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long sleeves | poly! wolfstar

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summary: remus and sirius have only ever seen you in long sleeves.

contains: flufffff, I know what it sounds like but this is just fluff I promise, fem reader, reader has tattoos (like a lot), no use of 'y/n', reader is anxious?, remus and sirius being adorable, cursing (mild), poorly written dialogue, not proof read, my first time writing poly!wolfstar so please be kind ;-;

i do not, in any way, support or endorse jk rowling.

word count: 1k

You were a nervous wreck. Staring at yourself too closely in your vanity mirror, messing with your hair for the millionth time. Despite the somewhat frequent dates you had been on with Remus and Sirius, there was something that was just so… domestic… about a lunch. It wasn’t any special kind of day, just a day you and the two men happened to have off of work at the same time. So here you were, fiddling with whatever jewelry you threw on in a hurry before huffing and stepping back. You opted for a plain t-shirt and loose jeans with a jacket for the cool spring day. 

You hurried out of your flat before you could think to change anything else and caught a bus to a stop near a small strip of cafes and restaurants. The sun showed high in the sky, minimal wispy clouds surrounding it. You head towards the restaurant you were meant to meet Remus and Sirius at and spot them sitting at a small table on the patio outside. The butterflies return to the pit of your stomach as they stand up to greet you, offering a hug and a kiss on the cheek each. 

“Hey guys sorry I was running late-”

“No worries at all, lovey, Rem and I got here absurdly early.” Sirius brushes you off and takes his seat once more before you could feel too guilty. Remus sits down next to him and smiles.

“You look nice, I like that jacket.” You grin and thank him then take your own seat across from the two men. 

The conversation is light, each of you chatting about your work week, and anything upcoming. The butterflies soon settled and you found yourself in a comfortable rhythm with them. You had no idea how they were so comfortable- you were still thinking twice about every response to one of their darling questions.

All at once the sun became too bright, the breeze not enough to cool your wracked nerves.

“Alright dove?” Remus’s brows pinched together slightly, as if he could read your mind. Of course, he could, the perfect man he is.

“You look like you’re about to pass out.” With slightly less tact but just as much care, Sirius tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear and tilted his head in your direction. You nodded, not wanting them to think you were some sweaty, nervous freak.

“Yeah- yeah just a bit hot.” Remus nodded, Sirius relaxing back into his chair. You took a sip of your water but it wasn’t enough. The jacket had to come off. 

You shimmied your arms out of the sleeves one after the other and turned to place it on the back of your seat. Across from you, Sirius’s jaw becomes slack and Remus chokes slightly on his own water. Their eyes raked up and down your arms, covered in intricate lines of ink, forming all kinds of different shapes and pictures. It wasn’t like they had never seen tattoos before, Sirius was covered in them after all. They had just never seen them on you.

Looking back, you credit it to the fact that it was still early April and you had only started seeing the boys in March when jackets and long sleeves were still necessary for every outing. You weren’t hiding your tattoos per-say, you just didn’t think too much about them. You had gotten them a while ago so they were as familiar to you as your name. 

“Bloody fucking hell.”

You turn back around to find the boys seemingly in a state of shock. Your eyes widen in fear-

Did you sweat through your shirt? Is this a bad color on you? Should you have put on more perfume before you left?

Your mind was racing until you recognized that the boys weren’t looking at you, but at your arms. You look down at the inked sleeves and a lightbulb seems to go off in your head.

“Have you always had those?” Remus asks softly, dragging his eyes back up to meet yours. You nod slowly.

“Yeah I started getting them while in uni, and then had a bit of a problem spending every paycheck on them for a couple years and now there’s hardly any room anymore so I slowed down a bit.” You look down at your own arms, rotating them a bit to inspect the patterns. 

Neither boy speaks for a moment and a whole new fear hits you like a brick.

What if they didn’t like your tattoos?

You look back up at each of them then turn again to put your jacket back on.

“Woah- woah what are you doing?” Sirius stops you, leaning across the table to grab your arm. Not harshly, just enough to get your attention.

“I can put my jacket back on if you’re uncomfortable, I know they’re,,, a lot.” Sirius’s eyes widen and Remus’s eyebrows draw together once more, both looking at you like you’d suddenly grown a second and third head.

“Not at all, they’re beautiful, we’re just a bit- shocked.”

You turn back in your seat to face them again, Sirius still holding one of your arms, inspecting it with such attention to detail. He looks up for a moment,

“Yeah- I mean, no offense doll, but you don’t exactly look like you’d have two complete sleeves. Holy shit, Moony, look at this one!” Remus leans over and begins to inspect your arm as well, eventually requesting the other to look over- to admire as they would say- as well. 

They trace some of the more abstract shapes, and ask you questions about why, where, who, when- and you told them. The butterflies eventually disappeared, and you were no longer so concerned about how warm the back of your neck was or how the sun was still too bright. The conversation flowed, never a dull moment or an awkward silence. It took nearly two hours and several coffees, but eventually they were satisfied and very much looking forward to the oncoming warm months if it meant they would see more of them.

a/n: hey everyone ! i know what you're thinking; 'gen, don't you still have to write the last chapter of a fic that was supposed to come out in february?' and i will say- yes yes i do. but i just needed to get past that mental block that has come with being in an incredible state of depression. but i'm baaaack! i think. idk we'll find out, enjoy!

[ggensblog]

“we are fortunate that President Trump has indicated that he will work with us on a solution to reinstate TikTok once he takes office.”

this feels so incredibly dystopian i have no idea how people aren’t seeing or caring about this.

screenshot from my sister: @lizabee18.bsky.social

[masonstired]

oh what did i do at work today? i’m so glad you asked. at around 11:30 i started peeling bananas and putting them into bins to freeze and i kept doing that until around 16:00. that’s it.

[ggensblog]

we're just making it worse | master list

back to the main masterlist !

remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: you and remus broke up. but when you get an invitation to james and lily's wedding with an 'encouraged plus one', it seems to be a race against the clock to see who can move on first. but is that really what you want?

contains: modern! no magic! au, fem!reader x remus lupin, alcohol consumption, swearing, breaking up, jealousy, romantic affection, angst??, happy ending (bc im a softie), chapters gradually get longer bc im bad at managing time, im also bad at writing dialogue soz

word count: 12.5k total

inspired by we're just making it worse by cameron avery and alexandra savior

I do not, in any way, support or endorse jk rowling.

part one : the invitation

part two : the date

part three : the rsvp

part four : the bachelorette party

part five : the rehearsal dinner

part six : the wedding

a/n: hiiii everyone ! this is my first attempt at a multi-part fic on here !! my blood, sweat, and tears went into this- but i am so excited to finally bring this to you! i hope you enjoy!!

[ggensblog]

we're just making it worse | r.j.l.

back to series masterlist | back to main masterlist

part one: the invitation

contains: remus lupin x fem!reader, modern! no magic! au, swearing, angst, jealousy, let me know if i missed anything !

word count: 1.8k

100 days before the wedding..

“I just don’t understand why you couldn’t take this one day off- this was important to me, Remus!” you’re fuming, pacing in your kitchen, trying to find something to do with your hands. You opt to put some of the drying dishes away, almost grounding yourself.

“My work is important to me- I thought you of all people would understand that!” Remus is standing in the doorway, watching you, trying to get your attention. “You’re always going, going, going, you never stop for a second and realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you!” This stops you. You turn around, a whole new fire burning in your chest.

“I am not the one that completely blew off my girlfriend’s event to sit in a fucking office for a couple more hours-”

“No but you are the one that missed our anniversary last month.”

You huff and turn back around, continuing to put the dishes away. Why were there so many of them?

“There you go again! Just keep going, maybe you’ll avoid this conversation like you do the other ones.”

“This is hardly a conversation, Remus.” you mutter, putting the last cup in the cabinet before turning and leaning against the sink. Your arms crossed against your chest. “You said you would be there.” Your throat was tight, and you swallowed in an attempt to choke down any emotions that would send you into a spiral.

“And I said I'm sorry. I would have been there if I could but-”

“They needed you. I got that. But I needed you too, Remus.”

There is a moment of complete silence in the room, and you’re thankful that Pandora had chosen to stay at Xenophilius’s place that night.

“You know what, you’re right. We’re too busy for this.”

“For what-”

“For this relationship, Rem. I see my coworkers more than I see you and I know for a fact it’s the same for you.” You look down to your feet for a moment then back up to meet Remus’s eyes. His jaw was set, not quite clenched, but tense with the air of the room.

“What are you saying- that we should call it quits?”

As soon as those words left his mouth you wanted to cry. To crumble and apologize for everything. To take it all back. But instead, you shrugged. “Maybe it’s what we need. It isn’t healthy to keep putting ourselves through this- this hell.” Your arms drop to your sides and your gaze shifts to the clock on the oven.

“If that’s what you want.” You look back to Remus when you hear him move out of the kitchen. You watch him take his coat and phone and put on his shoes. You want to scream as you watch him walk out the door, shutting it with a slight force as he leaves.

As soon as you’re left in the dim light of the kitchen by yourself, you slide down to the floor and bury your head in your hands as the first tears fall.

Your phone begins to ring on the counter, you stand and see Pandora’s name light up the screen.

“Hello?” you sniff.

“Are you okay?” She asks on the other line, concern dripping from her tone.

“How did you-”

“I had a feeling. What happened?”

You took a deep breath, but it didn’t do much as you choked on your sobs, muttering words you didn’t think you would.

“We broke up.”

✩°｡⋆˚⁺

38 days before the wedding..

You stared down at the piece of cardstock in your hands. You had just gotten home from a particularly long shift and found an envelope with a note from Pandora that just said ‘be home late tonight, xx’. You opened the ornate envelope and pulled at the piece of cardstock and a few other pieces of paper.

Save the Date! Lily and James are Getting Married!

The back of the cardstock had the date and location details. The second piece of paper held further details about the dress code and reception. The last piece of paper was the RSVP card. A few tick boxes sat with various prompts such as whether you’d be attending, what you wanted for the rehearsal dinner and reception dinner, and if you were bringing a date.

The More the Merrier! We encourage you to bring your plus one to help us celebrate this special day!

You sighed, and stuffed the pages into the envelope once more. You were overjoyed that Lily and James had finally decided on a date and you were honored to have been invited, but the thought of bringing someone to the wedding that wasn’t Remus made your stomach churn.

The More the Merrier!

You took the envelope into your room and sat it down on your desk before throwing yourself into bed.

✩°｡⋆˚⁺

37 days until the wedding..

“There she is!”

Your friends smiled as you sat down at the table. The restaurant bustling around you as you settled into your monthly lunch, a long-standing tradition since you graduated university to keep in touch.

“Sorry I’m late- Greg wouldn’t leave me alone.” You mentally cursed your chatty co-worker who happened to catch you as you were packing up for the day. Dorcas waved your excuse off, passing you a carafe of water. You happily poured yourself a glass.

“So what’s new?” you looked up to the rest of the group. Dorcas, Regulus, Pandora, Evan, and Barty sat around you and you felt the weight of the day slip from your shoulders. Dorcas leaned over to reach for something in her bag, then revealed a familiar envelope.

“Are we going to talk about this? I can’t believe those two finally decided on the details. You lot are all going- right?” Pandora scoffed lightheartedly.

“Of course! Lily asked me to be a bridesmaid 2 weeks ago- it has been torture keeping it secret!” She exclaimed, leaning her head on your shoulder. You laughed, picking at one of the plates of appetizers on the table.

Barty flew into conversation with Dorcas about how he was surprised he and Evan were invited but excited nonetheless, Regulus mentioned something about Sirius being the best man and needing to go because it might be the only time he sees his brother in a formal suit. You laughed along as the conversation came easy. 

“Are you going to bring a date?” Pandora asked the general group- though everyone already knew that Barty and Evan would inevitably go together and Dorcas would be there with Marlene. Pandora was without a doubt going with her long-term partner, and that left you and Regulus to try and deflect the topic onto the other.

Unfortunately Regulus’s wit was too quick for you.

“Sirius said something about Remus having a date.” Eyes turned to you. In that moment your seat at the table no longer felt like an inviting rest and more of an interrogation.

“Really! That bloke managed to convince someone to spend an entire evening with him?” Barty blurted, trying to ease the tension. Evan shoved his elbow at him.

“Good for him,” You tried to hide behind your glass as you gulped down the rest of your water. You wished you could have stopped yourself from what you said next.

“I actually have someone I’m thinking of asking as well.” This managed to raise the brows of even Regulus.

“Really? You’ve been seeing someone and you haven’t told us?” Dorcas’s face twisted into one of betrayal. You wanted to kick yourself, your competitive jealousy taking over your common sense.

“Uhm- not really, just someone I’m thinking about asking. Since plus-ones are encouraged and all.” This was painfully awkward. You needed an out. Thankfully your borderline-psychic roommate caught on to your agony, perking up.

"Speaking of- oh my gosh did you hear that Alice and Frank are pregnant?" You made a mental note to thank Pandora later at home, because the group- the gossip fiends they are- immediately turned to Pandora and throwing questions at her.

You, however, looked down to your phone and mindlessly checked the time, letting your thoughts wander.

Was Remus really bringing someone? Sure it had been two months already, but did he really move on that quickly? Who was he bringing? Were they someone you knew? What if they-

Pandora lightly kicked your leg under the table, sparing a sympathetic glance your way before diving back into her latest piece of gossip.

You were quiet for the rest of the lunch, chiming in here and there about what was new and old in your life the past month. Once you all wrapped up, you were quick to grab Pandora and head out the door and towards home.

You thought you were in the clear from any further poking and prodding at your shoddy story. You should have known better because the moment the door closed behind you, before your shoes were even off, Pandora was opening her mouth.

“So who is this mystery person you’re ‘thinking of asking’ to the wedding?” the air-quotations were sign enough that she was calling your bluff. You sighed, throwing your keys into the bowl by the door and walking over to collapse on the couch.

“There isn’t anyone- I just didn’t want to look like I was still hung up on- him, when he’s clearly moved on.” Pandora joined you on the couch, criss-crossing her legs and facing you. She placed a hand on your knee, her eyes wide and full of wisdom you wish you could tap into.

“There isn’t anything wrong with going to the wedding alone. I don’t think anyone would judge you. But if you did want to bring someone, you have plenty of time to find them. Anyone would be lucky to go with you.” She offered a soft smile that you returned. You nodded, taking a deep breath and finally relaxing for the first time since you sat down at lunch.

“I know- it just feels like he’s 10 steps forward and I’m losing or something.” You shrugged. Pandora shook her head, “It isn’t a competition, but leave it to you two to make it into one.” She patted your knee once then stood from the couch and moved towards the kitchen.

You sat there thinking, of course it wasn’t a competition, but if it was you were behind. You couldn’t turn up to the wedding empty-armed while Remus lived in bliss with whoever he was bringing.

“Hey- did you hear me?” You blinked, then turned, “I asked if you wanted some tea.” Pandora repeated, her brows drawn together in concern. You nodded wordlessly then looked down to your phone, a new-found determination filling you.

You could totally find a date to the wedding. Like Pandora said, you have plenty of time and plenty of options. It was just a matter of ‘who’.

a/n: here we go! part one of this fic! i hope you all enjoy, and i would love to hear your thoughts! see you in the next part !

[ggensblog]

i miss japan

[ggensblog]

Hello! I saw ur post abt Barty and I was thinking smth with some angst and miscommunication (it doesn’t matter if happy or sad ending) if that would be okay, thank you 🤍

ask and you shall receive ! this kind of got away from me and somehow ended up super long- enjoy !

back to black | b.c.j.

summary: you knew barty and regulus had history, but you can't help the green monster taking over your mind

content: jealousy, miscommunication (kinda??), barty being clueless, implied past bartylus, angst (with a happy ending because im a sucker), not proof read, i still can't write dialogue, intentional lowercase, gn!reader

i do not in any way support or endorse jk rowling

word count: 2.1k

masterlist

if someone were to ask you to tell them one thing about bartemius crouch junior, you would tell them that he loved hard. that because of the cold walls he grew up in, barty learned to hold on tight to the things he cherished and never intended to let any of them go. outsiders looking in thought him to be strange, all throughout first and second year calling him obsessive and sometimes even dangerous.

not you though.

you had gotten to know barty in your third year, finally happening to be sat next to him in potions class. you had heard about him, of course, though mostly through the stories and rumors that had circled the slytherin common room. from potions partners to slowly being introduced to the inner circle, you had become yet another gem in barty’s collection.

you started dating in your sixth year, his wild declaration of love coming in the winter after a particularly cold snow-ball fight. the two of you had stayed at hogwarts through winter break along with just a few other students from different years and houses.

your christmas and new year was bliss, with barty’s attention only on you and making sure you never had enough time to wallow on the fact that you weren’t spending the holidays with your family.

once your friends had started returning to the castle, you should’ve expected there to be a shift in priorities. after all, barty had a whole month to catch up on with regulus and evan, and you had to debrief the holiday drama with dorcas.

so you found yourselves settled in front of the fire in the common room. it was late, far later than any of you should have been up, but reveling in fact that the five of you could finally enjoy some solitude as the last seventh years went up to bed.

“and then my mother just went ahead and bought him the model rocket anyway! i swear, if he never learns what the word ‘no’ means then-” dorcas paused, her eyes now trained on the more-quiet-than-usual regulus black. “reg are you alright?” her voice was softer, her tone careful- as if she was approaching a wounded animal.

regulus hummed in response, and that seemed to be good enough for her. it seemed good enough for everyone, actually. except barty of course.

the rest of the week, regulus seemed to draw back even more from his friends, seeming to only confide in barty.

you knew barty and regulus had a history. you knew they both came from broken homes. you knew that once upon a time they were all each other had.

you knew all of this, and despite it all, you grew jealous.

barty began to blow you off, excusing himself from lunch or study dates to check on regulus. the two boys became attached at the hip once more. they sat on the far end of the slytherin table and whispered to each other while you watched, stabbing your fork into the pieces of fruit on your place.

“alright there?” you whipped your head around to face evan across from you. you nodded quietly and looked down to your plate, putting your fork down and trying to engage with the conversation dorcas and marlene were having next to you.

what tipped you over the edge was the next evening.

you had a long day, finding yourself humiliated in front of class for completing an assignment wrong, and then missing lunch because you spent extra time in the library studying because of it. you were hungry, exhausted, and all together burnt out. with january in full swing, n.e.w.t.s. felt like they were right around the corner, so finding a peaceful moment was not as easy has it had been over the holidays.

you laid with barty in his bed, bundled under the emerald covers with one of your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. you grinned up at him, admiring the glint in his eye.

“i’ve missed you lately. i feel like we never see eachother anymore..” you muttered, bringing a hand up to brush some of the hair away from his face. the rest of the dorm was empty, with everyone else at dinner or in the library.

“i’m sorry, lovely, it’s been a lot lately. i can’t seem to find time to get away.” barty whispered back to you, pressing his lips to the crown of your head as his sentence trailed.

you seem to have enough time to spend every waking moment with black.

there was that ugly green monster again. the words were on the tip of your tongue, daring to spill out. you couldn’t say that. barty was being a good friend to regulus.

but he isn’t being a good friend to you

you willed the thoughts away, feeling your chest squeeze as they kept coming.

“hey, hey- where’d you go?” barty moved his arm from your waist to hold your face affectionately. you brought your eyes back to his and let out a breath.

“i- i just feel like we should talk more. you’re always off with-” before you could finish the door to the dorm room burst open. a furious mop of black hair stormed in and to his bed. regulus sat on the edge of his bed, his fists clenched as they rested on his knees. from where you were you couldn’t tell if he was shivering from the cold or trembling because of something else. 

in an instant, barty was up and moving, flipping back the blanket so your legs were partially exposed to the cold now too. you winced at the sudden movement and sat up. barty crossed the room and knelt down in front of regulus, searching his face for a moment before turning to you.

he said your name, you looked up.

“would you mind leaving?”

your shoulders sunk. you felt like crying. you were jealous. you were angry.

your head swam. told you so, toldyou so, toldyouso, toldyousotoldyouso-

you heard your name again and looked back to barty who simply nodded to the still-ajar door. without another word you got up and left, closing the door behind you with a bit more strength than you meant.

evan came down the hallway as the door shut. you looked up at him.

“barty and regulus are busy in there,” tears forced their way to your eyes but you sniffed them back. evan’s eyebrows pinched together, then he raised one.

“do you want to talk?”

you and evan sat in the astronomy tower as you confessed everything you had been feeling for the past month. the stress, the jealousy, the loneliness. evan listened silently, nodding along and offering a shoulder for you to cry into after you were done. you had never been particularly close to evan, with him being the more quiet one of the group, you never found enough in common with him to really bond.

you sniffed and lifted your head from his shoulder. the hand he had used to draw calming circles on your back patted your shoulder once before he cleared his voice.

“and you haven’t told barty any of this?”

you shook your head. “how am i supposed to tell him ‘oh yeah i don’t want you to spend time with your best friend who is clearly struggling?’ i sound stupid.” you huffed, then added “and greedy.”

evan shrugged. “barty and regulus have been through a lot together. it seems like the holidays were particularly hard for black this year, and it’s barty’s instinct to try and make it better in any way he can.” evan turned to look back out at the sky.

“it would be his instinct to make sure you’re okay too. you know, if you told him how you were feeling anyway…” evan side-eyed you and you groaned. 

“i know, rosier, but it’s just-”

“it’s what?”

your head whipped around to the door. there stood barty, his form lit up by the light of the moon. your mouth opened and closed like a fish.

evan went to stand up, brushing off imaginary dust from his pants.

“i’ll leave you to it.” you caught the glint in evan’s eye as he walked out, shutting the door behind him and leaving you and barty in the tower alone.

you looked away from your boyfriend and out to the sky. "how's regulus?" you hated the way your voice sounded- bitter, cold.

“he's fine, or at least he will be. what was that about?” barty moved towards you, taking evan’s spot next to you. he crossed his legs and leaned back on his hands, nudging you with his shoulder.

“everything alright, treasure? did something happen? was it someone? give me a name, i’ll make sure they find appreciation for having two lungs instead of just one,” barty leaned closer to you with each question. there was almost a playful look on his face, even though you knew his words were true.

you shook your head.

“it wasn’t anyone, well it was- but it wasn’t anyone you need to go and maim.” your voice was quiet, barely there. barty would’ve missed it had there been any noise in the tower.

barty turned his body so he was fully facing you, taking your hand.

“what’s wrong, lovely? i’m here for you- you know that,” the playfulness was gone now, “right?” he finished, rubbing your palm with his thumb.

“i just- i feel like you haven’t though. been here- i mean. i know you and black have all this history and i know we’re still so new but-”

“is that what this is about? regulus? lovely, he’s had a hard year-”

“i know! gods, i know. and i don’t want you to- not- care for him, because you are such a caring person, barty, but i just- it hurts being blown off for you to go spend every moment with him. like every time there seems to be a minute for the two of us you just go and run back to him. over and over and over again.” you were out of breath by the time you finished. barty stared at you with wide eyes. you expected him to call you inconsiderate, or greedy. you half expected him to just get up and leave you right then and there.

instead he moved his hand up your arm and pulled you into his chest.

whatever tears that were left over from crying to evan were released into barty’s shirt. a hand moved into your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly as you sobbed. barty waited until you calmed down a bit before he pulled back and placed both of his hands on your shoulders.

“treasure. i would never- in a million, billion years want to be the reason you’re hurting. i am so sorry, my love, for the way i’ve treated you. and i’m even more sorry for not noticing it sooner, or at all. i am so sorry that you felt like you couldn’t talk to me.” barty’s hands moved to hold your face. his face was completely serious, almost stern with himself as he recounted everything he felt like he got wrong.

“regulus needed me, and i was there for him. i would have done the exact same if you needed me. and you did, and i wasn’t there, and i am so so sorry, love. you don’t have to forgive me now, i don’t expect you to. hell, please don’t forgive me for being a complete arse to you.”

barty’s thumbs wiped away the rest of your tears. he then leaned forward to press your foreheads together. And whispered once more, “i’m so sorry.”

you nodded, accepting the apology and moving backwards.

“i’m sorry too,” you started and barty opened his mouth to protest- “no, i am sorry. for not talking to you about it. it wasn’t fair of me to be mad at you without you knowing what for.”

you weren’t crying anymore, but the trembling had yet to cease as the chill of the january air penetrated your sweater.

“can we go inside? talk?” you looked up at barty who stared at you fondly. he nodded, “anything, anything for you.” before you moved to the door of the astrology tower, barty leaned down, searching your eyes for a moment before softly pressing his lips to yours. the kiss was chaste, but still warm and full of barty’s love.

barty might have grown up in a cold home, but to his core he was entirely warm.

[ggensblog]

we're just making it worse | r.j.l.

back to series masterlist | back to main masterlist

part four: the bachelorette party

contains: remus lupin x fem!reader, modern! no magic! au, poorly-written dialogue, alcohol consumption, swearing, awkward/tense interactions, unedited, I think that's it- if I missed anything let me know !

word count: 2.1k

15 days until the wedding...

You look at the clock to your left for what feels like the millionth time in the past 10 minutes. You’re trying to blend out your makeup as quickly as you can, but time seems to be working against you. You know you shouldn’t care all that much, James and Lily requested a house party just with friends instead of a separate bachelor/bachelorette party. They requested a casual vibe- but you couldn’t help but care as you fussed over your hair once more.

You had gotten home from work late, and Pandora decidedly couldn’t find anything to wear, which meant you were extraordinarily late for the function. Far past the respectable “fashionably late” you had hoped would be the case before Pandora’s hair dryer stopped working.

You put the finishing touches on your makeup, spraying your face down with setting spray and walking out of your bathroom into your bedroom. 

“Dora, are you almost ready?”

“No! I have no idea what I am going to wear!” 

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your half-full water bottle from your bedside table. Pandora sounded like she was on the verge of tears but you knew better than to worry about your melodramatic roommate and risk getting in the way.

“It’s just a party-”

“But it’s the last party before Lily is MARRIED!”

You pause, racking your brain for some kind of solution, then it hits you.

“Just wear that blue dress from Marelene’s birthday.”

There is a pause to the chaos and then you hear what you assumed to be a sigh of relief from down the hall.

“This is why I keep you around!” You laugh and down the rest of your water then go to put on your shoes by the door. You felt good, having picked out your outfit as soon as the plans were settled because you knew you wouldn’t have time the day of.

“Did you remember the gift?”

You don’t get an answer right away, and then pandora peeks her head out into the hallway.

“It’s on the couch,” Pandora smiles and shuffles back into her room. You wander over to the couch only to find it empty

“No it’s not!”

Another second of silence before you hear “Shit! I meant on the kitchen counter!”

“How do you get those mixed up?” You say this more to yourself than anything, and pick up the neatly decorated bag with your gifts for the happy couple.

Pandora finally rushes out of her room, looking just as fabulous as you thought she would, and quickly throws on a pair of shoes before the two of you head out the door and towards Marlene and Dorcas’s flat. Lily claimed hers and James’ house was still a tornado disaster zone from all of the last minute preparations they were dealing with.

As the two of you climb the last couple stairs up to the flat, you can hear music seeping through the door. Once you enter, you find yourself met with a majority of unfamiliar faces. You were aware that there would be a lot of people wanting to celebrate the happy couple- after all, James and Lily were some of the loveliest people you had met- but you didn’t think it would be this crowded.

Pandora seems to disappear from your side as soon as she saw Xenophilius, leaving you to wander into the kitchen for a drink. You find Barty sitting on the counter, and Evan leaning against it next to him.

“There she iss!” Barty raises his arms and pulls you into a hug, “Where have you been?! The party started ages ago!” Barty shouts louder than he needs to in order to be heard over the music.

“It takes time to create this masterpiece,” You offer a little spin, laughing lightly. “And Pandora couldn’t find anything to wear in that giant wardrobe of hers of course.” You grab a marker and a clear plastic cup and write your name across it before helping yourself to the vodka and cola.

“Well it’s about time you got here, you have a lot of catching up to do…” Evan trails off behind you. You turn to find him holding a shot up for you. You sigh and place your drink down on the counter next to Barty and take the shot from Evan.

The three of you make eye contact with one another before downing the shot and immediately going for another one.

2 more shots later, you’re feeling comfortably tipsy and sip on your mixed drink.

“So… did you bring what’s-his-name tonight?” Evan asks, trying to hide how nosy he was. You shake your head, “No, Stephan is working tonight. But he’ll be at the rehearsal dinner.” You take another sip of your drink before Barty opens his mouth.

“Remus brought his date, she’s a pretty little thing. I think they work together or something.” Your stomach drops, and Evan shoves an elbow into Barty’s side. You pay no mind to the two of them beginning to bicker as your mind races.

He brought her here? Does she know Lily and James? How long has he been seeing her?

You shove your thoughts down, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal.

It IS a big deal…

Your stomach suddenly feels off and you down the rest of your drink, then make another.

“I’m going to go find Pandora.” You excuse yourself from the kitchen and wander around the flat until you spot her with Xenophilus and Alice by the window.

“Hey lovely! How are you finding the party?” Alice greets you, her voice light.

You smile back at her, “It’s great- Do you lot mind if I steal Pandora for a second? We have to give Lily our gift.” Pandora’s head turns to you and she nods, grabbing your arm and the gift and dragging you over to where Lily is standing with Mary, Marlene, and another girl you didn’t recognize. 

“Lily!!” Pandora cheers and hugs her friend. You hug Lily after and offer the other three girls a smile.

“I’m so glad you two could make it! I don’t know if you’ve met Emmeline yet,” Lily gestures to the girl you didn’t recognize. She was stunning, you noted, her black hair was silky and fell over her shoulders. And her eyes seemed to pierce into you as she made eye contact. You smile and offer to shake her hand, which she accepts.

“It’s nice to meet you-”

“Remus is bringing her to the wedding!” Mary announces with a large grin on her face. Your heart seems to stop, and you have to remind yourself to breathe. You think you’re able to get by, to just brush it off and change the subject, but of course your dear beloved roommate has to open her mouth.

“Oh that’s so crazy, this is his ex-” You kick her leg. The tension is inescapable now, and it’s suffocating you. You retract your hand and grab the gift bag from Pandora. “Well we don’t mean to interrupt you guys, we just wanted to give Lily her gift,” You stretch a smile across your face and offer the gift to the bride-to-be.

“Awe you didn’t have to!” You wave her off and tell her she can open it later before excusing yourself and taking your drink to the opposite side of the flat.

You find regulus looking over one of the bookshelves in the living room, people dancing around him. The drink he holds is generally untouched and you ask to join him. You must have some kind of distressed expression because the raven haired boy raises a brow and his drink to you.

“Rough night?” He asks, you raise your glass to him similarly.

“No, just- it’s complicated…” You take a sip from your cup and stand with regulus in much needed silence for a bit. You watch people dance, and drink, and laugh like nothing else matters.

Eventually Dorcas stumbles over to you and insists that it is time for you to dance. You, against your sour mood, let her and soon find yourself surrounded by sweaty bodies dancing and moving in the middle of the living room. You down the rest of your drink and let yourself let loose a bit, laughing with your friend and closing your eyes while your limbs flail around you.

You move your body to the beat, slowly forgetting the tension of the night. You don’t know how she did it, but Dorcas must have read your mind when she insisted that all you needed was a good dance.

Your hair sticks to your neck as you continue to move with Dorcas, grabbing her arms and her hands and throwing your head back in bliss. When you open your eyes again, it’s like a magnet draws you to make eye contact with Remus. He’s now standing with Emmeline and Mary where you were earlier.

You hold the eye contact longer than you should, but the alcohol in your system is making you bolder than you would be. You drag your arms down from their place above your head, sliding them down your sides then back up as you move your hips to the music.

It’s agonizing.

You look away first, finally, when Marlene joins the group you and Dorcas have formed. You decide to pay no mind to how good Remus looked, and whether Sirius actually convinced him to put on eyeliner tonight and how it made his green eyes even more beautiful from across the room.

You kept dancing until your feet were sore. You had no idea what time it was at this point, but you knew that it was time for you to find something to snack on. You leave the dance floor and wander back into the now empty kitchen.

Every kitchen you enter must be cursed or something because as you enter, Remus walks in behind you. The swinging door shuts behind him and the music is muffled slightly.

“No Stephen tonight?”

Of course someone must have told him about you bringing Stephen to the wedding. This seems like your friends’ favorite topic as of late.

“No, he was busy.” You’re short in your response, then add “I met Emmeline, she seems… nice.” You finish, and grab a cracker from a tray that was out.

“She is.” Remus fold his arms across his chest and leans against the fridge. 

You swallow the last bite of your cracker, “Good.”

“Good.”

The air is stale not just with the stench of sweat and alcohol, but with the bitterness of contempt. You drag your eyes away from Remus once more and reach for a grape. Why was he still standing there? Why are you still standing there? 

“You’re really bringing him to the wedding?”

You bring your gaze back to the tall man, “Yeah, I am. Why do you care?” Your tone is harsher than you mean it to be.

“I just thought you would have more respect for yourself.” Suddenly you no longer care about your tone. Your eyebrows draw together in frustration.

“What’s that supposed to mean? At least I’m not jumping from girl to girl. How long have you been seeing her anyway?”

“Oh fuck off with that.” You’re almost positive that it’s the alcohol talking. Because even in your worst fights, Remus would never question your character. 

Your shoulders drop. “Whatever Remus.” You begin to walk out of the kitchen, “See you at the wedding. Or-” You stop and turn to him, now standing almost chest to chest, “Actually I hope I don’t- I don’t- I don’t want to see you with her.” With that you push the swinging door open and walk out, night ruined, and significantly more sober than you had been moments prior.

You find Lily again and give her one more hug, offering a ‘congratulations’ to her and James, then spot Pandora to let her know you’re headed home.

“Do you want me to come with?” Concern crosses her face, but you can tell she isn’t actually quite ready to leave. You shake your head and tell her you’re just tired and not feeling well.

The look she gives you this time tells you that she’ll be expecting to talk about it later and let’s you go.

You opt to take an uber home, and let the night wash off of you in your shower once you’re home.

Then, as you lay in bed, staring at your ceiling, you find yourself unable to think about anything other than the bitter taste in your mouth.

a/n: i am so sorry it took so long to get this part out omg- i was deathly ill for like a week and then i had to move across the world, and now i'm in school from like 7pm-2am every night- guys why is this fanfic curse literally haunting me ;-; anyway I hope you enjoyed! 2 parts leftttt

taglist: @daydreamandforget , @moonlightremblack

[ggensblog]

prepare for me to be insufferable when the next season of the bear comes out

[ggensblog]

stunning descriptions oh my goddd

Caught in the Teeth

James Potter is sunlight—warm, golden, impossible to ignore. And you? You’ve spent your life convinced you’re anything but worthy of his orbit. But James has never been one to let something slip through his fingers without a fight, and he’ll prove it, even if he has to bare his teeth to do it. Warnings: Allusions to the body, blood, hunger, and longing in a way that may feel emotionally heavy. wc: 5.2k

James doesn’t seem deterred by your skepticism. If anything, he looks more determined, eyes bright with something unreadable, something that makes your stomach twist uncomfortably. It would be easier if this were a joke. If he were just playing at it, letting his natural charm smooth over the edges of something that isn’t real.

But his gaze doesn’t waver.

"I’m serious," he says again, quieter this time, and there’s something about the way he says it that makes you grip your books just a little tighter. Like if you don’t hold onto something solid, you might lose your footing entirely.

"James." You exhale his name, like it might be enough to remind him what you are—what you aren’t. You don’t belong in the whirlwind of James Potter’s affections, in the grand, elaborate way he loves things. James falls fast, hard, and all at once, and you are steady. You do not dive headfirst. You do not know how to be the kind of person who gets caught.

But James only grins, tilting his head slightly, eyes still locked on yours. "I know what you’re thinking," he murmurs.

You shake your head. "You don’t."

"I do." He takes a half-step closer, and it’s nothing, really—nothing but space disappearing between you, nothing but the warmth of him seeping into the cold air around you. But it feels like everything. "You think I’m playing some game, that I just love a challenge. You think if I got you, I’d get bored."

You swallow, looking away, because it’s true. It’s exactly what you think.

James exhales, and for the first time, he almost sounds frustrated. Not in an angry way—just in that way he gets when he’s trying to explain something that matters and no one is listening. "You’re wrong, you know," he says. "I wouldn’t get bored of you."

It’s a simple sentence, but it lands heavy. You can feel the weight of it settling in your chest, in the space between your ribs.

"You fall in love too fast," you whisper.

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. "No. I just know when something’s real." His fingers brush against yours, barely there, a fleeting touch that could have been an accident—except it isn’t. "And this is real."

Your breath catches, and you hate that it does, hate that he sees it, that he hears it in the way your next inhale stutters slightly. You shake your head again, as if that might be enough to shake the feeling away.

"James."

"I’ll wait," he interrupts, voice steady. "If you need time, I’ll wait."

And that—that—is what truly unravels you. Because James Potter has never been the kind of person who waits. But here he is, standing in front of you, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, telling you that for you, he would.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

||||

It continues over breakfast.

James slides into the seat beside you, close enough that his knee knocks against yours beneath the table. You go stiff, eyes flickering to the rest of the Marauders—Sirius lounging across from you with an infuriating smirk, Remus with his usual quiet amusement, Peter already half-distracted by his plate. None of them look surprised.

You force yourself to focus on your toast, even as James leans in, voice just loud enough for the people around you to hear. "You know, I’ve been thinking about it a lot," he muses, stealing a bit of bacon off your plate like he’s been doing it forever. "You and me, dove. I think we’d be good together."

The words send heat crawling up your neck, but you shake your head, exhaling sharply. "James." His name comes out tight, more exasperation than anything else, but it only makes him grin wider.

"I’m serious." The table falls silent, James winks. "I mean, I'm James, obviously, but I'm also serious."

"You're never serious," you counter, refusing to fall into his jokes, speaking barely above a whisper. You can't stand the eyes on you, sure the other boys are studying your every reaction to use for teasing material later.

"About you, I am."

There’s a clatter of silverware as Sirius dramatically drops his fork. "This again?" He sighs, loud and exaggerated. "Mate, just put her out of her misery and snog her already."

Your face burns, and you glare at him, but James only laughs, unfazed. "I would, but she insists I’m not actually interested," he says, as if the idea is absurd. As if he isn’t James Potter, the boy everyone watches when he walks into a room, the one people whisper about, the one who is certainly not looking at you.

You shake your head, barely resisting the urge to push your chair back and flee. "You’re making a scene."

"Good," James says, undeterred. "Maybe if I make a big enough one, you’ll actually believe me."

You swallow hard, trying not to let the words sink in. "Why me?" It slips out before you can stop it, quiet and unsure, but James hears it. Of course he does.

He leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked onto yours like they hold all the answers. "Because you make me nervous," he admits, and that—that stops you cold.

James Potter doesn’t get nervous.

Certainly not now, not as he holds your gaze, eyes bright behind his glasses. He doesn't look nervous, a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You ignore, of course, the way his hands clench the corner of his table, a possible tell for something lingering behind his blasse exterior.

"I think about you when I shouldn’t," he continues, softer now, like it’s just the two of you, even with everyone listening. "I look for you first when I walk into a room. I make up excuses to talk to you, even if it’s just to hear your voice." He tilts his head, like he’s studying you, like he’s waiting for you to finally see what he’s been trying to tell you all along. "So, yeah, I’d say I’m pretty well gone on you."

Your fingers curl around the edge of your sweater, gripping the fabric like it might hold you together. The weight of his words presses against you, sinking into the places you’ve tried to keep protected.

Despite the late night conversations with Lily, insisting this is a bad idea, you feel yourself faltering.

But it’s not enough. Not yet.

You lower your gaze, shaking your head. "It’s not real," you murmur. "I'm far too intune with your jokes, Potter. I know a prank when I see one."

James exhales slowly, and you brace yourself for frustration, for exasperation, for him to finally get tired of proving himself.

But instead, his hand brushes against yours under the table—gentle, steady. "I’ll just have to keep proving it to you, then."

And Merlin help you, but you believe him.

||||

It’s late. The sky is painted with the last dregs of sunset, streaks of pink and orange fading into the deep blue of night. The Quidditch pitch is empty, save for the figure circling above you—James, of course, looping lazily through the air like he has all the time in the world.

You don’t know why you agreed to this.

Actually, you do. James had caught you in the common room, full of his usual bravado, promising that if you didn’t come to watch his practice, he’d just have to resort to desperate measures—like standing on the Gryffindor table at breakfast and declaring his undying love in front of everyone.

"I don’t think that’s an appropriate use of the word ‘desperate,’" you’d muttered, trying to focus on your book.

James had grinned, victorious, because you hadn’t said no.

So here you are, sitting on the grass at the edge of the pitch, hugging your knees to your chest, watching as he tilts into a steep dive, the wind roaring in his ears. You know he’s showing off, and you hate the way your stomach twists every time he pulls out of a particularly reckless maneuver, a little voice in the back of your head whispering what if he falls?

He doesn’t, of course. He’s James Potter.

And, as if sensing your gaze, he makes a final sharp turn and lands right in front of you, dismounting in one fluid motion.

"Enjoying the show?" he asks, pushing his hair out of his face, still grinning like he owns the world.

You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks betrays you. "You’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously charming?" He waggles his brows, twirling his broom between his fingers. "Devastatingly handsome? The love of your life?"

You scoff, looking away. "You’re incorrigible."

"Big words. Pretty ones, too. Just say the word, dove, and I’ll let you tutor me sometime. Preferably in a secluded corner of the library where I can stare at your lips while you try to explain whatever it is you’re always scribbling in that notebook of yours."

Your heart stutters, and he knows it. You can see it in the way his grin softens, in the way his eyes flicker to your mouth like he’s imagining it now.

You force yourself to keep your voice steady. "You should go back to practice."

James hums, tapping his broom against his shoulder. "Nah. Think I’ve done enough."

He drops onto the grass beside you, stretching his legs out like he plans to stay for a while. You shift, suddenly hyperaware of his presence, of the warmth radiating from his skin, of the way he turns to look at you like there’s no one else in the world.

"You ever been on a broom before?" he asks, and the casualness of his tone is almost convincing. Almost.

You frown, suspicious. "Once or twice."

"Good," he says, pushing himself back onto his feet before offering you a hand. "Because I think it’s time you take a ride with me."

Your stomach plummets. "James—"

"Come on," he urges, tilting his head. "One lap. You and me. Hold on tight and I’ll do the rest."

You hesitate, looking between him and the broom like it’s some kind of test. And maybe it is. Maybe this is just another one of his ploys, another attempt to break past the walls you’ve so carefully built.

But when you meet his eyes, there’s nothing mocking there, nothing insincere. Just that same infuriating patience, the same quiet certainty that he’s had all along.

And that’s what makes you reach for his hand.

James grins, pulling you to your feet, steadying you as he swings a leg over his broom before patting the space in front of him. "Come on, then," he murmurs, softer now. "I’ve got you."

You take a shaky breath and climb on.

James shifts closer, arms caging you in as his hands grip the broom handle just beside yours. You can feel his breath at the back of your neck, warm and steady. "See?" he murmurs, voice just below your ear. "Not so bad."

You barely have time to process it before he kicks off the ground, and suddenly, you’re soaring.

The wind bites at your skin, your stomach lurching as the world below shrinks. Your fingers clutch at the broom instinctively, knuckles white, but James—James is steady behind you, unshaken. His arms are firm on either side of you, his chest pressed close to your back, solid and warm.

"You’re alright," he murmurs, just beneath your ear. You can barely hear him over the rush of the wind, but you feel the words more than anything, sinking into your bones. "I’ve got you."

And you believe him. That’s the terrifying part.

James Potter is many things—brilliant, untouchable, unshakable—but he has never once let you fall.

You don’t let yourself think too hard about the weight of that.

Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, inhaling against the cold air whipping against your cheeks. "I hate this," you mutter, but your voice is breathless, betraying you.

James laughs, his chin brushing your shoulder as he dips the broom lower. "No, you don’t."

And you don’t. Not really. It’s just him. His hands over yours, the way he’s tucked close behind you like you matter. Like you belong there. The way his warmth is the only thing keeping the cold from settling in too deep.

It’s the way it always is with him.

He is warmth. He is light. He is James Potter, and he is everything you are not.

It clenches at something deep inside your chest, that awful, aching reminder—James is James.

You have seen him in every possible light, have watched the way rooms shift when he enters, how people gravitate to him without hesitation. He belongs in the center of things, his presence too big for the edges of the world where you reside. He is brilliant. A force of nature, undeniable, blindingly golden.

And you?

You are not the kind of girl James Potter should want.

You’re not the one who turns heads when she walks into a room, not the kind who pulls people into her orbit without trying. You’re not outgoing, not effortlessly charming. You hesitate where James leaps. You second-guess where he is certain. He is so sure of himself, of what he wants, and you—

You are not.

You are not sure that you are worth this. Not sure that you are worth him.

The thought makes your stomach twist, guilt curdling beneath your ribs. James deserves someone who can match his light, who can meet him where he stands, arms wide open, unafraid. He deserves someone who loves as fully as he does, someone who doesn’t hesitate before diving into the deep end. Someone who doesn’t hold back.

And that isn’t you.

You hesitate. You hold back.

And James—James loves so wholly, so recklessly, that the idea of disappointing him makes your throat tighten.

What if you ruin this? What if you let yourself believe him, let yourself reach for him, and it’s a mistake? What if he changes his mind? What if you lose him entirely?

What if losing him this way—bit by bit, in small moments, in long glances and whispered confessions—is still easier than losing him all at once?

"Oi, stop thinking so hard."

James’s voice pulls you back, warm and teasing, his arms tightening just slightly around you.

You swallow past the lump in your throat. "I wasn’t—"

"You were," he says, and somehow, it isn’t an accusation. Just an observation, a knowing smile in his voice. He dips the broom slightly, letting it glide through the air with ease, smooth and effortless. "You always do, love."

Love.

It’s an accident, probably. A slip of the tongue. A nothing sort of thing.

And yet it lodges in your chest like something sharp, something dangerous.

James shifts slightly behind you, the movement sending a fresh wave of warmth down your spine. His chin nearly brushes against your temple, his voice softer now. "Tell me what you’re thinking."

I think you are everything good in the world, and I am afraid to break it.

You wet your lips, staring out at the empty sky in front of you. "I think," you say, forcing your voice to stay even, "that I’d like to get back on the ground now."

James is quiet for a beat. Not in disappointment, not in frustration. Just quiet.

Then, finally, he sighs. "Alright, dove."

He guides the broom downward, slow and steady, easing you both toward the ground. His grip never falters, never shifts from where it anchors you. And when your feet touch solid earth again, when he swings off the broom and turns to face you, you brace yourself for something.

A quip. A knowing look. A playful shove to break the tension you refuse to name.

But James just watches you.

And then, softer than anything, he murmurs, "You know I’m not going anywhere, yeah?"

Your fingers curl into your sleeves, nails pressing into your palms. You can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze.

Because you don’t know that. You don’t know anything.

All you know is that James Potter is warm and bright and golden, and you are terrified of losing the only light keeping you awake.

So instead of answering, you muster a small, fleeting smile. "Goodnight, James."

And before he can say anything else, before you can let yourself falter any further, you turn and walk away.

||||

Weeks pass, and you're certain James has given up.

He's been ever-steady, a lingering presence just at the corner of your life. He's in classes, he's in the hallways, he's in your dreams.

You tell yourself it’s better this way. That the space between you is necessary, that the ache in your chest will dull with time. That James Potter is a passing thing, a bright light that was never meant to stay.

And yet—

He is still there.

Not pressing, not pushing, just... there.

You catch him watching you in class, the tilt of his head, the crease between his brows when you don’t meet his gaze. You hear his voice before you see him, laughter warm in the space between conversations, lingering at the edges of every room. When you pass him in the corridors, he falls into step beside you like he belongs there, like he always has. He nudges your shoulder in greeting, tosses a casual alright, love? into the air like it doesn’t set something alight inside you.

And it should feel different now. It should feel like he's given up. Should feel like he’s moved on, like he’s let you slip back into the background where you belong.

But it doesn’t.

Because James hasn’t given up.

He’s just waiting.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

So you do what you always do—you pretend not to notice. You fold your arms tighter across your chest when he looks at you too long, you take careful steps backward when he leans in too close, you laugh at all the wrong times just to keep the air light. You keep your head down, keep your hands to yourself, keep the walls steady.

You keep pretending.

But James Potter is not someone you can ignore forever.

It happens on an evening when the corridors are quieter than usual, the last rush of students fading toward the common rooms. You’re gathering your things from the library, stacking your books in your arms when you feel him before you see him.

"Alright, love?"

You don’t startle. His voice is too familiar for that. You just exhale slowly and turn. "James."

And there he is, leaning against the doorframe like he belongs there, like he’s been waiting for you to notice him.

You glance behind him, expecting to see Sirius, Remus, maybe Peter lingering somewhere close, but the corridor is empty. Just you and him and the silence between you.

He smiles, and it’s softer than usual. Less cocky, less playful—just James.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he says, tilting his head, watching you carefully.

You shift the books in your arms. "I haven’t."

He lifts an eyebrow. "Liar."

You inhale sharply, grip tightening around the covers. "James—"

"Just tell me," he says, stepping closer, voice quiet but steady. "Tell me what I did wrong."

Your breath catches in your throat. "What?"

"You won’t look at me anymore." His voice is gentle, but there’s something beneath it, something aching. "You barely talk to me unless you have to. You keep running, and I—" He exhales sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. "Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

You stare at him, heart pounding. "You didn’t do anything, James."

"Then why are you pushing me away?"

Because you can’t have this. Because you don’t deserve him. Because you’re terrified that if you let yourself believe him, if you let yourself want him, it will end in ruin.

Because James Potter is everything good in the world, and you are afraid you’ll break him.

"I just…" You swallow hard, throat tight, and shake your head. "You don’t have to—"

"Yes, I do."

James steps forward, and you don’t move away this time.

"Don’t you get it?" His voice is quiet but certain, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. Like it’s already been decided. "I want to."

You can’t breathe.

His gaze searches yours, warm and steady, and for once, you don’t look away.

"You don’t have to want me back," he says, so gentle it makes your ribs ache. "But stop acting like I don’t mean it."

Your throat tightens.

You should push him away. You should tell him he’s wrong. That you aren’t worth this, that he should find someone who is.

But you can’t say any of it.

Because James Potter is looking at you like you matter. Like he’s already made his choice, like he’s just waiting for you to make yours.

And you don’t know how to do anything except want.

So you stand there, caught in the weight of it, in the warmth of him, in the unbearable truth of everything you’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

And for the first time, you don’t walk away.

"I mean, Merlin. I've been chasing you for weeks. I can't sleep, I can hardly eat. The teams been ragging on me for playing like shit. I know, I'm a lot. I'm loud, I'm impulsive, I really don't deserve you. But give me a chance. I can prove I'm worth you dove."

You stare at him, throat tight, words stuck somewhere between your ribs.

James Potter, golden boy, brightest thing in any room, James fucking Potter—is standing in front of you, unraveled.

His shoulders are tense, fingers restless where they hover at his sides, like he wants to reach for you but isn’t sure if he’s allowed. His usual confidence—the easy charm, the practiced bravado—is nowhere to be found. This is him, stripped raw, vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen.

And it terrifies you.

Because James is supposed to be sure. James is supposed to be steady, unwavering, untouchable. Not… this. Not standing here with his heart in his hands, waiting for you to decide whether or not you’ll break it.

"I know I'm not easy," he exhales, running a hand through his hair, making a mess of it like he always does when he’s too wound up. "I know I talk too much, and I think with my heart first, and I don’t always know when to stop—" He pauses, swallowing hard, eyes flickering over your face like he’s searching for something, some sign that you’re listening, that you hear him.

"I just—I keep thinking, maybe if I was different, if I was quieter, if I wasn’t so much, then maybe you’d let me have you." His voice is barely above a whisper now, raw and uneven. "But I don’t know how to be anything but this."

Your breath catches.

James Potter, who walks into every room like he owns it, who never seems to doubt himself for a second—doubts this. Doubts you.

And you hate it.

You hate that he’s standing here, picking himself apart like you’re something better, something higher than him, like he hasn’t been the brightest part of your world for years. Like he isn’t exactly the kind of person you should want, if only you weren’t so afraid.

"James," you whisper, and your voice wavers.

He exhales, shaking his head. "You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know. I just—" His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes darting away. "I love you, you know?"

The words punch the air from your lungs.

He says it like it’s easy, like it’s inevitable, like it’s just fact.

And maybe, for him, it is.

Maybe he’s known longer than you. Maybe he’s been waiting for you to see it, to believe it.

But you don’t know how to hold something like that.

Because James Potter is love without hesitation. He is all in, always. And you—

You don’t know how to be loved like that.

"I can’t," you whisper, barely choking the words out.

His face falls, just slightly, but he nods. "Okay."

"James—"

"It’s okay," he says again, and somehow, he’s still gentle, still trying to make this easier for you when it should be the other way around. "I just—needed you to know."

He takes a step back, and something inside you lurches, something instinctive, something that wants to reach for him, to tell him to wait.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

So you let him go.

And it feels like ripping your own heart out.

James takes a step back. Then another.

And then he turns.

And walks away.

No hesitation, no lingering glance over his shoulder. Just leaving.

Something in your chest lurches, a sharp, ugly thing clawing its way up your throat, twisting through your ribs like vines tightening around fragile bone. You can feel your pulse thrumming at your temples, pressing against your skin like it’s trying to escape.

Your body knows before your mind does.

A breath—sharp, uneven—catches in your throat, and then you move.

Your legs stumble before they run, like your body is caught between hesitation and instinct, but once you start, you can’t stop.

Your feet hit the stone floor hard, the sound of them echoing too loud in the empty corridor. The air is thick, choking, like you’re running against a tide, pushing against something unseen but heavy. Your blood is thrumming, rushing beneath your skin, beating against the cage of your ribs like a desperate thing, like it knows—

You can’t let him leave.

"James."

His name rips from your throat, raw and desperate, but he doesn’t stop.

His pace quickens, and something inside you clenches, pulses. You chase after him, heart hammering against your ribs, breath coming too fast, too shallow. Your fingers twitch at your sides, reaching for him, but he’s always just out of reach.

"James, stop—"

He doesn’t.

It feels like drowning. Like something vital is slipping between your fingers, water rushing through a clenched fist, a slow-motion tragedy you can see but can’t stop.

The hall stretches before you, long and endless, and James is slipping further and further away.

Your throat is dry. Your chest burns. Your blood screams.

And then—

Then something breaks.

"James, please."

His steps falter.

It’s barely a moment, barely a hesitation, but it’s enough.

You push forward, lungs burning, body aching, and reach for him, finally catching his wrist. Your fingers curl around his pulse, warm and alive, and the contact sends a shock through your bones, something deep and primal, something that roots you.

He stills.

His back is to you, shoulders tense beneath his sweater, and you can feel the way he’s holding himself together, like one wrong move might shatter him entirely.

You don’t know what to say.

You don’t know.

Only that his skin is warm, and his pulse is steady beneath your fingers, and that if you let go now, you’ll never forgive yourself.

So you don’t.

You swallow hard, pressing your fingertips against the inside of his wrist, feeling the blood rushing beneath his skin, proof of him, of his existence, of this.

"James," you whisper, softer now.

His breath shudders. You feel it, more than you hear it.

"I—" Your voice wavers, words tangled between your ribs, a mess of longing and fear and want want want.

He turns.

Slowly, like he’s afraid to look at you, like he’s bracing for something he doesn’t want to hear.

And you—

You break.

Because he’s right there.

James Potter, with his flushed cheeks and furrowed brows and parted lips, looking at you like he doesn’t know whether to hope or to hurt.

Like he’s trying not to need.

Like you aren’t already his.

Your throat is too tight, your heart hammering against your ribs, your hands shaking. You feel it in every inch of your body, the pull of something inevitable, something larger than just want.

James swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing, and when he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Don’t do this if you don’t mean it."

The words are careful, controlled, but his eyes—

His eyes burn.

And you think—blood is not the only thing that keeps a body alive.

It’s this.

This ache, this yearning, this thing between you that has always been reaching, always been growing, always been something you were too afraid to name.

And now, here you are, standing on the edge of it, the weight of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, the shape of his name forming behind your teeth, and—

You take a breath.

And fall.

||||

It settles into your bones like warmth after winter.

Loving James.

It doesn’t strike like lightning, doesn’t drown like a flood. It seeps in slow, curling around your ribs, pouring into the hollow spaces of your chest like honey pooling in a jar—thick, golden, steady.

You feel it in the quiet moments, in the small things.

The way his fingers find yours beneath the breakfast table, tracing soft, lazy patterns against your palm. The way he grins into your neck when he wakes up, nuzzling into you like he’s still half-dreaming, like even unconscious, you’re the thing he wants most. The way he tugs at the hem of your sweater when you’re standing too far away, like he’s anchoring himself to you, like if he lets go, he’ll drift.

James loves the way the sun rises—slow and inevitable, golden in the way that means something—and you think, maybe, that’s how he loves you too.

He is warmth, always. Even in the dead of winter, even when the castle corridors are drafty and cold, even when you’re tucked beneath layers of blankets, your feet still frozen from the stone floors—James is warm.

And you drink him in like a starved thing, like a flower turning toward the sun, like a body that has been aching for heat its entire life.

"You’re staring," he murmurs, voice thick with sleep, arm slung heavy across your waist.

You hum, tucked beneath the covers, fingers drifting absently over the plane of his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath your palm, rhythmic, lulling. You press your fingers there, curling them just slightly, like you could dig past skin and muscle, past blood and bone, past everything solid and reach the grotesque, beating heart of him.

As if you don’t already have it.

James exhales, tilting his head slightly to meet your gaze, eyes still heavy-lidded, hazy with sleep. His lips curve, slow and lazy, a smile meant only for you.

"You’re mine," he murmurs, and it isn’t a question.

You feel it in your bones. In the honey-thick heat of his body, in the quiet of the early morning, in the way your heart swells and swells and swells.

"Yeah," you whisper. "I am."

James hums, pleased, and tucks you closer, pressing his lips against your hair.

And you let yourself sink into it.

The warmth. The ease.

The love.

Like honey. Like sunlight. Like something that has always, always been yours.

[ggensblog]

post-halloween party | b.c.j.

summary: you take care of barty after coming home from a halloween party

inspired by this tiktok

content: alcohol, state of inebriation, gender neutral!reader, first time writing for barty, not dialogue heavy (bro i literally cannot write dialogue), intentional lowercase, this got a lot longer than i meant for it to be tbh, not proof read, but other than that it's just fluffy fluff

i do not in any way support or endorse j.k.rowling

word count: 949

masterlist

you stumbled into the apartment- the sudden give of the front door taking you slightly by surprise. your boyfriend tripped in behind you, nearly taking you out in the process. having just come home from the sirius black’s infamous annual halloween party, the two of you found yourselves in a less-than-sober state. some more than others.

you had paced yourself, finding yourself properly drunk at the beginning of the party and letting it slowly wear off throughout the rest of the night. your boyfriend, however, seemed to constantly have a drink in his hand- whether it be beer pong with james and sirius or shots with evan and dorcas. 

“barty let’s go wash your makeup off” you took barty’s hand in yours and lead him to your shared bathroom, flicking on the light and sighing at the mess of makeup all over the counter from the ‘getting ready pre-party’ barty had insisted on before you left. 

you would deal with that tomorrow. 

instead, barty leaned against the wall, his head lolling to the side, eyes hooded and a goofy smile plastered on his face. his hair maintained its spiked style thanks to the extra strong gel you had lended him, but the clown makeup barty had so carefully applied earlier in the evening was now smeared across his mouth and chin. you watched him for a second to make sure he wouldn’t fall over then got started on clearing a space on the counter to begin your nightly routine.

“you’re so pretty,” barty’s words blended together, you looked up at him in the mirror and raised a brow.

“don’t-” hiccup “don’t give me that, treasure, you’re always so pretty. my pretty love…” barty’s words trailed off and his eyes drifted closed for a second. you turned around and pinched the side of his arm. his eyes flew open and he moved his other hand to cradle where you had pinched him, a wounded expression appearing on his face.

“don’t go falling asleep on me, crouch, we’ve still got to get you cleaned up,” you chided lightly, handing him a bottle of face cleanser as you turned back to continue clearing a space around the sink.

barty went to pump soap into his hands but the bottle slipped to the floor. you laughed quietly and picked up the bottle, instead putting some of the soap into your hands and lathering it between them for a moment. you then took barty’s face in your hands and began to break down the layers of makeup and sweat.

barty turned to fully face you, placing one hand on the wall next to him to brace himself, and another on your hip. you adored barty’s simple connections. whether it be needing to have eyes or a hand on you at all times, you felt his love wash over you in waves over and over again.

as you continue to work the soap into his skin, he melts in your touch. barty’s eyes drift closed and his neck goes lax with his face still in your hands. you eye him fondly, taking a second to appreciate the complete peace of the moment, you run your hands over his forehead and under his eyes, slowly but surely cleaning away the makeup.

when you finish, you give the side of his face a light tap and step away to use the remainder of the soap in your hands to wash your own face. barty’s eyes reopen and he moves closer to you still, leaning in to kiss you. you dodge out of the way.

“rinse your face first” your voice is barely above a whisper in this moment, not needing to speak so loud in the quiet stillness of your home

barty huffs and turns to the sink, flicking it on and starting to splash water across his face.

and the rest of the counter.

you simply grinned, because at the end of the day it was just water.

once barty’s face was clear from makeup and soap, you stepped in to replace him at the sink, spooning water from the faucet to your face. barty once again leaned against the wall, placing both hands on your hips and letting his head drift back as you finished.

you grabbed a towel from the shelf and dried your face and hands then turned, bringing barty’s attention back to you. his pupils were blown out, and his eyebrows were drawn together now. you brought the towel up to his face and wiped away the remaining droplets of water on his forehead and chin.

you put the towel on the counter and turn back to stand there for another moment, placing your hands on barty’s arms as they remain on your hips. you breathe in the stark contrast between this moment and the party you had just come from with blaring music and flashing lights.

this time when barty leans in to kiss you, you don’t dodge him. you let his lips caress yours lightly, softly, and full of his wild love. it was these moments that were reserved for only you; when the crease between his eyebrows was erased and his shoulders relaxed with ease. you drew your arms up around his neck and into the sticky hair at the nape of it.

“thank you, treasure” he mumbles and kisses you once more, slower this time. his thumbs traced circles on your sides. you sighed with content and pulled away with a smile.

“let’s get you to bed,” your hands moved back down to his shoulders, giving them a light squeeze before they travelled further down his arms to take his hands and lead him out of the bathroom.

[ggensblog]

doing makeup for a production of ‘the guy who didn’t like musicals’ is actually healing me a great deal thank you very much

[ggensblog]

the,,, uhm the,, the next to normal pro shot on pbs,, it’s,,,, it’s very good,,,,

(i’m devastated)

[ggensblog]

LOVEEE xenophilius 🤞🏻🤞🏻

the xenophilius erasure is insane in this fandom

HE was the one who believed in the little creatures luna did

HE is the pale, albino one, NOT pandora (from what we know of)

HE was a funky, freaky guy

GIVE ME MORE OF MY BOY

[ggensblog]

sirius "a very specific kind of brown" black

[ggensblog]

im obsessed w 'dress to impress' at the moment so i made (fem) versions of the marauders in the freeplay server so i thought i would share teehee