a punch.”

“How about you, love?”

Sifting through a year’s worth of memories, it was surprisingly easy to find your answer. “I think he’ll follow James’s footsteps and be a seeker.”

Sirius’s pout becomes evident, making you giggle and tug on his arm in efforts to cheer him up. “Think about it. Ever since prongslet got those glasses, it’s harder to hide anything from him now because his eyes are so quick. Poor Crookshanks too, that cat can’t catch a break now when Haz wants to play because he tracks its movements.”

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle and slings his arm around your shoulders to hold you closer. “Good point, good point,” he repeats, seemingly deep in thought as his fingers run up and down the small of your arm. “We shall see, whatever he decides to play as, or if he even plays at all, I’ll be proud of him.”

You look up to him as he absentmindedly stares at the Quidditch gear sets for little kids, a light, wistful smile on his handsome features. He might not say it out loud, but the love he has for his godson reverberates through his being, and its a warming sight to see.

Before you confess your love for your boyfriend in the middle of a Quidditch store, you whisk him away and towards the toy broom display, the only thing you were both here for. Only the big bright signs directed you to the right place, which didn’t prepare you at all for the heart exploding sight.

You’re about to burst into tears seeing how cute and tiny the little toy brooms were, and how they came in complete with tiny versions of the headlights, seats, and bag compartments the usual adult broom comes with. Both you and Sirius stood with mouths agape for a solid minute as you took in the expansive display, before your lovely boyfriend proceeds to pick out the most expensive one with the most features on it from the batch.

Surprisingly, it was you who reminded him to grab a helmet before running off to purchase the toy broom, the giddiness and excitement spreading between the two of you. The cashier gives both of you a knowing look as you and Sirius both mellowed down from full giggles to bashful smiles, examines the broom to be purchased, and asks, “For your little one?”

Now, you were no stranger to conversations like these with former lovers in the past, and you could almost hear the typical response of denial that comes swiftly with the question. It used to hurt, even if you knew by heart that that person didn’t have the fifth date potential or that it just wouldn’t last. It’s that unexplainable feeling of shame and rejection when they’d realize that it won’t work with you before you would, or if they answer with a laugh, as if having a future with you is an appalling thought. You’ve gotten better with it throughout the years, but for some reason your skin crawls with the thought of Sirius saying the same things. Years of desensitization down the drain, you find yourself bearing your entire soul to the man beside you the entire relationship, and he can easily break you into two with his response. You cross your fingers that he won’t.

He was already looking when your gaze met his, a look of softness and tenderness from him so profound you wondered if you were deserving of it. The surge of butterflies in your belly was all consuming.

Sirius shifts uneasily and shakes his head, you prepare for the worst. “For our nephew, not for our own child..,” he pauses, glancing back at you for a quick second. “Yet. But if all goes according to my sneaky plan, we might be back sooner than she thinks.”

The cashier chuckles at your stunned reaction as you shift your focus between him and your boyfriend who was both furiously blushing and actively avoiding your stare. Did you just get a marriage proposal?

Taking advantage of your confusion, Sirius pays for everything including the gift wrapping, which you had previously argued about who was responsible paying (you won, not that that matters now). You let him tug your arm and guide you out of the store, saying a quick thank you to the amused cashier. The influx of butterflies were back, tickling your insides and spreading warmth in each crevice. Just seeing Sirius handle the rambunctious mini James with care and glee, makes it so easy for you to imagine a life with him, and eventually have a little bean that’s equal parts of you and him. You hope they’d get the best parts of both.

No one brings it up as you began your journey back to the car and you’re grateful. Gift bag swinging on your arm, you drag Sirius to go get ice cream to which he happily obliges.

A gentle quiet settles on accomplished shoulders like a warm blanket as you settle in the car. Strawberry and vanilla fudge ice cream sticky sweet on each other’s lips as you exchange cones every once in a while. It would be enough to lull you to sleep, if not for Sirius’s deep breaths and sighs, the thundering of his heart that he tries to quell by discreetly scratching a small part of the steering wheel where his thumb usually lay.

He breaks the silence first, an uneasy tone making his voice seem small. “Do you think he’ll like it, dove?”

“Yes, Siri. I know he’ll love it.” You try your best to enunciate the right words, but a conflicted expression marrs his handsome features, sending a twinge to your heart.

It comes to you before he speaks. This was something that had been plaguing Sirius’s mind for a while, occupying his dreams and thoughts, embedding itself to his mind and causing unwarranted amounts of stress. You resist the urge to fill in the blanks for him because it has to come from him and him only.

But after everything he’s been through, what seems easy for most sometimes is the hardest to muster. “Siri,” you pause, waiting until he looks up at you and you keep his gaze. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

His gray orbs still before the dam breaks. “I’m sorry, love.” He chokes. “If I’m being so difficult, irky, irritated, anxious, everything.”

Hot tears run down his cheeks and it’s a painful watch. wanting nothing but to wipe it off and tuck him in your embrace and promise him he won’t be hurt as long as you’re there, but you can’t. The best thing you could do for him is to let it all out and finally feel.

He stares ahead on the city road with fingers trembling on the wheel. “I’m just so scared. So scared. James and Lily have been amazing parents, I can’t say same thing for myself but I try my best. Sometimes I still feel like he deserves someone better to be his godfather,” he sobs. “I just love him so much. I want only the best for him. I just want him to be happy and healthy all the time.”

After a while, you say with a bittersweet tone. “You know we can’t promise that, Siri,” you sigh. “Storms will come and will do damage and hurt and things that we can’t undo,” you pause, sniffling as you take your right hand to guide him to face you again, vulnerable gray eyes meeting yours. “But you know what?”

You give him an assuring smile, speaking the truth. “He’s gonna be alright because little as he is right now, he is so loved and adored by so many people, so loved by his parents. And so loved by his godfather.”

It wasn’t said aloud, it doesn’t need to. Loud as it could be, Sirius knows what you’re about to say; that his ability to love despite of everything he’s been through, despite of his own family ruthlessly trying to rob him of the ability to do so. That’s the type of love that Sirius gives, a love that withstands rain and abandonment; a love that stays after a rough storm, offering a home always open to go to when times are rough and feelings are still hurt; a love that tells the truth even when its hardest to hear.

You know all this as an easy fact because you’re at the receiving end. Even if you hadn’t heard it from his lips yet.

“Have I told you I love you?”

A watery smile spreads on your face as you shake your head. “No, but i feel it everyday.”

“I love you, Y/N.” It leaves his lips like breaths, naturally and easily.

It’s the same thing for you, too. “I love you too, Siri.”

And it ends with sticky kisses that taste of vanilla fudge and berries.

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yourgalgremlin · 3 days

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James: No <3

#it’s jegulus your honor #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #jegulus incorrect quotes #marauders era #marauders #incorrect marauders quotes #marauders incorrect quotes #hp marauders #james potter is a simp #regulus black x james potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #sunseeker #starchaser

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moonstruckme · 1 day

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Hello, I saw that your requests are open and I would like to ask for something pre-relationship with James. You could write in which the reader recently moved into a building/condominium and she needs help with something, like something that needs a specific tool or dealing with a spider and she asks her neighbor (James) for help? I think it would be something cute, like love at first sight. (I'm sorry if you don't want to write, but I saw a video like this and thought it would be cool to read something about it)

Thanks for requesting lovely!

neighbor!James x fem!reader ♡ 868 words

James almost doesn’t hear the knocking the first time. It’s hardly more than a couple of light taps, like someone might have bumped their bag into his door as they went by. Still, it gets his attention. James pauses in cutting up melon for tomorrow’s breakfast, head angling towards his front door.

It comes again, a bit less tentative this time, and he sets down his knife, wiping his hands on a dishtowel before going to the door.

You’re standing in the hall with your arms crossed tight against the nighttime chill that seeps into the building, wearing fuzzy slippers and what are quite clearly pajamas. You give him James a terse smile, looking somewhere between apologetic and panic-stricken.

“Hi,” you say, at the same time as he says, “Hello.”

Your smile blooms a bit more genuinely at that, and James is glad for it. You’re quite lovely when you look at him like that. It makes him wish he was wearing something other than his pajama bottoms or had brushed his teeth after his garlicky dinner.

“Hi,” you say again. “Um, I’m really sorry to bother you this late, but I’ve just moved in next door and I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

“Of course,” he agrees. No context needed. James prides himself on being neighborly, but he thinks he’d probably do just about anything you ask him to. “What is it?”

“There’s a cockroach in my living room.” You deliver the news with a grave face, like his revoking his offer of help is predetermined. “I’ve been trying to put a cup over it for, like, twenty minutes probably, but it’s too fast and I can’t really corner it by myself.”

“Ah.” James steps outside, closing his door behind him. “Alright, yeah, I’m sure we can take care of that. Lead the way, lovely.”

You take a bolstering breath before stepping into your apartment, making him grin. It really is just right next to his, and this knowledge seems like a dangerous thing to have. James is going to have to start playing his music a tad lower and making sure he looks decent every time he goes outside.

Just inside the door, there’s a broom propped against the wall. You take it up.

“Okay,” you say, awfully serious for someone in fuzzy slippers wielding a broom, “I was thinking I’d get him into that corner there, and then you could put the cup over him.” You nod towards a cup turned facedown on the coffee table. James picks it up. Some of the determination slips from your expression, eyebrows twitching towards each other, as you look at him. “Sorry to drag you into this. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s really fine,” James laughs. “This isn’t the first time someone has called me over to take care of a bug, and you live a lot closer than my mate did at the time.” In the period in between James and Sirius living together and Sirius moving in with Remus, his friend had forced James over to his flat at least twice a week so that he could trap spiders under cups while Sirius shrieked “Kill it! Kill it!” from atop his kitchen table.

You grimace. “Well, it’s good to know you’ve had practice. Okay, last I saw him he was under the couch. Ready?”

James nods, holding the cup in his hand.

You sweep the broom tentatively underneath the couch, starting at one end at working your way to the other. Just when James is starting to come to terms with the idea that the roach has moved to an unknown location, it skitters out from that opposite end.

You go after it with impressive grit, blocking its attempted escape underneath a nearby chair and herding it towards the corner.

“Ready?” You don’t take your eyes from the bug for a second, but James nods anyways as he steps forward, cup held aloft.

The roach runs into the corner, and James descends upon it. He lowers the cup quickly, not wanting the small creature to catch on and rebel against its eviction, but the thing moves quicker.

It flies towards him.

James makes a not-super-dignified yelping sound and trips backward, landing fortunately in the chair. You shriek and swat at it with the broom, missing by a meter. You both track the cockroach as it lands on a wall.

“Fuck,” James breathes. He’s aware that he’s not making a great impression right now, but he feels like he’s just been attacked. “You didn’t tell me it was one of those flying ones!”

“I didn’t think it was!” You’re clutching the broom handle in a white-knuckled grip, your eyes wide. “It wasn’t doing that earlier!”

“Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “Okay, it’s fine. We’ve still got this. Just, ah, if you decide you’d like to abandon this, sleep at my place, and call pest control in the morning, I’m just saying right now that’d be more than alright with me.”

You meet his eyes. “Think I’m gonna try a bit more first, but I might take you up on that. Thanks.”

James grins. “No worries. Always good to have a backup plan.”

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