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yasministration · 1 month ago

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not a love confession - professor!remus lupin

summary: when harry and remus are back from hogwarts, there is a clear tension between the student and his godfather. so when sirius bribes harry to tell him what's going on, he reveals that he caught remus kissing the new charms professor. wc: 4k+ cw: some suggestive themes, kissing, professor x professor relationship, sassy harry charms professor!reader

The savoury scent of something warm and homemade filled the air of the Potter Manor, though the atmosphere that accompanied it didn't match. All throughout dinner, neither Harry or Remus looked at each other, the student and his godfather worrying the three other adults sat at the table. It was Harry and Remus’s first night back from Hogwarts, and as per usual, a celebration was in order. However, a somewhat awkward silence overtook the dining table as Harry and Remus silently poked and prodded at the food on their plates, accusing words lingering on the tip of their tongues.

But as Lily squinted her eyes, staring at her son and her best friend, she realised that it wasn’t anger left between them. No, it was humiliation.

Shame.

Guilt.

“What’s going on with you guys?” Lily finally interrogated, putting her fork down. Remus and Harry, sat opposite each other, looked up at each other in unison before glancing down at their food again, voices squeaking in synchrony as they yelled “Nothing!” Sirius scooted his chair closer to Harry, ducking down and stage whispering, “I’ll get you tickets to the Chudley Canons game next month if you tell me.”

Remus ducked his head with a sigh, knowing the agreement him and Harry had come to was instantly broken. It didn't matter how ashamed Harry was of his own actions, or fearful that his parents might find out — the reward was just too great.

“Uncle Remus has a crush on the new charms Professor!” Before his friends could comment, Remus huffed, countering with “Harry almost got expelled last week!”

The gasps around the table doubled in volume, three heads across the table shooting back and forth between the two men, the age gap between them forgotten as they snitched on each other like twelve year old boys. James’s jaw was slack, and he calmly put his utensils down. “Okay, hold on.” But Lily had already cut in, pointing an accusing finger at Remus. “I knew you had a crush on her!” Harry slumped in his chair in relief, but his mother wagged a finger at him, saying “I’ll get back to you later, Mr. Potter.”

“Wait, all this awkwardness just because you have a crush on someone?” James laughed, stabbing at a piece of sweet potato on his plate. A silence fell across the table once more. Remus was glaring at Harry with a warning intensity James, Sirius and Lily hadn’t seen from him in years. Harry’s lips parted, before he shut them closed again. “Remus…” Sirius teased, reaching across the table to poke his friend in the arm. Remus’s face went red, his hard front breaking for just a second — long enough for Harry to admit “I caught them snogging in his office!”

“For fuck’s sake, Harry!”

Truth to be told, Remus didn’t know why he didn’t tell his best friends about you sooner. He had always been open with them about his romantic life, but for now, he wanted to keep you to himself, away from any judgement. It was all just, so new.

It started at the beginning of the school year, which was almost ten months ago now, when he had noticed a new figure figure coming to sit at the staff table. You looked professional, all poise and stern expressions, but when you had introduced yourself to him as the new charms professor “because Flitwick can only handle so many students” as you had said, something else had come through.

A kindness that was rare to find. A mischievous glint in your eyes.

So Remus made it his mission to be your friend, or at least a friendly face in the crowd of much older staff and students near half your age. He knew you were younger than him — you were a student at Hogwarts, but not whilst he was there — and yet it only made him more intrigued. The students caught onto this blossoming friendship immediately, asking Professor Lupin (Hogwarts' token favourite teacher), about you.

The newbie. Fresh meat.

But more importantly, you were the newbie Professor Lupin approved of — perhaps as something even more than a coworker.

To the students of Hogwarts, you were strict, setting homework once a week and not letting anyone leave the classroom until everyone had at least cast the spell correctly once — which usually wasn’t a problem because you were that great of a teacher. Similarly to Remus though, they saw something in you, like the way your lips tugged upwards when playful banter filled the classroom, or how you turned your back to them when someone made a dirty joke, trying to hide your delighted chuckle. They softened you over time, showing you that sternness wasn't required for greatness.

Remus answered the questions he got from his students in the most professional way he could, saying “She’s a brilliant witch” or “She could definitely beat me in a duel” which sometimes concerned his students as he was their defense against the dark arts professor. But the questions only got more vigorous after he walked into your classroom one day while you were teaching the same group of seventh year students who relentlessly asked him about you.

“Oh sorry.” Remus said, freezing in the doorway of your classroom at the realisation that he had barged into the middle of your lesson. You smiled fondly, eyes softening at the sight of him. “It’s alright, Professor Lupin, come in.” As he walked into the classroom, he took note of how all the desks were pushed to the side, some students sat on the floor whilst others stood proudly, attempting to cast the newest spell you had taught them. It was a tricky spell, and Remus was impressed with the number of students who so effortlessly cast it with a quiet whisper and a subtle wave of their wands. You had morphed their messy spell casting into one of elegance that only masters could acquire. Subtlety that would be hidden from duelling partners, potentially saving lives.

What Professor Lupin didn’t notice was that nearly everyone halted their work, listening in on the conversation between you. “I think these may have slipped in with my papers when we were marking essays together the other day.” Remus held out a couple of essays for you to take and you thanked him with a smile, oblivious to the eyebrows raised around you.

“Has Professor McGonagall given approval of the trip for the seventh years?” Remus nodded at your question, furrowing his eyebrows as he tried remembering the date. “She’s given confirmation for november 10th, and we need parent signatures by october 30th.” You nodded, absentmindedly flicking your empty hand in your direction, prompting a pencil and notebook to fly towards you from your desk.

If your students weren’t interested before, they sure were now. Wandless magic wasn’t common in the wizarding world, countless wizards who tried to conquer the feat giving up when no signs of magic appeared. It was difficult to control; it was majestic. “November 10, october 30th.” You mumbled under your breath, jotting down the information as you swayed from the balls to the heels of your feet.

“Okay, so can we do the assembly for it next week then?” You asked, continuing to write things down. “Yeah, I’m free for first periods all of next week but tuesday.” You nodded, raising your voice by the slightest bit to ask your students “When does the year group have a free period one?” The response was instant, and you raised an eyebrow, suspicious that they had been listening in on your conversation.

“Alright, perfect.” And as Remus left the room, everyone dropped their wands to bombard you with questions about your wandless magic. “Get used to doing non-verbal spells and then we can discuss wandless magic.” You told them, turning around at the feeling of someone staring at you. Harry Potter. Remus’s godson, if you weren’t mistaken. Besides him, the two students you had never seen leave his side, gossiping excitedly, the curly-haired girl shooting the ginger boy next to him a pointed look whilst nodding her head in your direction.

That afternoon, Harry burst into Remus’s classroom, immediately asking “What’s going on with you and Professor l/n?” Remus looked up from where he was grading papers and ran a hand through his hair.

“What?”

“It’s so obvious you like her!" The seventeen year old started, slumping down in the chair facing his godfather's desk. "I bet you even took those essays from her just so you had an excuse to come into her classroom.” Remus shook his head, deciding not to answer his godson as he continued marking papers.

"Oh don't ignore me! Even Hermione was saying that she saw you guys walking together by the black lake and can I just say, you sit next to her at every single meal. It's not subtle."

Then, the best thing that could have happened to Harry did. The door opened, and in came the familiar voice of his charms teacher. “Hiya Remus. Oh sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.” Harry grinned widely, looking back at his godfather with a knowing look on his face. Harry opened his mouth, ready to tease, but Remus was already spoken.

“Don’t be. He’s just here to bother me.” You giggled at that, the sweet sound causing Remus to perk up happily. Harry’s eyes went wide at the view, and he held back a grimace. No way did you have that much of an effect on Remus. “Well Harry, since you’ve got so much time on your hands, I’m assuming you’ve finished my essay?” Harry’s face went red and he spluttered, trying to find an excuse. Remus laughed loudly, raising his eyebrows at Harry.

“It's due tomorrow, isn't it?” He asked, and you nodded, walking deeper into Remus's office, taking a seat next to Harry. "I have loads of time, then." He dismissed with a wave of his hand. Your eyebrows rose at his words, mildly amused at the casual conversation he partook in.

"Harry." Remus warned, attracting the eyes of his godson, who finally took pity on him. "Yeah, fine, I'll leave." He mumbled, dragging his feet out of the office. As the door slammed shut behind Harry, Remus felt his cheeks heat up at your individual presence. It had become such a familiar thing to him, and yet every time he found himself alone with you, he felt more nervous than the last, trying to find new ways to relate to you.

It didn’t stop him from finding excuses to be with you alone though, slipping to Professor McGonagall that doing curfew rounds would be enjoyable with someone he could talk to about things, like the upcoming seventh year trip. Even as he gave McGonagall his poor excuse, and she shot him a knowing look, he shot her a grin, sighing in relief when she jotted his name down next to yours on the curfew plan.

“And here I thought your casanova days were over, Mr. Lupin.” Remus had blushed furiously, but thanked her nonetheless as he left her office. He made sure to thank her again a few weeks later, when the curfew rounds had proven to bring you closer to each other, not shying away from cozying yourself into the older Professor's side, muttering something about the cold. Every time, Remus wrapped an arm around your shoulders, his warm arms bringing you a comfortable heat that your abandoned jumpers could never achieve.

It seemed that this yearning wasn’t one sided though, because it was only a week later that you poked your head through his classroom door whilst he was teaching, your footsteps quiet on the stone as you entered the room. Remus was sat on his desk, a smile on his face as he spoke to his students about something that didn’t relate whatsoever to the subject he taught. He didn't know why he entertained their ideas, and yet, he never tried to stop it.

As he caught your eye, lingering in the back of the room, he rolled his eyes playfully, finally bringing his students’ attention to you. “It’s always this class, isn’t it?” He complained jokingly. You hummed in agreement. “Perfectly confident speakers and yet horrible essay writers. One would think those went hand in hand.” You laughed as the students all began talking at once, coming to their own defence, and approached Professor Lupin.

“Would you like to come to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow morning?" You asked in a low whisper, the students' chatter giving you the briefest moment of privacy. Remus froze, a flush overtaking his features at your invitation. "I need to grab some things for my upcoming lessons.” Remus nodded, enjoying the secret conversation amongst the room of students.

“Oi, would you stop flirting and make a move already!?”

The room burst into a fit of laughter and Remus furrowed his eyebrows. “Detention, Harry. And whilst you’re there, you can finish last week’s essay you never gave me.” The class ‘oohed’ at Remus’s instant reply, and he ignored his godson’s immediate complaints. If Harry thought he could be the only pain in the ass in this room, he thought wrong. Remus squinted at his godson before turning to you, sending you an apologetic look. You smiled at him, taking a seat next to him on the spacious desk.

You leaned in closer to Remus, bringing your voice down to a whisper as you nodded towards a few students in the back of the classroom. They thought they were being subtle, but the slow movements of their hands only caught your attention, the sound of creasing parchment painful in Remus's ears. “Passing notes. Should we have some fun?” Remus nodded eagerly, and you pointed your hand in the direction of the note being passed around, wiggling your fingers slightly. A squeal caught the attention of the other students, who watched as the folded parchment flew across the room into your hands.

“Any guesses for what’s written in this note?” You asked, and immediately, someone yelled “A love confession!” You and Remus chuckled quietly as you unfolded the piece of parchment. Your shoulders stiffened as you read the recognisable messy scrawls of two of your students.

‘theyre so into each other it’s actually embarrassing’

‘they need to fuck and get it out of their system’

‘professor l/n? nah, she's giving more like professor lupin’

‘i’m sayingggg’

'theyre my dream age gap relationship'

'yeah this is the height difference i deserve'

'i bet they make out in his office after hours'

'dudeee curfew rounds too.'

'nah i don't think so bc they have their own rooms'

'oh. i see.'

'sex all night every night'

'its okay. as long as theres a ring on her finger by the end of the year.'

'lol, i think we'd know tho. bc right now the sexual tension is through the roof'

You hummed, folding the paper back up. “Not a love confession.” “Disappointing really” Added Remus with a snort.

“Right? Tell us something we don’t already know.” Remus’s eyes widened and a gasp was heard from the back of the room. You stared at the parchment until it caught fire in your grip, the paper turning into ash in your hands, which you instantly wiped away with another spell.

“Tell us something we don’t know.” Remus echoed, and you turned to face him, feeling suddenly confident. “Well, we have known, haven’t we?”

“I have. Wasn't aware you did too.”

"Interesting bet though."

"Yeah, we could probably push things in their favour."

You hopped off the desk with a shrug of your shoulders, nodding towards the students who had been exchanging the note. “You two, come with me.” At once, both students began apologising, “Professor, we’re so sorry, we didn’t-” “We didn’t, it wasn’t-” Your laughter interrupted them as you repeated, “Come on.” and that’s how they knew they weren’t really in trouble. After all, you had received one too many detentions as a student because of exchanging notes in class, and you wouldn’t cause the same misery upon your own students. Especially not when it came to pondering about your Professors' private lives.

Remus let his students leave after that, but they all insisted on knowing what was in the note. He didn’t tell them. Obviously. But he spent the rest of the day thinking about what you were like as a student. He had his mischievous moments, getting in trouble for the pranks he plotted with his friends, missing assignments dates because he didn't want to do the chapter readings. But what were you like? Were you one of the girls who giggled with her friends in the back of her classroom? Or did you write notes down vigorously, showing the teachers you had their respect until you could finally speak your mind when you left the classroom? Fuck, did you sneak out past curfew to find some broom closet to make out with your boyfriend in?

Remus briefly wondered if he should ask Professor McGonagall about you. Or at least, if she would approve of the two of you together. Did she think you'd make a good match? When she taught you, was she reminded of him due to any similarities? Or were you both stars waiting to collide?

There was so much to you Remus hadn't discovered yet.

And that's when it struck him, in a moment of panic and awe. He had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with you. He had agreed to go to Hogsmeade with you and he had agreed that ‘they need to fuck and get it out of their system’. When he had agreed that 'the sexual tension is through the roof.'

It only dawned on him then, sitting alone in his classroom. You had openly stated that it was something you knew. That — fuck, did that mean you wanted to fuck him? In secret passageways when you should be doing your curfew rounds? Late at night in his private quarters? All night every night?

Remus almost stood you up the next day, just in fear of having to face you again, the knowledge of your desire for each other out in the open, introducing a game of 'who would make the first move?' But he forced himself to find you at Hogwarts’ entrance hall nonetheless. You straightened up when you saw him, and Remus genuinely didn’t know what overtook him, but one moment he was standing across from you and the next he was cupping your cheeks and pressing his lips onto yours.

You gasped into the kiss, but brought your hands up to Remus’s chest, hands curling around the collar of his shirt, peeking over his thick jumper. Remus broke away from the kiss, his eyes going wide. “I’m sorry, I don’t know wh-mmph-” He was pulled into another kiss, eagerness shining through it, your lips steady against his. Your lips separated from his with a loud smooch, and you immediately looked down at your feet, suddenly shy.

He caught a glimpse of the real you, just then.

Remus chuckled, the shyness on your face reflecting your youthfulness, and he softly pinched your chin between his thumb and index finger, encouraging your head up so he could properly look at you. He leaned down, capturing your lips in one last, short kiss, before pulling away again and saying “Come on, you need to get some things from Hogsmeade don’t you?”

Your trip had been quick — you only had one hour to spare before you both had classes to teach — but you couldn’t help but get distracted along the way, Remus stealing kisses from you, knowing you’d have to be discreet with them upon your return to the castle. You stumbled into alleyways with a rebellion Hogwarts Professors couldn't show, but desperate lips had found each other and portals were opened to glimpse into each other's past. You weren't the careful kind as Hogwarts students, neither of you. But as Professors? You were. At least, for as long as possible. You were careful all the time, kisses shared in either of your classrooms only lasting a couple of seconds as the weeks went on.

You saved the affectionate moments for nights when you’d sneak away to Hogsmeade, in the corner of the three broomsticks or hidden away at hog’s head pub. Or for nights when he'd knock on your door, poking his head in to find you still marking papers. He'd distract you then with loving kisses and gentle hands.

But Remus just couldn’t help how nosy his godson was.

The door to his office had been locked — for good purpose too. But Harry had tried the door handle once then decided that coming into the office while Remus wasn’t there couldn’t hurt.

Except, it did a little, because the office wasn’t empty. No, Remus was there, holding you in his arms as he tilted his head to the side, lips locked with your in a passionate kiss — a good snog, Harry called it later, when telling his friends the story. His friends, who would promise to keep their mouths shut, despite the rumours that were spread around the castle the next day, as though they didn't already exist.

Somewhere in the castle, your seventh year student was pocketing the three galleons she was promised — easiest bucks she had every made, all thanks to a silly bet. But your relationship went further than exchanging kisses behind closed doors. On most nights, Remus slept in your bed, arms keeping you snug against him. After full moons, it was you instead of Madame Pomfrey tending to his wounds, leaving kisses on the tender skin and offering to cover his lessons the next day instead of Professor Snape. Over the next few months, you had warmed up to your boyfriend's godson, exchanging playful banter with him whenever he walked into Remus's office to find you there instead.

But Remus wasn’t going to give Lily, James and Sirius that entire explanation, and he surely wouldn't tell them about how he had strictly told Harry not to utter a single word about you to his parents or Sirius. He wouldn't tell them how Harry had furrowed his eyebrows, shrugging his shoulders as he said "Why? They'd all love her." Nor how on the way to the Hogsmeade train station, Harry called out for you, jokingly pleading for you to meet with his godfather at least once a week over the holiday, otherwise he'd be unbearable. He wouldn't mention how you had laughed, and Remus had caught up to you, shamelessly pressing his lips against yours for all the students around you to see as he whispered in your ear that he'd see you after tomorrow.

No, Remus wouldn't say anything. Not when the lights in the room were so bright and everyone felt like teasing, no wine in his bloodstream yet to ease away his humiliation. He would only tell them by the fireplace when Harry went to bed, admitting to them that he didn’t want to scare you off. He’d tell them that you were new to him, younger than any girlfriend he ever had, which made him afraid.

He'd share the rest of his fears too.

Like the irrational worries asking if you would get along with Lily, even though she was seven years older than you? Even though she had a teenage son, who you taught on a daily basis? Would you laugh along with Sirius's jokes, giggling at Remus's expense when embarrassing stories were told just for the sake of bonding? Would you accept the most vulnerable stories James would share, his emotions loud and proud, exchanging ones of your own despite the difficulty? Or would you be a stranger, closing in on yourself at their intimidating personalities, scared away by Harry Potter who would take every chance to poke fun at his two professors?

So for now, Remus settled with “Harry almost got expelled last week.”

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icedcoffeebabyy · 11 months ago

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I fear no fancast will ever match how sexy Sirius Black actually is.

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desirofmoony · 3 months ago

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this is so james coded

#sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #wolfstar #james potter #lily evans #harry potter #peter pettigrew #jily #jegulus #the marauders #the maraunders map #james x regulus

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sable-520 · 1 month ago

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Sirius: Please, Reggie, after everything we’ve been through together. You can’t do this!

Regulus: I’m sorry, Sirius

Sirius: I’m begging you, don’t do it!

Regulus: It has to be done.

Sirius:

Regulus:

James:

Remus:

Peter:

Regulus: *places +4* Uno.

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juleswritesstuff · 4 months ago

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The Pillow Contract

James Potter seems to have found the best pillow on earth. You.

james potter x fem!reader

warnings: none

James Potter liked to consider himself a man of simple pleasures.

A good meal ? Heaven. A lazy Sunday spent wrapped in a blanket burrito ? Perfection. A well-timed, sarcastic remark ? Chef’s kiss.

But above all else, there was one thing James had come to love more than anything in the world.

Your chest.

Well, you as a whole, of course. Body and soul alike. He was not a bloody prick, thank you very much.

He loved you for you, not just for the flawless vessel that carried your golden heart and your beautiful mind.

But he couldn't help the way he was especially drawn to the perfection that peeked from your neckline when your shirt hung a little lower than usual.

And he also could not, in good conscience, ignore the life-altering comfort that was that perfection.

Now, to be clear, James wasn’t just some guy obsessed with his girlfriend’s body –okay, maybe he was a little addicted.

But, come on, who could blame him when you were said girlfriend ?

He was supposed to be a bit obsessed with you, right ? That’s what every person in their sane, right and helplessly in love mind would be about their partner, no ?

Was that just him ?

Ok, fine, maybe he was a bit of a simp (read, you had him at your feet). So what ?

He liked it exactly like that. Sue him.

But this ? This was different.

This wasn’t just about attraction or some primal male instinct. No, this was about something sacred.

This was about comfort.

The kind that he’d accidentally stumbled upon one evening when you had curled up next to him on the couch, and his head had somehow –miraculously– ended up resting right on your chest.

That’s when he had discovered it.

The Holy Grail of pillows. The pinnacle of all headrests.

Your chest was perfect.

Warm. Soft. Inviting.

It had been life-changing. Existence-altering. World-stopping.

And in that moment, with his head resting against the softest, most heavenly cushion known to mankind, and your heart beating under his ear like a lullaby, James had made a decision.

He was never going back to regular pillows again.

Ever.

The problem was, he didn’t exactly know how to turn this into a permanent arrangement without looking like an absolute fool.

Which, really, was ironic, because James didn’t mind acting like the biggest dumbass in the world when it came to you. Not even a tiny bit.

The man had zero shame, and zero chill when you were involved.

If he had to beg ? Done.

If he had to bribe you with kisses ? Oh no, how awful.

If he had to declare his undying devotion in front of his friends and suffer their relentless teasing ? Call Sirius and Remus over, he was ready to suffer.

If he had to wear one of those, frankly quite obnoxious --yes, even for him-- ‘I ❤️ My Girlfriend’ shirts in public just because you wanted him to suffer a bit for forgetting the chores ? Consider it his new favorite outfit.

He’d do anything and everything –yes, even sacrificing his dignity in front of Pads and Moony– if it meant putting a smile on your face (and making you agree to be used as a headrest for the rest of your life. But let’s just say that was a teeny, tiny, wonderful bonus if the case ever came to be).

Tonight was his chance, he told himself.

You were already curled up on the couch, wearing one of his hoodies, your legs tucked beneath you as you scrolled through your phone. The dim lighting of the room cast a soft glow over you, and James took a moment to appreciate the scene.

Because, honestly ? You looked really good.

Too good.

Like, unfairly good.

The hoodie –his hoodie, the one he had technically claimed as his favorite, but which spent more time on your body than his closet– was slightly oversized on you, slipping off one shoulder in a way that made his brain short-circuit for a second.

This was his moment.

You were comfortable. The couch was comfortable.

And your chest ? Well, that was a level of bliss he had yet to find anywhere else in the world.

Time to execute: Operation Smothered by Heaven.

Ok, the name was a little ridiculous. But, to his defence, he had been a little distracted while thinking about it –the dress you were wearing mysteriously met the floor not even five minutes after he had taken a glimpse of you– and his brain had refused to work at his full potential.

Something that he absolutely couldn’t let happen now.

Not when the fate of his comfort and sanity was at such a high risk.

That’s why he casually –so casually– stretched like a giant cat just waking up from a nap, letting out an exaggerated yawn before –still ever so nonchalantly, of course– leaning closer.

And would you look at that ? His head, as if drawn by an invisible magnetic force he absolutely had no control on –God forbid– found its way to your chest.

It was seamless.

Flawless execution.

Absolutely fucking nailed that.

He gave himself a mental high five.

Operation Smothered by Heaven: officially successful.

“Wow. Smooth” you blinked down at him, amused.

James grinned but didn’t move. Not even an inch. Nope.

He had claimed his rightful place, and there was no going back now.

“What can I say ? Gravity is a powerful thing” he purred, his voice smug, his eyes half-lidded like a cat who had just found the warmest sunspot in the house.

“Ah, I see. So this is all gravity’s fault, then ?”

“Absolutely” he confirmed, burrowing his face in just a little more “I have no control over it. Pure science”

You snorted, shaking your head, but you didn’t push him away.

Of course you didn’t.

If anything, you shifted slightly, letting your arm drape around his back, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along his spine. He hummed in approval, his whole body melting against yours like ice under the warm sunlight of a summer’s day.

Because the thing James didn’t know –or, at the very least, seemed to forget– was that he wore his heart on his sleeve. Always.

James Potter and secret scheming ? Not a good match.

Not a match at all, actually. But you still liked watching him try.

And with the way he had been ogling you for the past week, it really wasn’t hard to figure out what had been brewing in that ridiculously pretty head of his.

His thoughtful frown, the way his brows scrunched together, his deep-in-thought lip-biting. James had looked like he was trying to crack some highly classified government code.

Except the code in question was you.

Or, more specifically, that area right below your neck that seemed to steal his attention more times then it should've been considered healthy.

Subtle, he was not.

He had been studying you. Analyzing the way your sweaters dipped lower when you leaned forward, the way the fabric of your shirts clung to your curves, the way–

God.

James had the audacity to look like he was pondering the meaning of life when, really, all he was trying to find was an excuse.

Funny how he could’ve just asked.

It wasn’t like you would have refused him.

Hell, you didn’t even think you possessed the ability to refuse him. To refuse him anything, really.

But your smitten and extremely down-bad behavior when it came to your boyfriend was a topic for another time.

James let out a deep, satisfied sigh.

“You know” he murmured, voice slightly muffled as he nuzzled closer “I think I’ve discovered something important”

“Oh ?”

“Mhm” he tilted his head up, his expression dead serious. Like a man delivering a life-changing revelation “Your chest ? Best pillow I’ve ever used”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet grin making its way onto your mouth. “I should be flattered, I think”

“You should be honored” he corrected, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk “I mean, it’s a very competitive market. But yours ? Easily top-tier”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “Is that right ?”

James nodded solemnly.

“Hell yeah, baby. I’d even write a five-star Yelp review if that were a thing”

You let out a soft laugh and slid your fingers into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp.

James immediately melted.

He let out a low, contented hum, eyes slipping shut, the tension in his body dissolving completely. You thought if he was a cat, he would’ve started purring.

“Mmh. Keep doing that, and I might never get up” he mumbled, voice already laced with drowsiness.

“Wouldn’t mind that” you teased.

Because, really, who in their right mind would complain about this ?

No one, that's who.

And surely not you.

James hummed in response, his arms tightening around your waist burying himself further into you. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of his body seeping into yours.

His lips brushed absentmindedly against your collarbone –a barely-there press of warmth that sent a quiet shiver down your spine.

This. This was perfection.

Then, because James Potter simply could not help himself, he tilted his head up again.

“So, uh... just out of curiosity. How often do you think I can get away with this ?”

You smirked. “That depends”

“On ?”

“How well you behave”

James’ eyes darkened slightly, though amusement still played at the edges.

“Define behave” his voice dropped, all smooth and teasing, like he could coax an answer out of you if he said it just right.

You arched a brow, pretending to think.

“Well, let’s see. No stealing the blankets at night. No pretending you don’t hear me when I ask you to grab something from the kitchen. And definitely no distracting me when I’m trying to get work done”

James gasped, offended.

“That last one is unreasonable and you know it”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Oh, is it ?”

“Yes. It is literally part of my rights as your boyfriend to distract you”

You hummed, pretending to ponder your decision.

“Well, if we can do nothing about that…” your hand cupped his cheek, slender fingers applying a gentle pressure to lift his face up from that cocoon of warmth he had nestled himself into.

He blinked. “I-wait. What ?”

Before he could fully register what was happening, you leaned down and captured his lips in a slow, lazy kiss.

James melted.

Like, gone. Out of commission. Absolute goner.

The smug confidence he had a second ago ? Obliterated.

His hands, which had been lazily resting at your waist, tightened, pulling you closer like he never wanted to let go. One of them trailed up your spine, fingers tangling into your hair, holding you there like this was oxygen and he needed it to breathe.

You sighed against his lips, feeling the way he shuddered, the way his grip on you tightened, like he was physically trying to keep himself from falling apart.

Like you had just ruined him.

And maybe you had.

Because when you pulled back just enough to catch your breath, James just blinked at you, dazed and utterly wrecked, lips still parted like he hadn’t quite caught up with reality yet.

You bit back a smirk.

Unbelievable.

How had this man made a full-time career out of turning you into putty, and yet one well-placed kiss had him looking like he’d just been personally blessed by the universe ?

You dragged your fingers lazily through his curls, watching the way his lashes fluttered at the sensation, the slow, dopey grin tugging at his lips.

Completely gone.

You tilted your head, murmuring teasingly against his mouth “Was that up to your standards, Mr. Five-Star Review ?”

James, still grinning –and still absolutely useless– just nodded.

"Five stars ? That was worth the entire Milky Way, baby"

You let out a laugh, and he practically glowed at the sound, his fingers flexing against your waist like he wanted to bottle it.

Then, before you could say anything else, he tilted his head, brushing his nose against yours in that infuriatingly sweet way of his.

"You know-" he murmured, voice all warm and syrupy "-if this is part of my reward system, I promise to be so good"

You smirked, fingers tracing idle patterns into the back of his neck. “Do you now ?”

James nodded solemnly, though the grin he was fighting gave him away.

“The best. Model citizen. Proper gentleman. Will hold doors, carry bags, call you milady unironically if I have to”

You snorted. Loudly.

"Now that, I need to see"

He hummed, tilting his head up like he was about to deliver the most profound statement of his life.

“Mmh. Maybe after another kiss”

Your eyes narrowed playfully. “That so ?”

He nodded again, already leaning in, his lips curling mischievously.

You let your fingers drag slowly down the back of his neck, feeling the way James shivered under your touch.

The moment stretched, thick with something warm and electric, the air between you charged in that intoxicating way it always was whenever you teased him like this.

You leaned in deliberately, lips hovering just over his, close enough that you could feel the ghost of his breath, the heat radiating off his skin.

James, for all his usual smugness, stilled, his lazy smirk faltering into something softer, deeper. His lips parting slightly, his pupils dark and expectant.

Waiting.

Wanting.

You let your gaze drop to his lips, watching as his tongue darted out just once, a quick, unconscious flick, like he was already tasting the kiss before it happened.

And, God, he was beautiful like this.

All that usual bravado stripped down to this, his sharp edges melted, his hands twitching slightly where they rested on your hips, fighting the urge to pull you closer.

His restraint was admirable.

His patience ?

Well. That was something you just had to test.

You leaned in that final inch –only for your lips to land on his cheek instead.

Soft. Chaste. Infuriating.

James let out a dramatic, suffering groan, his head thunking back against the cushions.

“Tease” he mumbled, voice hoarse, his hands finally losing their battle as they gripped your waist, fingers pressing into your sides like he was physically holding back the urge to grab your face and kiss you properly.

You pulled back just enough to grin down at him, impossibly pleased with yourself.

“What ?” you asked innocently, tilting your head “You asked for a kiss. You didn’t specify where, love”

He cracked one eye open, glowering.

“Oh, that’s dirty” he grumbled, before huffing dramatically and rolling onto his back, taking you with him.

You yelped as you landed against his chest, sprawled across him, your laughter cut off when his arms wrapped around you, pinning you against him with the strength of a human vice grip.

“James-”

“Nope” he said, shoving his face into your neck like a petulant child, muffling his words “You’re stuck here now. Actions have consequences”

You laughed, wiggling in his hold, but he just tightened his grip.

“James”

“Mmm. Nope”

“I-”

“Shh. Thinking about my suffering”

You rolled your eyes, smiling despite yourself, your fingers naturally finding their way into his curls again, scratching lightly at his scalp.

He made a sound, deep and content, his body practically melting beneath you.

“See ?” you teased, voice softening “That wasn’t so bad”

He exhaled heavily, but his hands had already started skimming over your back again, lazy and unbothered, like he’d completely forgotten why he was fake-pouting in the first place.

“Mmh” he hummed “Don't know. Still feel like you owe me”

You smirked, arching a brow. “Oh ?”

“Yeah” James sighed dramatically, finally tilting his head up again. Looking at you.

That expression.

Soft. Mischievous. A little challenging.

Maybe even a little hopeful.

Like he was just waiting for you to put him out of his misery.

You let the moment stretch for a beat longer, lips quirking.

Then, with a small, amused sigh, you finally gave in.

And kissed him properly.

For a few moments, the two of you just stayed like that, tangled together, basking in the warmth of each other’s touch.

You felt him smile against your lips before he pulled back just enough to murmur “So… hear me out”

“Oh boy” you sighed, already knowing.

James just grinned, completely unbothered by your lack in faith in him.

“What if we made this a permanent arrangement ?”

You let out a soft laugh, tilting your head at him. “A permanent arrangement ?”

“Yeah. Like, an official thing. A contract, even” he lifted his head slightly, hie expression the picture of seriousness “Something binding. A legally recognized agreement that states you will be my official human pillow for the foreseeable future”

You stared at him, an eyebrow quirked in amusement, lips twitiching.

“You want to draft a pillow contract ?”

James nodded, almost professionally.

“For accountability purposes”

You rolled your eyes, a disbelieved chuckle leaving your lips before you could stop it.

“You’re ridiculous”

“But lovable” he pointed out.

You exhaled, shaking your head, your heart betraying you with the sheer amount of fondness you felt for this man.

“Fine” you relented, rolling your eyes as if you weren’t already completely gone for him “You win. You can rest on me whenever you want”

James grinned like he’d just won the lottery, wasting no time in smacking a quick, eager kiss right on your lips.

“But” you added, poking him in the ribs “I reserve the right to move if you start drooling”

“Excuse me ?” he gasped, offended “I do not drool”

You smirked. “That’s not what the couch cushions say”

James gasped again, dramatically this time, like you had personally insulted his honor “That was one time-”

“Oh, it so wasn’t”

James pouted, pulling you even closer and pressing his forehead against yours with a grumble.

“You wound me” he muttered, a mock distraught lilt to his voice.

You grinned, the warmth of him, the smell of him, completely surrounding you as you pressed a kiss to his jaw, lingering just enough to feel the way his breath hitched.

“I think you’ll survive just fine”

He hummed, tilting his head slightly, inviting you to keep going.

So you did.

You let your lips trail along his jawline, slow and lazy, your fingers threading through the curls at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly in a way that made him melt.

“Well” James sighed, voice lower, heavier, the tiniest shiver running through him “If this is how you comfort me, I guess I’ll forgive you”

You laughed against his skin.

“How generous”

James smirked, but there was something else in his eyes now, something wicked, something that sparked just before–

Before the menace shimmied down.

Yes. Shimmied. Like a man with a mission.

“James-”

Your protest was cut off by laughter, because he was determined, wriggling lower and lower with expert precision, slipping out of your hold like a human-sized golden retriever trying to find the perfect spot on the couch.

And then, with a triumphant sigh, his head landed where he had been aiming all along–

Right on your chest.

James let out a deep, satisfied hum, snuggling in, his nose nuzzling into the soft fabric of your shirt like this was some long-lost paradise he had just returned to.

“Now we’re talking” he exhaled in sheer satisfaction, like the heaviest of weights had been lifted from his shoulders, snuggling even deeper, and muttering an appreciative “Mmh. Yep. Definitely five stars”

You blinked down at him, helpless to fight the way your heart swelled, a smile threatening to bloom against your better judgment.

“Should I start charging you for this service ?” you teased.

James hummed, content, his lips brushing absently against the skin just below your collarbone.

“I’d go broke, baby”

You let out a soft, breathy laugh, your fingers finding their way back into his hair, your nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He groaned, pressing his face deeper into your chest, mumbling something incoherent that you were pretty sure translated to never stop doing that.

Before you could fully process how utterly whipped this man was, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss there –just because he could.

You pulled back slightly, blinking down at the mop of messy chocolate strands currently buried between your collarbones.

“Do you make a habit of kissing all your pillows ?” you asked, voice mildly amused despite the unreasonable warmth now flooding your chest.

James, completely unashamed, grinned against you.

“Pillows don’t usually deserve appreciation, but this one ?” his fingers traced slow, lazy patterns against your waist, his voice dropping to a reverent murmur “This one gets special treatment”

A full-body shiver rolled through you.

And James, that absolute menace, felt it.

His smirk was obnoxiously satisfied as he nuzzled in even deeper, practically purring as he molded himself further against you.

You rolled your eyes, trying –truly trying– to ignore the overwhelming affection clawing at your ribcage. And utterly failing.

“Jamie, you’re gonna choke like this” you warned playfully, fighting against yourself not to let out the endeared laugh threatening to spill.

He made a noncommittal noise, fully unbothered.

“Best way to go, honestly”

And that was it.

Not one beat missed. Not a single ounce of shame registered in his voice.

You stared wide-eyed at the mop of untamable chocolate curls right below your chin, completely bewildered by the words that had just come out of your boyfriend’s mouth.

Did this man, the actual love of your life, just casually declare that he would willingly –no, gladly– perish via boob-related asphyxiation ?

Because that was what it sounded like.

Was that a normal thing for a person to say ?

No. No, it wasn’t.

And yet—here you were.

"James"

“Mmm ?”

"James, get up"

"No"

You sighed, trying to nudge him off, but it was useless.

Because this man –this grown, six-foot, sport-trained, annoyingly fit man– was currently clinging to you like a koala experiencing its first-ever existential crisis.

And you knew –you knew– that there was no reasoning with a man who had just fully committed to making your chest his final resting place.

"James-"

"No"

"You cannot suffocate yourself on my–"

"I can and I will"

"You will not"

James lifted his head just enough to look at you with actual betrayal.

"How dare you harm a man in his final moments ?"

A stunned laugh escaped before you could stop it.

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous”

James smirked triumphantly.

“And yet-” he murmured smugly “-you don’t seem to mind it”

He barely gave you a second to respond before he nuzzled right back in, burrowing into your chest like you were some long-lost paradise he had finally returned to.

You stared at the ceiling, dead inside.

How was this your life ?

You used to have dignity.

You used to be a strong, independent person.

And yet, somehow –somehow– you had become a glorified human mattress for your very large and very needy boyfriend.

And the worst part ?

You didn’t even mind.

You sighed deeply, fingers slipping into his hair against your better judgment. James melted immediately, exhaling in a way that was obscenely pleased. Like if he were any more relaxed, he'd have dissolved into a puddle of mushy, lovesick goo.

Then, with the solemnity of a man about to deliver a groundbreaking presidential address, he cleared his throat.

You barely had time to register the shift before he–

“Ladies” James began, his voice smooth, reverent “It’s always a pleasure”

Your mouth fell open.

Did he just–

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“I just wanted to take a moment to express my deepest gratitude” he continued talking to your breasts, completely ignoring the look of utter disbelief and sheer horror plastered on your face and sighing dramatically “For your service. For your warmth. For providing me with the best naps of my life”

Your soul, quite frankly, left your body, just straight-up abandoned you.

“James–”

He shushed you.

Shushed you.

“I’m having a moment with my girls, baby” he whispered, like he was delivering a speech at fucking Buckingham Palace.

You gaped at him. “You are not-”

“I am” he placed a hand over his heart “They deserve it”

You had never contemplated murder so seriously in your life.

James, completely unbothered, pressed on.

“I promise to treat you with the respect and admiration you deserve. To appreciate your softness in all its glory. To-” he paused, tilting his head “Actually, I feel like I should name you”

“For the love of God, James. Don’t you dare-”

He gasped.

Gasped.

“That’s a brilliant idea. Baby, why haven’t we named them ?”

You smacked his arm, your eyes so wide they threatened to fall out of your skull. “Because they are literally attached to my body ?!”

But he wasn’t listening. No, the absolute menace was thinking, brows furrowed in deep concentration.

“They deserve names that reflect their greatness. Something regal. Something powerful”

He snapped his fingers. “Got it. Thelma and Louise”

You groaned. “Absolutely fucking not”

James ignored you.

“Or maybe Hall and Oates ?”

“I- What- Aren’t they both men ?”

“Gender’s nothing but a social construct, darling”

“Ok-”

A sudden gasp interrupted you, as if he had just discovered the meaning of life itself.

"Baby- Baby, I’ve got it"

You sighed, already regretting everything. "James, no"

"Yes" he insisted, eyes alight with the thrill of an idiot about to say something profoundly stupid "Bonnie and Clyde"

You blinked. Once. Twice.

"You want to name ‘your girls’ after two actual criminals ?"

He nodded solemnly, as if he were making the most reasonable suggestion in the world. "Iconic criminals. Star-crossed lovers. Thrill-seekers. Just like us, babe"

"Just like us ?" you repeated, incredulous "James, they literally died in a hail of bullets"

"Tragic, right ?" he sighed dramatically, resting his cheek against your chest. "Just two outlaws against the world. Inseparable. Madly in love. Probably great at robbing banks"

You stared at him, completely dead inside. "Are you about to compare my chest to a highly coordinated armed robbery ?"

James lifted his head just enough to grin at you.

"Well” he mused, eyes twinkling “they did steal my heart"

You were done. So done, in fact, that you just gave up entirely.

"I cannot believe this is my life" you muttered, shoving your hands over your face.

James, the absolute menace, took this as encouragement and nuzzled back in, pressing obnoxiously reverent kisses between his newly christened 'Bonnie and Clyde'.

"Rest easy, my loves" he murmured dramatically "Your legacy shall live on"

"James-"

"Shhh" he hushed, patting your side "They're outlaws, baby. They don’t play by the rules"

At that point, you seriously considered pushing him off the couch. Or out the window.

Maybe both.

You shook your head, defeated, completely annihilated by your boyfriend’s questionable choices.

James grinned, entirely too pleased with himself.

“Oh, come on. I’m just having a bit of fun” he chuckled lightheartedly, turning his attention back to your chest with the solemnity of a man who had just finished writing a best-selling novel “Well, ladies, whatever your names may be, just know –you have my eternal devotion”

And then, as if he hadn’t just committed the most embarrassing crime against you, he nestled back in with a satisfied hum.

You stared down at him, deadpan.

“You’re an actual menace”

“And yet, despite that, you love me” he mumbled, already half-asleep.

You sighed, your fingers automatically sliding into his hair once again. It took him less than two seconds to turn into a puddle, his entire body going limp as he exhaled in the most ridiculously pleased way possible, like he had just been given an award for the best nap ever.

“Unfortunately” you muttered, your heart melting just a little bit too, because, yes, he was a ridiculous man, but he was your ridiculous man.

And, as much as you complained, you couldn’t deny it --having James like this, warm and completely wrapped around you, was its own kind of perfect.

The Pillow Contract (Unofficially Signed & Approved)

Clause 1: James gets unlimited chest pillow privileges.

Clause 2: Y/n reserves the right to kick James off if he drools in his sleep.

Clause 3: Cuddles are mandatory.

Clause 4: James won't ever refer to Y/n's chest as ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ again. Penalty: annulment of Clause 1.

Hello beautiful people 💗

I have no idea of where this thing spouted from. It popped in my head, and I had to bring it to the world 😂.

This is my first attempt at a more humorous type of fic. I had so much fun writing it, and I really hope it didn't downright suck, and you had a good time reading it, too.

Let me know what you think!

Thank you for reading, and I'll catch you in the next one <3

1K notes · View notes

sleepyrosiie · 7 months ago

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Sirius Black guitarist AU

#atyd marauders #marauders #the maraunders map #remus x sirius #sirius black #sirius orion black #atyd remus #atyd sirius #atyd fandom #all the young dudes #harry potter fanart #harry potter fandom #art #digital painting #illustration #fanart #james potter

1K notes · View notes

cowboylikemac · 1 month ago

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THE WAITING GAME || J.P

a/n: i am honestly not sure how to feel about this but if you love it, i’ll end up loving it. Honestly its giving jeff buckley’s yearning.

summary: James Potter touches you like it means nothing. You feel it like it means everything. Best friends caught in the in-between. Too close to be casual, too scared to be honest. It’s all glances that linger too long, hands that almost hold, and words neither of you are brave enough to say. But how long can you keep waiting for someone who’s already halfway yours?

including: Slow emotional, mutual pining, angst, no explicit content or character death

word count: 2k+

James Potter always touches you like it means nothing.

An arm slung over your shoulder. A hand on your arm when he’s laughing too hard at Sirius. His chin on your shoulder as he reads your Herbology notes upside down. You’ve learned to breathe through it. To pretend your skin doesn’t buzz every time he’s close.

You’re best friends. You don’t ruin that.

But it’s hard.

Especially when he curls up next to you on the Gryffindor common room couch and falls asleep halfway through some dull Astronomy chapter you offered to read out loud. His head is on your chest, soft snoring, lips slightly parted. You don’t dare move.

You also don’t sleep.

You stare at the ceiling for two hours and wonder if he hears how fast your heart beats when he’s this close.

⸻

You get good at hiding it.

The longing. The way you look for him in every hallway, laugh a little louder when he’s nearby. The way you watch his hands, his long fingers, calloused knuckles, a freckle on his middle knuckle you once counted just to distract yourself.

He talks about girls sometimes. You pretend not to care.

“You think Smith likes me?” he asks one afternoon, sprawled on your bed eating half your chocolate stash.

You shrug. “Probably. You’re loud. People notice loud.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“Do I?” you joked.

He throws a pillow at you. You throw it back.

⸻

One morning, he’s already at your table in the library when you arrive. There’s an extra quill waiting for you, your favorite fruit chews, and a note folded in half.

“Thought you’d forget your stuff. You always do.”

You roll your eyes but keep the note.

You tuck it in your pocket and read it again three times during History of Magic.

He never mentions it.

⸻

Sixth year feels heavier.

He’s taller. His voice is deeper. Lily Evans finally starts looking at him the way he’s always looked at her. It makes your stomach twist.

You hate that you see it. That he doesn’t seem to care as much anymore. Or maybe he’s just tired of waiting for her, the same way you’re tired of waiting for him.

You sit beside him in Transfiguration and pretend it doesn’t mean anything when your knees touch.

You lend him your scarf one day when he forgets his. He forgets to give it back for a week. When he does, it smells like him.

⸻

You tell yourself you’re fine with this.

This limbo. This almost.

He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you.

Because how could you? What would you even say?

“I think about kissing you every time you lean too close.”

or something even better

“I feel like I’m falling in love with someone who thinks of me like a place to rest, not stay.”

You’d sound crazy. Mental.

But worst of all— you’d lose him.

So you smile. Laugh. Let him get close, but never close enough.

You wait. And wait. And wait.

⸻

It changes one night in November.

It’s late. Past curfew. You’re both on the Quidditch pitch, lying in the middle of the grass after James dragged you out for “fresh air and perspective,” whatever that means.

You’re lying side by side, his fingers close to yours. Not touching. Just close enough to feel the warmth radiating like a furnace.

He sighs. “Everything feels like it’s moving too fast lately.”

You glance at him. “What do you mean?”

“I dunno. Lily. School. Life. Everything feels like it’s on the edge of changing and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing.”

You chew your lip. “Maybe it is.”

He turns his head toward you. “What if I don’t want it to change?”

You look at him.

And you say the bravest thing you’ve ever said “Then tell it to stay.”

James blinks.

You keep going, even though your chest feels like it’s caving in. “Sometimes… I feel like I’m standing still and everything else is moving on without me.”

He’s quiet.

And then he whispers, “Mine doesn’t move without you.”

You stare at him. His voice is low. Vulnerable. Like he’s saying more than he knows how to say.

“James—”

“I think about it,” he says suddenly. “Us. Sometimes.”

Your heart stutters. “Oh.”

He laughs softly. “That’s all you’ve got?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “That you think about it too.”

You look down. “I think about it all the time.”

He’s still. Like he’s scared to move, scared it’ll break whatever moment this is.

But then he reaches out — slowly — and takes your hand.

Just that.

Not a kiss. Not a confession.

Just your hand in his.

And somehow, that’s everything.

⸻

After that night, nothing’s different.

And yet everything is.

He still jokes. Still ruffles your hair. Still falls asleep beside you with a book open in his lap. But now, his fingers find yours under the table. His arm lingers around your waist longer than it should. And when he smiles at you, it’s softer.

You still don’t talk about it.

Neither of you are ready.

But when you see Lily Evans look at him and he doesn’t look back, you feel something loosen in your chest.

You’re still waiting.

But it feels different now.

Like maybe — finally — he’s waiting too.

⸻

(James POV)

James Potter doesn’t know when it started.

Maybe it was fourth year, when you cursed Mulciber for hexing his broom and then shrugged it off like it was nothing.

Or maybe it was fifth, when you fell asleep on his shoulder in the library and slightly drooled on his robes and he didn’t even care.

Or maybe it was always there — this quiet ache that sat low in his chest every time you laughed and it wasn’t at something he said.

He doesn’t know.

He just knows it’s getting harder to ignore.

⸻

You’ve always been his soft spot.

He thinks he hides it well. He teases you like he teases Sirius. Shoves your shoulder in the hall.

But he notices things about you that he doesn’t notice about anyone else.

You chew your lip when you’re nervous, even though it annoys you. You hate coffee but drink it every morning needing anything to wake up. You sleep on your side, always facing the wall. You pretend not to care when people hurt you, but you always go quiet after.

He notices.

He wishes he didn’t.

⸻

When he talks about other girls, he watches you.

He doesn’t mean to — he just does.

Watches how your jaw tenses, how your eyes flick down, how you suddenly start organizing your bag like it’s the most urgent thing in the world.

And every time, he feels like the worst person alive.

Because he wants your attention, but not like this. Not through jealousy. Not through hurt.

But if he asked you — really asked you — what would you say?

⸻

He dreams about you sometimes.

He never tells anyone, obviously. Not Sirius. Not Remus. Definitely not you.

But they’re not always romantic. Sometimes you’re just… there. Laughing in the rain. Sitting on the Quidditch stands. Reading upside down with your foot tapping against his knee.

But sometimes, it’s more.

Sometimes, it’s your hand in his, your lips against his throat, your voice in the dark saying his name.

He always wakes up sweating.

⸻

When he finds you on the Quidditch pitch that night, something in him unravels.

He doesn’t plan on saying anything. Just wanted to be near you. That’s always been enough.

But the way you look at him — like you see him, not the version he pretends to be which only makes it harder to lie.

He says everything without saying anything.

“Everything’s changing.”

“I don’t want it to.”

“I think about us.”

And then your hand in his.

Just that.

It should’ve been too small to mean anything.

But it feels like the start of something he’s been running from for years.

⸻

He doesn’t kiss you.

Not because he doesn’t want to — but because he wants it to mean more than almost.

He wants to be sure. Not of you — he’s always been sure of you. But of himself. Of the version of him that’s not just the Quidditch captain or the loudest in the room or the idiot pining after Lily Evans.

He wants to be the version of him that’s worthy of your attention.

And maybe — just maybe — that version is already here.

⸻

Every time you’re near him after that, his whole body feels wired.

Like if you touched him for one second too long, he’d combust.

He doesn’t tell you this.

He lets his hand brush yours under the table. Lets his fingers rest on your knee when no one’s watching. Lets his shoulder bump yours when he sits beside you, like he can’t stand the inch of air between your bodies.

Because he can’t.

But he still doesn’t kiss you.

Not yet.

Not until you look at him like you know.

Not until he’s brave enough to say the thing he’s never said

“It’s always been you.”

⸻

(Readers POV)

It starts with a glance.

You’re in the corridor, laughing with Marlene, and James is passing by. He looks over his shoulder like he always does, like he’s checking you’re still there. Like he can’t help it.

But then Lily catches up to him and links their arms.

He doesn’t look back.

You laugh a little too loud after that.

Marlene notices. She doesn’t say anything.

⸻

Later that night, you’re curled in a chair by the fire, pretending to read. James flops beside you with a sigh and that familiar look — one part affection, one part restlessness.

“Evans thinks I’ve been distant,” he says.

You don’t look up. “Have you?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe.”

You flip a page. You haven’t read a single sentence.

“Do you want to be with her?” you ask, and it sounds calm, but your knuckles are white on the book spine.

James hesitates. “I thought I did.”

You nod, like it doesn’t cost you anything. “Well. Let me know when you figure it out.”

You stand.

He grabs your wrist.

“Wait—what does that mean?”

You don’t answer. You just look at him — really look — and see it: the confusion, the fear, the same ache you’ve been carrying all year.

“You don’t get to hover near me forever, James,” you whisper. “You don’t get to want me halfway.”

Then you walk away.

⸻

( James’s POV )

She’s pulling away. He can feel it.

Not all at once — no, that would be easier. But piece by piece. The long looks become quick glances. The silence between them stops feeling comfortable.

He misses her in the small ways first.

Misses how she always passed him a sugar quill when he fidgeted. How she said “you’re fine” every time he doubted himself — not in the loud, Gryffindor way everyone else did, but in a quiet, real way that actually worked.

He misses her voice.

He misses her attention.

But he doesn’t say anything.

Because saying something makes it real. And if it’s real, it can break.

⸻

Sirius elbows him one day in the courtyard. “You’re brooding. Stop.”

“I’m not brooding,” James mutters, lying badly.

“You look like you’ve just been dumped.”

James doesn’t reply.

Sirius raises a brow. “Wait—did you? Did you and Y/N—?”

“There was no me and Y/N,” James snaps.

But the words taste wrong in his mouth.

Because maybe there was. Just in a way he never had the guts to name.

⸻

That night, he finds her by the lake.

She doesn’t look surprised.

“I figured you’d show up eventually,” she says.

He runs a hand through his hair. “Can we talk?”

She stays silent.

“Only if you stop pretending you don’t know how I feel.”

James stares.

“I’ve loved you since fifth year,” she says flatly. “And I’ve waited. And waited. And you’ve spent every second dancing around it like it might ruin your perfect little world if you say something real.”

James feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him.

“I never wanted to ruin what we have,” he says.

“Well, you did anyway,” she says. “Congratulations.”

He steps closer. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” Her voice cracks. “You don’t get to hold my hand like it means something and then tell people you’re not sure how you feel.”

James opens his mouth. Closes it.

“I wanted you to say something first,” she says quietly. “Just once. I wanted it to be you.”

Silence.

Then James says, hoarse, “I think about kissing you every time I’m near you.”

She goes still.

“I think about how you smell like cinnamon and ink, and how you laugh when you think no one’s listening, and how I started waiting for you at breakfast even when I wasn’t sure why.”

He exhales. “I’ve been in love with you so quietly for so long I didn’t even realize it until I thought I lost you.”

She swallows. “Then why didn’t you say something?”

“Because I’m terrified,” he says. “But I’m more terrified of never trying.”

A painfully long pause.

Then, finally, she whispers, “Say it.”

“What?”

“Say it. Like you mean it.”

He steps forward. Takes her face in both hands.

I’m in love with you,” James says. “Not just in the way people say it. I mean in the way where you’re the first person I look for in every room. The one I can’t stop thinking about, even when I’m trying not to.

Then he kisses her.

And she kisses him back.

It’s not soft. It’s not careful. It’s everything they’ve held back for years pouring out all at once.

It tastes like relief. Like maybe they were always heading here.

Like they were always going to break just to fall into each other.

leave recommendations in my inbox and check out my masterlist .ᐟ

a/n: i wrote this a 6 in the morning…i am running on fumes

tags: @lydiascabinsix @lydiasfalling @laufeysvalentine

#james potter x self insert #james & peter & remus & sirius #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter x oc #james potter #james #james fleamont potter #maraduersera #maraduers #maraders era #the maraunders map #marauders #cowboylikemac #mac talks .ᐟ

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lqveharrington · 10 months ago

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Buried in a Book | R.L.

summary: While you were part of the biggest friend group in Hogwarts, you’re often in your own world to even register the plans they make.

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: remus being the best boyfriend in the entire world, reader feeling a little insecure, reader’s last name is rawlings (no, i didn’t realize how close it was to rowling until later 😞)

a/n: someone spam message me to finish my coryo series please 😭🙏

One of the best things about being in Gryffindor were the people you made friends with. From rule-breakers — such as James and Sirius — to heavy rule followers — Lily Evans herself — it was so diverse. You could throw pranks with the marauders while being a prefect. By the end of sixth year, the group was tight knit and it seemed as if nothing could ever ruin it.

But there was one thing they would typically forget about with their rambunctious nature. They always forgot about you in their plans. It wasn’t as if they did it intentionally. No, it was because you were always off in your own world, and when they made plans you didn’t hear them. Usually one of the girls would tell you, or your loving boyfriend, but you felt awful every time.

Today was no exception.

Sirius and Marlene made plans to Hogsmeade during breakfast for the weekend. And of course the rest of the group seconded that call and hurriedly ate their food to prepare for the trip. Being oblivious to everything that was happening, you continued to read your novel until Remus cleared his throat as a small warning.

Hearing this, you put a finger to your last sentence and looked up at him, eyebrows knitting up in confusion at the lack of noise coming from around you. “Where did they all go?”

“They made plans for Hogsmeade about…” He looked down at his watch, tapping it softly. “… Five minutes ago.”

He stacked the plates surrounding their area, your eyes watching his movements in silence. You thought you were listening to them this morning, but the last thing you heard before you got fully immersed was the next prank Sirius wanted to pull on Severus Snape.

Frowning, you carefully put your bookmark into your book and leaned your head on Remus’ shoulder, voice coming out quiet. “I didn’t realize.”

Remus wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to your temple for assurance. “It’s okay, dovey. You were so invested in your book that I didn’t want to bother you.” He gently helped you up from the bench and pulled your closer to him, his slender fingers tracing patterns on your shoulder. “Besides, I get to have quality time with my best girl.”

A soft smile graced your lips at his comment, but a small part of your mind was eating at you. What if they were talking about something important and Remus wasn’t there to tell you about it? You guessed the girls would, but you would bet they would forget to tell you before you realized they left you.

“Is there anyway specific they asked us to meet then?” You murmured as you entered the Gryffindor common room where only a young first year was sitting by the fire and reading a muggle book.

“I think we both know the answer to that.” He played with the ends on your hair as he pulled around to face you properly. He twisted the ends and watched them unfurl until meeting your eyes.

You looked up and shook your head in amusement as you both said “The Three Broomsticks” at the same time. You scrunched your nose and smiled again when he kissed your forehead as a short parting gesture.

By the time you left the common rooms and made it to The Three Broomsticks, they were just leaving, causing another wave of guilt pass through you.

“There you two are! We were wondering when the both of you would make it.” Sirius pushed in between the both of you to wrap his arms around yours and Remus’ shoulders. “You guys missed out on Evans chugging down her butterbeer because Dorcas dared her.”

You blinked and looked over to Lily in surprise, but the wave of guild began to crash again. “Oh, that must’ve been interesting.”

“Very.” He nudged your side softly before noticing how weary you looked. “You okay there, Rawlings?” His voice got quiet and leaned closer to you. “You and Moony didn’t… You know?”

“Godric, what is wrong with you?” You push him away and dust the invisible dirt off your side. “No, I didn’t realize you guys left us so we went back to the common room before coming here.” You roll your eyes and trudge into Honeydukes with a frown on your face.

“Just a question!” Sirius called after you and look toward Remus instead. He gave him an unimpressed look and peeled Sirius’ arm off of him, raising a brow at the man. “She knows I was joking, right?”

“She does, but she’s not in the mood.” Remus rolled his eyes at Sirius as well before following your steps into the candy-filled store. “And for your information, the time span between leaving us and coming here wouldn’t give us enough time to make it satisfactory.”

Sirius creased his brows in confusion before gaping at his best friend. He looked back at James in shock before watching Remus enter the store with a smirk on his face. “Never in my entire life have I heard Remus John Lupin talk about his game like that.”

You watched young wizards and witches mess with the candy from the corner of Honeydukes, fiddling with your own sweater. Well, technically it was Remus’ but he gave it to you sometime last year. But as you played with the loose thread, the same guilt came back to gnaw on your feelings.

It was fine when it was only you missing out on the unplanned fun, but when Remus misses out on fun that he could’ve seen made you upset beyond belief. You didn’t think your own behavior could affect Remus this badly. And it’s not like Sirius helped when he asked about you and Remus.

“Dove?” Remus rounded the corner and found you biting the end of your thumbnail, making him sigh. He gently pulled your hand away and met your eyes. “What’s wrong, dovey?”

“Nothing.” You mumbled, wiping your hand on your sweater. You grimaced at the feeling but looked at Remus with solemn eyes. “Where’s the rest of them?”

He laced his hand with yours, squeezing it softly. “They went to Tomes and Scrolls. I think they’re buying gifts? I’m not to sure.”

You frowned, “When did they say that?”

“They didn’t. They were just heading in that direction when I left them.” He brought your hand up and kissed your knuckles. He watched your glazed eyes blink to get rid of the wet. “Talk to me, my love.”

You raised both brows at the name and felt your face warm. It was rare for him to call you his love, so everytime it made you feel like a child in a candy store, which was technically half true given the setting.

“Don’t you think it’s kind of annoying I zone in and out of our conversations with that whole group?” You finally spoke after a good second, fiddling with his fingers in anticipation for his answer. “We never get to do anything fun or on time because of me, and I’m not too sure why you still bother with me because of it—“

“Dovey,” Remus gave you a small smile, tilting his head down fully to speak only loud enough for you. “Do you really think I care what we miss with them? As long as I have you with me, I couldn’t care less.”

You gently squeeze his hand, “Don’t you want to hate me just a little bit?”

“Never.” He kissed your head. “Why would I ever hate you for your quirk? I think it’s cute that you get to immersed in your own world when reading. And you know why I love it so much?”

“Why?” You smile and tilt your head up to perfectly meet his own tilted head.

“Because then I get to hear all about what happens from your beautiful voice.” Remus grinned his wolfish grin, adjusting the sweater you have on. “So don’t worry too much about me missing out on those pricks because they don’t talk about anything worthwhile.”

You roll your eyes and let out a noise of surprise when he softly connects his waiting lips to yours. Instantly, you melt and return the kiss with equal passion before breaking apart, smiling giddily at him.

“What was that for?” You lay your cheek on his shoulder as shyness took over your body, especially with so many people around you both.

“Just love you.” He thumbed your waist now, nudging his chin onto your head softly. “And I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

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brun-brunette · 26 days ago

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not all men

yeah you're right. James Potter would fucking never.

#i nees him #i crave him #james potter #james potter x reader #marauders era #hogwarts #lily evans #marauders x reader #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #the maraunders map #jily #wolfstar #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #prongsfoot #prongs

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callitschnitzel · 11 months ago

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My apologies Peter, it's so fun and easy to draw a little rat instead of a whole boy.

#marauders fanart #the maraunders map #marauders era #wolfstar #james potter #illustration #sirius black #remus lupin #peter pettigrew

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yasministration · 2 months ago

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parent-teacher meetings - remus lupin

summary: professor lupin hates having meetings with parents. but maybe he hates them a little less after meeting you, a single mother to the kindest student he has taught. wc: 1.7k+ pt ii

If there was something Professor Remus John Lupin hated more than anything, it was having parent-teacher meetings. There was something about having to owl parents about their kids’ behaviour or academic performance that made him feel guilty, as though he was snitching on a good friend. But sometimes, it was crucial.

Remus paced in his office for thirty minutes before you were scheduled to meet him, his sympathetic system tossing him into fight or flight mode. Would you be a kind parent, with the best interest for your child, or would you be a strict, unwelcoming person who took everything from him as an attack? Godric, he wished it was the former.

At four o’clock sharp in the afternoon, the dreaded knock of Remus’s office door was heard. The professor scrambled up to get the door, patting down his clothes one last time before swinging it open. His jaw almost dropped. You were absolutely beautiful, wrapped in a warm coat that only exposed the bottom of your shins and feet, clad in tall heels. Clearly, you had just come from work, Remus thought. “I apologise if I’m late, Professor Lupin, I came straight from work.”

You knew you were right on time.

Remus shook himself out of his daze, stepping aside so you could enter his office. “You’re right on time, Mrs. l/n.” You smiled gently at him, heels clicking on the floor as you moved to sit in the chair he gestured to. “Oh, I’m not married, Professor Lupin.” Great, he had already managed to embarrass himself. “Oh, I apologise. Devon did mention it was just the two of you.”

Ah yes, Devon. The entire reason you were here.

Merely a naive first year, eager, pushing his glasses up his nose as he scurried over to his next lesson. He was a bright kid, the kindest one Remus knew, and he was failing almost all of his classes. “Has he done anything wrong?” You asked, a sudden look of worry overtaking your features. “Right,” Remus cleared his throat uncomfortably. This was not going to be a pleasant conversation. “I told Devon to come meet us in fifteen minutes, because I wanted to discuss the situation with you first. As you know, the academic reports for the first term will be out soon, however, Ms. l/n, I have to warn you, it’s not looking good.”

Remus feared you might cry with the way your face fell, so he just kept speaking, hoping something would make you feel better. He heard the pace of your pulse increase, going unsteady. “Devon is an incredibly bright wizard. He’s the first to pick up every spell, and participates in class all the time. His enthusiasm to learn is truly admirable, but when it comes to assignments and assessments, he seems to fall short.” Your eyes turned glassy, and you brought your gaze down to the hands folded in your lap.

“I can’t believe it.” Remus felt a pang in his chest at the way you said the words, helpless and guilty. He wanted to stand up and give you a hug. “I thought he was doing perfectly fine. We send each other owls all the time - I, I don’t know why he wouldn’t bring up the fact that he was struggling.”

Remus stood up from where he sat at his desk to come sit down in the chair next to you. He placed a friendly hand on your shoulder. “It’s normal for kids to want to impress their parents. And, don’t worry about it. The reason we’re having this meeting now is so that we can figure what the problem is early on.” When you met Remus’s eyes again, he saw that they were filled with tears. “I’m sorry, Professor Lupin, I don’t know why I’m-” You cut yourself off the second you heard your own voice break, immediately looking away from the professor.

“I don’t want you to feel like this is your fault, okay? We’ll sort things out together. I honestly called you in for this meeting because I actually have a suspicion to why I think he may be struggling.” Your head snapped towards Remus, eyes wide, and Remus extended a hand to wipe the tears away from your cheeks before realising that you were the mother of one of his students. He felt his cheeks go hot, pulling his hand away from your face.

“I think Devon might be dyslexic.” You straightened your posture, sniffling slightly, and your faced morphed into one of realisation. “Oh my god. How did I not notice?” “It’s normal for you not to. I only noticed it may be a possibility because I’m dyslexic myself.”

“Oh.”

But before Remus could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. You frantically wiped away at the tears on your cheeks and straightened your posture, watching as Remus walked over to the door. It’s normal for parents to want to impress their kids, he realised. “Hiya Professor Lupin.” Devon greeted in his usual cheery voice. “Hi Devon.” Remus moved out of the way, and Devon’s eyes bulged out of his face as his eyes landed on your now standing figure. “Mum!” He yelled, running over to you and throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. Cupping your son’s cheeks in your hands, you ducked down to press a soft kiss to the top of his head.

“Why are you - oh. Did Professor Lupin tell you about my grades?” He asked, voice much lower, eyes fearful for any disappointment you might hold on your face. “Yeah, he did, Dev.” Devon frowned, letting you guide him by the hand to sit down. Sitting in front of him, you brought your voice down so only he could hear you. So you thought.

“I’m not upset, Devon. I just wish you told me you were having trouble. I thought we trusted each other enough for that.” Devon nodded at your words, swinging his feet above the ground. “I know. We do. But I didn’t want you to worry.” You chuckled lightly, a fond smile on your face. “That’s sort of my job though, isn’t it?” Devon shrugged his shoulders, not meeting your eyes as he mumbled “I guess.”

Remus’s heart warmed at the sight. He couldn’t believe that he was worried about meeting you. You were so motherly, he thought. So caring. In fact, Remus couldn't believe that you weren't married. Remus stepped forward to sit in front of his desk, interrupting the moment between you. “Devon, can I ask you a question?” Remus asked. The boy silently nodded. “Do you have trouble reading? As in, do you find it difficult to process things after you’ve read them? Or have trouble writing things down?”

Devon’s only response was “I know how to read.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, Devon. I know how to read too, but I always have trouble understanding things after I read them. Sometimes the words even look like they’re moving on the pages for me. And that makes it difficult for me to write sometimes.” Devon’s head snapped up to look at his Professor, mouth agape with a silent question. “Come here for a second.” Remus said with a nod of his head towards him. Devon obliged, trudging around the desk as Remus pulled out a textbook from one of his drawers.

Flipping over to a random page, he looked at Devon expectantly. “Pain to read, right?” Finally, a response. Devon nodded, looking back at Remus, his humiliation finally fading away. Remus brought his wand up to the page, mumbling something under his breath. He turned his gaze to Devon once more, who was so surprised that he pulled the textbook closer to him, eyes wide with shock as he scanned over the pages. “How did you do that?”

“Simple spell, really. I’ll teach it to you tomorrow after our lesson, alright?” Devon nodded, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the textbook pages. "Devon?" Devon's head shot towards you, and he rounded the desk, returning to you with a smile on his face. "Do you think this will help with your grades? Or are you struggling with your lessons too?" Devon glanced towards Professor Lupin, who was looking at him with the same careful expression as you. He finally shook his head. "No. I think classes are pretty easy most of the time." Remus heard your sigh of relief as a small smile made its way onto your face. You nodded twice, blinking slowly.

“That’s it then, Devon. You can go, if you’d like.” Devon looked back and forth between you and Professor Lupin, throwing his arms over your shoulders in a loose hug. “Winter break is only two weeks away. I’ll see you soon.” You whispered to him, tilting your head down to press a kiss to his cheek. “Okay. I love you mum.” He said, pushing the glasses up his nose, leaving a smudged fingerprint on the lens. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

Your gaze followed Devon as he ran out of the office, a slight furrow between your eyebrows. You couldn’t help but worry about him. Standing up, you turned to face Remus, smiling softly to him. He walked around his desk, leaning back slightly on the wooden surface. He only now realised that even in heels, he stood taller than you. “I don’t know how to thank you, Professor Lupin.” Go out with me for coffee, he thought. Instead, the words that came out were, “Remus is just fine.”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Alright, Remus. Thank you for this.” “I’m happy to help.” Remus responded, a smile making its way on his face at the sound of your heart speeding up. “Well, I’ll see you around.”

He saw you two weeks later, standing on platform 9 3/4, snuggled warmly in a coat, scarf wrapped around your neck to keep you warm. The bottom half of your face was fully hidden, but when you spotted Devon walking off the train, you lowered the scarf, waving to your son with a wide grin. Remus swallowed thickly, then. Remus hadn’t stopped thinking about you since the meeting.

He hoped he could come home with you for Christmas too.

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