#reg wishes she had magic
Text
Oak Father, hear me, aid me. Force open the jaws of Darkness. Make passage for your vessel of Light.
#baldur's gate 3#bg3#halsin#bg3 photography#virtual photography#using otis_inf's camera tools#reg wishes she had magic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader
Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them.
Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands.
Rating: 18+ Minors DNI
Word Count: ~6.7K
Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny.
Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.
Masterlist | Read on AO3 | Notifications
Part 2 | Part 3 Preview | Part 3
S P R I N G
Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.
Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.
Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.
That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.
“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could.
You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.
She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.
Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.
++++
You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.
While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.
You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.
As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.
After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.
As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.
Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.
You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.
In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.
Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.
As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.
You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.
With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.
The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.
++++
The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.
It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.
And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.
You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.
You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.
++++
The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.
While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.
“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.
More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.
You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.
As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.
“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"
The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.
"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer.
“Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.
Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.
Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.
And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.
“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.
His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.
“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.
“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”
“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.
Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.
“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.
“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.
“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.
Oh god.
You’re so fucked.
++++
Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.
Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.
“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”
Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.
You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.
Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.
The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.
Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.
“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”
Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.
God, he wishes you would have kept it.
S U M M E R
As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.
It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.
Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.
People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.
You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.
Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.
You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.
You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.
The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.
You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.
The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.
As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.
Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself.
Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.
“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.
“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.
Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.
"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.
Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.
Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration.
“You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…
You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.
“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.
“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.
“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.
Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt.
You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”
His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.
He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.
“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.
“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”
“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.
“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.
He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.
“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off.
“Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.
You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.
Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.
Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.
He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.
The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.
“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt.
“Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.
++++
Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.
If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.
“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.
“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.
You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.
Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.
You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.
He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.
“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.
“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.
“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.
“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.
“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.
His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.
“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.
“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all.
“Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.
“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.
You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.
“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.
You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.
“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.
“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.
“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.
You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.
Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.
You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.
You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.
His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.
The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.
“Fuck.” Joel groans.
TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2
Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro
As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx
#joel miller x reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfic#joel miller x you#joel miller fluff#joel miller#pedro pascal character#pedrohub#pedro pascal#new york#firefighter smut#pedro stories
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Day Eight - Prompt: Cigarette @rosekiller-microfic
March Daily Series - 593 words
<<<Previous Part OR Start Here
“Evan? Do you think soulmates are real?”
The question startled him from the mad twist that his mind had spiralled down while she blathered on about her ex. Of all the questions that Dorcas could have asked him about relationships, this one sounded almost foreign in her voice. She was supposed to be the reasonable one.
“Soulmates? How did you land there?”
“Pandora goes on about it sometimes. She swears that she’s found hers in Wales and that Regulus and Sirius did too. What if she’s right? What if I go to Wales today and Marlene is there—”
“Then what? Some secret Welsh magic fixes everything?”
Dorcas fell silent again, but this time she wasn’t pensively tapping her nails. This silence was an awkward moment that forced Evan to mentally step back and evaluate his words. Perhaps his snark had crossed the line. Not everyone appreciated his cynicism.
Barty does. He loves it when...enough. Leave it.
“Alright, Cas? Was I rude?”
“No, you’re right. I just wish it was real, I suppose.” There was a subtle sort of shifting coming through the speaker and Evan imagined that she was straightening bits and bobs on her desk or a handful of tchotchkes on a shelf. “Rom-com shite doesn’t happen to me, but sometimes I wish it did.”
“Nah, you’d hate it if she showed up at your flat and blasted a cheesy love song at your window.”
Dorcas laughed, a low, breathy sound that reminded him of wind in a rainstorm. “True, that would be mortifying.”
“Or worse, if she showed up at your work and shouted a soliloquy of her undying love for you.”
“At work? Absolutely not.”
Evan grinned for the first time that day and revelled in the momentary reprieve from misery that shadowed him. “See? That lovesick nonsense is for the softies like Reg and my sister. We don’t need it.”
Dorcas hummed in agreement, then cut herself off with a sharp click of her tongue. “Maybe the movies get it wrong though, Evan. What if it looks like her giving you the last cigarette, even though she’s craving it? Or punching a bloke twice her size because he grabbed your arse in a club? What if that’s what soulmate shite is really like?”
“Oh,” he breathed out. Evan’s chest clenched hard as the amusement rushed out and the emptiness lingered in its wake. “I-I had that once.”
“Me too. It was kind of nice, wasn’t it?”
“Yes.”
She inhaled deeply, then sighed. “Do you think that we only get one chance with a soulmate?”
“Like they get reassigned?” Evan’s attempt at levity fell flat to his own ears.
“Maybe, or you both just end up alone.”
Oh. Oh, that’s so much worse.
“Being alone isn’t so bad though,” he lied, shaking his head. “There’s no one to hurt you or make a mess that you have to clean up.”
“Right, but life is a bit tedious without the mess. It feels pointless to clean when there’s nothing out of place. I miss the stupid little spats about her smelly hockey gear in the middle of the floor and the debates over dinner. She made me feel alive.”
Evan swallowed hard and nodded. The words were cement in his throat and he couldn’t dislodge them one way or another. He was glad that she couldn’t see the way he struggled to contain the choked sound that threatened to burst free.
“I think messy people are meant to find clean-freaks, you know? They aren’t so consumed with appearances and remind us to live.”
“Yeah,” he forced out.
#evan x barty#barty x evan#barty crouch jr x evan rosier#rosekiller#rosekiller microfic#evan rosier#barty crouch junior#barty crouch jr#dorcas meadowes
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
You Are In Love
pairing: regulus black x reader
genre: fluff
el's thoughts: childhood friends to lovers, requested by @thehalfbloodedwitch
“What do you think? Isn’t it pretty?” Y/N ran back over to where Regulus sat by the small lake behind L/N manor, holding two crowns made of flowers. Regulus rolled his eyes, “It’s girlie.” His words made the girl standing above him scoff as she placed one on his head. He tried to take it off only to have his hand swatted away, “No! You have to wear it.” “Why do I have to wear it?” Y/N looked down at her shiny black shoes and shrugged, “I guess if you don’t want to you don’t have to… I just wanted to make you one.” She sighed and sat down next to the slightly taller boy. He looked up, trying to see the flower crown that sat on his head, only able to see a few white and yellow petals peeking out from behind his raven curls. “I’ll wear it. Just don’t tell Sirius.” The eight-year-old didn’t know what made him want to keep the crown… Maybe it was the way she looked sad when he told her no. Maybe he felt guilty for being the reason she wasn’t smiling. Whatever it was seemed worth it to him once he saw her smiling at him again.
~
First Year
Y/N gasped loudly when she saw the Hogwarts Express. The busy chatter of all the families wishing their farewells, the steam rolling around their shuffling feet, all of it seemed so magical to the young witch. “Can you believe it Reg! We’re finally going to Hogwarts!” She followed him blindly as her eyes darted around taking everything in. “Yes, Y/N/N we’re going to Hogwarts,” He quickly pulled her out of the way of some older students running through the crowds of people. “Let’s just follow our parents and then we can talk once we get on the train.” With a nod, she picked up her pace and walked to her parents.
The two families quickly said their goodbyes and sent the kids aboard the train. The older Black son was the first to blot to the train, searching for his friends instantly. Regulus followed into the train, holding Y/N’s hand behind him as he led them through the cramped halls of the train, trying to find an empty compartment. “What house do you think we’ll get into, Reg?” “Slytherin, of course. We both will, our parents were all Slytherin… It only makes sense.” The y/h/c-haired girl nodded before hiding behind the taller boy as more older students ran past them carelessly. She looked over his shoulder, “Did you find a place to sit yet?” She saw him nod and pull her into a compartment that had a few older Slytherin students seated already. The two of them sat by the window, Y/N leaned her head on the cool glass and tried to fall asleep.
Regulus looked over and noticed she fell asleep, so he stuffed his sweater under her head as a pillow before listening in on the conversation around him. An involuntary smile crossed his lips, and the familiar fluttering feeling settled in his stomach. He still couldn’t figure out what it was, but he didn’t mind. He didn’t think he’d ever mind.
~
Fourth Year
“I hate this!” Y/N slammed her head down on the table, making Regulus roll his eyes at her antics. “I hate potions! I hate schoolwork. I bet the professors hate me.”
“No one hates you…” She threw him a sharp glare. “Okay, sure we know some people hate you. But the point is the professors don’t hate you. You’re their best student and you’re just being dramatic. Calm down.” Y/e/c eyes looked helplessly at him, “I can’t do this paper… I couldn’t understand the lesson for the life of me.”
Regulus felt his heartstrings being pulled just by the look on her face. Even after all these years of getting this fluttering feeling in his stomach, he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. Maybe he would never be able to… But he ends up giving in no matter what. He quickly wrote her name at the top of his finished paper and slid it over to her. The tightness in his heart quickly faded when he saw her eyes light up and her lips curve into a smile. The same smile she’s worn for years. The same smile that’s gotten him to turn into nothing but a pile of mush.
“Thanks, Reg! I owe you one.”
“You owe me way more than one, but don’t worry about it.”
~
Sixth Year
“Reg! Catch me!”
He stumbled forward when Y/N crashed into his back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She shifted to his side and lifted his arm over her shoulders, leaning into his side. The girls of the group followed behind her, laughing as the alcohol settled in their system leaving them all a bit tipsy, some more than others. “You’re drunk.” Y/N shook her head violently, “I would never-” a hiccup slipped past her lips, “Reg, I’m not drunk.” Her tone was scolding but with her leaning heavily into his side Regulus couldn’t take her seriously. He rolled his eyes and let out a quiet laugh, “Okay, you’re not drunk. Let’s go get you some water.” He walked them to the drink table as the fluttering feeling made its home in his chest.
~
Seventh Year
Y/N leaned heavily on the rail behind her letting her head fall back just slightly as the wind blew through her hair. “I love the wind.” Her voice would’ve been swallowed by the cold air and not heard if Regulus hadn’t been standing right beside her. “You like the way the wind blows through your hair. You don’t like the cold.” Y/N laughed and turned to look up at him, “You know me too well.” Regulus stared at her, frozen in thought.
He did know her well, much more than the rest of their friends, that was for sure. The amount of time they’ve been accused of dating flashed through his mind. They might as well be dating, with how close they are. The only problem was they had to love each other. Love love each other.
Y/N tilted her head to the side, waiting for him to share his thoughts, but not saying a word.
Regulus’ eyes widened slightly as the all too familiar fluttering feeling settled in his stomach again. Even as he’s gotten older he couldn’t ever figure out what it was, but now he has a slight idea. Everything clicked in his mind as he continued to stare at her. "You're my best friend." He was in love.
Y/N smiled, "I love you too, Reg."
~*~
regulus black taglist: @lily-the-ravenclaw @masivechaos @broccoliitree @whorehalloween @juneberrie @bookaholics-stuff @caldor-28 @roxaya @sw34terw34ther @mad-elia @applebittenn
#regulus black#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black x y/n#harry potter#harry potter x reader#harry potter imagines#ellora.writes#Spotify
287 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fire and Hemlock Readalong: Day 13 (Part 3, Ch. 1)
...in which Polly goes to Bristol.
A lot happens in this chapter! We begin Part 3, Where Now?, which starts striking notes of unease, with its lost-seeming question mark. The musical notation for this part translates literally to "cheerfully with fire"--the fire of Fire and Hemlock, we can assume--but, according to my musical website, "the more appropriate translation would be 'passionately.'" Passion blooms out into the text most directly in this part, where it had only been hinted at earlier on.
In the beginning, Polly finally starts reading The Golden Bough, and I wish I had more intelligent things to say about it, but I tried to read it a few years ago and gave up in despair. Major props to Polly for getting through as many chapters as she does! The only two subjects that I recognize as cogent to Polly and Tom's curse is "Sympathetic Magic"--which I've argued that Polly has wielded already and will come to wield again--and "Kings killed at the end of a fixed term," which I think refers to Mr. Leroy. "Tabooed things" definitely seems relevant though that might just play into the rules and transgressions that surround Polly.
We also meet Joanna in this chapter, who I'm beginning to notice is another flavor of detestable older woman. She resembles Laurel in her chilly politeness and surface charm and perfectly harmonizes with Reg's desire to skitter over the surface of life and not dig into all the shit that's going on between him and Polly. @ksfoxwald very insightfully pointed out that Ivy's lack of imagination is what keeps her believing in a false reality that she cobbled together, and Reg's attitude to life comes across very similarly. He persists in believing in that the bad things will go away if you ignore them but can't make a sympathetic imaginative leap to consider what a dreadful position this puts Polly in.
(I'm a bit confused at Polly's insistence that Mr. Leroy is responsible for her plight when--as of now--there's no hint of Tom in the picture, so there would be no need for Mr. Leroy to take revenge. Unless it's just her hopeful sublimation of real life horrors into the manageable horrors of fairyland.)
Polly also comes to grips with her feelings for her father in this chapter. Already she's exasperatedly understood that she cannot be her mother's daughter, and clearly here, she knows she can't be her father's. She has outgrown both her parents and is old enough to hold onto her bleaching shame (one of my favorite descriptions in the whole book--so relatable!) but that means she's left alone, half-grown, in a hostile grown-up world. Polly is still able to bend this world to her own wishes, as she's not entirely powerless. In a way, she practically summons Tom to her aid, even though it also feels a lot like coincidence. But it also foreshadows that her unheroic shame is strong enough to throw her off-course (if here only momentarily).
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
RAB FICS I READ (JULY 23 pt 2)
antithesis by rweoutofthewoods musicians regulus and james go from enemies to lovers until it blows up in their faces becuse they're stupid. LOVING Regulus' backstory of going to foster care after Wally and onion almost killed him and getting adopted by the Tonkses
I'm not tired (never of you) by thestarsforus BARTLUS BARTYLUS BARTYLUS regulus gets disowned
Unexpected Pardon by Yemi Hikari (Yemi_Hikari) regulus survives the cave...... but does sirius
I of the Storm by Yemi Hikari (Yemi_Hikari) regulus has troubles with his magic. he doesn't plan on letting it go far enough to become and obscurial
Obscured Away No More by Yemi Hikari (Yemi_Hikari) orion talks to regulus about his troubles with his magic. good dad orion
feel it in my soul by orphan_account regulus oneshots by. should i tag them if they orphaned their works? but it's good writing.
starling by Zazzander regulus slowly figures out wizard supermacy is bs, endgame Jegulily
To the Dark Lord by MidnightStargazer regulus' journey from enthused baby death eater to disenchanted anklebitter
castles crumbling by rweoutofthewoods for rsbarelle regulus calls james for help in the cave
Silence Between Us by brandileigh2003 wolfstar, background jegulus
Operation Walburga's Arbitrary No Kissing Ever Rule by courfee 10 things i hate abuot you Jegulus au also the author is SO right about bread. the english should be ashamed of theirs
Regulus Reborn as Harry's Twin a series where regulus is *gasp* reborn as harry's twin
Tell me what you want by ThisLiminalSpace for greenvlvetcouch Jegulus PWP
Collars and Croissants by Solmussa, ThisLiminalSpace make croissants for your first date, the bulletproof dating guide by one REgulus arcturus black. James passes even though he insists on heart-shaped croissants
Shattered by SebbiGrey stripper regulus/remus
Roast In Peace by ThisLiminalSpace for greenvlvetcouch regulus runs a funeral house, james needs to bury a bad mother, they walk around a lot which honestly is so relatable and the most real thing I've ever read, and then they fuck. Also puns
wishes of could be by regulusandpandora regulus runs away with sirius but then becomes a spy
these violent delights (have violent ends) by damagecontrol for thefogofthefuture, moonlightreads titanic AU, wolfstar jegulus, crying screaming throwing up
Right down the line by CMorningstar5 squib regulus also petunia bullies her way into hogwart's squib study program. she's a massive bitch but you're gonna love her
High Infidelity by withtheoldstars back when, Regulus and james had a sordid affair behind lily's back until it blew up in their faces and regulus moved out of the country. 5 years later they meet again at wolfstar wedding. does regulus respect lily, james and himself enough to do what is right?
Will You Visit Me by hellenistic (apartfromheartburn) evan is harry's preschool teacher and one of harry's many parents/guardians is really really hot. RoseStar
Now He's All Over Me (It's Like I Paid For It) by jegulusofwesper JAmes/REgulus/BArty/Evan ft vibrating panties. PWP
Unsaid Reggie by jegulusofwesper musician sirius plays a song for regulus, doesnt know regulus is there
James And His Giant Peach by jegulusofwesper jegulus fucks a peach. I blame call me by your name
i'm not much for dancing but for you... by malakiwis for calamitoustide prom jegulus, comic
Do you think I have forgotten? (About you) by zumin regulus has cursed memory loss, pandora to the rescue, jegulus
You and Me, Moony by AmethystHeart2421 remus/regulus, DE reg saying goodbye before the cave, smut
Runaway Groom by ThisLiminalSpace Regulus runs away form his wedding, fucks James
Live Love Laugh by daydreamerdisease for melissamwrites sirius and regulus have sex over htier parents' graves
Deals and promises by Kiwi2229 jegulus smut with dom regulus
Always a Black Brother & His Potter by MiraclesInJuly regulus lives and bumps into tiny harry and adopts him in like half an hour
Regulus Black's Favourite Gryffindor by MiriamMT cat animagus reg lazies around in the gryffindor common room and plays favourites with ppl who want to pet him. jegulus
Iron Ambrosia by amour_anguis jegulus PWP top regulus
Distracted by lovegoodkisses regulus/remus PWP
Cygnus by HoodGirl28 sirius runs away, regulus isnt coping and selfharms, his friends are trying to help, jegulus
Please, James, take back your Key by MiriamMT animagus reg would really like it if his secret bf's friends stopped bargin in on their sexy times
His Brother, on the other Hand... by MiriamMT sirius finds out about jegulus
Defectors by NachoDiablo regulus survies, slowburn jegulily, wolfstar
i think your love would be too much by ishouldntbeherern spiderman regulus au, jegulus
Like Nothing You've Ever Felt by pinkthekla omega regulus tops alpha james, PWP
Last scene of all by zvzam regulus gets the dark mark against his will, and that's just the beginning of a very shitty evening. in the end he gets his brother and boyfriend back tho
Take you like a drug - I taste you on my tongue by Moonsss jegulus, trans dom regulus, there is some plot
so give me all you've got (i can take it) by JohnnysLittleMonster lily dies, james and harry live, reg and pandora took care of horcruses, endgae wolfstar and jegulus
Runaway Spare by WideEyesAtNight regulus runs off to alphards, jegulus slowburn
8 notes
·
View notes
Note
Sirius: haha. pup. like puppy. like a small dog.
MC: like i fucking BITE, bitch.
Sirius: OW REMUS SHE BIT ME, OW OW REMUS-
.
.
.
Contessa: You had me thinking about Blaise-
MC: exactly what I thought.
*at the same time*
Contessa: Niente puttane? (No bitches?)
MC: No bitches?
Blaise: I absolutely hate it here. Genuinely. Take your Runes. You've "rune"d everything.
.
.
.
Blaise: how DARE you leave me to be a single parent?
MC: how dare YOU not tell ME you were pregnant?
Theo: how dare YOU be, B.
Both: ..
Theo: I wished to feel included.
Luna: he said bb c:
.
.
.
MC: I wonder what Reg would do.
*does opposite*
MC: I must spite him still, for that is true lo.. like. Intense like.
.
.
.
Regulus' journal: "I wonder what it's like to love."
MC: Oh.
Luna: Are you alright?
MC: I think I just busted a tear. Spraint my eye socket. Unleashed a sense of deep sorrow through sweat from my pupils.
Luna: Your way with words is truly unique.
.
.
Harry and co: I wonder how she's doing.. I hope she's alright.
MC writing Draco back: Listen here BITCH. Tell your ugly rat ass fucking looking aunt to square THE FUCK up. You know what she's actually already very square. Tell her to CIRCLE her days left on a calender.. bitch.
.
.
.
BABE, YOU SAID YOU'D BE BUSY AND I DIDNT GET NOTIFS SO I JUST READ 3 CHAPTERS OF ANGST AND YEARNING BUT I STILL LOVE IT BUT ALSO AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH ✨
You're doing amazing and I'm sorry this is such a long ask. All my love and suffering - HC anon. 💌
Oh my goodness!! Hello! I was just thinking about you the other day haha! I love this so much! Sirius and reader definitely have that kind of dynamic LOL. Also, the Contessa Zabini + Y/N combo is lethal, especially for poor Blaise (someone please save him).
Y/N and Blaise being reluctant parents to poor Draco + Theo being the Uncle who magically appears everywhere <333
+ Y/N most definitely woke up with puffy eyes after reading Reg's journal (and honestly, same). And LOL, Y/N is definitely a poet.
++ Bellatrix is really amazing at making enemies. Unfortunately, that won't turn out all too great for her in the end :))!
No need to apologize for the lost message, I really had a good laugh at this LOL. I missed you, dear!! Much love <3333
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alright guys, I’ve got something to talk about cuz the dream I had last night reminded me of it and made me nostalgic for being a kid
When I was little, around 9-14-ish, I was really, really obsessed with this cute little book series written by the Geronimo Stilton author, the Chronicles of the Kingdom of Fantasy, and as you guys know, I’m very Dutch, so I read all of the books plus the sequel series in Dutch. And let me tell you, it shaped so much of my early teenage years personality and my love for fantasy and I never even dared to talk about that part of my life cuz it seemed “cringe”.
I’ll give a summary of the series here, cuz I don’t really think any of my followers have read it due to it not being translated to their language or just... not knowing it existed.
The Chronicles of the Kingdom of Fantasy (de Kronieken van Fantasia in Dutch and Cronache del Regno Della Fantasia in its original language, which is Italian) is a sweet, Lord of the Rings-escue series about a young elf, Ombroso (which is his Italian name, he’s called Saturno in the Dutch version), a 15-year-old refugee from the Land of the Woodelves who had been stranded in the Land of the Star-elves when he was just four years old after a devastating war in his own country. He has grown up as the adoptive son of astrologist Eridanus, who himself had two kids with his now-deceased wife, Mizram - currently 16-year-old Regulus and 13-year-old Spica.
In an effort to save his people and find the birth parents he can’t remember, Ombroso, after receiving a few items from Eridanus which had been stowed away for years until the boy was ready, travels into the Land of the Woodelves through a magical gate linking the two countries together (it’s a whole thing), taking Regulus with him cuz the power of bros is vast enough to do anything. Spica wanted to come, but apparently misogyny is still a thing in this medieval fantasy kingdom (and she’s. literally 13), so the boys leave her at home.
Pretty scarring shenanigans ensue, Ombroso and Reg find the Land of the Woodelves rotten, overtaken by evil creatures serving the Queen of Witches, who, unbeknownst to them, is currently trying to overtake the entire Kingdom of Fantasy. Ombroso learns his mother, Acacia, died while giving birth to him and his father, a mysterious man named Cuortenace (Sterkhart in Dutch, I honestly don’t know if they reveal his past right away in the first book. Every detail from this has melted together in my brain), hasn’t been seen for years. Few think he’s actually still alive. Ombroso also learns (or remembers, I don’t know) his real name is Audace (Dappart in Dutch) and that the name he usually goes by is just a nickname.
The boys meet Robinia, the former princess of the Woodelves whose older brother had actually sold her and her people to the Queen of Witches for a reason I can’t remember. Probably cuz of money or power. She’s 14 years old and really salty her people are suffering, so she doesn’t really like Ombroso and Regulus, but eventually warms up to them.
In the meantime, Spica also does shenanigans. She does a dreamily lovesick dreaming about Ombroso cuz she like-likes him and decides to go against his wishes and help him, cuz he’s totally lost without her. Girlboss, I actually looked up to Spica so much as a kid. Now I just think, “who let a 13 year old kid do war crimes???”.
She meets Stellarius, a grumpy old Gandalf-y wizard who goes by many names. He had actually come for Ombroso, to guide him through his journey, but takes one look at this kid and decides she probably has more braincells than a 15-year-old boy he’s never met before, so he decides she’ll come with him to the Land of the Woodelves to assist Ombroso in his hero’s journey. He informs her that, before they can go, they first need to do their own little thing and defeat the evil bats that have come through the magical gate into the Land of the Star elves - he enchants Spica’s bow and they go do the murder of bats.
I honestly don’t really... remember what happens next. I know Ombroso gets an enchanted sword and finds out about a prophesy in which a Sword, a Bow, a Goose and a Dragon would defeat the Evil Witch and do things, which is super obvious to everyone, even the main characters. He also meets a Hunter, who calls himself Hunter, cuz he’s a Hunter. I don’t think he’s really that creative as we meet him again later and he changes his name to Knight, cuz he’s... a Knight. Um. Yeah.
Ombroso nearly dies at some point, but don’t worry, he does that a lot. He and his new and old friends get the Land of Woodelves back and Ombroso and Spica, reunited and all, decide to fulfill the prophecy and journey through the realms to find a magic Goose and a Dragon to complete the quartet and defeat the Queen of Witches. Regulus and Robinia join them, same with Stellarius and Robinia’s little pet dragon(?), whose name I unfortunately forgot.
They travel to the kingdom of dwarfs through another magical gate in the second book, where they do a liberation of the people and need to find the next magical gate. Also, Ombroso had this really hot moment in this book which was kinda Little Mona’s first introduction to dominant fictional characters ever, which, um. Yeah. You see where I’m going with this. They also find the Goose in this one, a dwarf girl named Favilla (Spranka in Dutch) who got enchanted into a goose after escaping the Queen of Witches, who thought she was to bring her doom because of another prophesy. They take her with them through the gate!
In the third book, they go to a sorta swamp realm, which isn’t really fun for anyone. This one is my favorite, but apparently I don’t own the book, which absolutely sucks. They also get seperated from Stellarius in this one and for the first time ever, the teens have to rely on themselves. This one has a lot of inner conflict and some character development, mainly for Ombroso and Spica, and completes the prophecy quartet in the form on Codamozza (Halvestaart in Dutch, which means Half-Tail), a locked up Dragon Ombroso frees and befriends. At the end, Spica, Regulus, and Robinia get captured by the evil minions of the Queen of Witches and brought to her, seperating them from from Ombroso, Codamozza and Favilla. I don’t remember what Stellarius is doing, ngl.
The fourth book features the wrap up of the series, in which the prophecy comes to life and this part of the adventure ends. Spica, who is a storyteller and inspires herself and the other captured creatures in the Land of the Witches, gets taken before the Queen and drugged (um, yeah, they drug a 13-year-old. It gets really dark in this part) for them to tell them her stories, I don’t remember why. Robinia and Regulus lead a rebellion and meet up with the Hunter/the Knight and Stellarius, while Ombroso and Favilla go into the castle, where they reunite with Spica (who had been saved by a mysterious woman named Anguilla (Aaltje in Dutch), who Favilla had grown up with and lost contact with. She’s distant, however, and only interested in taking the Queen down.
In the final battle the Hunter/the Knight steps into the scene, breaking into the throneroom through the glass window on Codamozza’s back. He reveals himself to be a Knight of the Old Order of Knights of the Rose and Ombroso’s long lost father, Cuortenace. However, he sacrifices himself to save Spica and gets turned to stone by the Queen.
I don’t remember how, but the quartet defeats the Queen in one last effort to succeed. The kingdom celebrates and Ombroso, upset about the loss of his father, asks the Fairy Queen, the one who had chosen him to defeat the Queen of Witches so many years ago, his patron, to please turn him back to flesh and blood. The Fairy Queen doesn’t have that power however, and tells him he has to go to his father’s place of origin, the abandoned Island of the Knights, to restore it in its honor and place its crest back in its right place. Only then, his father and all the other people who had been turned to stone on the Island itself (cuz that happened but I totally forgot about it) would return to their former selves.
This brings us to the last two books of the series, 5 and 6, which shows how Ombroso, Spica and Codamozza, one year after the events of the final book, travel to the Island of the Knights and restore it in its former glory. It’s a bit weaker than the first four books, but it wraps the series up well enough so almost no loose ends are left around.
It does have a sequel series made up of four books, in which a new set of characters, who are the next generation of Knights from the new order Ombroso had build after the events of the first series. We see some small snippets of the old characters, who are around ten to fifteen years older than they were in the original, but it doesn’t tell us much about what happened to them except from what type of job they did. It’s a fun series, but I really would’ve preferred the older characters to be a bit more inserted into the plot.
As I said before, I read this series as a kid, from when I was around 9, up until I was around 14. The first book had been published in 2008, when I was 5, which - holy shit. That’s 15 years ago. This book is old. I mean, no wonder it meant so much to me as a kid. By the time I had started reading them, the final one had just been released and it was one of my first introductions into my beloved fantasy-hero’s journey type of story.
Ombroso was a great hero for something like this and kinda defied the odds of the usual “chosen ones” in other media. He was a bit broody, shy, couldn’t act well around people for a good portion of his life, and moody, so, so moody. His nickname by the Star Elves had been chosen because he just. Refused to smile as a kid. And it just concerned the other elves he lived with. He had his badass moments, really, and his personality made for a great dynamic with the siblings Regulus and Spica. They were so bubbly, so friendly, and while Ombroso wasn’t actively the voice of reason between them, he was the one who strutted behind them with his hands in his pockets and head in the clouds.
Regulus was more of a voice of reason, in typical older brother behaviour. He and Ombroso had this really sweet understanding with each other, and Ombroso viewed him more as a sibling, while viewing Spica as more of a friend, despite growing up with her. The three of them got along so well and looking back on it as an adult, I just feel so protective over these three. They’re so dear to my heart, partly due to them being so young and due to them being the characters who I’ve literally aged out of after having had them be older than me for years. They go through so much and honestly, if this series had been marketed differently, it would’ve passed as a YA-fantasy series. Don’t tell me I’m wrong, cuz I know I’m not.
When I was a kid, Spica had always been my favorite character, with her being so spunky, a storyteller, and someone who actively stood up for themselves. She had a huge impact on my development as a young teen, but as I got older and reviewed the series having grown past her age, Regulus became much more dear to my heart. He was a bookworm, so, so friendly, if not a bit loud and outspoken, not having a great filter, and he just felt so... real. Like a real older brother, a real 16-17 year old finding his way in the world and growing away from his home, venturing out into the world. His character was always so grounded and as a more reserved older sister to a rambunctious twin brother, I felt so connected to that. Also, he’s a himbo. He’s such a himbo.
I’m not really gonna focus on Robinia, I didn’t really connect with her character a whole lot during the series as she was pushed into the background most often during the main series and just,,, completely cut out of the last books, save for a bit in the start and end of the fifth and sixth respectively.
However, what really kept me into this series, was the way my friends from that time reacted to it. Most of us were little girls with a little too much imagination, and my best friend at the time got just as obsessed with it as I did. We played out the books with playmobile figures, talked about everything in it, made original characters and thought about fanfictions we didn’t even know was fanfiction. We made an oc who was Ombroso and Spica’s daughter, gave them all families, fantasized about all the wacky things they would get into as adults. It was just fun, that’s all I can say about it. I’ve lost contact with that friend, we grew apart, but sometimes I see her give a like to my posts on instagram, which reminds me of the fun we used to have as kids.
When I went into middle school, I had another friend who was into the series. We wrote down fanfiction and I sometimes wrote stories on the playmobile plays me and my other friend had made a year prior. I made a full-fledged character out of the kid we gave Ombroso and Spica, whom I named Acacia. She was one heck of a fun character and I absolutely loved writing about her, her siblings, her love interest, and of course, her parents. In total, over the years, I wrote around 100,000 words of fanfiction for this series. These books shaped me so heavily, but as it was so unknown and the author behind Geronimo Stilton is known for their more... childish stories, I wasn’t taken seriously when I talked about it in school. I remember having done a presentation about the first book in my first year of middle school, totally enthusiastic, and hearing how the Dutch teacher had banned Geronimo Stilton books from being presented from the next year and on. I already was the “weird kid” in my class, ahead on the curve, having a bit too much knowledge for my little brain to contain.
Of course a little fantasy series about elves, dragons, a chosen one who was just as much of an outcast as I was and another character I aspired to be more like was gonna be my escape, but as the years passed and I grew up bit by bit, it felt... strange, to be so invested in something that everyone deemed so childish. At the tender age of 14, you do mostly what others expect of you - so I put the books down, stowed them away in a corner of my room where I still knew they were close and could grab onto them any minute, but still far away enough to not realize they were there.
And now I’m 19. It’s been ten years since I first picked up one of the books. They’re still in that little corner in my room and I feel like I’m finally in a place where I won’t be ashamed or embarrassed if I picked them up again. And really, what harm can it do? What harm can liking a book series made for kids really do me? All it can do, is bring me the joy it brought me when I was a kid myself and take me back to the time where I didn’t have college to worry about, where I had a more functional family, where I didn’t worry about who I would offend if I spoke too loudly or what my place in the world would be as a woman and an artist.
I’m at the point in my life where I no longer cringe at my former self and her interests; in fact, she was probably a lot bolder than me for liking something that was so dear to her heart so openly.
Maybe it’s time I start doing that again.
#so yeah#that went deep#but it's time to be cringe again!#i absolutely loved being this sappy for a moment surely over smt that i used to love so much#is it time for a reread? oh heck yeah it is#im very compelled to buy the third and fifth book online cuz i don't have those lmao#i actually recently found out my first friend#who im still in contact with today#also read one of the spinoff series which focusses on other characters#and we bonded over that lmao#so anyway how shall i tag this#artinandwritin's lore#chronicles of the kingdom of fantasy#cronache del regno della fantasia#kronieken van fantasia#geronimo stilton
23 notes
·
View notes
Photo
Wilder than Mountain Thyme
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6
Latest chapter on AO3. Teaser:
“See you tomorrow, bright and early, if you’re hungover I’ll know!”
Nicola’s voice rang cheerfully behind him as he tugged his coat on, and he flipped her off with a twitch of his lips before he left the library behind. He took a deep breath as soon as he got outside, the darkness had already settled heavily across Edinburgh even though it was barely past four in the afternoon.
He folded his collar up against the strong wind, shivering a little as he made his way across George Square Gardens. People were hurrying past him, most of them with their heads bowed and gazes lowered, barely acknowledging the festive decorations around them. Remus didn’t blame them, it started earlier and earlier every year, and by the time Christmas came around he felt all Christmassed out.
Christmas Day was only five days away, Remus had a couple more shifts to put in at the library before he was finally due some time off. So far he hadn’t bought a single Christmas present, his and Mary’s tradition was to do all of their shopping in one day, usually on the 23 rd , before heading back home to spend Christmas with their families in Pitlochry.
“REMUS!!”
The sound of his name startled him and he stopped abruptly, feeling the weight of someone running straight into him from behind and he stumbled slightly.
“What the– Dorcas?”
He blinked at the figure in front of him and he could vaguely make out a pair of familiar dark eyes underneath a large hat that looked to be home-knitted. She was wrapped up in a ridiculously fluffy coat, big enough to make her look like nothing but a round ball, but her grin was bright as she beamed at him.
“Been shouting your name for the past minute or so, are you deaf?”
She was panting slightly, as if she’d been running to catch up with him, and he gave an apologetic shrug.
“Sorry, deep in thought. How are you?”
“Great,” she said brightly, nodding towards town. “You going this way?”
“Aye,” he nodded, falling into step as she started walking. “You?”
“Yeah, on my way to meet up with Marls. You’ve been at work?”
He nodded, the fact that he worked at the main library of Edinburgh University wasn’t a secret, and none of the girls had batted an eyelid when they had found out that he had a Muggle job.
“Going to Merlin’s Hat, told Mary I’d meet her after her shift.”
“Brilliant!” Dorcas said excitedly. “Mind if we tag along? I could do with a pint and I think a break from the Paw would do us good, it got a bit wild last time.”
“Sirius poured his beer over some other poor sod?”
The words were out before he could stop them and he quickly pressed his lips together, but Dorcas trilled a laugh.
“I wish. Nah, he wasn’t there, but me, Marls, Reg and James ran into some idiots from school. The magical world is too bloody small sometimes,” she shrugged, then quickly shifted the topic. “Come with me to Marls’ shop, I said I’d pick her up.”
They headed briskly through George Square Garden, their conversation minimal as they both tried to hide themselves as much as they could from the assaulting wind. This time they approached Ravenclaw Road from the other side, through another non-descript red door squeezed in between two long-forgotten offices on Guthrie Street by Hastie’s Close.
Dorcas went first, discreetly tapping the tip of her wand against the door before it clicked open and they both slipped through. Ravenclaw Road was buzzing, people milling about loaded with packages and clearly already full of some kind of holiday cheer. They weaved through the crowds until they reached a shop that Remus hadn’t paid much attention to before.
It looked like any of the other storefronts lining the street, a sign over the door declaring it to be called The Golden Snitch , and Remus could make out brooms in the windows behind the gaggle of kids that stood with their noses pressed against the glass. Dorcas pushed the door open, a bell chiming happily as they stepped through. The shop was bigger than Remus had thought it would be, brooms lining the wall on one side and robes along with other kinds of equipment along the other.
Remus knew next to nothing about Quidditch. They had an old Cleansweap at home that Lyall had taught him to fly on, but his father wasn’t keen on flying so it hadn’t been something that they had spent any amount of time on. Remus sometimes thought he might have got into Quidditch if someone had taken the time to explain it to him properly. As it was, he never quite managed to grasp the rules.
He had got into football instead. They lived a mere fifteen minute walk away from Tynecastle and Remus had been fascinated by the white and claret crowds that gathered around Gorgie Road on matchdays when they had first moved in. Mary had come with him a few times in the beginning, but these days he mostly went on his own whenever he could afford it. So it wasn’t that he was against the idea of sports, it was just Quidditch still eluded him.
“Hello love,” Marlene’s voice rang through the shop as she caught sight of them, “Oh, hi Remus. Sorry, I’m going to be a moment, it’s been crazy in here today. Everyone and their house-elf is doing their Christmas shopping.”
She made a flapping sort of gesture around the room and Remus could see that she was right; the shop was full to bursting with wix people of all sizes that were pulling things from the shelves. Dorcas squeezed herself through the room and Remus followed awkwardly, nearly knocking over a rack of Quidditch robes but luckily no-one seemed to notice.
“Don’t worry about it,” Dorcas said easily, leaning over the counter to give her girlfriend a quick kiss. “Remus is going to meet Mary at Merlin’s Hat and I thought we could tag along.”
“That sounds perfect, let me just finish up here, you go ahead.”
“Did someone say Merlin’s Hat?” James appeared behind Marlene, wielding a broom dangerously over his head. “That sounds like just the thing, let me check with Reg if the sitter can stay a while later. And I’ll let Padfoot know.”
“I dunno if–” Remus attempted a weak protest, but the others didn’t seem to hear him over the noise in the room and before he knew it Dorcas had tugged him back out on the street.
“Merlin’s Hat next,” she said cheerfully, not waiting for him to reply before she dragged him along down the street.
Continue on AO3.
#wilder than mountain thyme#wtmt#wolfstar#sirius black#remus lupin#read on ao3#ao3 fanfic#my writing
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
#i will need 3 to 5 business days to recover from this#bg3 patch 6#baldur's gate 3#bg3#karlach#karlach cliffgate#astarion#astarion ancunin#astarion x karlach#karlach x astarion#bg3 photography#virtual photography#reg wishes she had magic#bg3 spoilers#hellspawn
476 notes
·
View notes
Text
December 28
(It’s Camilo’s birthday! Aka the one day in which I can simp for this fantastic kiddo! You didn’t think I’d forget our beloved shapeshifter’s birthday too, now did you? I have something very special in mind for him, but you have to wait until the end to see. Also I had to throw my ship in here, I’m sorry, I just had to. Anyway, sit down, buckle up, and prepare for an exciting and hilarious ride, because today is also Holy Innocent’s Day, aka the equivalent of April Fool’s Day in Colombia. Enjoy!)
It was the middle of the night when Mirabel felt a pair of knees destroying her abdomen.
Wincing at the unbearable pain, she opened her eyes to find herself being attacked, smothered to death by some crazy person as she was unable to wrestle free due to her body’s lazy, sleep like state.
So all she could do was stare wide-eyed into the blackness as whoever was trying to murder her—or kidnap her, perhaps—continued to giggle like a maniac.
“Mmfmmpppphhh—“ was all she could say as the arms tightened around her neck and she found herself smothered by this person’s shoulder. “Mmmpphhfffpphfffhmmm! Mmmm!”
“It’s my birthday, Mirabel! Can you believe it! It’s my birthday!”
Why would she need to know that?
“I’m finally sixteen, Mirabel! And you’re still left behind. Sorry. But I’m just so excited!” Cue the relentless giggling.
Mirabel was enraged. “Camilo?”
Camilo giggled, sitting up and finally crawling off of her to make himself welcome as an unwanted guest on Mirabel’s bed. “Yeah, I…stayed up all night to count down until my birthday. You know like New Year’s. I can’t wait to see the presents you all give me!!! It’s gonna be the best birthday ever. Even better than the last. You know sometimes I wish I were a girl so I could have a quince, but…”
Camilo continued to ramble on and on excitedly about his birthday. But Mirabel was not listening. What she was doing was gripping her head with her hands as she tried not to let it roll off.
“And remember when I was ten years old and asked Isabela to make me a flower crown? Those were the days. But—“
“Camilo?”
“Yeah?”
“Go. back. to. SLEEP!!! GODDAMN!”
Camilo should have been deterred. “Can’t I sleep with you—“
“No,” Mirabel moaned with a sob. “Just—goodnight, primo.”
“It’s not night, it’s morning. And it’s my—“
“I know, I know. Happy birthday Camilo. Goodbye.”
Mirabel felt a kiss plant itself magically on her cheek before Camilo finally left her in peace. Thank goodness.
She flopped down on the bed and tried to go back to sleep. Which she did soon enough. But goddamnit if it wasn’t hard.
Still, a twitching smile stretched out upon her face. Camilo was gonna have the birthday of his life when he woke up that morning. She was sure of it.
💛
“Cumpleaños feliz, te deseamos a tí, Feliz cumpleaños a Camilo, feliz cumpleaños a tí! Que los cumpla feliz, que los vuelva a cumplir, que los siga cumpliendo, hasta el año tres mil!”
Camilo blew out the candles. All sixteen of them. He giggled. Everyone clapped. It was a beautiful day, and he was happy!
“Why did you choose to have your birthday party in the morning and afternoon instead of at night, Cami?” Luisa asked, arching an eyebrow.
“Easy! So that I can spend the evening with my lovely girlfriend, of course!” Camilo’s chirped, beaming up at his older cousin.
“Ooo-ooooh!” Isabela, Mirabel, Antonio, and Bruno lilted, Camilo blushing and looking down.
“But anyway—“ Camilo started, but he was cut off.
“You have a girlfriend?” Antonio bounced up and down. “Ooh! Who is it?”
“Quiet down Antonio,” Mirabel urged. “But it’s Emiliana. My best friend. You know, the girl who falls asleep a lot?”
“I like her, she’s pretty and nice! Are you gonna get married?”
“I never thought about that,” Camilo answered, his blush betraying him.
Bruno opened his mouth to say something, but decided against it.
A storm cloud appeared over Pepa’s head. “No funny business, Camilo. I mean it. Because if you get up to something you know you’ll regret—“
Mirabel chuckled, Isabela bounced her eyebrows, and Luisa and Dolores looked like they didn’t want to be there. Camilo glared at Isabela and Mirabel.
“Ugh, I know Mami. Just because I’m sixteen now doesn’t mean I’m suddenly—anyway, can I open my presents now, please?”
“Sure, Cami, and I have the first one!” Dolores said, picking up her present off of the table and walking up to him, outstretching her hands for him to take it.
Camilo opened it. “Thanks sis!” He took it out. “Oh…it’s one of those…whatchamacallits, I forgot…”
Dolores had given him a tiny box with a handle at the side that, according to Dolores, he had to turn in a circular direction. So he did. And he was so confused and focused on that that he didn’t see Dolores grinning and covering her ears.
And then a giant face sprang out from the box and scared Camilo shitless. He screamed and ran for cover. Just kidding. He only threw the box in the air and jumped to hide under his chair.
“What is that thing?!” He shrieked.
Dolores smirked and tilted her head to the side. “Hm! It’s a…a…jack-in-the-box?”
“I haven’t played with one of those since I was a kid!”
“Sorry,” Dolores shrugged. “I thought you’d like it, but…”
“No, no, it’s not that I don’t like it,” Camilo took it from Dolores with a grin. “It’s just…a surprise. That’s all. Hehe. Thanks big sis!” He hugged his beloved older sister. “You are the second best pranker in the family!”
“Second?” Dolores raised an eyebrow.
“Second?” Mirabel smirked, hip bumping Isabela.
“Oh come on,” Camilo snorted. “You don’t actually think you’re a better pranker than me.”
“We’ll see about that,” Mirabel murmured.
“My turn!” Antonio ran up to Camilo with a wrapped present in his hands. “I made this for you myself big brother! I hope you like it!” He cheered jumping up and down.
“Oh, and what is this, hombrecito?” Camilo bent down and took the present from Antonio’s hands. Opening it, he tried not to chuckle at the cute(stick figure) drawing of a yellow figure, clearly representing himself, with big squiggly circles for hair and a square around his torso symbolizing his ruana, standing between a tall red figure with a filled-in circle on her head and a big bow, a triangle shape resembling a dress, and a short orange figure, their arms crossing through the yellow figure.
“See, that’s me,” Antonio was saying, pointing at the orange figure. “That’s Dolores,” he pointed at the red figure. “And that’s you!” He pointed at the yellow figure in the center. “And our arms are like that because we’re giving you a hug, because we love you!”
Camilo smiled at the picture, especially since it was oh-so cleverly captioned with the words “te 💛 Camilo” in big sloppy multicolored letters.
“Oh, it is just the sweetest, hermanito!” Camilo cooed, bending down to pick his brother up and kiss him all over his face. “Te amo mucho mucho mucho, awww!”
Antonio giggled. “Put me down big brother, your lips are tickling me.”
“Oh, okay, cosa linda.” He put the grinning little pipsqueak down, and Pepa and Felix came forth with their gifts.
“It’s a book!” Camilo gasped, almost wanting to jump out of his chair. “A book of all the greatest plays in the last century! I…how did you know I wanted this?”
“It’s all you ever asked for, chico,” Pepa said with a smile.
“And you deserve it,” Felix added, giving his son a manly hug.
“Thanks, familia!” Camilo grinned as his parents hugged and kissed him.
The rest of the family then gave their gifts. Mirabel gave Camilo a new ruana that she had sewn herself, it was blue with yellow squiggly stripes and even had embroidery, which Camilo loved, so much so that he nearly scooped Mirabel up hugging and kissing her. Isabela got her cousin a book as well, except it was about fairytales and mythology. Knowing how much he loved princesses, Isabela knew Camilo was sure to appreciate it. Which he did. And Luisa got him a lanyard bracelet that she had made herself, knowing that her primito was allergic to jewelry. Julieta gave Camilo a new and colorful football to replace the one he had torn. Agustin gave Camilo some cologne. Bruno gave him a football trophy that he himself won when he was sixteen. Like uncle like nephew, he had said with a wink. Which made Camilo smile.
“Who’s next?” Camilo asked, although he knew the answer.
“I believe that would be me, chico.” Alma winked.
“Ooh, okay!” Camilo rubbed his hands together. “So umm what do…or what did…you buy me for my birthday?”
“Oh,” Alma started feeling around her pockets, searching for the gift, until finally she pulled it out with a smile.
Camilo stared. “A comb?”
Agustin wheezed.
“Why yes!” Alma said with a smile. “So that you can comb that big beautiful hair of yours early in the morning. And tonight on your date with your girlfriend too!”
Camilo blinked, while Mirabel covered her grin with her mouth.
Finally, Alma burst out laughing, and the rest of the cool-colored family(and Bruno) with her. “Oh, I’m just teasing, lindo.”
“Good one, Abuela!” Isabela choked up, and Camilo couldn’t even resist the urge to grin. He’d never have guessed that he got his pranking ways from his grandma of all people!
“Here is your gift!” She clapped her hands expectantly. “Casita?”
The tiles click clacked against the floor, and Camilo gasped.
“A BIKE?!” Camilo squealed, causing Dolores to cover her precious, sensitive ears.
“Why yes, of course, a bike!” Alma nodded her head and laughed. “Why, when I was your age, me and my sisters would spend days learning how to ride a bike—oh?”
She never got to finish telling her story, before Camilo leapt at her in a smothering hug.
“Thank you, Abuela,” Camilo whispered tenderly. “I always knew you were the best grandmother ever and wanted me to be happy, want all of us to be happy, not just Isabela.”
Alma paused, then hugged Camilo dearly back. “You’re welcome, hermoso.”
“Oh!” Isabela perked up, dragging Dolores to her side and linking their arms. “Me and Dolores will teach you how to ride, that’s what we agreed on, how does that sound?”
Camilo smiled at them, breaking from the hug as he did so. “That sounds amazing. Thank you, primas-hermanas!”
The primas-hermanas grinned back.
“Ahem, anyway,” Bruno changed the subject. “I think it’s cake time, I’m starving.”
“Oh yes, so am I, hermanito,” Pepa agreed.
“And then it’s time to PARTY!”
Felix laughed as he patted Bruno on the shoulder blade. “It sure is.”
💛
“Oooh, Camilo, someone’s at the door for you!” Mirabel cooed in a flirtatious manner.
“Is that who I think it is?” Camilo sprang up.
“It sure is!” Mirabel giggled. “Come and greet your lady!”
“Yeah, go hombrecito,” Bruno encouraged with a jerk of his head in the direction of the door.
Camilo smiled at his Tío before shoving his primita to the side and opening the door to greet his beautiful sweet girlfriend Emiliana.
“Hey, sweet cheeks!” Camilo smiled from ear to ear as he tightly embraced the love of his life.
“Hi,” Emiliana giggled. “Can I come in?”
“Oh, of course, why wouldn’t we let you in?” Camilo walked his girlfriend in. “Oh, Im sure you’ve met my father and uncle, right? Because it would be pretty embarrassing if you hadn’t.”
“Hola, mi chica bonita!” Felix greeted Emiliana with an energetic handshake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you! And a pleasure to see you dating my son!”
Emiliana grinned. “Oh, thank you, Sr.—“
“Felix,” her boyfriend’s father said with a smile. “Call me Felix.”
“Oh! Okay Felix!”
“And you already know me!” Bruno said with a wave.
“Of course!” Emiliana said, giving Bruno a fist bump. “Hey Bruno!”
“Hey kid! So, where are you taking my nephew?”
“I can’t tell you yet, it’s a surprise!”
“Oh, silly me! I shouldn’t have asked. Well you two enjoy your date, and if you need anything, well, you can always count on us!”
“Thank you!” Emiliana turned to Camilo. “So anyway, umm, shall we go?”
“Oh sure!” Camilo waved at the men before leaving. “Tell the rest of the family that I said goodbye!”
“We will!” Felix and Bruno said with a wave, but soon Pepa and Julieta came down, along with Agustin.
“Oh, Emiliana!” Pepa said with a wave. “Bye, querida! Goodbye!”
“Goodbye Emiliana! ¡Adios, Camilo!” Julieta said with a wave.
“Have a happy date, the both of you!” Agustin said with a thumbs up as Emiliana smiled and waved her departure. “Oh, and sobrino, remember what your mother said—“
“Yes, yep!” Camilo flushed with embarrassment. “Bye!” And shut the door behind them.
“What did your mother say?” Emiliana asked.
“Oh nothing.” Camilo shrugged. “Just to have fun. A-anyway, we’re alone now, baby, what do you wanna do?”
“Well, like I told Bruno, I can’t reveal it yet. But you’ll love it, just you wait and see.”
“Oh, okay,” Camilo said as they walked, hand in hand, through the village. It was a peaceful and beautiful evening. The sun was slowly setting, the sky an array of bright, beautiful colors, and a half-moon could be seen in the sky along with the setting sun.
Overall, the perfect occasion for a lovely romantic date between a pair of enamored teenagers.
“So your family actually let you go on a date with me?” Camilo asked, breaking the peaceful silence.
“Huh? Oh yeah.” Emiliana swatted a hand. “Come to think of it, they probably just want me out of the house because my quince is a week after yours and they’re trying to prepare. I just promised them that nothing bad was going to go down tonight and that you were treating me right. Don’t worry about it.”
“Of course not, baby, I love you!” Camilo promised, patting his heart with her hand. “Plus, I’m kinda scared to death of your oldest sister.”
Emiliana laughed. “Aren’t we all? But enough about me, let’s talk about you! So how was your birthday?” she asked him.
“Oh, it was perfect!” Camilo said. “Everyone enjoyed themselves and got me such perfect gifts. For example, Abuela got me a bike, my prima got me a storybook, my Tío got me cologne—“
“Is that why you smell so good?” Emiliana flirted.
“U-uh, yeah, and mi hermano drew me the most adorable picture.”
“Aww, he takes after his big bro.”
“Hehe, yup.”
“What about Dolores?” Emiliana inquired, wanting to know what her friend’s present for her love had been. “What did she get you?”
“Oh, this really weird…jack-in-the-box? It’s nothing special.”
“Nothing special?” Emiliana balked. “Camilo, it’s your birthday, and she got you something silly she thought you’d love! Show some gratitude!”
“I do love it, it’s just—“
“It’s just what?”
“Well…”
“EMILIANA! CAMILO! COME QUICK!!!”
Both teens were shocked as they looked up at Camilo’s eldest prima, screaming her head off as she ran towards them. Upon reaching them both, Isabela placed a hand down on each of their shoulders and lightly shook.
“I-I…it’s Mirabel. I didn’t mean for this to happen but I—“ Isabela burst into tears before she could finish, and an entire garden sprouted on her head. It would have been amusing to watch normally, but not this time.
“Woah, slow down, Isabela,” Emiliana soothes, placing a warm arm on Isabela’s shoulder as the older girl wept, her head in her hands. “Tell us calmly. What happened? Ooh!” She plucked a few grapes from Isabela’s hair and threw them in her mouth, chewing.
“We…we went to this art shed one of Luisa’s friends had set up, she said she and the rest of us girls could use it any time we wanted. So Mirabel, Luisa, Dolores and I went there after you and Camilo left for your date. We were just spraying things and having some fun, until one thing led to another, Mirabel and I got into a fight—“
“As usual,” Camilo snorted.
“And somehow I ended up turning her into a flower statue! I-I just feel so hideous and stupid, why, why, why?!” Isabela started crying heavier as tiny potatoes grew from her scalp and rolled from her hair onto the floor. “I’m an AWFUL big sister!!! Oh—“
Emiliana hugged Isabela tightly, and Isabela hugged back. “It’s, it’s okay, Isabela. It wasn’t your fault, and you’re a great big sister!”
“I am?” Isabela sniffled.
“You are!” Emiliana beamed. “Mirabel tells me all about you all the time.”
“No she—“
“Anyway,” Emiliana cut her boyfriend off. “Take us to the art shed and we’ll find a way to fix your sister! Right, Camilo?”
“B-but what about our date?” Camilo squawked.
“Our date?”
“Y-you don’t care about your cousin!” Isabela whined before wailing again. Emiliana sighed, exasperated.
“All right, Isa, that’s enough, I think he gets it,” Emiliana whispered in her ear. Isabela wiped her eyes daintily with a pink handkerchief, trying to maintain her composure and settle down a bit to think logically about what is going on.
“Camilo,” Emiliana placed both hands on her boyfriend’s shoulders. “Do you believe that I love you?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly! And do you believe that our date isn’t going anywhere and that the moment we save Mirabel we’ll go back to our little romantic night out?”
“Yes?”
“Good!” She kissed him on the nose. “Let’s go-WOAH WOAH WOAH!”
Isabela had swooped both Emiliana and Camilo in the air with her vines and both soared over the entire Encanto—or at least that’s what it felt like to Emiliana—before settling down safely in front of the art shed.
Emiliana beamed, jumping up and down. “Oh, that was so much fun! Yes!” She whooped, thrusting a fist into the sky. “I never told anybody, well, except for my sister Victoria, but I’ve always wanted to do that.” She wrapped her arms around Isabela’s waist and squeezed. “Thank you, Isabela, for not killing my boyfriend and I—“
“You’re welcome,” Isabela choked.
“Anyway, Mirabel, right, operation save Mirabel.
The three of them walked into the shed, which was dim, empty, and a little bit dark.
“I don’t see anything,” Camilo said.
And then the lights flew open.
Camilo took a shaky breath. “Well, that was kind of creepy—“
“AAAAAAAAAHHHHH!”
“Babe?!”
Emiliana pointed in horror at the plant statue of Mirabel that was right in front of her. Frozen in terror, Mirabel had the most horrifying look on her face as her eyes were wide open, her mouth rounded in a silent scream, her hands held up in front of her in defense as Isabela took her life and breath away. Her best friend took a shaky inhale.
“I know,” Isabela’s voice trembled as she spoke. “Dolores, Luisa, and I were just as fear-stricken when we saw what I had done as well.”
“How can you DO that?” Camilo exclaimed, gesturing to flower-Mirabel. “Remind me not to mess with you ever again!”
“I don’t know!” Isabela wailed in agony. “I was very angry, and got very emotional! But you’ve gotta fix it back, Camilo!”
“Oh, so you created this mess but you can’t get my cousin out of it?” Camilo pressed, a hand on his hips as he rotated his neck. “NUH-UH, prima, that is NOT how we work around here!”
“It’s okay, Isabela, Camilo will fix it, I have faith in him!” Emiliana said, cowering behind her boyfriend. Even though he was shorter and weaker than her.
“Hold up, why me?”
“Because I love you, Camilo,” Emiliana said, nudging Camilo towards the eerie and tragic figure of Mirabel.
“Girl—“ Camilo hissed his teeth, but reluctantly moved closer to the statue, while Emiliana moved closer to Isabela, both clutching each other’s hands and staying out of harm’s way.
Camilo gulped in fear. He didn’t want to do this. But he had to. For his cousins. For his girlfriend. For himself.
He reached forward, finger trembling, in terror of the statue, before poking it ever so gently with his finger.
And it exploded.
The next thing he knew Camilo was covered in a huge splatter of thick, wet, sweet-smelling substance.
And Emiliana and Isabela exploded too, with laughter.
“What the—“ Camilo shook the creamy contents off of him in frustration as he stared aghast at the bits and pieces of green and pink flower petals he saw scattered across the floor of the shed. “Huh? Did I kill Mirabel?”
This only made Emiliana and Isabela wheeze harder, stomping their feet as they were barely able to contain themselves. Camilo stared at them, his brain almost but not quite catching onto the situation at hand.
Before both girls yelled “SURPRISE!!!” at him.
To make matters worse, Dolores and Luisa came out of their hiding spot through a back door as well. And with them was a perfectly intact and alive Mirabel who most definitely was NOT made of green and pink flower petals!!!
“That. Was. HILARIOUS!” Mirabel shouted before bending over, wheezing with glee.
Luisa laughed out loud, clapping her hands. “You can’t say we didn’t get you Camilo.”
“Indeed,” Dolores sputtered. “You should’ve, you should’ve seen your faHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”
Camilo stood there, covered in cream-like goodness as he was made a mockery of by the five girls surrounding him, all were laughing their asses off as they took glances at Camilo, only to look away as they laughed even harder.
Isabela slapped Emiliana’s hand in a high five. “You go, chica. We got him!”
“Thanks for letting me be a part of this!”
“And thanks for helping!”
Camilo, meanwhile, was not happy. He was seeing red. “Was this…was this a PRANK?!”
“It was!” Isabela admitted with watery eyes as she hiccuped.
“We hope you like custard!” Dolores said with a wink.
“I-I-I can’t beLIEVE YOU!” The custard monster roared. “You…you were supposed to be my favorite cousin, Mirabel, you had me worried for your life when Isabela came crying to me that she killed you, all for—and Emiliana, you were supposed to be the love of my life! I trusted you! And Isabela, you started putting on a performance with your crocodile tears when it turned out all along to be some sick JOKE?! And—“ he glared at Dolores and Luisa while licking custard off his face. “I don’t even have anything to SAY to you two! I thought you were sweet and gentle, but clearly I was wrong! I…I am just so disappointed!”
But being reprimanded by a guy covered head to toe in custard? That only made them laugh harder. They couldn’t take it seriously!
“Hah, what a night huh?” Emiliana got up and walked towards Camilo. “What a night. Anyway, we went through all this trouble, so we may as well see how you taste.” She licked some of the custard off her boyfriend’s cheek. “Mmm! Yummy! Sorry about your cologne though.”
“Ooh, let me try!” Mirabel ran up to her cousin and wiped some of the custard off his other cheek with her finger. Licking it off. “Wow! That is delish!”
“Lemme!” Isabela took some off of the nose. “Wow, this does not disappoint.”
“I have to agree,” Dolores said as she took some off of Camilo’s forehead.
“Hey, don’t look so downhearted, kiddo,” Luisa said with a grin as she too ate custard out of Camilo’s hair. “At least you get to be a delectable delicacy! Don’t worry, we’ll clean you right up!”
“Yes we will!” Emiliana agreed. “Now gimme your hand.” She picked up Camilo’s hand and ran her fingers along its palm, gathering up custard and putting it in her mouth.
Camilo sighed as the girls rubbed their fingers on him and ate the custard off his body and clothes. They were so busy eating him that they barely even noticed the door opening as one of Luisa’s friends stepped in—and quickly stepped out after realizing what was going on.
But they didn’t care. They were having too much fun. And now that Camilo thought about it, this joke was pretty clever. Even though he was utterly humiliated that day in the worst way imaginable, he knew he would laugh about it someday like his father always told him. Today just…wasn’t that day.
He turned to his girlfriend. “So, umm, sweetie pie. About that date…”
“Yeah?”
“Where did you plan on us going?”
Emiliana’s face paled as her eyes shifted and she giggled awkwardly. “Oh, well, about that…”
The End!
Until next time! 👋🏾
#camilo madrigal#encanto#birthday#encanto birthdays#december 28#fanfic#encanto fanfic#emiliana jimenez#emicami#isabela madrigal#dolores madrigal#luisa madrigal#mirabel madrigal#antonio madrigal#pepa madrigal#felix madrigal#julieta madrigal#agustin madrigal#bruno madrigal#alma madrigal
15 notes
·
View notes
Text
Ch9: The Nuptials of Narcissa
The Drawing Room of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had been magically extended to cathedral proportions; the chandelier glinted overhead with the light of a thousand candles, and the crystals cast rainbows on the walls. Elegant, golden chairs, decked in flowers, had been arranged in the room to make an aisle down the centre, and rose petals were strewn along the path. Two Christmas trees stood either side of the full length window, sparkling and shining against the blackness without.
Regulus was in his finest dress robes and acting as an usher, guiding guests towards their seats. Aunt Druella was already sitting in the front row, along with her slimy son in law, Rodolphus Lestrange, saving a space for Uncle Cygnus. Lucius Malfoy - the groom himself - was standing before the Christmas trees, waiting nervously. His best man was his father, Abraxas Malfoy, and Sirius could only assume this was because Lucius had no friends of his own.
Sirius himself had been stashed away in a dark corner, in the furthest seat away from everybody, hidden by a candlestick. He was not allowed to greet the guests or take part in the festivities … as if he would want to. He only wished there was a glass of champagne he could swipe. Sitting here alone and hating everyone would be a lot more fun if he could get tipsy while he did it. This was an awful way to be spending Christmas Eve - and he cast his mind back to last year, throwing snowballs at James’s house and singing around the piano. He would have had John, his pet puffskein, for a year tomorrow - only John was with James right now, as Sirius still did not trust Kreacher (or Regulus) not to do something awful to him if Sirius brought him home.
The door to the Drawing Room opened again, and Canopus, Sirius’s second cousin, walked in with his parents, was greeted by Reg and sent to sit on the right hand side of the aisle. Then came another Cygnus (this one a third cousin once removed) and the twins, Nigellus and Belvina, who were somehow related to Sirius through their great great grandfather. Sirius started to wish for something a little harder than champagne. But worse was yet to come: Mulciber, and Avery and Rosier and a whole load of Slytherin slime whose dads were in the Knights of Walpurgis all arrived and sat to the left. (Sirius had been wondering how, with a family as inbred as theirs, Reg would know whether to direct someone to the bride’s side of the room, or the groom’s. But it seemed Reg was keeping things simple - anyone with the last name "Black" went to the right, no matter how distantly related, any open followers of Voldemort to the left.)
Mulciber turned in his chair, caught sight of Sirius - hidden in the darkest corner - and smirked. Sirius stuck two fingers up at him and then tried to move the candlestick so the Slytherins were blocked from his view. He should just count his blessings that Snivellus was a half blood, who would never be invited to a society wedding like this in a million years. He didn’t think he could cope if Snape was brought into his home.
The door opened once again, and Walburga and Orion came in, swept up Reg and went to sit in the second row behind Narcissa’s parents. This must mean everyone had arrived, all guests had been greeted, and it was time to get this whole freak circus started.
With a nod from the celebrant, at the front, the stringed quartet began to play - striking up the familiar notes of the traditional March of the Goblin Bride by Ludwig Lotharssohn - and the door opened for a final time, with Narcissa now processing slowly down the aisle, leaning on her father’s arm, and carrying an ostentatiously large bouquet. (‘Gauche’ Sirius heard Remus say in his head, ‘tasteless and tacky,’ Sirius silently replied, and smiled to himself).
She wore a long, sweeping gown of silver and had Christmas roses woven into her hair. For someone who was supposedly having the happiest day of her life, she looked remarkably like a woman with a bad smell directly under her nose, like she’d just trod in dung… but then Narcissa always looked like that. Bellatrix walked behind her, clutching a small bouquet of her own and wearing dress robes of puce (which did not suit her at all - and Sirius wondered if Narcissa had chosen them especially to ensure her sister did not outshine her on her wedding day). Of Andromeda, of course, that was no sign.
After what seemed like an eternity of stately processing (and Sirius hoping she would fall over with every step) Narcissa eventually reached the front. She handed her bouquet to Bellatrix, without so much as a backwards glance, gave her father a cold peck on the cheek and was then left alone, beside the Christmas trees, with Malfoy. They smiled at each other. The type of smile a wolf might give… only that was an insult to Moony.
⚡
Ch9 of fourth year of my Marauder's Era fic "The Wolf's Tail" is now posted.
or read from the beginning here
#marauders era#hogwarts#canon compliant marauders' fic#marauders fourth year#marauders fanfiction#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#lily evans#peter pettigrew#severus snape#jily#wolfstar#The Wolf's Tail
5 notes
·
View notes
Note
Any examples of Reg and Sirius’s partner just having a moan about Sirius. I apparently also live for brother in law Reg content. 😊♥️
😊 Family Reg is best Reg
Air Your Grievances
Regulus had been immensely relieved the first time he saw Ruth without a smile on her face. It was a full eight months after he had been properly introduced to her, and he was starting to get worried that perhaps she wasn’t even human. Wouldn’t that figure? Sirius went off and married and impregnated a non-human entity who didn’t feel human emotions. Of course he didn’t find it eerie and off-putting himself, seeing as he barely felt human emotions either.
That afternoon, Regulus had been permitted to take Bath to the park for a few hours so Ruth could take a nap while Sirius was at work pretending to be productive. Bath had certainly not inherited her mother’s inhibition towards expressing dismay--she wailed at the top of her lungs with the slightest provocation. When he returned, he found Ruth on the living room floor with a glass of wine and red, puffy eyes.
“Oh,” Ruth said dully, looking up at him as he walked in. “I didn’t sleep.”
“I see. Do you want me to put her down?”
“Please,” Ruth murmured.
“Come on, Bath,” Regulus said, walking her to the nursery. “I hope you do a better job napping than your mum.”
Bath cooed softly and giggled as he put her in her crib. Ruth, who was raised primarily by the muggle side of her family and, as a result, had a number of peculiar reservations about magic, objected to the use of magical intervention to help Bath sleep. Regulus happened to know that Sirius had no such compunctions, however, and in this instance it seemed in Ruth's best interest. He dropped a tiny droplet of sleeping potion on her tongue and her eyes fluttered shut.
“Don’t tell your mum on me,” Regulus whispered to her, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. He walked back into the living room and took a seat on the sofa. He picked up the wine bottle on the table and examined it. “What are we drinking?”
Ruth buried her head in her knees and groaned. “Please try not to judge me too harshly, Regulus. It has been an exhausting week.”
“No judgement from me,” Regulus said, choosing not to mention that it was only Monday. He summoned a wine glass and poured himself a drink. “I adore Bath, of course, but I cannot imagine how stressful it must be to care for her all day every day.”
“It’s not even her,” Ruth confessed. “It's just that I was only counting on caring for one infant.”
Regulus snorted in a very undignified way as he took a sip of wine.
“I’m so sorry,” Ruth said, shaking her head and attempting to regain composure. “I’m being awful. He’s your brother, I shouldn’t--”
“Don’t be absurd, Ruth,” Regulus said, wiping his mouth and grinning at her. “No one knows better than I what a toddler Sirius can be.”
Ruth shot him a grateful look and said, “He will literally pout when I ask him to cancel on James to help with the chores. He’ll do it, he’ll stay and help out, but he pouts. A grown man, a father, sulking because he can’t go on his playdate! It is ridiculous!”
“You know, during the war I called for him when I was hexed to oblivion and near dead, and he grumbled at me the whole time that he had been out at the pub with Potter and I had interrupted them. He brought Potter with him, too.”
“Oh Lord,” Ruth groaned. “Of course he did. That’s awful.” She sighed and took a healthy sip of wine. “It’s infuriating because I can’t even be properly mad at him. I almost wish he was enough of an arsehole to ditch me for James so I wouldn't feel silly for complaining.”
“I think you have every right to complain, Ruth,” Regulus said, fixing her with an earnest stare. “I think you really ought to complain more, actually. You are bearing the burden of raising Sirius far too graciously. It cannot be good for you. You have to let it out; air your grievances, so they no longer have power over you.”
A soft smile played at Ruth’s lip. “Very wise of you, Regulus.”
Regulus shrugged. “Well, that’s what my therapist told me.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to go to therapy,” Ruth said, raising her eyebrows.
“Tsk, Sirius has poisoned your mind against me. I am actually very open-minded.” Ruth raised her eyebrows further. Regulus sighed. “Fine. I only went twice and it was absolutely dreadful. I rather think the therapist was glad when I didn’t show up after that.”
“Why did you go back a second time?”
“Sirius bet me 20 galleons I wouldn’t make it through more than one session. So I had to, of course.”
Ruth laughed. “Of course.”
“I feel we have gotten a bit off track here. You were telling me what a nuisance Sirius is?”
Ruth grinned her signature grin as she launched into another complaint, but it didn’t unsettle Regulus this time. Instead, he felt a strange warmth in his chest and a sense of familial belonging that he had not felt in a long time. It was probably an effect of the wine.
“--and I know that he sneaks sleeping potion to Bathsheba when I’m not around,” Ruth added indignantly. “Doesn’t even respect me enough to have a conversation about it.”
Regulus shook his head. “Unbelievable. What a prick.”
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Love Leaves Traces - Chapter 7
“He’s more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same” - Emily Bronte, Wuthering Heights
“Happy Birthday or whatever.” Regulus was holding out a shockingly wrapped lump of a present, with bright purple wrapping paper and butterfly cutouts haphazardly glued to the sides.
“Thanks, Reg.” He pulled his brother into a hug. They weren’t huggy brothers. Hugs were reserved for birthdays and injuries.
“What is it?”
“Oh no. Don’t open it in front of me. I can’t”
Regulus strode back over to his gaggle of Slytherins. Sirius’ birthday party was well under the way, the awkwardness of gathering with strangers blurred by mutual intoxication. The turnout was larger than he had expected. Everyone from any one of Sirius’ classes had come, as well as his brother and his friends and a few people from upper years who he suspected were only there for an excuse to drink, but smiled brightly at him and wished him a happy birthday nevertheless. There was static in the air. The quiet buzz of magic weaving its way through the crowd.
A small group had found themselves in a space in the middle of the common room once occupied by soft couches. They were swaying drunkenly to music playing from a record player, which Peter had abandoned to canoodle with his girlfriend in the corner of the room. James had coerced Lily into a conversation. They were huddled together on a single armchair to the side of the dance floor and Sirius thought James might have a shot at winning her over. If the grin on her face was anything to go by, he already had.
Sirius felt a pang of jealousy. It seemed all around him, that everyone was falling in love. They seemed truly besotted and as disgustingly romantic as it was, Sirius wanted someone to be his. To hold when the chill of winter seeped through the cracks and to cling to when he lost his way. To laugh with and smile and cry and love. And be loved in return the way only lovers could. With light and heat and joy.
He drained his glass, the alcohol burning down his throat, making him shiver. He settled Regulus’ present to the designated present couch, which had decidedly too many liquor bottle-shaped presents, and made his way to the dance floor.
“Enjoying yourself, Black?” Dorcas Meadowes shouted in his ear, over the music which was gradually getting louder. Or perhaps Sirius was getting drunker.
Sirius only grinned in response. His smile faltered slightly as he saw the way Marlene had her hands slung around Dorcas’ neck. He opened his mouth to ask whether something was going on between the two of them, but was startled into silence.
Right before his eyes, Remus Lupin was climbing atop a table to the cheers of the surrounding Gryffindors. His dark trousers hung low on his waist revealing a piece of skin that Sirius had never seen before. Pale and soft looking beneath his white undershirt. Slung around his shoulders was none other than Sirius’ leather jacket. Merlin, he was beautiful, wrapped up in something that was undeniably Sirius’. He was chugging fire whiskey straight from the bottle, his eyes bright and a stream of liquid making its way down his jaw. Sirius imagined licking it off.
He gulped. Suddenly realising he hadn’t closed his mouth, he snapped his jaw shut. Marlene and Dorcas shared a knowing look as Sirius excused himself. He only hoped the furious blush he could feel heating his face would be blamed on the alcohol.
The night dissolved into a blur. There was dancing. So much dancing, his friends' laughter bubbling around him. Peter swirled Beatrice around happily as she beamed up at him, lost in their own world. James had taken Sirius on his shoulders for a truly riveting few songs before he dramatically collapsed under him with a ‘Merlin’s balls Sirius. How much do you eat!?’.
Hours passed in what felt like minutes. Students started heading upstairs. Some to sleep, others to sleep with each other. Peter had left Gryffindor tower entirely, leaving only dedicated stragglers.
He joined a select few, including Remus, who had apparently ‘won’ the previous round, for a game of truth or dare. Frank Longbottom stripped down to the underwear. The display of his toned stomach did things to Sirius he was too drunk to analyse. Alice finished off the whiskey Remus had made a considerable dent in and Remus, the bastard, had used his wand as a microphone to sing karaoke style to the almost empty common room. His voice was raspy but somehow smooth, not dissimilar to the wolf's howl. Sirius found he couldn’t tear his eyes away from him for the second time that night. Remus was bopping his head to the music, the most carefree and loose Sirius had seen him. He was quietly realising that Moony really was quite fucking hot, and why hadn’t he had a girlfriend before? Who wouldn’t want that?
Remus ended the spell and stumbled over to Sirius.
“Truth or dare, Pads?” The sound of the new nickname made him smile a little.
Sirius was a Gryffindor, and so he said, “Dare. Obviously.”
Remus smirked devilishly and Sirius thought perhaps he had made a mistake.
“Mmmm Sirius I dare you tooo-“ His words were slow around his tongue, interrupted by his consuming thoughts, “Ooh! Same as Frank! Down to your pants.”
Fucking buggering fuck. The one thing he couldn’t do. He groaned. He didn’t want to look like a coward. His skin felt tight as he grasped at a way out.
“If you want to see me naked, Moony, all you had to do was ask.” That was a little closer to the truth than he had intended.
Remus’ eyes widened in shock but quickly recovered. “Fine then, Sirius. I want to see you naked. Take your clothes off now please.”
“Please? Reduced to begging, Rem. Well for that…” Sirius crawled over to Remus and finished his sentence with a whispered breath in his ear “you’ll just have to wait.”
He felt Remus shudder below him and added, “Tu es si séduisante dans ma veste. Merlin, je te veux.” for good measure, before hoisting himself up and battling his way over to James, the game forgotten. He was drunker than he realised, his legs shaking and his head foggy. He needed a shower and some sleep. Maybe he needed to vomit.
Whatever he needed, James needed it more. He looked positively green and so they leaned on each other as they climbed the stairs to their room.
It was startlingly quiet compared to the common room and Sirius noticed a high-pitched ringing in his ears. James flopped down on Sirius’ bed mumbling something unintelligible into the covers.
“Prongs, if you vomit in my bed, I will tell Lily and she will never love you.”
James moaned and rolled himself off the bed, landing on the floor with a thud.
“Ow.”
It was a struggle getting James off the floor and into his own bed, propped up on his side, but Sirius felt satisfied. His best friend was drooling helplessly into a bucket Sirius had found stashed in one of the bathroom cupboards, just in case he was sick in the night.
Sirius stripped off his shirt not bothering to worry if James would see him. He was out cold. Finding one of Remus’ jumpers on the ground and a clean pair of pants, he set to changing, marvelling at how soft and warm the wool made him feel. He breathed in deeply, the smell of Remus, woody and citrusy, overtook him and he landed in bed, quickly falling asleep.
Something knocked over in the dark.
“ Fuck .”
Sirius sat up in bed, disoriented. It was dark out so it was nighttime, but his head didn’t hurt like he was expecting. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, his head lagging behind him. He was still drunk.
“Moony?” Remus stopped his sneaking to peer at Sirius.
“Padfoot?” He asked as if he wasn’t sure it wasn’t someone else.
“What time is it?”
Remus hobbled over and the bed dipped as he settled beside him.
“Around three I think. Pete not back yet?”
“Nope.”
There was an unusually uncomfortable silence between them. Sirius was sober enough by now to notice the strain.
Remus coughed lightly. “I suppose you’ll want your jacket back. Sorry, I stole it. It was a dare.”
“Nah. You keep it for now. Looks good on you.”
Remus stared at his face like he was looking for something. He wrapped his arms protectively around the jacket. “Yeah, you said”.
“And you can keep that jumper.” Sirius grasped the jumper in question by the hem. “You look alright too.”
They sat staring at each other for seconds that felt warped into minutes. Their breaths mingled between them, whiskey and smoke and mint. Now free to stare, Sirius could take in the full picture of Remus. He was breathtaking. His jacket, too broad for him, hung around him like a hug. Only Remus could make a leather jacket look endearing. His hair was tousled from a night of dancing and drinking and the light Sirius saw in his eyes earlier in the night was shining just as brightly. He traced his hand across Remus’ forehead, brushing aside his hair.
“T'ai-je déjà dit à quel point tu es parfait?” Sirius hadn’t meant to say it, but it was true, and even if Remus couldn’t understand, it felt good to have his feelings in the open. Feelings that he had only recently accepted. Feelings for Remus. It made it real. It was terrifying.
That longing he felt for love and familiarity slotted into place every time he looked at him. He was perfect, from his stupid lovely romantic books and his soft bouncy hair to his long freckled arms and grumpy pout. Sirius wanted all of him.
He wanted to hold his hand on Hogsmeade trips and under the table at the library. To kiss him under the veil of night and have him in his arms as the sun rose. Day in and day out. He wanted him. Remus’ hand made its way into Sirius’.
“Tu as. Tous les jours.”
Sirius shot out of his daydream. The French sounded clunky and unnatural coming from Remus, but it was there, hanging in the air. Sirius felt like he could almost touch it. He took a shaky breath, his mouth suddenly dry.
“What?”
Remus stared intently at their joined hands, not looking at Sirius.
“You do.”
Memories came flooding back to him. Every time Sirius had spoken to Remus in French, he was exposing himself without a second thought. Had he understood him this whole time? While Sirius was working through his feelings, had Remus known?
Sirius pulled his hand away quickly. Remus had known and hadn't said anything. If he felt the same way, surely he would have said something. Sirius felt his chest constrict, his breathing became laboured. He had ruined one of the best things in his life, his friendship with Moony and he hadn’t even realised it. After all they had been through, was all it took to split the Marauders an unrequited crush?
But it wasn’t a crush, was it? There was something more there. Something undeniable and Sirius felt himself cracking under the weight of it. His heart was breaking and Remus couldn’t even look at him.
“Sirius”. It was so quiet. It would have been mistaken for a breath if Sirius wasn’t acutely aware of the boy next to him.
“Je veux que vous aussi.”
He what? Sirius hadn’t even let himself consider the possibility that Remus wanted him too. Hope swelled inside him and he braved a look at Remus who was anxiously playing with his rings.
He was perfect. And he wanted him. Sirius could hardly believe it. He wasn’t sure what he would do without the pleasant thrum the whisky left beneath his skin, but he used it and reached out to him.
Gently, so so gently, Sirius traced his fingers over his jaw like it was fragile, tilting his head up to meet him. Their surroundings swam around them and stilling suddenly as their lips touched, warm and chapped and perfect. His head was cloudy and heavy. Loosely grasping the front of Remus’ shirt before pulling away, eyes still closed.
He could still feel the pressure on his lips, now cold. His breath came out shaky. Perhaps if he could stay still, he could freeze this moment.
“Look at me.”
It came out with a breath. A whisper. Sirius cautiously opened his eyes, noticing his hand still latched onto the boy, ripping his hand away as if burned. He fixed his gaze on the ceiling, embarrassment pooling high in his cheeks.
“I said look at me”
Against his will, his head snapped to meet his eyes. Blue and wide and deep. Remus was tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, a cautious smile creeping at the edges.
“You kissed me.”
Sirius thought this was a bit stating the obvious but he was smiling now too.
“I did, didn't I?”
“It was nice.” Remus was reaching for him, any self-consciousness Sirius saw previously was gone. He pulled on the jumper Sirius forgot he was wearing. “I love it when you wear my clothes. You look so soft.” He placed a kiss on Sirius’ nose.
“You’re not messing around? You want me too?” Sirius cringed at the desperation in his voice, but he needed to know. Needed to be sure.
“Sirius Black, I have wanted you for a long time now. Since before I knew what wanting meant.”
It was then that Sirius knew, for certain, that he would love this boy as long as he possibly could, and when he broke his heart like he inevitably would, Sirius would be lucky he ever had his heart to break in the first place. He would enter this willingly, whatever it was, knowing he was bound for pain, because whatever piece of Remus Lupin he was offered, he would take.
#wolfstar#fan fiction#fanfic#remus x sirius#sirius black#remus lupin#soulmate au#soulmates#first kiss
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
All in the Family
Chapter 188: Shell Cottage
Sirius waited until everyone was eating before he gestured his knife to Regulus and told them all, “we have a problem by the way.”
“Aside from your general lack of table manners?” Remus muttered as he watched him use said knife covered in potatoes to spear a kipper and keep going.
Sirius smirked but otherwise kept speaking at large, “when Reg and I get back, we’re going to hide out in the Muggle world rather than that lovely little loaded landscape of doom in Islington.” He turned and looked purposefully at Regulus now, just waiting to see what he’d do. “Problem is, when we get back to school and if the Black family will try any shite to pull us out of Hogwarts in retaliation when they finally figure it out.”
The chewing and general movement had come to a slow, grinding halt as they all looked at Sirius, who just shrugged and kept eating. He’d delivered the problem and given Regulus his wish, he had nothing else to add, and no better solution himself sadly. His little brother watched him, then everyone while biting his cheek the whole time, but he was smiling.
Remus moved and took his hand with a pained face, it made the others flinch for how much worry he compacted into that one expression. He’d never looked that concerned when speaking of his lycanthropy, just what went on in that house?
James, in his usual single minded stubbornness, only seemed to hear one part as he snapped at once, “what are you on about, you’ll just come over to mine-”
“That’s the first place they’ll look,” Sirius reminded with a shrug.
“They can’t just make you-” his voice was getting louder a decibel at a time.
“Oh yes they can,” there was an ugly look of unguarded vengeance on Padfoot’s face now, the unspoken threat was going to curdle the food. He was only watching Prongs, there was something the others were missing just a bit in their silent exchange.
Sirius may have gotten away with leaving before, but he wouldn’t let Regulus go back alone now, he’d go back with him, and he wouldn’t just cause little distractions in the house and take it. He’d fight back. It was going to somehow still get worse.
James swallowed, flushed with guilt as he looked to Regulus, and then glowered at the table in fuming, silent, defeat. For now.
“Surely, if you two are really afraid for your life, the Ministry can keep them away?” Lily asked, her voice cracking in frustration for her own ignorance, but it seemed the obvious solution they weren’t saying. She’d once watched Tobias use magic on a muggle to shoo them away, while Severus had whispered up on the roof with her.
“Takes some time and shite,” James spat not at her. “Paperwork and hearings, Sirius would be of age by the time it all got sorted out anyways, and that’s just not happening.”
“The Black’s have friends in the Ministry,” Frank slowly agreed. “Whatever happened, it would have to be fast, something they didn’t know was happening until the two were long gone.”
“A charm in the meantime then, confund them or even make them forget until it is,” Lily snapped viciously. “We can delay and put them off even wanting to find the two.”
“Besides, that’s no long term solution,” Peter put in, watching Sirius start, stumble, and close his mouth over his own input in fascination. “Even when they are of age, that won’t stop retribution.”
“It would have to be a lot more than just our parents,” Sirius didn’t sound unconvinced of the idea as he slowly twined some pasta around some chicken. “Bellatrix, anyone attached to the Black line and even more would know something was up and would help even if those two lunatics didn’t know to ask.”
“Maybe we should more permanently erase the idea of you two then,” Alice said in a smooth voice, but she was looking daggers around this house. “They don’t deserve kids, we should just make them forget you two exist.”
Silence was her answer as they digested that. Remus’s hand tightened on him uncomfortably and Peter made a little noise of distress, but Regulus brightened just a bit at the idea. “Make our existence a secret, yeah, that makes sense.”
Sirius did not disagree, but he was looking from James to Remus and back to her with a very troubled expression. Had she been hearing the same book he had? That spell hadn’t once gone right without someone suffering for it…
To be cast off and forgotten for no matter how long it took...he’d do it for Regulus, he owed the kid his own future and this was as good of a way he could ever make up for it, being there with him until this mess was sorted out. What would that even look like, what sort of resolution was there without the Black family always tangling up their life?
Their magic would not be strong enough yet, there would have to be an adult Secret Keeper, Dumbledore or more preferably Mr. and Mrs. Potter, someone in the know of how to go about this… but James and Remus would forget about him until then, as if he didn’t even exist. Would he be able to reintegrate back into their lives, or would they keep spacing out any memory associated with him until the secret was told?
Move on with their lives without him… He wondered what it would be like in school, would their eyes just gloss right over him as if he weren’t in the room? Would Moony still see Padfoot when he joined him on a full moon, would Prongs sense him there like a real Grimm?
A chill crept up his spine, it sounded like a worse sentence than Azkaban, but he tried to shake off that nightmare. Whomever they picked would obviously tell the other six, they had no reason not to, it was everyone else to be worried about.
“Guess that’s that then,” he spoke gruffly, determined to not show anything but casual hope this would work. “It’s a start anyways.” He stuffed the last of the food into his mouth, and then gave his plate a casual lick just to make Moony roll his eyes while he interlaced their fingers. Sirius reached over and tossed a roll at Frank, calling him out on hoarding the basket at his end and keeping the others in a lively state by being as rambunctious as ever until the general tension of his proclamation had eased out and he excused himself to the bathroom.
Remus stayed at the table as James animatedly followed Alice into the living room speaking their usual lively laughs while Regulus and Frank were swapping how to go about even finding that Fidelius Charm years early. Peter hesitated but left Remus be as he needlessly stacked the plates, Lily was already whisking them to the sink.
“Sirius is going to be okay,” Lily quietly assured him as he lingered at the table, balancing a fork upright under his fingers. “Those whackjob parents won’t get near him or Regulus, we’ll see to that.”
“Oh I’m not worried about that,” he vowed. He didn’t give a damn what his dad wanted anymore, he’d be over at the Potter’s with Sirius as much as James’s parents would allow this summer to make sure the rest of the plan went off without a hitch. Padfoot had clearly made it his mission to keep Regulus out as well, and Walburga and Orion would have another thing coming if they thought they could pull anyone from Sirius’s side.
Not that they’d even get that far with him keeping watch, though it only made him even more horrified at this future to come, now threats were lining up from all sides whether they had Harry or not. Greyback coming for him, Sirius instigating the wrath of his parents by assisting the prince, and James would stop at nothing to get his hands on those Horcruxes and end this threat. Lily was about to start a feud with Severus Snape when they got back, and Alice and Frank could only help so much, not being in the same year as them would cause a great distance when they got back he’d half forgotten at this point, not to mention their own future. From what he’d seen, they were more set than ever on being Auror’s, cleaning up this mess before it even got started.
He would have to be more watchful and weary than ever, he couldn’t just skip off with Padfoot at all hours anymore. No, they’d have to plan and be diligent of everything, inducted into the Order the moment they left school- he cleared his throat harshly to stop himself. That was heading down a dangerous road of repeat… he didn’t know what to do to stop this!
Lily felt a bit chilled at the menacing tone for a moment before he cleared his throat and smiled at her like nothing had happened. The transformation was astonishing, he always came across the most mild of the Marauders until she was abruptly reminded he had a much more razor sharp edge than all of them put together, he just hid it best. “Thank you, for all you’ve done for us,” he said randomly. She gazed at him in confusion for the tonal whiplash. “I’m glad you’ve been here Lily.”
“Um, thanks,” she smiled lightly. She couldn’t help but go back to sit next to him in a bit of concern, though he hid well whatever had prompted that. “Something on your mind? I can still call you an arse if it helps.” He chuckled softly and smiled at her back, he could really be so sincere, a calmness to him he kept leveled by sheer force of will, creating something quite dangerous in itself. An active volcano almost, always dangerous but never to you until it erupted. She really understood why James enjoyed his quiet company, and she was sorry she hadn’t talked to him more now.
Remus gazed at her for a few moments before again admitting to her what he just couldn’t to James, he needed that little bubble of hope they both seemed to carry, but she had a tenacity Prongs lacked. He was headstrong and vibrant, a plan and action in hand. She was ruthless, she’d keep them from getting killed while doing it. “Sirius’s sodding advice to me about my problems was, to fix my perspective. How the hell am I supposed to do that? It’s not like I know what to fix if I don’t know what’s broken!”
“Maybe you’re not asking the right question then,” Lily said with a sad smile.
Padfoot got out of the shower and got back dressed in Fred’s sweater, pulling his pants up without even looking at him, though both were rather aroused for the sudden implication in the bathroom and the locked bedroom door. Sirius spent his time plucking every silvery blonde hair out of what was unmistakably Fleur’s brush before humming as he ran it through his own.
Remus closed the toilet lid to sit and watched with a powerfully deep ache for how, domestic it all was. The smell of damp air and Sirius was lustful to him, the ocean on the distance calming. A forbidden wish that he could not wrap his head around. He could never have this, or if he did, it would all somehow be taken away from him, whether because of himself or Greyback was the horrifying path.
“Tell me what I’m like, when I change.”
The humming stopped abruptly. He went still for a few moments before he finished in silence, and then gave the comb the same treatment of pulling his own hairs out, before prodding around the teeth and speaking to it. “You’ve never asked me that before.”
“I’ve never wanted to know before,” he tried to shrug, pretending like this was something casual and not a borderline horror story.
He put the brush down abruptly and went to sit on the edge of the tub, leaning forward and watching him very carefully, his wet hair hung in chunks off his shoulders and clung to his neck a bit. “I’m not going to tell you just so you can keep, vilifying yourself.”
“I’m not,” he promised that much. “I’m honestly trying to figure out, what it’s like.”
Padfoot let out a very slow breath, but he smiled a bit now, even reaching out and brushing at the back of his hand, a bit of eagerness in his voice like he was showing off again. It occurred to him the Marauders talked about him the other way all the time to each other, but he’d spent so long never wanting to hear what he did to them or himself they really didn’t get a chance to say much at all about it. “You’re easily distractible. Whenever we come across Hagrid, or a centaur, or anything we don’t want you around, I can almost always get you to race me or wrestle around, you love to chase me all over our Forest. Some nights, if we time it right, I can get you to follow me down right under the Willow and you don’t even look back. You’re always so happy to see me and just, to run.”
“So far this sounds nothing like me,” he was smiling despite himself, Sirius looked so happy, he was even using his other hand to wave through the air with brimming energy.
Sirius scoffed and flicked him on the ear. He reached out and took his hand properly, Padfoot scooting closer, their legs slotting between each other as he watched him curiously. “Did that not answer you?” He asked gently, reaching out and brushing his neck, he could tell he hadn’t helped what was really on his mind.
“In the mountains?” He prompted, and Sirius shook his head with disappointment again, throwing just the tiniest flecks of water at him.
“You were so on edge out there, surrounded by the scent of those giants. I should have been paying more attention. I got distracted, that was my fault.” Sirius watched him with his own apologies clear in his voice and squeezed his hand when he frowned. “I’m not taking that back.”
He reached carefully for those scars along his side and Sirius kept breathing gently beneath his fingers as they brushed over his shirt. “And the school?” He wasn’t going to pick a fight right now when Padfoot was being so calm, but he still spoke to his slightly trembling hand.
The barking laugh echoed slightly in the bathroom, and he looked up sharply to see he looked genuinely amused. “It’s a shame we can’t ever recreate that, you had a blast. Sniffing every single thing we passed, you loved it, like our first night in the Forest all over again. You found the Ravenclaw common room fast enough, unsurprisingly really, I’m not nearly as attuned to the smell of magic as you and it was radiating the stuff. You were going to hurt yourself trying to bust the door open though, so I got you to chase me back down the stairs, but you’re always such a sore loser, when you don’t get what you want. You tried to take a snap at me at the bottom and Prongs separated us,” he was still smiling the entire time, this really was as casual to him as their classes now. “So you retaliated by barging into the next available door and tore apart a bathroom, I don’t know if it was spite or you actually thought it was funny to go around and break them like that, but you spent the rest of the chapter in that hallway doing it.”
He didn’t try to stop an involuntary snort of amusement of his own at the mental image, how could he when Sirius was so happily recounting this for him.
Sirius continued unprompted this time with a shrug, “that last one got a bit hairy, but nothing that hasn’t happened in the Forest too when you manage a kill and I get too close, you’re a bit territorial. Not sure what you think you’re missing, I told you everything there. I dumped you in the water at one point.” He added glibly.
The images in his head Sirius described seemed honest, he didn’t think he was holding back persay, but it left something to be desired as well. None of this explained to him how Fenrir had gone so far, he couldn’t find any indications to suggest a long term solution that wouldn’t get Sirius or anybody else hurt. “I sound, unwieldy.”
Padfoot was clearly toying with words in his head, making faces as he tried to phrase it right. “You’re predictably undomesticated?” He scrunched up his nose and tried again, “you, you’re just, free and, relaxed, that’s not the word I want either,” he sighed and looked imploringly at him. “I never see you so,” his face lit up. “Unburdened. You don’t over think anything, I always know how you’re going to react even if I can’t always anticipate every single thing you’re going to do.” He finished triumphantly.
“Sounds harmless,” he muttered snidely.
Sirius huffed his own noise of frustration now. “I don’t know where you got this idea I think you’re some toothless puppy! Have you seen what you used to do to yourself?” He dropped his hand from neck to arm, brushing up, just the start of them. His hand restricted involuntarily along Sirius’ side. “That doesn't make you some menace to society at all hours though! I’m not going to ever just sit quietly and let anyone say otherwise, let alone you! It doesn't have to be either or!”
He wanted so badly to believe him, his throat restricted painfully, but the words began tumbling out before he’d want to stop them this time. “Sirius, I’m scared of that gray area! I don’t know what I’m doing, or if I’ll even know when it’ll tip one way or the other.”
There was a very long pause as Sirius digested that, he took his hand off his arm and started a little rhythm as he tapped each digit to his thumb, but the fingers around his hand pressed in harder as he searched for the right words. “None of us know what we’re doing,” he finally concluded, and he could tell how much it really frustrated him to admit to that, but a wash of relief hit him all the same Sirius said it. “You’re right, okay, I don’t know what you’re going through. I probably never will, not fully, but I want to. We’re all stumbling around figuring this out Remus, you’re not special,” he added with a little smile once more.
Sirius waited and even smirked when he huffed to suppress a smirk and squeezed his hand again. “Look, we just do, one thing at a time, right? You don’t contaminate me when I’m changed, we figured that out the first night.” Moony had bitten him and Prongs multiple times and the saliva had not carried over from animal to human, so the opposite was obviously true, whatever bodily fluids Remus was afraid of weren’t going to hurt them. “You’re not hurting anyone by just breathing the same air as us,” they’d been eating after each other since first year, to young to worry about such a thing even crossing their minds, “hell,” he added with a salacious look Moony already started rolling his eyes for, “after everything we’ve swapped, I think I’d know.”
“You’re a menace,” he told him briskly. Sirius was not exactly the prime candidate to find out if his curse passed on biologically. He still wanted to be sick every other hour as he anticipated that news. Sirius was right in some regards though, at least now he’d know for certain and wouldn’t ever make such an unforgivable mistake in ignorance again. There was no hope for his future if he was capable of that, it would mean they were truly incompatible on some level.
Sirius nodded his agreement to his words and kept going with only mild sarcasm. “You’ve never intentionally hurt anyone, I can’t even say that!” He squirmed uncomfortably beneath his hand now, and Remus soothed him with a gentle stroking on his side, getting him to relax into his hand again. “I’m sorry we don’t have all the answers Moony,” he spoke sincerely, returning the gesture on his neck. “Merlin knows we tried, but nobody’s looking! Back when you first told us, James spent ages looking up all kinds of werewolf stuff, but nothing matched what we knew of you. I speak from experience when I say the general opinion isn’t the right one,” he finished brutally, whether for what his parents had told him word of mouth or what the students whispered in the corridors. Probably both. “I’m not going anywhere while we figure it out.”
It should have been enough, maybe Tonks had convinced him to come back for that question to be answered, but he still wavered terribly, it felt like giving up to the inevitable. He couldn’t just be unburdened from all this like Sirius so clearly wanted from him and let himself fall back to before. He stood up slowly and Sirius willingly went with him, he leaned in and held tight, and Padfoot as always took what he was given and then gave back tenfold.
The waves crashed in the distance, the house that was not theirs creaked around them, the moment he pulled back the illusion was shattered and he still remembered that to go back meant a world he had no clue how to take a chance on. He cupped his boyfriend’s cheek and Sirius melted in his touch, leaning into him without a trace of concern.
Sirius moved brazenly as always, leaning forward to kiss him before pulling back and clearly ready to let it drop, but he didn’t want the night to be over yet. There were too many unknown days ahead not to take advantage of this. He pressed their foreheads together and whispered, “come to bed with me?”
Padfoot hesitated though, watching him with clear regret. “Not when you’re like this, I can feel you still over thinking Moony.”
“Then help me stop,” he offered, playing dirty as his hand crept into his hair, the roots were still wet to the touch.
“And if I said I didn’t want to,” he sort of half joked as he leaned into him, clearly still hesitating, weary he’d regret it later most likely.
“I’d call you a filthy liar,” he murmured into his ear.
Sirius laughed and whispered back, “hopefully that’s not the only filthy thing you call me,” but he still pulled back and contemplated him. He stroked his neck for a few moments, then brushed under his eyes until his lashes fluttered against the side of his fingers in confusion, like he was literally trying to feel for something as Sirius watched him with that look in place that meant a detention was on the horizon, and he should be weary.
"You know, it occurs to me," Sirius said as he leaned in closer, "I haven't ever tried to seduce you. Poor showmanship on my part really." Their lips were brushing just a hair's breadth apart, Remus kept trying to tip his mouth closer unconsciously, skin parted to take in a little more.
“Seduction implies I’ve ever needed coercing,” he smiled all the same as Sirius turned away and nuzzled along his neck.
“Indulge me?” He trilled softly into his ear. Hardly touching with more than his fingertips, he guided him to sit back towards the bed. Remus complied, because his gray eyes were actually smoldering, a look of desire some part of him still couldn't believe was being put right on him. He stumbled on the threshold of bathroom turning to bedroom and they both laughed breathlessly. Sirius clearly had an idea of how to get him to relax and he found it really hard to remember all of a sudden why that was a bad thing as he sunk onto the comforter.
Sirius didn't fully get on him, but instead put all his weight on his knees and began a truly sinful slow grinding that he just barely felt, making the slight brush of pressure whenever he did roll all the more needy. "We haven't even consummated our relationship yet," Sirius whispered with a devil's grin.
"That's marriage too you dolt," he corrected on pure autopilot, hands trembling against the sheets as he chanted in his head to play along but not to far but he really wanted to do this but Sirius was such an idiot- his mind snapped all of a sudden as he saw the way Sirius' smile was playing up, and something occurred to him. "How often do you say something just so I'll correct you?"
This earned him a harder press down, he hissed. His hands were now holding Sirius' waist with no conscious thought to do so as he tried to encourage him again, but his boyfriend was right back to the slow, soft movements and he never wanted that to end either.
"More than I'll ever admit," Sirius' hand snuck up the front of his shirt, only using the pad of his thumb to ghost around the area of his pants right between skin and material. Sirius kissed him then, long and slow, and Remus opened his mouth but Sirius actually turned away and began kissing along his jaw and up to his ear again instead. "You have no idea how much you love it, you get this spark in your voice. Even I can't count the number of times I've asked a question I know the answer to, just so you'll smile while you explain." He grazed his teeth along his ear, and Sirius chuckled low and deep to feel the effect as he rose up to meet his next pass, the muscles trembling deep in his stomach. His hand crept higher, pausing for a moment to tease lightly over a nipple before grasping his shoulder. His hand felt like pure warmth as he finally, properly sat on him and he exhaled a pathetically needy noise. "You're going to make a great teacher Moony, should I start calling you professor?"
"Don't push your luck Padfoot," he whispered back, pulling away just enough he started tugging at the hem of his shirt.
Sirius just pressed closer and growled a bit, "I haven't even started."
He was a goner after that.*
“He won’t do it you know,” Sirius told Moony, still hovering over him, the heat of his skin like a small campfire everywhere they brushed.
“Huh?” he muttered incoherently, still stroking his hair.
“James, he won’t go through with that, that threat,” Sirius whispered, bending himself just enough to kiss the scar on his shoulder, swollen lips gentle over the cursed bite. He didn’t know what exactly Remus hoped their friend would do to him, but he wasn’t going to let him live in that delusion anymore.
Remus’ hand stilled. Sirius looked him right in the eye now. Remus swallowed uncomfortably for a moment before he resumed his hand, letting it dig past his hair down to the skin on the back of his neck. Sirius shivered but didn’t break eye contact as Remus whispered, “I know." Sirius’ face puckered in confusion, but Remus kissed him to stop, already resigning himself to say what he wouldn’t before, he feared a reaction too much, but not anymore. "He'd call me out though, and I wouldn't ever let it get close after that. I'd, I'll..." He stopped, seemingly to horrified at the prospects himself. "Can't we just, enjoy this?"
Padfoot’s breathing was sharp and heavy again, but not remotely for the same reason as he glowered up at him. “Couldn’t ask you to do it,” Remus said sadly as he realized he'd only made Sirius angrier. “You’re no killer Sirius." Remus let go of his neck and waist to hold his face, his thumbs stroking just under his eyes as he brutally finished, “I’m glad for it. I couldn’t love a murderer.”
Sirius reached up to touch Moony’s neck wearily as he pleaded with him to agree, “and you’re never going to be one.”
“You’ve too much confidence,” Remus whispered back, still holding his gaze, but there was no hint of change in him he might feel the same way.
Sirius looked into his prematurely lined face, the soft gray bangs in his hair. There were other werewolves out there besides Greyback who could be trusted, there just had to be, and he’d find every one of them and ask just how dangerous a werewolf could be until they knew, rather than these soundless and insulting solutions in his eyes.
Moony would not accept them though. He already knew that before he even opened his mouth. He would still run, just as he had from Tonks if Sirius kept pushing. Sirius would do it anyways...but he could not continue going back to Remus like this. If he didn’t believe it himself, there was no point. His friend deserved an answer, but he would not be a part of any more than exactly that if he accepted none of them. “Remus,” he hated how his voice broke. He hated what he knew would happen when they left this bed as he touched his face in goodbye.
Remus watched as each emotion passed across his boyfriend, could practically feel them all beneath his finger tips. The anger at him for still not believing as he did, the betrayal of how Remus had planned it, and the acceptance he couldn't force him to see it any other way. Sirius reached up to touch his face as he pleaded, “Remus, don’t think like that.”
Remus relaxed in relief, his hand came up to cup the back of his neck and pull him close as he whispered, “better safe than sorry,” and then kissed him again. It was all he could offer.
…
James was tempted to use an earthquake charm on the bed at this point to get one of these two to wake up. He’d been shaking at Sirius who was literally sleeping on top of Remus for a whole five minutes. Padfoot had just grumbled and kicked at him, Moony had yet to even flinch.
Both were shirtless, he did not want his mind forever tormented if he stripped off the bedding to force them out from the warmth.
“Sirius!” He would never live down the mother hen jokes from the others at that tone and he did not care. “Come on mate, we’ve got breakfast going, would you please pretend your brain still works!” While giving him a forceful shake so that his hair fell across his face.
The combination finally worked, it helped the smells of bacon and sausage were finally permeating the house and the black strands began tickling his nose, so that he sat up abruptly but still had the groggy look of sleep clinging.
“Finally,” he said in exhaustion, thinking he’d even gotten lucky, as Remus held tight to Sirius’ arm preventing him from moving away.
“Oh he’s still out,” Sirius corrected in a raspy voice, brushing his hair with one hand and tugging on the other with a look of fondness. “Those reflexes mate,” he reached over and began prodding him in the cheek. Remus snored on. Sirius was honestly lucky he wasn’t decked in the face for doing it like he had been last time James woke him up.
“I don’t know how you stand that,” Prongs told him as he sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Sirius began working his fingers into Remus’ to try and get his arm loose. “The amount of times I’ve had to put a silencing charm on his bed just to get him to shut up, and you sleep on it.” They were not speaking remotely quietly.
“I prefer when he’s like this, better than his restless arse moving around and kicking me all night,” he shrugged before releasing a triumphant cheer as he got his arm free and wiggled his fingers about. Now fully awake though, his face settled into something very uneasy as he brushed along Remus’s bangs.
“Everything okay?” Padfoot was eyeing the edge of the bed and plucking at the blankets, and it wasn’t for shame of getting out he knew.
Sirius swallowed, he looked at him, Remus, and the floor again before whispering, “think we’re making a mistake?”
He shifted uncomfortably and bounced on the edge. “I don’t know Pads, that’s not really my thing to say.” He looked at the new bite mark on Sirius’ shoulder, no worse than the ones that used to be on his neck, so he was just the same level of worried about that.
Sirius bent up one knee and wrapped his arms around it, then his chin on that as he watched him. He could tell there was something on the edge of his mind, and he waited patiently to see what. “He used to be happy all the time,” Sirius finally muttered while jiggling his knee around uneasily. “Back before I screwed all this up, he talked about what pranks we’d get up to next and laugh along with us, even used to look forward to the full moon! Now he’s, he just worries all the time, he’s said some horrible shit about himself and can’t even seem to imagine he has a future! I think I’m making that worse James,” he added imploringly even though he hadn’t been about to interrupt, Sirius looked ready to scream if he didn’t get this off his chest now. “I like sleeping with him, but I still don’t think it means the same thing to us, it’s just fun for me, but I was hooking up with others for months- he, it’s like he’s got it in his head nobody would ever care about him. I, that’s not, he shouldn’t-”
He stopped with an alarming groan and pressed his face into his arms now. Remus grumbled for the first time and shifted unconsciously, pressing his back into Sirius’ side but still kept at the rattling, deep breathed noise.
James ruffled up his hair, and tried to ignore the uneasy twisting in his stomach as he figured out how to tackle that. He had not had enough morning tea, but it felt rude to say so. “It’ll be better when we get back,” he could promise that much. “We’ll tell Dumbledore all about this, and it’ll save us from this future before it even starts, right? Plus our OWL’s,” Sirius looked up at him in pure betrayal for that reminder, but he smiled unrepentantly. “Moony won’t get a choice but to acknowledge he’s got to think ahead again while he’s studying his arse off.”
His hand dropped uneasily to his lap though and he felt so awful for admitting it, but wasn’t going to sugar coat it, “you can’t deny it’s not going to be as easy on him when we leave school as it will be for us, I get why he’s worried. At least he’s talking to you about it? I just suspect he thinks this shit, it’s got to be better than bottling it up, right?”
Sirius gave a restless shrug of agreement, still leaning all his weight on his knee and bouncing it slightly, jolting the bed that was bothering literally nobody.
“You,” James winced just a bit, but pushed on, “look Sirius, he’s as bad as you about not letting other people get close. No offense mate, but I don’t think you’re my type,” he happily added on, and Sirius snorted and nudged him in the hip for that with his other foot, “and Moony’s had even less, time, oh bollocks,” he grumbled before just flat saying, “you two latched onto each other. If the sex is making it awkward than take a break.” He could feel he was bright red at the end and got up but still added heartily, “he does need us Sirius, nobody wants to be alone. So long as you’re both happy and know what you’re, getting out of it, don’t freak.”
He shifted restlessly in place, but Sirius was still watching him like he was waiting for something else. He glowered at the floorboards and wanted to curse Alice even if he knew he never could. “If the idea of committing to just him isn’t sitting right though, then yeah, hell, maybe you two should knock it off.”
Sirius flopped back onto the bed and wished he hadn’t started this now, petulantly and bitterly thinking James had only made it worse and he couldn’t even hate him for it anymore than Remus. “Right,” he finally grunted when he still hovered. “I’ll think about it. Go on, I’ll wake him up.”
James gave him a fingered salute as he finally left, and Sirius selfishly rolled over so that he was lying on top of Remus again, maybe for the last time. He wasn’t sure how long of a break they’d taken from sleeping with each other, but it probably should have been longer. He still knew, could feel the tension in Remus’s jaw as he achingly worried about everything, at least the sex hadn’t made it worse this time. He would put off breaking up with him at least until they got back to school, Prongs was hopefully right and being back in a routine would help him at least somewhat?
He considered though, for the first time, maybe asking Regulus or Alice too. Prongs didn’t know everything and he didn’t want to be hasty about this…
Remus offered to take the book once everyone was settled down in the living room and find out Harry’s next trip for them.
Padfoot wasn’t so happy with where it was heading.
He tried, his boyfriend at least made an attempt to pretend he wasn’t freaking out at the idea of being dragged back to Gringotts and locked down in there until someone got this book to get them out. Remus reached out and took his hand without a second thought to anchor him right here, the contact finally forced a breath out of him he’d been pretending he wasn’t holding.
“It’s okay Padfoot,” he grinned and did his best to lightly tease away the nightmare. “We’ll get revenge on that dragon for you, maybe grab a souvenir?” He got a soft laugh at least from Sirius for his troubles even as he crushed Remus’s hand in his.
“Hey, Padfoot!” James exclaimed eagerly, leaning forward with just as much concern. “Just change now mate!”
He wanted to argue the point, bluster and tell them that wasn’t necessary, but his pride crumpled rather quickly for once. “Let’s just hurry this up,” he grumbled before there was a little pop.
The huge black dog sprawled himself across James and Remus’s lap feeling like a coward but unable to refute it did feel less this way. Less terrifying to go back, less debilitating to his sanity at being trapped in the dancing flames and loud roars that he would not escape-
Padfoot sat up, making James oof at the sudden increase of weight as the dog watched Remus’s sudden change. He was officially a dad in this future, the baby had been born…and he’d never looked happier at the prospects spreading before them. Tonks had never been in danger, she’d been right all along…maybe Sirius was too.
If it really just boiled down to the fact that he didn’t want to be like Greyback.
It couldn’t be that simple, could it?
HPHPHPHP
* The most poorly subverted lemon ever inserted here.
#HP#Harry Potter#Marauders#Reading the books#fanfiction#James Potter#Remus Lupin#Sirius Black#Regulus Black#Peter Pettigrew#Lily Evans#Frank Longbottom#Alice Smith#Wolfstar#Jily
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fire and Hemlock Part 3 Chapter 3
In which Polly comes home to Granny's.
Granny seems to be coming around to Tom, saying. "I'm ashamed, Polly. Your Mr. Lynn behaved better than my Reg," reinforcing our previous observation that the quartet is treating Polly the way adults ought to treat children and unlike the way Polly has been treated previously.
Polly can't remember which chapter of The Golden Bough she left off on, which is understandable if you've ever tried to read that book, because it has a lot of interesting stuff but it rambles so much. But the chapter titles that are dropped are all major clues. I should probably compile a list at some point. "The Hallowe'en Fires" and "Kings Killed at the End of a Fixed Term" stand out in particular.
Ann sends Polly a letter assuring her that Sam is okay, and this begins the quartet's involvement in the correspondence. It's a bit like Nowhere becomes a piece of music that they all play together; it started out as a duet, but now other instruments are coming in.
I love the part about how embarrassing it is for Polly to go back to school after saying goodbye to everyone. It's just so real.
Nina continues to be a queer icon, showing up to school in "a shiny golden hat and purple spangled tights" (I'm picturing a top hat for some reason) along with "new glamorous glasses" and false eyelashes.
Polly finds it strange that one of the excised memories is of Nina dying her hair disastrously red and then her mother making her cut it all off. It might just be something that got taken away in the general Nina removal. But hair has been another recurring note here, Polly at first wishing for short hair, then demanding it be kept long, along with the way hair ties into gender and her Hero identity. It's never explicitly stated if Hero has short hair or hides her long hair or what.
Polly's class takes a trip to the Cotswolds, and I'm not British so I have no idea how common of an experience that is. Or even what the Cotswolds are, for that matter. But that's where Stow-on-the-Water is, and Fiona, Nina, and Polly all end up in Thomas Piper Hardware, where Nina flirts shamelessly with Leslie.
"We're three mystery women," Polly tells him, invoking their likeness to the Three Fates.
We finally see Thomas Piper, too, and can for sure confirm that he is not Tom. I still don't quite get what his deal is. He's - sorry I've been shameless about spoilers this whole time - Tom's brother, who had also previously escaped Laurel's clutches. Is he living under a false name to hide from her? Or did Tom's magic force him into that position?
Thomas Piper is not happy to see the girls flirting with Leslie.
"I know your kind! I'm not having girls like you in my shop!"
"We were just talking."
"There's talk and talk, isn't there?" Mr. Piper said nastily. "Out!"
This is another "old enough to be sexualized, not old enough to be taken seriously" moment. "Your kind" though clearly equates them with Laurel, and while we've dealt with misogyny plenty in this book, this is the first time we've seen this particular flavor. I might have to chew on this exchange a bit more, particularly when we learn more about Thomas Piper.
He throws them out before they can agree on a time to meet Leslie, but Nina does a trick very similar to how Polly deals with the Leroys by looking at her watch and saying loudly "Half past twelve - lunchtime!" despite the actual time being almost three. Polly and Nina really do mirror each other a lot.
1 note
·
View note
Last Seen Blogs
killing-em-softly
'singing my life'
voghe
V O G H E
pink-key
Welcome to my CavE!
dragonfly1302
“I don’t believe in consistency.”
aesthetic-shadows
Tele’s Cringe Blog