#hp self insert

[three--eyed--cat]

!! oliver wood moodboard !!

OLIVER WOOD

He's the type of guy that would bring out his guitar at a party, especially if it's in celebration of Gryffindor winning a quidditch match. He'd sit in the middle of the common room, a group of giggling girls sat around him as he strung the cords absent-mindedly, focusing more on how some girl, that sat beside him, stroked his bicep, telling him how good of a job he did during the game. He lived and breathed quidditch, always waking the team up extra early to practice, making them spend hours on the field just for his enjoyment. He felt like he could be himself when he was out there, joking around with his team mates as they chucked around the quaffle. If he wasn't on the field, he'd be sitting in the astronomy tower, accompanied by Fred and George. When asked why they were there, he simply responded with, 'Girl's like this kind of thing, don't they?" Claiming that he was just trying to be a ladies man, learning about the stars so that he could wow them. When in reality, they were all passing around a blunt.

[cursedmoon-doll13]

I: First Week - Misfortunes & Misfires.

Cw: Swearing, Mild Gore

Features S/I OCs: Jasmine, (mine) Scarlet, (@vincent-sinclair-deserved-better) & Minoes (@myers-meadow)

Word Count: 6.8k

Dividers by @/saradika

I awoke as if emerging from murky, clouded water. Wherever I was, I hadn’t the foggiest. I reached a sluggish hand over to grab my glasses from my nightstand, but they weren’t there. Instead, I felt across an expanse of silk curtains. I cracked one crusted eye open, and was almost blinded. 

Of course. I was at Hogwarts. 

My giddy excitement from the night before had tapered off into a pleasant, fluttering hum. The early morning light streamed brightly through my domed window. Beside me sat Peaches, her stubby, ringed tail whipping my leg. She chattered hungrily at the scattering of birds perched outside on the spires. I grinned lazily at her, yawning and rolling myself onto my elbow to stroke her soft neck. She chirped and leant into my touch until she fell over clumsily into my sapphire sheets. I wheezed a fond chuckle.  

Unveiling my bunk, I slid down the ladder and half-stumbled my way into my robes. Luna was absent this morning, as was Cho; one glance at my watch told me that those two early birds had most likely flown the nest already. My only remaining company was a scowling Padma Patil, who was fiddling frustratedly with her earrings. She looked so grumpy I decided to save wishing her a ‘good morning’ for later, jamming my glasses onto my face. 

After refilling her dishes, I smooched Peaches on her fuzzy forehead and set off whirling down the tall spiral staircase, my long braid trailing behind me. 

The great hall was dotted sporadically by groups of breakfasting students. I glanced up to see the enchanted ceiling rolled in thick, overcast clouds of solemn slate grey; a typical British September. 

I approached the Ravenclaw table, my stomach panging sorely with hunger. I saw that Luna was grazing on toast, her pale eyes flashing behind her spectrespecs. She tilted her head and waved cheerfully at me as I sat down. I smiled back, relieved. Apparently she had forgotten - or perhaps forgiven - the sour note we left on last year, when I accidentally let slip that I considered The Quibbler to be the wizarding world’s greatest satire magazine. 

“Hello, Jasmine,” she greeted airily. 

“Hi, Luna…” 

Starving, I wasted no time at all in demolishing my plate of eggs and bacon. Then, a floating streamer wafted by and dropped a roll of parchment neatly into my lap. I gulped down the last of my pumpkin juice, unfurled it and examined my new schedule:

Charms is nice for first thing on a Monday… Ugh, but Potions class this bloody early…  Don’t we have that new Defence against the Dark Arts professor…? 

“Did you sleep alright?” Luna piped up. 

“I did. Thankyou for asking.”

I stashed my timetable away. 

“How are you this morning, Luna?” I asked gently. 

“Perfectly well. Cho was up even earlier, you know.” 

Oh, that’s right… I scanned the length of our table, but Cho’s shiny black head was nowhere to be seen. 

“Well, maybe she’s trying to get in some early quidditch practice,” I reasoned.  

“She really should be careful, though,” Luna said seriously. “The quidditch pitch is infested with man-eating brackadrills this year.” 

True to my house, I wisely held my tongue. 

Professor Flitwick spent our first Charms lesson carefully going over the syllabus, but for Potions, it was business as usual with Professor Snape. I was immediately lambasted for my shoddy work, (which was really just par for the course for me) though the presence of the now familiar Minoes and Scarlet helped to soothe my nerves somewhat. 

Our first Defence against the Dark Arts lesson - indeed taken on by a new and rather haggard professor - began with a simple lecture on banshees, which I caught Seamus grimacing at rather harshly at times. By the evening, my Ancient Runes class had rolled around, and I was tired and sore. I had spent all Summer going soft, and was no longer used to traversing the labyrinthine halls or playing games of musical chairs with the grand staircase. 

But how dearly I'd missed it! How glad I was to be in the thick of it again; a shocked and awed foreigner in this vast, mystical place, as Alice in Wonderland. 

Arriving barely on time, I found a friendly seat nearby Neville and Minoes. Their conspiratorial whispers died to a hush as Professor Babbling swept in.

“Welcome, all!” She announced. “Well, I’m glad to see a good turnout this year. The more, the merrier, as I always say! Not everyone understands the value and complexity behind our sacred runes, but clearly the lot of you have done your research, and…” 

Professor Babbling rambled on for about half an hour before finally conjuring up our lesson plans. Then, she drifted off once again into a completely unrelated story concerning her trip to Peru, until the ever-diligent Hermione steered her firmly back on track. 

“Professor Babbling, we’ll be studying the differences between simplified and traditional scripts this year?” She prompted. 

“Ahem… Yes, we will, Miss Granger.” 

Actually, I had already sifted through my copy of Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms before this, unable to temper my enthusiasm. To be honest, my fascination with it was more along the lines of researching ancient tombs and the like; the reality of it was a little more drab, but it was still an interesting class so long as Professor Babbling stayed on target.

Be that as it may, I was eager to leave for dinner. Hogwarts never disappointed when it came feasting, its dining tables lined with food, all drowned in gravy. Above, the grand roof swelled purple with storm clouds as it echoed the raucous boom of thunder from outside, magnificent. 

After a hefty meal, stuffed full and yawning, I approached the eagle knocker. As always, it calmly presented me with a riddle: 

“Without wings, I fly. Without eyes, I cry. What am I?” 

Without wings… Without eyes… Flying without wings… A manta ray? No, they don’t cry… Neither do sycamore seeds… Ferocious rain beat down against the massive windows as I stood there, lost in thought. Wait… It’s raining… And…   

“Oh. A cloud. It floats in the sky, and cries rainwater.” 

“Hm… A fair answer. You may enter.” 

The lock clicked, and the door swung open. I entered, and felt a trickle of warmth flow through me at the sight of our common room. Apparently someone had requested ABBA, because there were a number of joyful students who were dancing badly around the fireplace. The more studious Ravenclaws were already started on their first essays, curled up on armchairs, glaring at these rowdy newcomers. Being somewhere in the middle, I decided it best to relax for the evening and tossed off my scarf.

Padma, quite at ease now that it was dusk, was laughing heartily as Peaches streaked frantically across the cobalt blue carpet. 

“Jas, your cat has the zoomies!” 

I grinned and fiddled with my glasses as I reclined on the sofa. I was worried Padma would dislike her, considering that she was quite protective over her old, sickly parakeet. 

Peaches finally calmed down after a few more laps and padded over to me, chirping as she jumped onto my leg. That night, I amused her by charming one of Padma’s dragonfly hair-clips (with her permission) to flutter ceaselessly around the Ravenclaw dorm, glittering like a winged jewel. 

It was still soaring in shaky arcs as I fell asleep, admiring the gleaming array of stars outside my bedside window, content and peaceful. 

The next morning was damp and miserable. 

Perfect weather for being stuck inside, of course. After a healthy helping of kippers and an even healthier book haul, I convinced the eagle knocker to let me in on a technicality and spread my parchment over an empty table. As much as I adored Hogwarts’ library, I preferred Ravenclaw tower; it was cosy, it had the best view in the castle, and most importantly, you could play music here. 

I suppose I should explain how we Ravenclaws managed to circumvent the zero tech policy. 

Typically, most electronics fizzled out in the presence of so much raw magic, so a digital setup in Hogwarts was a no-go. But here was the trick; a nice, simple record player, and fine collection of vinyls. How did we procure this filthy contraband, you ask? None other than our resident Giles Taylor. Most of his wit and wisdom went towards smuggling various muggle things into Hogwarts; I guess we both felt a little homesick at times. 

Now, Giles was quite precious about this treasure, but if you buttered him up enough, he was willing to allow you to spin just about any album on it. 

This was a generosity I often took advantage of. 

“That better not be what I think it is, Jas,” warned Giles, chuckling nervously as I slid a fresh record from its glossy folder. “Because If Roger tries to exorcise my record player one more time, I’m going to have to ban you, simple as that.” 

I cackled in remembrance.

“Don’t worry… I’m behaving today.” 

He still glared suspiciously at me. 

“I swear, Giles, I solemnly swear,” I assured him, dramatically flashing my vinyl. “It’s Robert Smith, see? Look at him, he wouldn’t hurt a fly!”

“I dunno, bloke looks a bit peaky to me.” 

But he relaxed after that, allowing me to play my record. I opened my books and dipped my quill in ink. Giles winced sympathetically.

“I guess you’ve got a lot of work to do.” 

“‘Course, naturally,” I said. “It’s Professor Snape.” 

He leant forward to inspect my unfurled parchment. 

“Oh, bollocks,” he groaned. “He set you a footlong?” 

“Um… Several, actually, on uses of Lavender.” 

“Yowch.” 

“Mhm.” 

“Well, I haven’t summoned yet,” Giles continued. “I have Potions class on Thursdays and Fridays, though…” 

“I’m sure you can’t wait,” I said dryly. 

Giles stretched luxuriously across the sofa, hurling another log into our fireplace. It crackled richly, filling me with vigour as I plodded through my essay. 

“So - oh, hey kitty! (Peaches fled hurriedly away from his grip) - All of that aside, we’re still on for that chess match later, right?” 

Flourishing my signature, I grinned. 

“Oh, yeah.” 

Wednesday was also fraught with heavy sheets of rain, and poor Cho tread into the great hall sopping wet, mucky and shivering. Her teeth were chattering so violently that Padma and I both helped to cast exaresco to suck up the moisture, offering her hot plates of syrup-smothered pancakes to warm her up.

“It’s freezing out there,” Cho shuddered out. “You’d think it was mid-Winter already!”

As Professor Binns resumed his usual droning without much fanfare, I almost doubted he noticed our absence over the Summer at all.

Beside me, Minoes fought bravely to resist his soporific power. I tried my best to do the same, jotting down as much information as I could possibly garner from his lecture. And yet, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander a little towards my next class. I had taken on Divination out of pure curiosity, but I was always a bit of a sceptic. That said, I knew I couldn’t rule it out entirely; magic definitely existed, after all. I remembered back to when my dad once told me about a ‘witch’ living in a cottage near the outskirts of town who had made some incredibly accurate predictions about the future. Would this ‘Professor Trelawney’ be like her? 

After the bell rang, I, rather fittingly, felt a bad premonition coming on, so I packed up and escaped History of Magic as quickly as possible in order to scope out the North Tower where I’d be taking my first Divination class. As expected, I got lost.

Out of breath from running, I straightened my glasses and brushed damp hair out of my face. The halls grew cold and solitary. This area of the castle was unfamiliar to me. But then, I realised it was because something about my usual path had changed: a huge, gleaming suit of armour that usually stood sentinel by the corridor wall had vanished. Hidden behind it was a small door that I had never seen before; one so tiny I could only imagine it being used by a house elf. 

What could be in there… What could be… 

“Ooh!” Squealed a painting of a hearty, green-clad barmaid. “Quick, he’s gone! Try going in!” 

I bit my lip, pulling my robes closer to my body. I was sorely tempted… But no, I ought to be responsible and make a good first impression… 

“I can’t,” I said glumly. “I have Divination.” 

I’ll come back later… Yes… 

“Killjoy!” The barmaid roared after me. “Let me tell you, girl. Back in my day, I knew a couple of right daring wee lads. They’dve chanced it!” 

But I was already gone. 

I was late, of course, and was forced to waddle awkwardly over to make my excuses to Professor Trelawney under the scrutiny of my peers. 

“Yes,” she murmured. “Did I not foresee this? That one of our number would battle great confusion on their journey here? Go on, take a seat…” 

Professor Trelawney waved me away with a spindly, jewel encrusted hand. I breathed a glad sigh that I was not scolded, but as I scanned the misty, incense-ridden chamber, I saw that most of the pouffes were taken. The only free spot was by…

“Hi,” I whispered, sinking into a plush armchair.

Scarlet glanced over at me, their mouth curling into a brief smile. I noticed they wore the Slytherin robes now, their vibrant, purple hair pulled into a ponytail.

“Hi,” she replied. “Nice seeing you again.” 

I nodded distractedly as I unloaded my bag. Were they alone for the same reason as last time? For some reason, this random thought sprang to mind.  

“We’re supposed to read our tea leaves,” Scarlet explained quietly. “Drink up, then we’ll swap.” 

They brought a delicate, blue teacup to their lips and gulped down a mouthful. Still frazzled, I lagged behind in drinking mine. It was scalding hot - and I was never much of a tea drinker anyway - but I didn’t want to hold up the lesson. I winced at the bitter taste, but once I’d swallowed it all, I slid it over, and swiftly received hers. I fumbled nervously with my copy of Unfogging the Future as I rotated the cup around, trying to decipher some understandable shape…

“Oh, It looks a bit like a unicorn,” I reported. “That’s sweet… That means you’ll ‘find love,’ apparently. (They snorted) But there’s a bit here too… Like a sort of cudgel looking thing… Wait, it says here that if you get that, you’ll be ‘attacked…’ Um…” 

I whipped through a few pages to confirm it. 

“So - er - I guess you’re going to be attacked by a person you fall in love with,” I finished. “Or fall in love with your attacker, maybe?”

“Wow,” they said flatly, scoffing. “Finally, I have something to look forward to.” 

I couldn’t help but stifle a giggle; I quickly turned it into a fit of hiccups as Professor Trelawney approached, her many necklaces glittering. 

“Ah, Pimpernel, my most faithful student,” she praised. “What do you see in Daly’s cup, my dear?” 

Scarlet hurriedly returned to my tea leaves. 

“…Fire. Yeah, a big nasty flame,” they muttered, squinting into my teacup. “Uh, wait, I remember. A fire, that means ‘passion.’”

Professor Trelawney nodded sagely. 

“Yes, ‘passion!’ The burning fire of passion, for a beloved hobby, perhaps? A pastime you are most devoted to? Or, yes, a passionate love affair.” 

“Oh,” I said pleasantly. “That’s nice!”  

But then she stopped rather abruptly. 

“Wait!” 

Surprised, I peered up at Professor Trelawney. Her dreamy, tender smile had vanished. Now, her magnified eyes were huge and glistening.  

“Give… Give that here…” 

She reached out with thin, quivering hands to receive the cup. Scarlet’s brows were knit in concern, and we exchanged puzzled looks. I felt my stomach lurch as Professor Trelawney paled a papery white. That did not appear to be promising… I squirmed in my seat. 

“Oh… Oh, no… No…” 

“What?” I urged, nervous.

Professor Trelawney fixed me with a teary stare. It felt uncomfortably like that of a doctor about to diagnose their patient with a terminal illness. 

“You have…” Her lip trembled. “The Grim.” 

Shocked gasps echoed around the classroom. 

“…”

What the fuck is a Grim?

This answer was so underwhelming, my anxiety immediately dispersed into confusion. I glanced dubiously around the other pouffes, unnerved by the funereal atmosphere. Lavender and Parvati were gazing at me mournfully, as if I might be struck dead by lightning at any second. 

“Um…” I felt dumb. “What’s that?” 

“A most terrible death omen!” Professor Trelawney let out a frightened sort of moan. “T-to have two sightings of the Grim in such quick succession, oh…” 

A death omen…? The words rippled in my mind. 

Our panicking teacher wavered delicately on the spot, and for a moment I believed she might actually faint. Her arm went limp and the offending teacup dropped onto my lap. I saw for the first time the ominous shape of a black dog at the bottom of it… 

The Grim… 

“You are dismissed!” Professor Trelawney cried, clutching a hand to her chest, as if willing away an oncoming heart attack. 

I was prickled by whispers and mutterings as I hurriedly stuffed my books into my bag. A sceptic I may have been, but the collective dread of the classroom, the headache-inducing perfume and the exhaustion had all bubbled nausea into my belly. 

“Um, look,” Scarlet began, gently brushing elbows with me. “Harry got a Grim too, last year, and he hasn’t snuffed it yet. You’ll probably be fine.”

I smiled shakily. Considering Harry Potter’s penchant for misfortune, this wasn’t exactly reassuring news, but I knew that she was only trying to comfort me. 

“Was just a wee bit unexpected, is all,” I mustered up. “How did I go from ‘whirlwind love affair’ to popping my bloody clogs?”

“Maybe you’ll get some first,” Scarlet shrugged. Y’know. Before you die.”

“Oh, Fantastic.”  

After the drama of my first Divination lecture, I was glad to return back to my bed (after sassing that eagle bastard) and curl up beside Peaches. 

She didn’t know what was wrong, of course, but she purred for me like a cute little motorcycle. Stroking her soft fur made me feel a lot less freaked out, and given that Astronomy and Care of Magical Creatures were both due on Thursday, I made the mistake of looking forward to tomorrow…

But on Thursday, I was still thoroughly spooked. That familiar sense of unease plagued me all morning, distracting me constantly. I barely remembered how to chew my toast or drink my pumpkin juice but for drifting off into strange, unwelcome states of mind, which concerned my housemates quite a bit. 

“It’ll be fine, Jas,” Cho told me over breakfast. “My grandma saw one when she was a girl, and she’s celebrating her 90th birthday this year!” 

I smiled weakly at her.

As much as I would’ve liked to pretend that the old superstitious tales didn’t affect me, I unfortunately carried that bad energy right over through Charms and into Potions with Professor Snape. This was when my sour luck truly reared its ugly head. 

“Today we will be brewing the Draught of Peace, a potion meant to calm the mind and relieve anxiety,” he explained flatly, swooping into the classroom. “As this is a simple OWL level assignment, I expect you all to prepare and complete it easily.”  

I could really use a bit of anxiety relief right now…

“Be aware,” Professor Snape deliberated, crossing his arms, “That should you fail, its sedative properties are extremely potent…”

His black eyes narrowed as they passed over us, and I sucked in a shaky breath, fumbling with my potion-brewing equipment. Beside me, Minoes stood at attention and was listening raptly, while Scarlet ignored Malfoy’s haughty glare as much as possible. 

“You may begin.”

As I mashed up my powdered moonstone and my ladelled in my syrup of hellebore, Professor Snape’s oppressive aura weighed down on me like a ton of bricks. I used to be properly scared of him in my very first year, and I still wasn’t entirely over it now. Glancing over toward Minoes, I saw her brows furrowed in concentration, and her potion looking exactly how it should be… My heartrate spiked rapidly as he stalked over to our table, rushing to turn down the heat as he grilled Minoes on her ‘unconventional crushing style.” 

Cold sweat beaded my neck. My potion was now a dark, inky substance which resembled tar; not at all the light baby pink it should be at this stage. Somewhere along the line, I’d mucked it up. Panic spiralled in my brain as Professor Snape approached, black robes billowing, and I accidentally knocked my cup of powdered porcupine quills over the counter… 

Now, he loomed over me. I swallowed down a lump.

“Tell me, Miss Daly,” Professor Snape began. “Precisely where in your textbook does it specify that your potion should look like an oil spill? 

“Nowhere, sir,” I muttered, scraping up my quills. 

“And yet… Somehow, you have managed it.” 

I nodded shamefully, head hung over my cauldron. 

“As it seems that you are incapable of following basic instructions,” Professor Snape continued silkily, lips curling unpleasantly, “I shall monitor you.” 

From the other side of the dungeon, I heard a nasty sniggering that I knew came from Malfoy. I pushed my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, my stomach plummeting. On Monday, Professor Snape had simply insulted me as he usually did, but it seemed now he wanted to humiliate me. I briefly wondered if the rumours that the Weasley twins had set off dungbombs in his ingredients store were true.

“Go on,” he said softly. 

Picking my thumb nervously, I fiddled with my wand. Didn’t the next step include a bit of light spellwork? I could barely remember, and I was too afraid to check while Professor Snape was watching me. So against my better judgement, I twirled my wand shakily over the simmering surface of my cauldron. 

And unfortunately, this was a bad idea. 

You see, my wand, while loyal and sweet, is often quite unreliable; just like me. Sometimes it misfires. Sometimes my spellcasting goes horrifyingly wrong.

Like right about now. 

With an awful bang, The hem of Professor Snape’s robes combusted into a small inferno. Gasps issued from across the dungeon as the acrid stench of burning fabric filled the air. My heart almost stopped. Professor Snape stared right at me, furious. 

“What,” he spat through gritted teeth, going the colour of spoiled milk. “Exactly did you just do!?” 

“Well I just- Sir, you’re, um, very flammable, and…”

I hurriedly jammed my fist into my mouth. 

What the actual fuck did I just say?!

A chorus of hysterical giggles erupted around us. Even some of the Slytherins were sniggering, though not as much as the Gryffindors, who were practically howling with laughter. There was a terrible clattering as Seamus Finnigan had bent over double and knocked over his cauldron, spilling violently bubbling orange liquid onto the dungeon floor. Professor Snape’s face paled further into ashen white. He actually seemed to be trembling with rage. The flames licked now dangerously high, but he stood there, unmoving, as if petrified by their mockery.

“Aguamenti!” Minoes cried. 

She leaped in and extinguished it with an icy jet of water from the tip of her wand, her face wrought in panic. This immediately thawed him from his frost. 

I, on the other hand, couldn’t move at all. 

“Mr Finnigan!” He snapped, whirling around to face Seamus, burnt clothes dripping everywhere. “That’s twenty points from Gryffindor, and a failing grade!” 

This sobered Seamus up rather quickly.  

“Clean that up, Finnigan!” Minoes scolded him. “Before it ignites!” 

“Oh, right!” 

Seamus scrambled to clean it up himself, but Scarlet flung herself across the dungeon and did it for him: 

“Scourgify!” 

I watched idly, trapped in a sort of numb daze. My traitorous wand felt blisteringly hot in my hand, so I stuffed it down my robes as if I’d stolen it. A few Gryffindors were still tittering away, but now the Slytherins glared at me with hateful venom. 

“Jasmine, what are you doing?!” Minoes hissed. “Look, your mixture’s completely overflowing! It’s spilling all down your— oh, give it here!”

I flinched as I was bustled away from my worktable. She swiftly neutralised my failed concoction by scouring it just before it exploded.   

“Um… Professor,” Scarlet tried gently. “Are you hurt?” 

But he didn’t answer, his jaw twitching furiously.  

“And you, Miss Daly,” Professor Snape turned back to me, absolutely fuming. “Fifty points from Ravenclaw, and I want you in my office, now!” 

I could only let out a terrified squeak. 

Oh God, I am so dead. 

That afternoon, I received what was perhaps the most vicious tongue-lashing of my life - courtesy of Professor Snape - as well as an entire Friday’s (plus weekend’s) worth of paying reperations! This was a massive shock to my system, as I had not spent one single minute of my life in detention before this. My once flawless record had been besmirched. 

And the worst thing was, after the stunt I’d pulled on my teacher, I honestly felt that I deserved it. 

So, feeling outrageously lucky that I had not been kicked out of Hogwarts entirely, I dragged myself to lunch, though I was barely hungry at all. Once I entered the great hall, I was immediately bombarded by furtive glances and excited whispers. 

I understood why, of course: there had been a desperate desire for gossip, and I’d come to fulfill it. My ‘fiery outburst’ had garnered me some mild infamy, though most could barely decide if it had been intentional or not. Regardless, I was still left shell-shocked as my Gryffindor classmates approached me one by one, grinning from ear to ear: 

“Hey, crazy pyromaniac girl!”

“Daly, that was class!” 

Even Fred and George Weasley, who I had never spoken to before in my life, marched right up to me and congratulated me heartily, as if I’d won a prize.

Reception among my own house was varied. I felt deeply uncomfortable under Cho’s pitying gaze, though she surely meant well. However, my mood dropped several more notches as Padma regarded me coolly, deliberately ignoring me as I passed her on my way to the Ravenclaw table. Luna, on the other hand, seemed quite calm and serene, and I was now more than ever grateful for her forgiving nature.

Of course, the Slytherins seemed to have forgotten how happily they’d laughed along with the Gryffindors; they were all giving me the stink-eye.

“Pathetic excuse for a witch, that Daly,” Malfoy was yammering loudly: “Can’t even brew a simple potion without mucking it up!” 

Unable to muster the nerve to insult him back, I tightened my jaw, determined to keep on chewing. My food tasted like gravel in my mouth. 

“It must be all the Mudblood,” he sniggered. 

Embarrassed, annoyed and flustered all at once, I left for Care of Magical Creatures after shoving a few  steak and kidney puddings down my gullet. But my moodiness was swiftly replaced with delight as I was introduced to Hagrid’s new creatures alongside the rest of the group: a herd of beautiful Kelpies. 

Some of the others seemed a bit apprehensive at first, but I had been itching to return to this class all Summer. My reputation had always been good here, so as a demonstration, I was allowed to try and fit a bridle onto one of the Kelpies with the use of a Placement Charm. 

“Easy does it, now…” Hagrid advised, watching me mount a particularly calm, benign mare. “Steady, tha’s it. Now, hold on tight to ‘er!”

My robes swirling in the mire, I gasped as the cold sensation of water hit me. I gripped her damp, slippery neck tightly as we swam a couple of short laps around the pond. Relishing the feeling of freedom, I almost forgot my troubles. Almost. 

“I knew yeh’ could do it!” Hagrid beamed at me. I grinned sheepishly back, stroking the Kelpie’s mane. Well, at least I’m not a complete failure. 

That evening, my tired eyes stung as I squinted up at the glimmering, star-strewn sky. 

Hello, Andromeda… Delphinus… There’s Pegasus… Aries, Pisces, Aquarius… Perseus and Triangulum… Oh, Canis Major isn’t too easy to see yet… 

Professor Sinastra’s clacking heels echoed around us as she patrolled the Astronomy tower, softly instructing us. I felt so drowsy, I almost nodded off at my telescope. But then I remembered her number one rule: ‘no sleeping during class…’

By the next day, my unfortunate story had mutated into  a far stranger beast. Now, I was some kind of anti-Professor Snape vigilante, a loose cannon ready to lob a spell at the slightest provocation. I had a funny feeling that this was simply the story people wanted to tell, rather than the one they actually believed in. In fact, the Gryffindors were so positively delighted by the concept of Professor Snape suffering that, despite everything, I almost felt a bizarre sort of sympathy for him. 

This sentiment was dampened, however, as Professor Snape seemed to take pleasure in assigning me the worst possible tasks imaginable: polishing his most stubborn cauldrons (by hand), cleaning out the infirmary bedpans (also by hand) and disembowelling fresh specimens (the gore was absolute hell to remove from under my fingernails). All the while, Professor Snape would sneer coldly down at me, docking points from Ravenclaw for any minor infraction he could justify it for; and some for which he couldn’t. Once he’d gotten to the point of threatening to feed my spoiled concoctions to Peaches, I decided it was mutual hatred, and battled the mad impulse to torch him again.

My one consolation was that I wasn’t alone; if there was anything to be gained from this, it was my newfound camaraderie with Seamus Finnigan. 

“Ugh, this is feckin’ rotten,” he groaned over our freshly dissected pile of grindylow guts. “Hey, Jas. Pass me over them tweezers, I got this stubborn…” 

I slid them across the sticky, blood-soaked table. 

“At least you’ll be done after this, Seamus,” I said grimly, harvesting a gallbladder. “I still have a whole bloody weekend of this shit to look forward to.” 

“Miss me, will you?” 

“Oh, you know it. Who else am I gonna gab with?”  

Yes, we were felons chained in the same gaol, but Seamus was good company, and I was glad to resume my natural talking speed around him.

“By the way,” he started, grinning cheekily. “If the fire was an accident, I’ve done that before, too, but… What possessed you to call the man ‘flammable?’”  

“‘Foot planted firmly in mouth’ syndrome.” 

“Hah. Go figures.” 

“As for the fire-starting itself,” I continued wearily, grimacing as I ripped out a slimy grindylow spleen. “I suspect it’s the Protestant in me.” 

Seamus snorted. 

My Friday lessons were similarly overcast by my Potions mishap, but I tried my best not to let it distract me, and I even managed to enjoy myself in DADA and Wizarding Literature. Still, It was clear that had not impressed Professor McGonagall with my badly mangled rat-kettle hybrid.

“Now, I know you’re capable of better work than this, Miss Daly,” she lectured me sternly. “I can’t understand why you keep disappointing yourself.” 

As a matter of fact, neither could I. 

My workload had multiplied tenfold since I’d been indentured by Professor Snape, so once I finally had a bit of spare time, I had no choice but to spend it writing my other essays. Luckily, Saturday’s lunch break granted me a little breathing room, so I sped off to the library to borrow a few books. While I was there, I ran into none other than Minoes. 

“Hi,” I whispered. 

“Oh. Hey, Jas,” she replied quietly. 

Minoes was carrying a stack of heavy books, all stamped heavily with alchemical symbols. She adjusted her grip as she looked at me.  

“So,” I tried, brushing a stray lock behind my ear. “Uh… What are you reading about?” 

“Just some stuff for Potions,” said Minoes.  

“You’re far better at that subject than me, haha…”

There was a weighty silence for a moment. 

“The fire on Thursday was a complete and total accident, by the way,” I assured her quickly, “I would never do something like that on purpose.” 

Minoes’ expression was indecipherable. Nevertheless, It felt as if the atmosphere had brightened a bit. 

“Well, I suppose you’re feeling the consequences of your actions now,” she told me. “It’s definitely not a pretty grave, but you dug it yourself.” 

Grimacing, I nodded somberly. A very practical answer, but I had come to appreciate that of her. 

“Um… One more thing, Minoes.” 

“Yes?” 

“Well, I was wondering,” I began. “If you’d maybe like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? I mean, I sort of can’t… I’m a bit busy right now.” 

I shifted anxiously, checking for Madam Pince. 

“Sure,” Minoes replied quietly, shrugging. “Actually, that sounds like it could be fun.” 

Relief flooded me, and I sighed happily.

“Great!” 

“Oh, but is it alright if I invite Scarlet to come along with us?” Minoes asked. “We all had such a nice time on the Hogwarts Express together, after all.”

This suggestion thrilled me even more. 

“Yes, of course, that’s totally fine,” I said, nodding.

Her dark lips twitched into a smile. 

“Okay, then. See you around,” Minoes finished. Cradling her heavy tomes to her chest, she spun on her heels and walked away. 

“Be seeing you…” 

Hogsmeade…

This was it, a little scrap of hope I could latch onto. My mood lifted, I finished my hour of studying and then set off to do more chores for Professor Snape. 

By Sunday, my five seconds of fame had largely blown over, as I was overshadowed by the Weasley twins’ typical shenanigans, which I was very glad for. For a while my reputation as a quiet, absent-minded student had been in great peril, and so to celebrate my return to normalcy, I decided to visit Hagrid. 

My neck wound in my sapphire scarf, I set off across campus grounds, the grass still damp and mucky from rain. The weather had picked up a bit, but it was still quite windy, blowing strong, bracing gales that whipped stray hairs powerfully against my face. The fresh air helped to clear my head a little, though. Today, I also wanted to help Hagrid to prepare lessons like I occasionally did last year. I hadn’t been able to speak to him properly until now because Professor Snape kept me so busy, but now I had been cleared of all charges, I finally had time. 

On arrival, I knocked heavily against the door. 

“Come in!” Hagrid bellowed, and I entered. 

I paused. Hagrid wasn’t alone; Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley were here as well, nursing huge, grimy mugs the sizes of buckets. 

“Um, hi,” I said quietly. 

“It’s you!” Ron cried, his freckled face breaking into a grin. “The crazy firestarter girl!” 

“Ron!” Hermione hissed, nudging his elbow. 

Harry took a swig of his tea. I smiled awkwardly. 

“Jas!” Hagrid beamed, cutting through the tension. “Sip’a water?” 

“Oh, Thankyou.” 

I sat down, and he slid the entire pitcher over to me. 

“Hey, Fang,” I said quietly. Fang the boarhound licked sloppily into my hand, probably hankering for the remnants of buttered toast left there. 

Eager to change the subject, I turned to Hermione.

“We’re both in Ancient Runes, aren’t we?” 

Hermione’s face lit up at this. 

“Yes, we are! Professor Babbling is brilliant, isn’t she? When she can stay focused, anyway…” 

“Yeah, with a lot of help from you,” I chuckled. “Everyone in that class adores you, since you ask all the questions no one else wants to ask.” 

She smiled happily at me. 

“We’re in Hagrid’s class together,“ Harry finally spoke. “With Luna Lovegood.” 

I looked at him. This was my first time properly talking to Harry Potter, though of course I knew his name. Meeting him face to face, I realised he probably dealt with far more unwanted attention than I did, and thinking this, I tried desperately to stare at anywhere else but the scar on his forehead. 

“Ah, that reminds me,” Hagrid grinning beneath his dark, tangled beard. “How’d yeh like them Kelpies? Fascinatin’ creatures, eh?” 

“Oh, Hagrid, I loved them, they were all so wonderful,” I said warmly, and Hagrid beamed with pride. 

“Yeah, they were alright,” agreed Harry. 

“Hah… Right, need ter’ bring in somethin,’ hold on,” Hagrid grunted, almost toppling the whole table as he stood and shuffled out of the hut. 

“And - um - it was a great distraction, after the mess I’d made earlier,” I admitted, sheepish. 

“I heard it was bloody brilliant,” Ron mumbled on, ignoring Hermione’s warning glare. “Seamus kept talking about it. Wish I could’ve been there…” 

“Ron, I’m very sure she doesn’t want to repeat it,” said Hermione, glancing over to me. “Right?” 

“Actually, it’s fine,” I said quickly, surprising myself. 

“But it’s not like you think, Ron. Um, It was more that my wand backfired, it wasn’t intentional.” 

This didn’t seem to discourage him at all, though. 

“I’ve had that before, too,” he winced. “When my wand broke, y’know, it kind of snapped - remember, Harry? - and my spells went bad.” 

“Mine’s just like that,” I told him, shaking my head. “It’s always been a fickle thing.” 

“Shame you didn’t get Malfoy, as well, though,” Harry remarked dryly. “Both of them probably deserve it just as much.” 

“Really, you two,” scolded Hermione. 

But I couldn’t help cracking a grin. The absurd hilarity of the situation had finally hit me. Laughing about it - instead of moping - was better in the end.

“But I was sort of expecting things to go wrong, somehow,” I continued; I was on a roll now. “The day before, I was in Divination, and… I got the Grim.” 

Fang whined and rested his head in my lap, slobbering great big globs of saliva all over my jeans. I scratched him affectionately between the ears. 

“Tell you you’d drop dead, I ‘spose?” Harry grumbled. 

I nodded, almost giggling in remembrance. 

“Well, Professor Trelawney is very flaky, isn’t she,” said Hermione reprovingly. “Honestly, Jasmine, I don’t think you should worry about it.”

“Yeah, It’s not as bad as Trelawney says it is,” Harry agreed, and then he added: “Actually, when I saw it, some - er - good things happened, too.” 

“They did?” Curious, I raised my eyebrows.

But Harry said no more, merely exchanged furtive glances with Ron and Hermione. I was encroaching on a social circle I didn’t belong to yet, I realised. 

Just then, Hagrid burst in through the door. 

“Ooh,” I couldn’t help but exclaim. “What’s in there?” 

Huffing and puffing, he was hefting a large, lumpy sack over his massive shoulder. It thunked as he set it down, resting it nearby the hearth. 

“‘Fraid tha’s a secret,” Hagrid said, winking. 

Harry, Ron and Hermione all looked quite hesitant. 

“Yeh have ter’ keep ‘em nice and warm, yeh see,” Hagrid went on, misty-eyed as he gazed at it. He swaddled it lovingly in a patched blanket. 

“Hagrid…” Hermione had knit her brows worriedly. 

Our attention was swiftly diverted away from this mysterious sack as Hagrid broke out the rock cakes. Conversation was light and pleasant from then on, with no mention of Professor Snape or Grims. Ron was a laugh, and I found that Harry had a very dry, sarcastic wit that was enjoyable to spar with. Hermione and I, the resident cat lovers, even agreed on a play date of sorts for Crookshanks and Peaches, before we were eventually sent away:

“Well, ‘s awful late!” Hagrid boomed, flushing up to his ears in a way that was decidedly suspicious. “Yeh’d best be goin’ off, then, off yeh trot!” 

After he ushered us out, we tramped across the campus grounds back to Hogwarts. The frigid September air whistled right through me, and I tightened my scarf around my neck, shivering. Still disconnected from the trio’s link of friendship, I lagged behind, watching as the evening stars peeked out from the clouds and twinkled. For a while, I lingered among the howling gales. 

And then, underneath the bruising sky, I saw it: There, lurking silently on the horizon, was an enormous, shaggy black dog.  Dread washed over me like a bucket of ice water, and I rushed to rejoin the group. No, it probably belonged to Hagrid… But that foreboding image stayed with me right up till midnight, as I lay beside Peaches, her rumbling purrs soothing me into sleep.

[moonstruckme]

remus one shot where he can’t stop blushing around the reader because he has a huge crush on her and sirius and james are like dude please ask her out already?? 🙈

cw: the trials and tribulations of a restaurant job, semi-confident reader (or at least she can withstand Sirius' flirting, which I couldn't), James and Sirius' shameless wingmanning

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

The cafe is crammed. You’ve almost tripped over two kids already whose parents let them run loose, you did let a glass slip from your tray when a customer stuck his leg out into the walkway without looking, and you’ve quickly reached the conclusion that today was definitely the wrong day to break in your new work shoes. You’re on your last straw at only ten in the morning, but your pasted-on smile becomes twice as genuine when you see a table of your favorite regulars. 

“Hi,” you say warmly, clicking your pen and readying it above your pad. “How are we doing today?” 

You’re greeted with two dazzling grins from one side of the booth and a shyer smile from the other. 

“Y/n,” says Sirius, in his suave, flirtatious way (you’ve learned not to take it personally), “you’re looking stunning.” 

You know your hair is suffering from the weather outside and there’s orange juice down the front of your apron, but you smile at him anyway. “Thank you, so are you.” 

“How’s your morning going?” James asks. These boys are never ones to skip over pleasantries to get to their meal, and while with other tables you might try to hurry them along, you never mind in this case. Today especially, you welcome the break. 

“Oh, it’s going,” you try to joke, looking pointedly down at your orange juice stain. “Could be worse.” 

He makes a face. “Yikes.” 

“It’s fine,” you say breezily. “What can I get you?” 

You look to James, because really he’s the only one you ever need to ask. The other two are fairly consistent, but James seems inclined to try something new every time he comes in. 

He doesn’t disappoint now, locking eyes with you seriously over the top of his menu. “How is your butterfly lemonade? No—actually, what is your butterfly lemonade?”

“It’s…” You bite your lip, thinking. Sirius snickers, and when you look he seems to be sharing in some joke with Remus’, whose cheeks have gone a tad pink. “I’m not sure, honestly, but it’s sweet. I think you’d like it.” 

“That, then.” James slaps down his menu decisively. 

���Right.” You write it down. “And then, a caramel latte and a tea?” You look to Sirius and Remus for confirmation. 

The former shoots you a grin you take as a yes, while the latter nods and says quietly, “Thank you.” 

“No problem.” You soften your smile for Remus. You adore all of these boys, but you have a bit of a tender spot for him. Remus is by far the quietest of his friends, though really just as friendly when he does talk. It’s terribly endearing. 

You click your pen again. “Okay, back soon!” 

The boys’ table remains a bright spot in your morning for as long as they’re there. Their antics you’re rather used to—the flirting, and the pranks, and the teasing way both James and Sirius poke at Remus while his blush worsens and worsens—but it surprises a laugh out of you when you joke that you’ll have to spit in Remus’ food if he orders the brioche (which infamously holds up the kitchen every time) and Sirius snorts doubt he’d mind before yelping and jumping in his seat. By the time you’re bringing them their ticket, the cafe has reached its late morning lull and your day is remarkably brighter than it started off. 

You seem to be interrupting some sort of debate when you approach their table, Remus leaning forward to whisper across the booth before he catches sight of you and sits back. The tops of his cheekbones are tinged pink. Sirius, on the other hand, is grinning wickedly, whereas James looks mostly exasperated. 

“Thank you,” James says kindly, taking the ticket from you. Remus starts rifling through his pockets for cash, but Sirius only looks at you as though sizing you up. 

“Y/n,” he starts to say, ignoring how Remus’ eyes narrow in his direction, “are you seeing anyone at the moment?” 

You feel your eyebrows lift. “Not currently, no.” 

“But why not?” He affects a look of puzzled contemplation, propping his chin on his hand. “You’re a pretty girl. Are you not looking to date?” 

You shrug, fighting the urge to cross your arms defensively. It’s not that you’ve never gotten these sorts of personal questions from customers before, but you weren’t expecting them from this table; you thought you knew better than to take Sirius’ flirting seriously. “Nothing has come up lately, I guess.” 

“Do you fancy men?”

“Sirius,” Remus hisses. “Leave her alone.” 

“What?” Sirius spreads his hands, guileless. “None of us would care if you didn’t, lovely—well, some might care, but no one would hold it against you—” He yelps for the second time today, this time shooting a glare at his friend across the booth. “Anyway, you don’t have to say if you aren’t comfortable.” 

You’re laughing a bit now, half nervously. “No, that’s okay. I do, yeah.” 

“Interesting.” James sets down the ticket. It seems you have his full attention now. “And what do you think of our Remus?” 

Remus makes a horrified sputtering sound, and you turn to find him looking at James in betrayal. He’s pink to the tips of his ears. 

You can’t help a small smile as you catch on. “I think he seems very sweet.” 

“Mm, well spotted.” James nods, tenting his hands like a man at a business meeting. 

“Yes, very good taste,” Sirius agrees. 

“He’s a dateable bloke, no?” James asks you. He jolts in his seat a little, but doesn’t yelp like Sirius had. Remus appears caught between wanting to hide his face in his hands and wanting to burn his friends to cinders with his gaze. He’ll be lucky, you think amusedly, if he doesn’t burn himself up first. The hue of his blush is only getting deeper. 

“He is,” you agree. You look at Remus again. This time, he meets your eyes, his look softening. 

“I’m so sorry,” he says miserably. 

Your grin spreads. “No, don’t be.” 

“So would you like to date him?” James furthers. 

Remus does put his head in his hands now, letting out a muffled groan. “James.” 

“What? Clearly you aren’t going to do it yourself, and I am sick of trying to eat my breakfast whilst you moon over—” He jumps in his seat again, and goes quiet, reaching down to rub at his leg. You tuck your lips in to hide a smile. 

“I’m just going to take this,” you say, reaching for the customer copy of their receipt. You bend over, scrawling your number down on the signature line. “And if anyone has more questions for me later, they can give me a ring. Okay?” 

You look at Remus. He looks nauseous and stop-sign red, but he manages to give you a small smile. “Alright,” he says, tentatively.

“Perfect. Bye, boys.” You shoot them a wave as you go to your next table. You hope Remus sees how your smile is really only for him.

[deatheaterv]

ENDEARING

pairing : james potter x fem!reader

genre : fluff

summary : james potter teases you ALOT

it started small. james potter, hogwarts’ golden boy, had taken a liking to you, and the entire school seemed to know it. at first, it was easy to ignore—the odd smirk across the great hall, a wave during transfiguration, and the occasional “you’re looking radiant today, y/n!” whenever he passed you in the corridors.

but then he ramped it up.

one morning, you were walking to charms when you heard it.

“oi, y/n! i’ve decided i’m gonna marry you!”

you froze mid-step, the bustling corridor falling silent as every single person turned to look at you. your eyes widened in horror, and you whipped around to see james standing at the other end, his hands cupped around his mouth as he grinned like a lunatic.

“what do you say? sound like a good plan?” he called out, his voice echoing down the corridor.

“i say you’re insufferable, potter!” you shouted back, your face burning.

he clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger backward. “ah, rejection. but don’t worry, love, i’ll win you over eventually!”

you stormed off, ignoring the muffled laughter and whispers from the other students.

it didn’t stop there.

a week later, you were in herbology, carefully trimming a particularly aggressive fanged geranium when james sauntered up to your station.

“looking good, y/n,” he said, leaning against the table with a cocky grin. “but you’d look even better if you let me take you out.”

you didn’t even look up. “potter, if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll feed you to this plant.”

“you’re feisty. i like that,” he teased, wagging his eyebrows.

“and you’re annoying,” you shot back, finally meeting his gaze.

he clutched his heart as if you’d stabbed him. “you wound me again, darling. one of these days, you’ll see how charming i am.”

“don’t hold your breath,” you muttered, focusing back on the plant.

the next day, he upped the ante.

you were sitting in the library, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when james appeared, plopping down in the seat across from you.

“potter,” you groaned, not even looking up.

“just thought i’d keep you company,” he said, resting his chin on his hand as he stared at you.

“don’t you have quidditch practice or something?”

“i canceled it. you’re more important.”

you rolled your eyes. “please stay away.”

“sure, but a kiss first?”

“you’re unbelievably irritating,” you finally looking up to glare him.

he just laughed, completely unfazed. “come on, y/n, admit it. you’d regret it if you don’t want to.”

“not likely,” you muttered, though the faint smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

the teasing didn’t stop, but over time, you found yourself less annoyed by it. there was something about james’ relentless determination that was almost endearing.

one afternoon, you were sitting by the lake, enjoying the quiet, when james appeared out of nowhere, flopping down beside you.

“don’t you ever get tired of bothering me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“never,” he said, grinning. “so, what do you say? want to grab dinner with me tonight?”

“is this your way of asking me out?” you asked, giving him a skeptical look.

“obviously. i’m very subtle,” he said, smirking.

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous, potter.”

“ridiculously in love with you,” he shot back, his grin widening.

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words.

then there was the moment that truly caught you off guard.

it was a late afternoon in the courtyard, and you were sitting with lily evans, enjoying the crisp autumn air. james, as usual, appeared out of nowhere, his hair even messier than usual.

“y/n,” he said loudly, dropping to one knee in front of you.

“what are you doing?” you asked, your eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“making a declaration,” he said, pulling a small flower out of his pocket. it was slightly squished, but the gesture was oddly sweet.

“oh, merlin,” lily muttered.

“y/n, will you do me the honor of..”

“potter, i swear to god—“

“-letting me carry your books for the rest of the week?” he finished, grinning as he held out the flower.

you couldn’t help it, you laughed. james potter, for all his arrogance and teasing, was nothing if not persistent.

“fine,” you said, taking the flower. “but just for this week.”

“that’s all i need,” he said, standing up and flashing you a triumphant grin.

as much as you hated to admit it, james potter was growing on you. and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t mind being the center of his attention.

[singmyaubade]

Growing Pains

poly!marauders x female!reader

summary: you are in desperate need of a job, and the marauders are in desperate need of a babysitter, what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ | age gap between marauders & reader (not heavily identified) | reader is 21 + | mature language.

author's note: hello everyone! so i have multiple poly!marauder fics going on at this very moment (i know) but this was something that came to me and i thought it would be so cute to write since i never really dip my toes into this kind of normal au's. but please enjoy!

! divers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics !

Being unemployed right out of university was not part of your plan.

You knew that it wasn’t unusual to be unemployed after attending university, but you also had high expectations for yourself.

Originally, you were going to intern at your father’s law firm for a while just to get on your feet, while living in your own studio apartment, which he would pay for—his reward for you ‘stepping up’ straight out of university.

After that, you planned to gain some experience and then be able to work at an actual law firm—not just intern—and pay off your studio apartment on your own.

But, as usual, you and your father had gotten into a blown-out, heated argument about your future. All you had said was that you ‘wanted to do some writing on the side’ during dinner, and everything blew up when he claimed that ‘writing is unreliable and wouldn’t get you anywhere in life,’ which only pissed you off.

It ended with you saying some things you didn’t regret, but maybe should have, and him cutting you off financially, retracting the offer at his law firm.

Instead of groveling, you let your stubbornness take over, storming out and having to find somewhere to live as soon as possible.

Thankfully, your cousin, who had graduated a few years before you, was openly looking for a roommate and wasn’t charging a high rate. You took the offer immediately, but finding a job was a real pain in the ass.

Every place you tried to intern at said you didn’t have enough experience or was in competition with your father’s law firm.

And every place you applied to—whether it was as a barista, waitress, assistant, etc.—rejected you.

For no reason, might you add.

You were growing hopeless and severely depressed. Mary was finding it quite hard to comfort you lately, especially since you were holed up in your room, refusing to leave.

She didn’t even think you went out to use the bathroom.

So eventually, when you came out of your room for your 8 PM coffee, she confronted you.

“Y/N,” She sighed, looking at you as you wrapped yourself in a blanket, dark circles under your eyes. “I love you a lot, but I need you to bloody get it together!”

You groaned. “What do I have to live for if no one will hire me and I’m just unsuccessful?” You sulked. “I mean, I’m going to be living with you until you and Lily have kids!” You screeched, horrified.

Mary looked spooked. “I pray not,” She replied, walking over to you and cupping your cheeks in her hands. “You just need to have more faith in yourself—and maybe a little boost,” She said, letting go and sitting on the counter. “Which is why I got you that little boost and got you a job!” She said excitedly, grinning as you looked at her in shock.

“Wait, what?” You responded. “Doing what? And how?” You asked nervously as her grin widened.

“Well, it’s a full-time babysitting gig,” She said happily, swinging her legs.

“So, a nanny?” You asked, sounding a bit deflated.

“Well, unfortunately, I don’t think you’ll be living with them, but yeah, kind of,” She said, as you hummed.

“And you know the parents?” You asked hesitantly.

“Oh, like the back of my hand,” She said calmly as if your question was ridiculous.

“I mean, should I text them or anything? Or at least let them get to know me before I start babysitting for them?” You asked nervously.

Mary waved you off. “They’re really chill, they’ll love you,” She said happily as she hopped off the counter.

“Wait, but—” You tried to speak again, but Mary wasn’t having it.

“I’ll send you their address. You have to be there at 10 AM!” she yelled before heading to her room.

That wasn’t very informative.

You were never this nervous. You really didn’t want to mess this up. Your palms were sweaty, and you were worried they'd think something was wrong with you, maybe unfit to handle kids if you were this nervous over meeting the parents. And Mary hadn’t even bothered to give you any info about the family—no names, no details about their children.

What made it worse was that you couldn’t decide what to wear. You wanted something casual but presentable, something that said 'I’m approachable, but not a slob.'

You were pretty sure the wife wouldn't appreciate anything too scandolous, and a single dad might misread it.

You ended up choosing a red and green Christmas sweater, mom jeans, and Mary Jane’s—comfortable enough, you thought, to handle kids.

Unfortunately, your timing didn’t match. Without a car (since your dad had cut you off), you had to bike there. And to make matters worse, you’d burned your toast and didn’t have time to make more. You were late, pedaling as fast as you could, praying your GPS was right.

You finally arrived at a beautiful suburban house—exactly what you imagined when you thought of a family of four. The house had a neat front yard, a doormat, and was surrounded by well-kept homes. Taking a deep breath, you rang the doorbell and quickly checked your reflection. Your hair was a mess, but you didn't have time to fix it before the door swung open.

A man with black hair, a black button-up shirt, and tattoos on his arms greeted you. He was strikingly handsome with a charming smile. And.. great, you were already crushing on the dad.

"Hey, you must be Y/N, the babysitter Mary recommended," He said with a grin, extending his hand. "We were expecting you—come on in."

The house felt warm and homey, with photos of kids everywhere and Christmas decorations all over. Toys were scattered on the living room floor but not in a messy way—just lived in.

"Sorry about the mess," The man said, laughing and running a hand through his hair. "You’ve arrived during morning madness."

"Oh, it’s fine," You replied, feeling flustered. "The decorations are lovely."

"They kind of went overboard this year," He chuckled.

Before you could say anything else, another man entered the room—a tall, broad figure with light brown hair, wearing a white button-up shirt and brown slacks. Scars marked his face, but they somehow added to how pretty he was.

“Sirius,” The man grumbled, “I told you to tidy up an hour ago,” He sent an annoyed look his way,

"Remus," The new man said, extending a hand. "Apologies for the chaos. It’s never this untidy."

"Yes, it is," Sirius teased. Remus shot him a look, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

"It’s nice to meet you both," You said with a smile. "Your home is beautiful. It reminds me of my family’s place."

Remus looked relieved. "We’re glad to have you. Can I get you anything? A glass of water?" He asked.

"I think I’m fine," You answered kindly as Remus led you to the couch.

Sirius sat next to you, creating a situation where you were sandwiched between the two men. You felt a little nervous, but they looked extremely comfortable.

"So, Mary didn’t tell us much about you," Remus started.

"She just gave us your last name and I didn't think it would be kind to search you up," Sirius added.

You laughed nervously. "Yeah, she can be a bit mysterious for no reason."

Sirius noticed you fidgeting and put a hand on your knee. "We’re just happy to get to know you ourselves," He said with a kind smile.

"Well, ask me anything," You said, trying to calm your nerves.

"Anything?" Sirius asked with a teasing smile. You flushed, and Remus shot him a warning look.

"How old are you?" Remus asked.

"21," You answered.

"Ah, the responsible age," Sirius joked, "How has it been?" He asked, trying to make you more comfortable.

"It’s been good," You replied. "More responsibilities now, its been a bit hectic."

"Out of school?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, just finished," You said with a smile.

"What did you study?" He continued.

"Criminal Justice with a minor in Creative Writing."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "Remus here is a bit of a writer himself."

You perked up. "Really?"

Remus chuckled. "Just write novels here and there."

"Which ones?" You asked eagerly, looking at him in excitement.

"Probably haven’t heard of them," Remus said, shrugging. "The Idea of the Unknown was one that was popular for a bit," He added casually, and your eyes widened.

"Wait, you wrote The Idea of the Unknown?" You asked in disbelief.

He laughed. "Yeah, that’s me."

He seemed completely nonchalant as he mentioned one of the books that had shaped your entire view on life. You were amazed by how humble he could be about it.

And then it clicked,

He was one of your all time favorite authors.

You almost fainted. "You’re the Remus Lupin?" You asked, excited.

"Surprised you know my work," He said. "I didn’t think your age group read my books."

"I love your books!" You exclaimed. "The story between Ophelia and Duke had me crying for weeks after the ending."

Remus smiled warmly. "I spent fifteen years perfecting that ending. Glad it made an impact."

"But we're glad you love his work," Sirius teased, a sly grin painting his face.

You blushed, mortified. "Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this into a meet and greet. I swear I’m not a stalker."

Sirius laughed. "Honestly, this just makes us more sure about you. At least we know you have taste." He nudged your shoulder jokingly.

You felt a bit guilty for not asking more about their kids. "So, what are their names?"

You pointed to a picture of two kids—a boy with dark hair and hazel eyes, and a shy-looking girl with long brown hair. They were both in front of the Christmas tree with matching Rudolph pajamas as the boy smiled confidently in front of the camera and the little girl hid behind him.

"Harry is almost four—he’s a bit of a handful, but he’s brave. Ruby’s shy, but she’s a clever little thing." Remus says, "And don't be fooled by either of them, they love to prank people and be up to no good,"

"They’re both adorable," You said. "I’m sure I’ll love them."

Remus checked his watch. "Actually, they should be back from their walk about now."

And just as he said that, the door opened, and in came a tall man with glasses and black hair that was shorter than Sirius's, carrying Ruby on his back and with Harry hanging from his leg.

Yet another handsome man.

"Okay, go to your daddies," The man said, setting Ruby down. She rushed over to Sirius, while Harry went to Remus, peppering him with questions.

The man turned to you. "And who’s this?" He asked with a grin.

You felt your heart race. "I’m Y/N, the new babysitter," You said, extending a hand.

"James," He said, then surprised you by pulling you into a hug. "Nice to meet you."

Sirius laughed. "He’s a hugger." He picked up Ruby as she pulled on his long locks of hair, earning a pained groan from him as he put her back down, "Not nice," He jokingly pouted as he rubbed his head.

You were too busy by James's embrace to be fully locked on to the kids as his scent infiltrated your nose. James smelled like maple syrup and firewood, and it almost made you dizzy.

When he pulled back, he grinned. "We’re glad to have you."

"Yeah, we need a new face around here," Sirius added as Ruby shyly hid behind his legs.

"Come on, Ruby, say hello," James coaxed, looking at the little girl and nodding his head to you as she went towards you in a shy manner, "She won't bite," James added, trying to help.

You kneeled down to her level. "Unless you want me to," You joked, making her giggle.

"My name’s Y/N. What’s yours?"

"Ruby," She said quietly.

"That’s a pretty name," You said. "You’re pretty too."

Ruby smiled shyly, and you stood up to find a little Harry already approaching you.

"Do you have cookies?" He asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"Not yet," You laughed.

"Bwoo," Harry pouted, moving over to James as he picked him up.

"Looks like you’re going to be a good fit,"

[prettydaisygirl]

Heyy~I have a james potter x reader request.

They have a love hate relation,and they keeps on fight but its really only frome one side cause james secretly is in love with reader and loves seeing her mad as its the only way he'll have her full attention.

But james let it's out by accident and reader have fun with this new info and seduces and flirts with james. James becomes all dazed & flustered by reader batting her eyelashes at him.

You can take your own take on this and maybe reader dominates james in bed.....👀

P.s(this is my third request for you and you have nailed the previous requests nd the first time requesting something 18+) please feel free to ignore it💗

Hello nonnie!! OMG thank you so much for your request! I'm literally so honored that you keep making requests because you've enjoyed the other ones I've done for you 😭🩷 I saw the plot of this in my head like a movie when I read your request and I wrote down the basics and had to wait until I had a good time I could sit down and write it all haha, it's been on my mind all week. Hope you enjoy this one, my love!! 

academic rival!James Potter x fem!reader who seduces James to get ahead ✿ 3.6k words

cw: NSFW 18+, university au, James is the top student, reader is second, academic rivals, reader has complicated feelings, reader has kinda iffy intentions, reader is manipulative (?) but then falls in love, dry humping, choking, unprotected p in v, mentions of alcohol

james potter masterlist

°˖✧✿✧˖°

You tap your pen against the edge of the table, bouncing your leg under the desk. Your eyes dart back and forth around the classroom, looking at everyone else waiting too.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Your eyes lock with his, and you pause. Your eyelids narrow, his brown orbs matching yours and narrowing too. You roll your eyes and look away. Fucking James Potter.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Sirius, James’ best friend, roommate, and favorite nuisance, groans loudly where he is sprawled in his chair next to James, feet up on the desk. Remus, the one person in their group who you can stand, elbows Sirius and shoots him a quick glare. James’ eyes are still on you, smirk on his lips, and you send him a dirty look. He’s so fucking cocky.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

The door to the lecture hall finally opens, and everyone sits up a bit. Well, everyone except Sirius. 

The professor stomps in, ten minutes late but with clearly no cares in the world, the stack of papers in his hand catching your attention. The exam from last class, one that might finally allow you to pull ahead of James. Or, he did better than you again, and you’ll have to suffer his cruel teasing for another few weeks so you can cram until the next exam. You need that test back. 

Your professor places everything down at his desk with a light groan, running a hand through his hair. He looks around the room, scanning all of his students’ faces, before clearing his throat. 

“I’ll be passing back exams at the end of the hour.” There’s a collective groan but he doesn’t care, continuing on with the lesson. You force yourself to pay attention and take notes, to not think about the potential outcomes of your exam results, to not look in James’ direction even though you know if you did that he would be looking at you. 

This thing between you and James has been going on since freshman year. You stepped onto campus, bright-eyed and valedictorian of your high school, and you vowed to yourself that you were going to repeat the success of the last four years. And, for the most part, you have. 

Except for James Potter. He’s a constant thorn in your side, and he relishes in it. The two of you are in a constant battle for who will be the top student at the University. James somehow always ends up on top. And so for you, it really is a war. You fight tooth and nail. You stay up way too late studying every night, living off of caffeine and short naps between classes. You involve yourself in different activities, you complete every extra credit opportunity, and you attend every office hour, every study session, every single thing you can do. And yet, you always find yourself lagging behind James Potter, who seems to score perfectly on every exam despite not opening his textbook once. It’s infuriating, and you hate him. 

He knows that he gets on your nerves. He loves it, he purposely antagonizes you. Like he’s doing right now.

Your eyes meet his, unconsciously seeking him out as he takes over your thoughts. His eyes are there, on you, just as you knew they would be. He sends you a cheeky wink. Prick. 

Your handwriting is shaky today, a result of your bouncing leg as your stomach churns with anxiety, waiting for the exam results. You chew on your nail, crossing off a word and shaking your head when you spell it wrong. When you aren’t writing, it’s back to tapping.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

You don’t feel like you take a full breath until the test is physically in your hand. You practically tear it away from the professor, eyes darting all over until you spot the score. 100%. Your heart soars, but then you falter just a bit when you realize you missed the extra credit question. You pray that James did too, or that he didn’t score as high.

But you know better.

And so does James, evidently. Because the second you look up, that signature smirk is on his lips and he holds up the test so you can see, a long finger pointing at his score in the top right.

102%. Fuck. 

You really don’t want to be here. The music is too loud, everyone is drunk, and there’s a cloud of smoke so thick you find it a little hard to breathe. 

You had been wallowing in self-pity in your dorm, pouring over your textbook on a Friday night instead of doing anything fun. Because of James fucking Potter and his stupid 102%. He’s been teasing you all week, laughing and whispering with his friends when you walk by.

“Need me to tutor you, darling?” He’d called out with a bright voice, only chuckling when you flipped him off. You hate him and his beautiful face. 

And tonight, your study/self-pity session was interrupted by your phone ringing several times. 

Your roommate asked you to come pick her up from a party, but you’ve searched the frat house twice now with no sign of her. You’ve tried calling, and she won’t answer your texts either. It’s frustrating, and you’re about to go home without her when a familiar voice catches your attention. 

“I mean it!” You know it’s James before you see him, peeking around the corner to spot him, Sirius, Remus, and Peter pouring drinks in the kitchen. “She looked at me eleven times today. I counted!”

“You’re hopeless.” Sirius announces, head shaking before pouring some of the alcohol directly into his mouth from the bottle. Peter gives him a disgusted look and you almost snort. “She hates you.” “I know,” James seems defeated at Sirius’ words and your curiosity is fully peaked at this point. “Why do you think I have to count how many times she looks at me?”

“Have you ever tried, I don’t know, talking to the poor girl?” Remus asks, taking a sip from his cup before taking the bottle away from Sirius when he drinks straight from it again. 

“She always thinks I’m teasing her, even when I really mean it.” James shakes his head, “If pissing her off and getting better scores than her is what keeps her eyes on me, then that’s what I’ll do.” 

Oh. Oh. 

Is he talking about you?

You hold your breath, pressing closer to the wall as though you’ll be able to hear any better, peeking around the corner to watch the four men talk. James takes a large sip of his drink and you find your eyes lingering over his figure.

“I still think you should just tell her.” Peter speaks up and James knocks into him with his shoulder. 

“You know I can’t just do that, Pete.” James shakes his head, and you watch as his chocolate curls flutter against his forehead. “What do I say? ‘Hi, I know you’ve hated me for the last two and a half years and I’ve been pretending to hate you too. Can we go on a date?’”

Sirius snorts, and it’s in perfect timing to cover the slight gasp that comes out of your mouth. He really is talking about you.

James Potter has feelings for you. You thought he hated your guts. 

“What are you doing?” The voice of your roommate from behind you has you practically jumping out of your skin. You whip around to find her watching you with a judgmental look on her face.

“Nothing!” You say quickly, clearing your throat. “I’ve been looking for you. Are you ready? Let’s go.” You don’t really give her a chance to argue, tugging at her arm as you pull her out of the frat house and back to your car. 

You try to pay attention to the conversation your roommate is having with you on the way home, but it’s difficult. Your mind is racing, focus on the conversation you overheard back at the party.

Does James really have feelings for you? He said he only continues to rile you up because you won’t look at him any other way. You don’t trust him if he acts serious. Is that true? 

The only time you can remember that James Potter tried to act sincere with you was the one time you had to miss an exam due to needing a trip to the hospital. He pleaded with the professor on your behalf, convincing him to let you take it a different day. When he told you what he did, you assumed it was because he didn’t want to win an unfair fight. You didn’t think he’d advocate for you because he cares or anything. 

Oh. Maybe James is right. Maybe you don’t take him seriously. 

You toss and turn in your bed that night for hours, mind racing as you rethink almost every interaction you’ve had with the bespectacled boy since the two of you met freshman year. James, for all his annoying flaws, seems to be a good friend. He’s thoughtful, he’s funny, and he’s so handsome it makes you sick sometimes. And he’s so, so smart. 

You hate the feelings churning in your stomach. On one hand, you hate him. Even if he has feelings for you, that doesn’t make it okay for him to tease you, and you still want to be better than him. You need to win. But on the other hand… you could really like him, you think. If you let yourself fall for him. If he really does have feelings for you and it wasn’t all a cruel joke.

But how could it be a joke? James didn’t even know you’d been at the party, and none of his friends had spotted you either. They’d been talking casually, not like they were making fun of you. 

You sigh, flopping into a different position again as you try to get comfortable. You spring up suddenly when you get an idea. 

“I’m going to seduce James Potter.” You say, a happy laugh falling from your lips. “And then I’ll sit by him during the next exam and he’ll be so distracted that I’ll score higher than him!”

You grunt suddenly as a pillow comes in contact with the side of your head, flung by your roommate.

“Go to sleep!”

You’re tapping your pen on your desk again. But this time, there’s no exam to take or score to wait for. You’re waiting for the end of class, eyes darting between the clock and the boy who you’re hoping to catch on the way out. James.

He seems to notice that you’re looking at him more often. You knew he stared at you a lot, but you didn’t know it was actually the entire lecture. You find yourself glancing at him repeatedly, his eyes waiting for yours every time you do. 

This is making you more nervous than you thought it would. You’ve thrown insults and curse words at James like it’s second nature, but the idea of asking him to come back to your dorm with you is making you feel a bit sick. What if you misunderstood everything you overheard? What if they’d been talking about someone else and now you’re going to make a fool of yourself, providing a lifetime of bullying fuel for the one person who really can get under your skin?

You shake your head as the professor dismisses the class, swallowing nervously and quickly packing up your things. You shove down your anxiety, replaying your plan in your head.

Get him in your dorm. Get him naked. Get close enough to keep him distracted from his classes.

You head toward the lecture hall’s doors, and find James and Sirius walking out right in front of you.

“James?” You call out to him. Both James and Sirius turn around, James with eyes as wide as saucers, and Sirius with a bit of a gleam in his eye. 

“Hey,” James says, running a hand through his hair as he tries to seem casual. Now that you see it, it’s so obvious. You’d thought he was so cocky before, now you realize he’s been trying to get your attention..

“Could we… talk?” You ask, shuffling a bit on your feet as your heart races. You try to seem solid, but you don’t know what you’ll do if he laughs in your face and calls you a loser.

He doesn’t. He wouldn’t. Instead he says, “Of course,” though you can tell by the look on his face that he is incredibly confused about why you want to speak to him.

James waves Sirius off and you take a breath. “Can we… go to my dorm?” You ask him.

You can see the suspicion in his eyes, the way the muscles in his jaw tighten and his lips purse. He crosses his arms and then speaks, voice a bit short and clipped. “Your dorm?”

“Yes.” You say with a nod, keeping your voice steady even though you feel like your heart might explode, “I just… I need to talk to you.”

Your words and tone seem to have the desired effect and his hardness softens just a bit. He nods, and walks back with you to your dorm. Your roommate is gone tonight, at her boyfriend’s house, so you know no one will interrupt your plans. 

You sit on the bed, gesturing for James to do the same. He looks out of place here, and it doesn’t help that his body is fully tense and he seems extremely uncomfortable. 

“What did you want to talk to me about?” James asks, and you understand why he is so suspicious of you. He should be, considering your plan. But you have to score higher than him on the next test. And if that means distracting him with his feelings for you, then you’ll do it. 

“I’ve just been… doing some thinking.” You say slowly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. You move a bit closer to him, sitting on your knees beside him. “I feel like I owe you an apology.”

That gets his attention. His head whips in your direction, his guard falling for a moment from the shock of your words. “You’re apologizing to me?” You nod, playing with a strand of your hair. “I haven’t been very nice, and I… I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person. I like you, James.”

He stares at you, lips slightly parted, and it’s like you can see his brain short-circuit. His eyes, as big and beautiful as always underneath his glasses, blink several times as he tries to process what you’ve said. You wait, and after a long moment you decide to speak again.

“Aren’t you going to say you like me back?”

“What?” James shakes his head, and it seems like his hand reaches for your waist instinctively, but stops short of actually touching you. “I mean, yes. I like you, but I don’t understand. I thought…”

“That I hated you?” You say, tilting your head and batting your eyelashes at him. You see his pupils dilate, his Adam’s apple bob. You shake your head. “I don’t hate you, James. Actually, I…” You lean forward to reach and brush some curls off his forehead, then whisper to him, “I really, really want you.” 

“Is this really happening?” James asks, like he’s torn between his mind and his heart. You don’t give him a second to question you, leaning forward to press a kiss to his lips. He responds immediately grabbing for you and deepening the kiss. His grip is tight, and he lets out little whines and moans in your mouth. You ignore the way the sounds make your thighs clench and your stomach warm. 

He pulls you forward into his lap, your legs on either side of his hips. You roll forward, pressing down against him. He’s already hard, and you can tell he’s big. Your heart flutters but you ignore it, continuing to focus on James as you find him bucking his hips up into yours. He really must have been pent up, waiting for this. 

“Holy fuck. Holy fuck.” He whispers between kisses, hands grasping at you like a man touch-starved. 

When he pulls his lips away from yours to breathe, he quickly leans forward to attach them to your neck. You find your eyes fluttering closed as his tongue darts out against your skin and leaves saliva and warmth in its wake. Despite trying to push down your own feelings, you find yourself wanting more of him. Not just to seduce him, but also because it feels good. 

You reach down, freeing James from his pants. He lifts his hips a bit to help you. He’s even bigger than you thought and he finds the audacity to smirk a bit at you, making you roll your eyes.

You stroke him a few times, hearing him whimper your name. You hate the way your throat tightens when he does. Your own pants are tossed aside quickly, along with your underwear. 

James’ hands grasp at your hips, and his eyes are dark and hazy as you look down at him from your place on his lap. His Adam’s apple bobs again as he swallows thickly, his chest a bit shaky as he breathes. 

It’s time to lock in, you think, and lean forward to press a kiss to his jaw. You literally watch his dick twitch and you lick up his neck to his ear.

“Are you going to let me fuck you, James?” You whisper into his ear, seeing his body shiver. A thought crosses your mind that being above him like this feels a million times better than being above him in GPA, but you force that idea away as soon as it appears. 

He whines, and you pull back, sliding a hand up to rest against the front of his throat. You tilt your head and see James’ entire face flush, his cock bright red and already leaking. “Well?”

“Yes, please, yeah…” He whines and you pretend not to absolutely relish in the way it sounds. 

You squeeze his throat a bit as you slide down onto him, and he practically cums right then. You smirk a bit, giving the both of you a moment to adjust. He feels really fucking good, too good. You find yourself enjoying every roll of your hips, every buck of his. You squeeze a bit tighter every time he tries to speak, and it always has his eyes rolling back and his hands gripping you harder. His body trembles, and pieces of strangled whimpers escape his mouth as you grind down onto him.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” You moan out, the sound escaping you before you can stop yourself. One of James’ hands moves to your wrist, holding it but not pulling it away from his neck. In fact, at the next roll of your hips, he pushes your wrist closer, encouraging you to tighten your grip, and you do. 

The sight of his writhing beneath you is everything you could ever have hoped for. James is completely at your mercy, and it makes you feel invincible. You cum harder than you ever have in your life, and James follows not long after. 

You make the mistake of falling asleep next to him afterward, telling yourself that it’s to make him really think you like him. Not because you wanted to sleep with your ear pressed to his chest, listening to his heart beat. It’s just soothing. You tell yourself it won’t happen again, even though deep down, you know you’re lying. This has changed things for you, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.

The day of the next exam finally comes, and for once, you find that you aren’t nervous. You studied your ass off the entire past week, and with your plan to distract James going well so far, you don’t feel like you have much to worry about.

You take a seat next to James for this one, and he smiles lovingly at you. His friends snort, and you wonder what he told them. The talking stops instantly as tests are passed around. You spend the entire time brushing your foot against James’ calf, at one point bending over to pick up your pencil and purposely showing him your cleavage. It works to distract him, and you’ve convinced yourself that you have this in the bag.

You leave feeling confident, James following you like a puppy. He’s been by your side almost the entire time since you hooked up with him. You find you like having him around. 

As his hand slides into yours and his smile makes your heart skip, you aren’t sure if you're still lying to yourself about how you feel. The more time you spend with him, the more you find yourself liking him. It happens slowly, until one day you realize that the things that used to be frustrating about him now make him endearing. Your walls crumble like old castle walls, until you’ve accepted that maybe these feelings have been there since the beginning.

It’s these realizations alone that keep you from breaking down when you finally see the test scores.

“How?” You ask, eyes darting between your test and James’. You got a 98%. James got 100%.. “I was trying to give you a boner the entire time!”

“Joke's on you,” James says with a smirk, grabbing your test from you and pressing a kiss to your cheekbone. “That happens every time I watch you during an exam. I’m used to it.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl

[aetherraeys]

bloodmoon

(part 2 x)

remus lupin x vampire!reader ⊹ 11.7k

For whatever reason, Remus couldn’t bear the idea of even being in the same room as you. His body had been telling him why, but clearly he needed it spelt out for him.

cw ⟢ hurt/comfort, slowish burn, swearing, self-loathing, meanish!remus, vampire!reader, blood

a/n: for this request! im sorry it took a while, i got a bit ahead of myself, hence the wordcount. enjoy x not proofread

Truly enticing—comparable to a siren—you carried an alluring presence that was impossible to ignore. With skin of a dazzling, pearlescent almost porcealine like quality—captivating eyes and a honeyed voice.

You were a creature to behold.

It wasn’t suprising in the slightest though, it seemed that everyone in your family held these same enthralling qualities, a notorious, long line of pureblood slytherin. And one would think you’d act as such, uppity, entitled and holier-than-thou, but it was quite the opposite.

Good-natured, courteous, poised—saintly, even. An overall good Samaritan.

Adored by many, hated by none.

Except Remus that is.

Well—hate was a strong word. He didn’t hate you, he had no reason to. But he couldn’t stop the agitating, grating feeling that crawled up the back of his neck whenever you were near.

He knew there was something wrong. He could feel it, it seemed like he was the only one who wasn’t helplessly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame—and it was starting to get to him.

He just didn’t get what all the fuss was about, granted, you were attractive—he wasn’t blind, he just didn’t like you. People practically worshipped the ground you walked on, praising you for being a decent human being, you even had the faculty playing into the palm of your hand.

And Remus wasn’t buying it.

He didn’t bother hiding the huffed scoff of disbelief and fed-up roll of his eyes from his friends when they passed you in the courtyard.

Predictably, you were surrounded—first-year girls giggling in your orbit, one perched behind you braiding your hair while you braided another’s. A few sat nearby on the benches, stringing together daisy chains like a scene plucked straight from a children’s storybook.

You looked like Mother Teresa, for crying out loud.

Later, in the Great Hall, his friends watched, as his spine became ridgid, grip on his spoon hardening the moment you walked in. As always, you strode in, arms linked with Pandora’s, that same wine-red lollipop in twirling your mouth, loud and obnoxious chatter circling between you.

At least, that’s how Remus saw it.

In reality, you’d walked in quite casually, reasonable volumed, light conversation following you, signiture lolly in hand. It seemed that today, Remus’ world was tinted slightly red with comtempt. He was practically burning a hole in the back of your head with his harsh gaze, as if he could will you spontaneously combust.

A sharp voice broke his concentration.

"Have you ever actually spoken to her?"

James.

Remus blinked, realization dawning as he registered the weight of his friends’ stares, the expectant looks they all shared. James’s tone was filled with exasperated skepticism. They knew he wasn’t your biggest fan—for whatever reason, he wouldn’t say.

Remus scowled, “Once.” And you were annoyingly nice through the entire interaction, despite Remus’ painfully obvious irritance, offering to help him infact.

It was late one evening when he limped into the hospital wing in search for Madame Pomfrey, still reeling in pain after a transformation—usually James or Sirius went to fetch his potion for him, but today he didn’t want to be bother. A white nurse’s apron tied neatly around your waist, gently changing the bandages of a battered Quidditch player. When you turned to him, peaceful expression contorting into one of concern. Without hesitation, you moved toward him, a little too quickly for his liking.

He stepped back, avoiding from your touch, as if it’d burn him, grumbling out, “Is Madam Pomfrey here?”

Slightly taken aback by his clear rejecting disposition, you explained that there had been a quite ghastly incident involving some first-years and the Whomping Willow. Reaching out a hand—

“She’s healing them on site at the minute, but if you tell me what’s wrong, I’m sure I can help you wit—”

Before you’d made it to the end of your sentence, he had already spun on his his heal and rushed away, sharply spitting, “Forget it.”

By the time he’d returned back to the common room, his limp had gotten slightly worse, straining under the pressure of his excertion—pain flaring with every step.

Lily was the first to notice, immediately rising from her seat to meet him, concern pinching her brows.

“Why didn’t you get healed?” she asked, her tone somewhere between scolding and worried.

He winced suddenly as he stretched his body out across the cushions. Both James and Sirius turned their heads in concern, faces mirroring Lily’s, brows knit upwards in a sympathetic grimance.

Sighing in defeat—“She wasn’t there.” Twisting and turning in a fruitless attempt to find a comfortable position where he couldn’t feel the searing ache in his bones.

“What do you mean, she wasn’t there? The hospital wing is never empty.” James’ voiced chimed in from his seat across the room, before he continue, ”Even then, you could’ve waited there.”

Lily was still adjusting the cushions she’d placed under his legs when she said, “I’ll go now if you wa—”

“No,” Remus interjected quickly, reaching out to stop her before she could stand, scratches on his knuckles still raw, sucking in a deep breath, willing his body to relax into the sofa, pushing the pain away from the forefront of his mind—he held her arm lightly.

“There’s no point going now, she won’t be back until later.”

Her face screwed in confusion, looking back at the others hoping they would intervene. Sirius made his way over to where they were, sitting by the fire, James following closely behind. They watched him, waiting for him to continue.

Lily frowned. “Who was there?”, his jaw tightened.

“It was only Y/N,” his eyes were shut as he ran a hand through his hair, his voice taking a sharp tone, a deep frown forming on his lips; “And I’d rather wait here in pain, than be healed by some girl playing dress up.”

His words were harsh and left little room for agrument, only cracking an eye open at the sound of James’ loud frustrated groan—his head rolled back, and his fingers forcibly rubbed at the wrinkles that had formed between his brows.

“So, let me get this straight, you turned away a perfectly good healer, in your state, because you don’t ‘like’ them?!”

Both Sirius and Lily looked gaped at him in shocked, shaking their heads in clear disapproval. He pursed his lips, forming into a thin, stubborn line.

“And she’s not ‘playing dress up’. Y/N has been volunteering under Madam Pomfrey since third year, Remus.”

Remus exhaled forcefully through his nose, but he didn’t argue.

Really, he should have felt guilty.

For the way he dismissed you. For the way he recoiled like you were something foul, despite your only offense being offering to help him. But he couldn’t find it in himself to act the slightest bit remoseful—pushing his face into the sofa, trying to block out the world. Wanting to ignore the way his head only throbbed—the headache had been making it’s presence known for hours.

Only pounding louder at the mention of your name. Even his friends came to your defense.

Since then, he’d made it his mission to stay out of your way—hating the person he became in your presence. It was ridiculous really, having such hostility to a person who had been endlessly kind.

He tried to avoid you, really.

But it seemed as though the Gods were punishing him.

First, it was in duelling class, you were no daisy, a truly gifted witch—and remained undefeated in casual combat.

He wanted to watch you get knocked off your high-horse, zero interest in parttaking. But alas, the Professor had decreed, that ‘The winner stays on’, and much to his misfortune it had rolled around to his turn.

He stepped onto the platform him and you turned to look at him—eyes bright, light pleasant smile on your face—he felt that same prickling irritation crawl up his spine.

You bowed to him, adherring proper etiquette, and he followed suit, gripping his wand tightly as he moved into position.

The duel began with a flick of wands and a burst of movement. He had to admit—grudgingly—that you were good. Swift on your feet, sharp reflexes, casting defensive spells, deflecting him with ease.

You weren’t even try to win.

The goal was to disarm, and disarm only—and yet you hadn’t made one attempt at him, effortless precision in the way you diverted every one of his spells, riccoching away with loud hisses. Barely having moved from you position, hand still comfortably behind your back—while Remus had broken a clear sweat, inching up the platform, closing the distance that was set between you.

Remus was by no means an amateur, so this was just embarrassing.

You were only blocking, like this was some silly game, like you were playing with a child. And it was starting to make him irrationally angry. The surrounding students had taken a step back, whispering amongst themselves as your wands clashed in bursts of white and blue.

Did you think you were so good, that you needed to pull your punches?

It was already in motion when he’d realised what he’d done, his aggrevation got the better of him, and with a calculated flick of his wrist, Remus sent a well-aimed flippendo, straight at you. You saw the look in face, the anger crumbling as the spell left his lips.

It immediately broke through, sending you flying upwards, a sharp white flash leaving your wand.

For a moment, the room was still.

Gasps sounded, echoeing in Remus’ ears, and the Professor stood up abrupty from his seat by the platform, eyes rising and falling, following the movement of you body.

He barely registered the sting of magic, the clattering sound of his wand, is what brought Remus back into the room.

Your chest heaved, each breath deeper than the last, trying to compensate for the wind that had been knocked out of you. Head bowed forward, sitting on you knees, palms spread across the floor, wand still in hand as you stumbled, failing to raise from your position.

Your reflexes had caught you, just barely preventing your entire body from crashing roughly against the hard mahogany.

Knees still burning from the hard connection. The silence broken as your friends made their way through the crowd, and as they neared, you raised a hand to halt them before they could fuss over you. You exhaled sharply, trying to straighten your spine, shaking the residual magic from your fingertips. Hands burning from bracing you impact, wand warm in your tight grasp, the energy still thrumming beneath your skin.

Remus stood frozen, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, his expression wavering between guilt and frustration. Someone reached out—Dorcas, maybe—but you only rolled your shoulders, breath still laboured as you shook off the lingering sting of the spell.

Despite his foul-play, you’d still won—effectively disarming him mid air.

Remus swallowed as he took a hesitant step forward—whether to speak, to apologize, he wasn’t sure. The professor finally spoke, ”That was reckless, Mr. Lupin.”Voice ringing in his ears, sharp and disapproving.

Without a word, you turned on your heel and strode toward the exit, footsteps ringing against the wooden floor.

You hadn't looked at him.

Hadn’t even spared him a glance.

The next time he saw you, days had passed, now in Potions.

He should have known Slughorn would meddle. The man had an affinity for grouping “brilliant minds” together, and Remus, to his horror, was no exception.

“You two will make an excellent pair,” Slughorn beamed, practically vibrating with excitement as he waved between you and Remus. “Top of my class, both of you—oh, the potential! I expect nothing short of excellence.”

For a few moments, you stood still, and he could have swore he saw you eye twitch. But then, you turned to him with a polite, yet tight-lipped and strained smile on your face, hands already moving to gather ingredients.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

He didn’t respond—just nodded stiffly, shoving his sleeves up as he resigned himself to his fate.

The entire class, you worked in relative silence, opting to only speak when you spoke to him, your voice was so casual, so smooth, nowhere near as pinched and curt as his.

Still unable to fight off the relentless, gutwrenching burn of his blood at your proximity—he couldn’t explain it, couldn’t comprehend why his body has such an involuntary viseral reaction to you.

Observing you quietly, watching as you hummed while stirring the cauldron, peaceful concentration on your face. And he hated it, hated how when you look at him, your eyes remained just as kind as that day in the hospital—not holding an ounce of resentment towards him, not even a flicker of the disdain he was certain he deserved. It gnawed at him, made something coil tight and uncomfortable in his chest.

He should have been relieved—grateful, even—that you hadn’t taken his hostility to heart.

“Lupin?”

Your voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present. He realized, belatedly, that you were watching him expectantly, holding out your hand.

“Hmm?”

“The moonstone,” you repeated patiently, point at it, a jar of powdered moonstone that was next to his open textbook. “Are you going to add it, or should I?”

For a moment, he just stared.

And when your arm reached out and over to take the jar yourself, the time frame you needed add in the ingredient slipping away, the seconds almost slowed down as your arm made contact with the searing hot cauldron.

You retracted quickly, jar in your grasp, and holding your arm in pain.

Remus flinched, the scrape of your sharp inhale cutting through the low murmur of the classroom. “Shit—” the word slipped out, before he could think, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. But your skin was cold, shockingly cold, like there wasn’t an ounce of warm in you at all—the gasp leaving before he realised.

You pulled your arm away from him abrupty, he sat still watching as you pulled out your wand and muttered a cooling charm under your breath.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s nothing.”

His jaw clenched watching the redness faded slightly, but the skin still looked tender. Your eyes flicked away from your arm to the cauldron—gaze ever focused, ever composed. But Remus saw it, the fear and the colour drain from you face at his reaction—you knew he felt it, felt you, your temperature*.*

Remus swallowed the apology clawing its way up his throat. What good would it do?

“We’ve got time to redo the step.” You mumbled, rolling down your sleeves.

He reached for the moonstone, fingers brushing against the jar’s glass. Without a word, measuring out the powder and added it to the cauldron in slow, careful motions.

Noting how, for the rest of the class, your gaze didn’t meet his.

“Perfect!” Slughorn’s voice rang through the classroom, loud and booming, as he peered delightedly into your cauldron. “Absolutely textbook! I knew the two of you would be a fantastic match.”

Lunch couldn’t have come fast enough, immediately as the bell run, he watched your figure slip away silently into the corridoor.

Remus had barely touched his food, stirring absentmindedly at his plate as James and Sirius chattered animatedly beside him. Lily sat across from them, eyes flitting between her book and whatever ridiculous conversation was unfolding at the table.

His was in daze, replaying the moment over and over again—on question on loop in his brain.

Why?

He knew full well it wasn’t normal, there was no doubt about it in his mind, and sure he ran hot, for his own reasons, but he couldn’t shake away the look you had in your eyes, the panic, how when you tore your hand from his grasp, the surface of his fingertips were still cold.

That day, you didn’t walk in with Pandora like usual, the spot on the bench remained empty, for the entire lunch hour.

Instead of attending lunch, you were pacing around the Observatory in the Astronomy tower, hand rubbing over the skin where your burn should be, it would’ve healed completely before the end of the class anyway, but the cooling charm, cut the time down to a meer 5 minutes.

You’d been knawing at the skin of your bottom lip for too long now, a nervous habit. Staring mindlessly out, hoping the skies would provide some solace to the turmoil brewing deep in the pits of your stomach.

Why did he have to touch you?

Hands gripping the metal of the railing, it was familiar, cold—matching your skin. Gods, you hated this, hated how you were—cursed, hated how all it took was mistake and your whole world would come crashing down upon you. And you’d, unfortunately, survive, forced to find a new identity, just as your parents had.

The mantra was heavy on you lips—he won’t know, he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

You wanted to go about your day, to make your way down to the hospital wing, do some good for once, but you knew it wouldn’t be smart—you couldn’t focus anything right now. Let alone treat sick people, something that needed your undivided attention.

Maybe its best you skip dinner too, you weren’t exactly hungry.

Walking back to the slytherin common room, mind in a state of complete disarray—it was the wet dripping down your chin that made you realise—you’d bitten your lip swollen and raw. Metallic taste in your mouth, you picked up your pace into a small jog.

“bathroom, bathroom, bathroom,” muttering under your breath.

Of course, in your time of need the nearest girls’ toilet was, what felt like, miles away. You were sure it looked worse than it actually was. The small gash was already healing—but you were running now, the drops were going to stain your shirt if you didn’t hurry.

Hand covering the your mouth, you felt him, and the floor, before you saw him.

A loud, “Ooof,” sounded from above you—and when you landed on the hard stone, you bit down re-opening your nearly healed wound. You couldn’t help the pained groan that escaped your lips, the sharp sting of fresh blood flooding your mouth.

“Bloody hell—”

The voice above you was unmistakable.

It just had to be him, didn’t it?

You scrambled upright, ignoring the way your limbs ached from the fall. Remus came round by you side, and Lily was on the other—her words were genuine and full of concern, ”Y/N! Are you alright?!”

Her hands were already reach for you, when you tried to say tell her that you were fine. Instictively avoiding her touch, backing up, and into Remus’ grasp, you were well and truly trapped. Hooking their hands under your arms, and pulling you to a stand.

His hands were achingly hot against your robes, and you forced your teeth back into the closing gash—keeping the blood flowing.

You really were short on luck today.

“Merlin, you’re so cold Y/N,” her hands already running up and down your arms to warm you, you shied away from her touch, but Remus kept a tight grip on you.

“I run a tad cold, I’m fine though, just heading to the bathroom.” It came out rushed and pinched, completely muffled from you hand, still pressing your teeth into it—eyes becoming more glossy by the second.

You so desperately needed to be anywhere but here.

Remus felt like a looming presence behind you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him—feeling his eyes scanning your frame. You were still trying to squirm out of his grip, but he wouldn’t release you.

It took a few more moments for Lily to stop forcibly rubbing you arm and take a step back, concern still etched into her face. “Are you sure? You look—”, she hesitated, before gesturing your appearence.

You let out a breathy, forced chuckle. “I’m fine, really.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded slowly, allowing you a sliver of space.

Remus, on the other hand, hadn’t moved. His grip remained firm, his fingers twitching slightly where they pressed against your sleeve.

You refused to look at him.

He won’t know, he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

But the silence stretched between you, growing heavier with each second. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning every inch, catalouging every detail.

“You’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your stomach twisted violently. Your grip tightened over your mouth, fingers digging into your skin, willing yourself not to react.

“I bit my lip.” You interrupted quickly, words too sharp, too frantic. “That’s all.”

Remus still hadn’t let go, his face was almost unreadable—

“Let me see.”

Your heart lurched. “No.”

The word left your lips too quickly, too forceful, too much like a command. His grip tensed, just for a fraction of a second but you couldn’t wait any longer—each second riskier than the last, it was all already too much. Ripping your arm from is grasp, tears heavy on your waterline—”I have to go now.”

Before Lily was even able to offer her company, you were gone. Had bolted, practically running down the corridor, leaving them both behind.

You didn’t stop until you were safely locked inside the bathroom, palms pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink, chest heaving. You turned on the faucet, letting the water run over your trembling fingers, watching as it swirled pink before disappearing down the drain. Examining your lip—already healed.

He doesn’t know. He won’t know. He can’t know.

But no matter how many times you repeated it, you couldn’t shake the way Remus had looked at you.

The coil had already began to wined. It always started like this, suspicion, panic, terror. You could barely meet your own gaze in the mirror, splashing water on you face—hair sticking to your forehead, slow pulse thumping in your ear. A constant reminder.

Monster.

The rest of the week, you’d avoided meal times, giving Pandora a cheap excuse every morning, one day studying, the next day, tutoring, the day after hospital wing.

Thinking, hoping, praying to whatever deity had done this to you, for just a slither of mercy. You, of course, wrote home, detailing the incident. It was always better to keep them in the know.

The castle had begun to feel suffocating.

Too many eyes. Too many questions.

So you turned to the one place that had never judged you—the Forbidden Forest. Its not like anything in there could do real harm to you.

You were the monster they’d warn you about.

The shadows welcomed you, stretching long and dark beneath the canopy, swallowing you whole. Bark damp and cool under your fingertips, legs hanging comfortably from the branch. Feeling your stomach churn, as an unfamiliar heartbeat rang in your ears, much faster—nearing.

Its footsteps small and rapid, hands gripping onto the wood much tighter, when you saw it. A rabbit, your feet moved faster than your brain. Drawn in, you couldn’t help but instinctively follow, stalk—hunt— scent painfully sweet. You watched it wriggle into the base of a hollowed out tree, hand reaching in and dragging it out, it squirmed and squealed in your hold.

The saliva was building, pooling in your mouth, your chest shuddered with each breath, and swallowing thickly—you pulled out your wand, holding it firmly to the stomach of the creature.

“Episkey.”

It calmed, less frantic, less afraid.

And you placed it down, gently with a few tender stokes to the head, back into the safety of the cavern.

Hours has passed, trailing aimlessly up and down the outskirts of the forest, you crouched low by a river, staring at the distorted reflection staring back at you. The veins by your eyes bloomed over the curve of your cheekbones, a prominent dark-red, pulsing under your fingertips, the dark edge of your iris adoping a black hue and expanding, consuming almost all of the white.

A thing of nightmares.

You tilted your head back, admiring the moon, full and captivating—alone and understanding, like that of an old friend.

A branch snapped in the distance.

You stiffened, every muscle locking in place, every instinct screaming prey.

An itch beneath your skin. A sickness in your bones.

You squeezed your eyes shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip—

Then it rung, echoed, ricochetted off of every nearby surface, breaking the stillness of the water you stood over.

A howl.

One too close for comfort, the skin at the back of your neck prickled, you refused to take another breath. You should have paid more attention to your surroundings, should have a path ready, an escape route. It was too late now, it was too close, you could smell it now.

You’d wasted time.

There wasn’t much else to do, you didn’t know where to run next, each second of the chase to valuable to get lost. Taking the large rock that sat snuggly against the water’s edge, you blindly tossed it behind you, using every ounce of strength in your body. Before submerging yourself.

The water was freezing, so much so it made your eyes burn, you forced yourself to relax—to sink, avoid detection all costs.

Your mother had warned you about wolves, vicious, savage and beastly creatures—that killed for the sake of killing, for the thrill of the hunt.

It was ironic in your opinion, the way she spoke about them with such disgust and distain, like your kind of monster was any better than the next. At least werewolves could escape it, only spending 12 nights of the year a slave to their nature, able to blend in with the rest of the world, almost normal—they’d live and die in timely fashion, naturally or of disease.

The priviliege possibility.

You were the real vicious, beastly creatures. A parasite—feeding off the life of innocents, beautiful and magnetic to draw in the naive and weak, taking life, all that is good and disgracing it.

The ultimate perversion of nature, the condemned.

The pressure of the water above you had made your chest burn, ears filling with water, and as much as you tried to tune your hearing to the surface level, everything was dulled by the gurgling, whoosing the bounced back and forth between your ears.

You had to take the chance, you had to surface, you’d already been under too long.

Forcing yourself up, clothes weighing you down, making the ascent that bit more burdensome on your muscles, your fingers gripped the lip pond, tugging yourself free from the water’s embrace. You layed there for a moment, eyes still squeezed shut, half submerged, drinking in heaping gulps of oxygen.

You could feel it, the warm hum of the sun against your back, the life of the forest clear in the quite churps the swam across the air. The time under the water had passed so quick, peacefully, all thoughts subdued by the lulling sway, the push and pull of the current.

The rest of your body hit the ground with an uncomfortable splat, completely and thoroughly drenched, and yet you couldnt’t complain. Despite not having slept a wink, you felt less lost, thoughts a bit clearer, mind less polluted.

Still, you utterly were exhausted, trudging back to the castle—leaving a wet and dripping trail behind you.

It was just early enough that you’d been able to walk in through the main entrance unseen, but before you could turn the corner down to the girls’ toilets, it hit you, harsh, defeaning and impossible to ignore.

You doubled over, the roaring incessant pull, making your gums ache and vision blur. Stumbling forward, you tried to rest your back on the stone, but it whafted in again, stronger. Forcing you to screw your eyes shut, all but collapsing on the floor—clutching your stomach.

It was exactly what you hoped it wouldn’t be.

The sweet, sickly coppery smell, had your head spinning, and even after all the endless nights you’d spent in the hospital wing, sometimes dripping in the stuff, you’d still never smelt blood so compelling.

You could barely breathe, each inhale felt like an iron rod was being shoved down your throat, curled into a ball, writhing as you fought every cell in your body to not chase.

All you could hear was an awful shrilling sound, and you wanted to gag, a retch building in your chest.

You’ve learnt that fate is twisted, and sadistic—cruel in nature.

Because despite all your efforts, your struggle and labour to stay away.

It was coming to you.

There were three, you could hear them, all three heartbeats—one significantly faster than the others, though only one approached you. You groaned a pained sound in protest, they shouldn’t come closer, really.

Padding footsteps stopped by you, breath hitching as you shook with the effort, taking what little you had left in you—you pushed yourself as far away as possible. And when your head hit the wall, you just sobbed. Frantically shaking you head, whispering over and over to yourself—

“Please, no, Gods, no-”

They’d heard the impact first, and when James looked up, the small dark figure at the bottom of the hall thudding to the ground, he looked over at Sirius, who he’d been supporting Remus’ weight. That knowing look, the one that said, we need to help.

He was only inches away, his fingertips gently lifting away you robes, they were heavy and soaked, the splattering connection that sounded made Remus wince, ears still so hypersensitive.

James’ expression was grave, wordlessly, picking you up, carrying you with careful, measured movements.

Your body was stiff against him, trembling—not from the cold, but from the unbearable restraint you were forcing upon yourself. Hands locked into tight fists against your chest, as your jaw clenched so tight it sent sharp pangs down your skull.

You could smell him, so much closer now, just behind you.

The fresh wound. The slow, sluggish trickle of blood. The way it called to you like a siren song, wrapping invisible hands around your throat, pulling, pulling—

And then a voice.

"She’s absolutely freezing."

It was so distant, like layers and layers, gallons and gallons of water seperated you.

You wanted to scream at him, No, no I’m hot, its so hot. it burns— but your lips wouldn’t move, your body wouldn’t listen.

And then, another voice.

Deep, rough, hoarse from exhaustion.

Remus.

“Take her with us.”

A sharp, breathy whimper rattled in your throat. You can’t. Not when your willpower was teetering to close to the edge. Not when you could barely contain the way your fingers twitched toward him, the way your tongue pressed hungrily against your teeth.

Not when the taste of him still lingered in the air between you.

The scent had been overwhelming before—but now? Now it was unbearable.

Because he was so close.

Because you could hear it now—his and only his heartbeat, as if made just for your ears. His blood buzzing and pumping around his body, seeping through clothes, slipping through cracks—

You sobbed, twisting violently in James’ arms, thrashing, desperate to get away.

"Hold her still!" Sirius hissed, as he stumbled back against Remus.

"I am!" James snapped, struggling to keep you from writhing out of his grasp.

You shook your head violently, the world spinning, tilting—every inch of you screaming in protest.

"I can’t—" your voice was barely there, more breath than sound. "Please—"

But no one was listening.

Because they didn’t understand.

They didn’t know what you were.

And they didn’t realize the real danger wasn’t whatever had lead you collapsed in that hallway.

The danger was you.

Edges of your vision began to cloud, head lolling, a rolling with each step James’ took, tears drying on you cheek and body falling limp as the last fight you has in you dwindled away.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to aiding Remus, discretely as always, cornering off a large enough section for him, James and Sirius. Agonising groans as she healed the gashes across his chest, tending to the bruises and aching muscles with quick efficiency—falling into the routine she’d become so unfortunatley accustom to.

James and Sirius help, dabbing the sweat off of him, changing the bandages as they soaked again and again—disgarding them into a bucket nearby.

Now, her next mission was you.

She knew well of your affiction, thankfully, as did a few other select members of the faculty, hiding your true nature from the students, the parents, the papers. It pained her to see you in your condition, knowing you were a sweet girl, not an bad bone in your body. Trying so hard to be better, counter the instincts that clawed at you from the inside out.

Pomfrey had always been gentle with you, but now, her touch was laced with urgency. She pressed the back of her hand against your forehead, feeling the unnatural chill of your skin.

"Oh, my dear," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You flinched, shifting away even in your half-conscious state.

"No—" your voice was hoarse, faint. "Don’t—"

But she shushed you, soft but firm, her fingers brushing over your pulse point, it was always slow, just barely there, but now—it was weak, a beat a minute. Not suprising, you hadn’t visited for your potion in some time, for whatever reason, denying yourself.

Forcing yourself to endure it, torturing and punishing yourself—while walking around with the biggest smile, nursing others back to health.

Remus was just coming to, the hair at the base of his scalp stuck to his neck, head pounding, jaw aching—when his eyes finally opened, he noticed his friends’ attention locked elsewhere—necks arched into a straining crane.

Transfixed on you, your poor shaking figure, fighting fever and something else.

By this time, Pomfrey had called for assistance in keeping you in place, keeping you running—hell bent on leaving the room.

Eyes raising heavily, following theirs, exerting his body into an upright position. He knew it was you, only from the familiar intrusive way his body shivered, hairs raising and skin prickling down is spine—because that wasn’t your voice,

No, your voice was always light, jarringly composed, sickly melodic. Not this, what filled is ears was hard to listen to, he wanted to shy away from the injured cries. Invasively loud, inescapable—and they didn’t seem to be stopping.

Becoming more urgent, more distressed, adopting a particularly harrowing edge when Pomfrey rushed back to you with a small green vial, attached to a concerningly large needle.

It felt disturbingly familiar, he saw himself in you—the futile struggle, the panic, the pain.

They all instictively turned away with a sharp intake of breath as Pomfrey pushed the needle deep into the dip where your neck meets your shoulder. It took a few more long moments before you calmed down—your head lolled again, body burning with exhaustion. Your head felt so far away, you didn’t want to sleep, but it was tempting—reminding you of the peace you’d found in the river earlier.

Eyes slipping away into the back of your head, before fluttering open just a sliver—just enough to see him.

Remus.

Still wincing, still covered in bandages, but his head was turned toward you.

Watching.

Brows furrowed.

Sighing as the sleep fully washed over your body.

Remus left the hospital wing that same day, still ridden with the usual post-moon aches, and he knew his own bed would be a better remedy.

The trio walked in silence, heads hanging as they slipped passed the closed curtain of your bay.

Barely out of earshot, it was Sirius who broke the silence first.

“D’you think she’s okay?” it was low and sincere, what they’d all been thinking.

No one answered for a moment, the memories still so fresh, too fresh for them to find the words. Remus couldn’t ignore the tight feeling in his chest—not the one cause by the night’s tearing, distorting and reassembling, but one of sympathy. Like he’d been forced to watch a wounded animal.

James’ voice was strained, struggling to capture the optimism his words clearly wished to convey, “I’m sure Pomfrey will take good care of her,” nodding to convince himself more than the others.

Whatever was wrong with you, you didn’t deserve it.

Remus chose not to say anything, because despite even her greatest efforts, she struggled to heal him—magic only going so far. And what he saw, what made you like that, he knew had to be a much worse problem than his.

The rest of the weekend passed with little commotion, though—Remus opted to collect his potion himself on both days, intending to catch a small glimpse of you, maybe you were fine—resting in the bed with your usual charming smile, surrounded by your friends—

On the saturday, your curtains were still close, no visitors, just silence around the wing. He was quick to leave, feet padding softly away as he shook off the gut-wrenching pinch he felt as he walked passed. But by sunday’s early evening, the wing was mostly clear, no sign of your presence, no signs of anything—just gone.

Of course, he attended classes as normal, when the first breakfast rolled around he only spared one glace at the entrance when Pandora walked in alone, by dinner his lips were sealed shut in confusion.

You weren’t in the hospital, you weren’t in classes, you weren’t at dinner.

The third day in a row of no-show. Remus’ body had the same tell-tale signs, as though you’d glided into the room, Pandora by your side—smile bright, lips reddened from your lolly. There was still no nothing though, halls feeling emptier, no smiles, no lollies, no you. He only pushed around the food on his plate, legs bouncing beneath the table, teeth grinding under the tension.

You’d think he’d be relieved to be rid of you.

Presence having always caused him such discomfort, such unjust agitation. But in spite of all that, you still plagued every inch of his thought, moments still flashing vividly behind his eyes of how he last saw you. He just needed to know.

That whatever sickness, whatever ailed you no longer did.

You still didn’t appear for another two days.

And when you’d finally walked into the Great Hall, practically clinging onto Pandora’s arm for support, Dorcas and Narcissa stuck to your sides, like bodyguards.

Still no smiles, still no lolly, still no you.

Because, that wasn’t the same girl who made his blood boil just by the way people were drawn to you, that wasn’t the girl who made his world tint red, body tensed and irritated, no. You were drained of all colour, eyes dull and trained to the ground—teeth knawing roughly at your lips.

Your sickness had left stripped everything away from you, a hollowed out husk of the girl you were before, and it made it hard for Remus to swallow the lump in his throat—made it hard for him to tear his gaze away from you.

So fragile.

The grip he had on his glass made his knuckles turn white, surely this wasn’t normal, surely there was someone doing something, Pomfrey—anyone.

Lily’s hand clapped over her mouth at the sight of you. Wasting no time rushing to your side, and Remus could hear her voice, the hushed concerned questions tumbling out, “Y/N, are you okay? Where have you been? Do you need anything?”

You were barely able push out a smile, in attempts to quell her worries, but your face was uncharacteristically stiff. Lips stretching and trying to curve up at the corners, but it was no use—it looked like a sort of twisted grimace.

Her hand ghosted over yours, cold to the touch, brows knitting tightly into a furrow—your whole body tensed under her touch, and as much as you wanted to pull away, you struggled to find the energy.

It was so clear that she meant well, but you had hardly taken in one breath, Remus was still watching you, and you felt his critical gaze on you as always.

“I’m fine, Lily, thank you though, just a bit poorly,” moving you hand away from hers to rest lightly in your lap.

Lily could see how every word was a strain on you, energy depleting as the interaction stretch beyond what you’d imagined. With a nod and a few more kind words, she sat back at the table.

Everyone’s eyes were on her expecting—waiting to her to detail the what she’d said, how you were doing.

She relayed, keeping it short and simple—but reinforcing one specific detail, you were still so cold.

You’d dismissed yourself early from dinner, a poor excuse of ‘rest’.

Remus still listening.

As everyone tried to offer you company, some support, an escort. “At least just to the common room?” Narcissa insisted, but you’d already stood and hushed her pleas—the same words, you’d become a record player, stuck on repeat.

“I’m fine, Cis—really.” Your smile didn’t meet your eyes.

He was so distracted that evening, always looking over to your table. No-one commented on it. Just allowing him to sit in his own state of disarray, internal conflict.

It would be inappropriate to pry, to check in on you. You weren’t friends, barely even associates—and he hadn’t been kind to you once in all your years as classmates.

Tolerating you with unfiltered scorn and hostility, never once considering how it would feel—to be on the receiving end of his indiscriminate contempt.

And finally, he felt it. What he’d been ignoring, allowing anger to push it down, letting the searing vex settle in the forefront of his mind—but it still lingered, waiting patiently to be acknowledged.

The guilt.

Abrupt and blunt were his words as he stood up from the bench, “going bed early.” And he didn’t wait for the responses or the goodnights, pace quick out of the hall.

He did go to bed, he just didn’t stay there. Reaching under his pillow and pulling out the map. Hesitating, as his fingertips ran over the rough, dry surface of the parchment. He shouldn’t.

That did little to stop him though.

He told himself, if you were in your common room, actually resting, he’d leave it alone. It wasn’t his place anyway.

But his eyes scanned for your name in the small circle of the dungeon.

Empty.

Brows pinched high on his forehead, frantically unfolding the pages, flicking back and forth for your name. Dread was settling in, what ifs—you could be in that same condition as the other night.

Scared, in pain, alone.

The sigh of relief when he found your name, heartbeat unusually fast and echoing in his ears. His feet moving faster than they should have, instinctively.

He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t. Legs carrying him far as his strides picked up, walking, jogging, running, sprinting to you.

You were too weak to go where you really wanted, the walk to the black pond just too tasking. The next best thing was the Observatory.

The sky was dark, storming—violent claps of thunder and lightning clapping breaking the clouds. Wind whipping and forcing the rain onto the balcony. Your legs hung over the edge, robes dripping, forming a puddle around you.

Face resting on the bar in the middle of the railing—it was nice, the rain on your skin, the pitter patter on the stone left little room for your thoughts.

You were thankful.

Moments of peace so few and far between as of recently.

You knew he was coming, could smell him from a mile away, there was no point in running anymore. Growing accustomed to the cruel and bitter fates the Gods kept throwing at you.

And quite frankly, you had nothing left to fight with.

His heaving breaths sounded behind you, arms holding the door frame for a moment before he took a step towards you. He saw visibly the way your spine straightened and became taut, breath halting.

You weren’t as easily swayed by his scent this time, for one he wasn’t bleeding. And you’d already braced yourself for his presence—teeth biting harshly into your tongue, burning at the painful sting, drawing blood.

There was time for you to leave, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t give up. Sure his arrival wasn’t a coincidence. Either he knew or he was coming to find out.

Both inevitable realities with unfortunate ends.

He was still paused behind you, having stopped a few meters away—not exactly sure what to say, not sure why he was here.

Couldn’t even tell if the way his skin prickled and itched was because of you or the rain’s harsh assault on the surface of his skin.

All words failing to reach his lips, instead, he took a seat a few inches away from you, on the other side of bar you’d been resting against.

Legs joining yours, in their dangle and sway over the stone’s edge, robes darkening as the rain soaked further into the fabric.

For a long while, you both sat in silence.

Remus didn’t know you knew, it had barely been a week since your discovery. Your second day out of the hospital wing, you connected the dots—the howl you’d heard that night, the way he’d been so severely wounded, the cabinets in the hospital filled with small vials adorned with his name, his aversion to you, why his scent was so disturbingly alluring.

Even now, he sat mere inches away and your mouth was filling with saliva—jaw clenching in efforts to reject the lure.

You were almost shocked at your ignorance to him, his nature, suddenly seeming so obvious—wanting to scoff, both monsters that can’t recognise each other—the irony.

His first words tempted you to laugh.

“Cold?”, he asked, rain dripping off the tip of his nose as he turned to look at you.

It took a few more long drawn out seconds before you turned to meet his gaze. And his heart ached at the sight of you, so utterly defeated, eyes vacant.

You reply was so matter of fact—

“You know I am, Lupin,” maintaining eye contact, it had a layer of something he didn’t quite understand.

Breaking the stare, you turned and looked out longingly at the clouds, letting your words settle into the crisp air between you. His body heat radiated off him so far, it would have warmed your cold body—if that were possible.

He wanted to ask what you mean, and why you said it like that, wanted to ask what was wrong, and why you looks so..so—he couldn’t even put his finger on the word—so not you.

Mouth opening and closing once, twice before blurting out, “Are you okay?” as it left, he felt it was a rather stupid choice of question—considering the situation, but it was too late now.

“You’ve really come all this way to ask how I am?” Still you kept your eyes looking out into the distance, admiring the deep hues of the clouds that rolled over the horizon.

He was still looking at you, your body against the pillar, as if the weight of the world rest on your shoulders. “Well?”

You felt yourself fiddling with the edge of your sleeves, the lump that’d been forming in your throat for the last few minutes felt impossibly larger. You didn’t want to look at him, knowing it would break you, the exhaustion rolling over you in waves—and you couldn’t bear it much longer.

When you did look to him, your eyes pricked with tears, lips twisting into a deep frown.

“I’m tired, Remus.”

You were, so so tired, in pain, hungry.

He didn’t know what to do, completely helpless, it’d made him feel ill, the dejected look on your face, there were so many words swirling in his mind. So much he wanted to say, none of it fitting, none of it enough. Instead, he reached an arm around you, pulling you in, taking the weight you’d been pressing on the bar between you—your head on his shoulders.

He had no idea why he felt comfortable enough to do that, maybe it was the way you said his name—soft, fragile, or maybe it was the way you looked at him—lost. If it wasn’t that, maybe it was the reason why he was even in here in the first place—he cared.

The idea of telling you that it would be okay, seemed ill-fitting, he still didn’t know what was wrong. The rain was coming down slower now, less aggressive and the thunder sounded further away—drifting.

You pressed your lips together, questioning whether to say anything at all. But you were already here, it was already in motion.

“Remus, do you know why you hate me so?”

He looked at you, confused, ready to protest, he doesn’t hate you, he really didn’t. It was the knowing look on your face that stopped him, reflecting on his treatment towards you—he stayed quiet.

You nodded, at nothing, turning away from him.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

The question seemed silly, of course he knew why he was here, he came to check on you, see if you were okay. Find out what was wrong—

“Why?”

Your body was still rigid against his, there was no soft rise and fall, still holding your breath—waiting.

His lips parted when he found the right words to start his sentence, “Your condition-“

Your interruption was simple, yet vague—

“If you have to ask, you’re not ready to know.”

He gaze was on you, perplexed but he listened as you continued, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you anyway.”

There were rules, restrictions against sharing about your condition, not just for the safety of others, but your own—the hysteria, the uproar, an undoing.

His breath hitched as your eyes met his, drained, understanding—kind. The air seemed to still around his when the words fell from you lips.

“Does it hurt you greatly?—each moon?”

You knew, his mouth was dry, eyes searching your face, expecting rejection, contempt, fear. But there was none, you weren’t scared of him, and though your eyes lacked their usual spark, there was still a subtle warmth, accepting. The smallest smile, twitched at your lips, hoping to give him some comfort.

Neither of you moved from your position, his body burned hot despite the rain, harsh wind, and your presence—yours was still cold, as always, a stark contrast to his heat.

“How long have you known?”

…

“A few days.”

It was obvious to him what made you realise, his condition that morning when you saw him, he wasn’t surprised—you were smart.

He would have asked you if you’d told anyone, but he was sure for some reason, that you hadn’t—that you wouldn’t. He chose to answer your initial question instead, grimacing as his body recollected the way his bones would break, his muscles would tear and his own screams of agony were alien in his ears.

“It hurts. A lot, more than I can say,” confession honest and clear.

You hummed in acknowledgment, but still waiting.

Waiting for the dots to connect in his mind, he was thinking—it was clear in the expression on his face, blinks slow, brows furrowed.

Like he was running through every possible piece of information he’d cataloged about you. You couldn’t tell him, and he couldn’t ask—his brain felt muddled.

Just as the skies cleared with time, so did his expression—looking at you with wide, shocked eyes. Always cold, unnaturally so, brilliant reflexes, alluring and captivating to all—people flocked to you effortlessly, and now that he was thinking about it—he rarely saw you eat, at every meal time, lips tinted red from your lolly.

A honeyduke’s classic.

A bloodsucker.

He still didn’t understand, you were nothing like what he’d read about—presented as ugly, ghoulish creatures that burned in the sun.

He was stuttering, puzzled, “But-but the *textbooks—*your—nothing like that”

Nodding, staring down into your lap.

“live long enough, and you can change history.”

His breath was caught in his throat—that’s why. He felt so blind, it should have figured it out soon, or at least suspected, from the way his skin crawled in your presence.

There were signs, so many, but it still seemed impossible, unfathomable.

“Show me.”

Head whipping towards him, shocked. He didn’t even know what he asked of you, eyes on his face, an incredulous look on yours—still contemplating.

“It’s…it’s not—uh, pretty.”

You felt silly at your remark. Of course it wasn’t pretty, he couldn’t be expecting something pretty.

He watched, face unchanging, not flinching away at the sight of your face distorting—whites of your eyes vanishing and the veins, they bulged, stretching out from your waterline and further down your face—protruding thickly out on your neck. You parted your lips, allowing the four sharp canines into his views, still he was neutral.

Just looking.

Cogs turning slowly.

“That morning—you were, in pain…was it—“

His insinuations were clear, the words dying on his lips when you nodded, trying to turn away from him.

“I don’t understand.”

It just didn’t make sense to him, after all these years, he’d never seen you like that, and the cause?

You weren’t even sure if you could tell him, if you should, even wording seemed hard. It didn’t seem right just say it—

Because I was hungry, because it was you.

It was clear to Remus how you were pondering your next words. It would be letting him in, allowing him to see through the cracks, the flaws, the unfortunate reality of you, the real you.

“Well, I hadn’t eaten—in a while, so it was just…”

He probably shouldn’t have asked, but it seemed the words were already in the air—

“Are you hungry now?”

Remus didn’t even know what he wanted you to say, he guessed that you were, still mild discomfort in your face, your body language. Not once did you breath in deep enough for your chest to even rise, back still straight and constantly fidgeting.

And if you weren’t—his mind couldn’t help but wonder.

The question wasn’t hard to answer, yes, every cell in your body screaming, deprived, angry. Your stomach twisted at the thought of eating, it had been so long, weeks—you’d even avoided the potion to keep the cramps at bay. You didn’t deserve the relief, because as much as it stopped the physical pain—your thoughts repulsed you.

But the shame, it never got any better, as much as your tried to push it the very back of your mind—ignore the suffocation of it, the nauseating pressure the clawed from the bottom of your spine and punched right through your chest every time your mouth-watered.

That same feeling stopped you from answering directly, mumbling, faintly above a whisper, as if saying it quieter would make it less difficult—

“It’s not something I enjoy—“

He was quick to intrude, sharp and direct.

“That’s not what I asked.”

It was even difficult to be near him now, insides lurching, in need of sustenance—and his heart was beating so strong, blood warm and intoxicating—appetising.

Your leg twitched with the effort it took to not move away from him, gaze transfixed on edge of stone you at on. Chewing relentlessly at your lip, it was unavoidable, so painstakingly aware of every pump of blood in his veins—

“Y/N,”

“Yes! Yes, Remus! Is that want you want me to say?! That i’m starving and haven’t eaten in weeks—That my throat feels like it’s closing in?!”

There was no need for you to be so harsh with your words, but you snapped—frustrated at yourself, frustrated at him for asking; for making you have to say it out loud.

And yet, he was seeming unaffected by your outburst, eyes sweeping over your figure—this whole time you’d been so composed, each sentence well-thought and calculated. It wasn’t his intention to strike a nerve, he could see the way you shrunk into yourself after, regret in your eyes—

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shou-“

“—Weeks?”

He cut you off again, echoing your words from before, your finger came up to pick at the lifted skin on your lips, only answering with a small nod. He couldn’t imagine it, having to walking around hungry for days, let alone weeks—the restraint you must have, working with the bloody and injured almost everyday.

“How?”

It seemed like such an incomprehensible task.

“How what?”

Right, he’d just blurted out the word random, as though you’d have access to his internal monologue.

“How do you do it—with Pomfrey, all the blood? Doesn’t it make you…I don’t know—uncomfortable?”

You hummed lightly at his explanation, thinking for a second, and for a while your face relaxed—as you thought back to the times you’d spent in the wing.

“It wasn’t easy, at first. But I wanted to help people, lessen their pain—so it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

You continued, confessing with a small scoff—

“It’s the least I can do in the life, something good, my soul maybe be damned—but at least i’ve found purpose.”

When you looked back at him, a deep frown was etched onto his face, eyes swimming with something you couldn’t quite read—looking at you as if your last words were blasphemous.

“You don’t really believe that do you? what you said—about your soul?”

Thinking back to your words, they did seem rather harsh, but you just pulled your lips into thinly lined smile, it stopped there just past the corners of your mouth, not travelling further up your face, as it should have. Sighing deeply through your nose—resigning with another nod.

“It’s a curse, Remus—what I am. A crime against nature.”

You weren’t bothered by your words at all, having come to terms with your reality many years ago, it made sense to you that he didn’t agree—he wouldn’t understand.

“Do you think that about me—and my soul? My curse?”

Brows stretched up and froze high in your forehead, frown now matching his—resting deep on your lips. Placing a hand on his—as if to make your words more sincere.

“I—Of course not. It’s different—you could never be damned Remus, you’re kind. And besides, you can’t help what you become, it’s just different.”

His eyes narrowed as he ran his other hand through his hair, you’d been sitting together so long it was almost dry. He was so confused, you contradicted yourself so plainly—

“You say it like you’ve got a choice in the matter, you didn’t ask to become what you are, Y/N. It’s not different at all.”

Your head was already shaking in dispute, he didn’t get it, yes you didn’t get a choice but there was no doubt in your mind about your fate. It just made sense to you that way, you were a different kind of monster.

Chest huffing in mild frustration, shifting your entire body to face him.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Your words were harsher than you’d expected—too much of the contempt you held to yourself seeping in, taking a deep breath and correcting your tone.

“You don’t have a choice, Remus. You can’t fight against the moon—But you also don’t take life to sustain your own, you live and die—from old age or disease, the same why everyone else does.

We’re different.

You don’t leave death and destruction in your wake because of your selfish desires—taking advantage of the weak.

That’s my nature—That’s what I am.”

You pointed to yourself, finger poking hard and frantic in the middle of your chest—sick revolt burning in your eyes, wet with unshed tears.

He could see it, and it was so achingly familiar, the unadulterated distain for yourself. Too close to home, too much like his own—

Voice low and gentle, taking the hand that’d been accusing you so harshly in both of his.

“You’re nothing like that,”

It was true, to him at least, you were nothing like what you’d described—he wished so badly to be able to change your mind. Almost offended at how you could be so casually unkind to yourself—and he knew you meant it, that you truly did believe the things you said.

His touch was so hot against yours, and yours so cold against his—you wanted to tear your hand away, in fear of making him uncomfortable—so accustom the the sharp hiss that would leave everyone that made contact with you.

But he held your hand so tightly, with such earnestness, you couldn’t help but accept the warmth of his touch.

And for once, when holding your hand in his, there was no strange twisting in stomach, no hair standing on the back of his neck—no underlying loathing, no sickly feeling bubbling in this chest, no secrets.

Just you and him.

Understanding and solidarity.

“Is that why you do this—starve and deny yourself? Because of what you think about your soul?”

He saw through you, completely.

A single tear slid down your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie, deny it.

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The moon was barely visible now, resigning under the bright light that the sun had just barely begun to shine—

“And you won’t, you couldn’t even if you tried, Y/N.”

You frowned again, still so stubborn and untrusting of yourself—“You don’t know that, Remus.”

His words were immediate, explicit and absolute.

“Yes I do,” gaze so intense you had to tear your eyes away, “No, look at me—I do know that. I saw you—you passed out trying to get away from me that day.

So you wouldn’t hurt me.

You’ve already done so much good, you don’t need to suffer like this anymore.”

By his final sentence he already had you standing, dragging you out of the Observatory—hand in yours pulling you down the stairs.

“Remus, slow down! Where are we going?”

“A walk.”

“I—A walk?! it’s 5am?”

He didn’t bother answering, he knew his words weren’t enough to make you believe him, to change your twisted perception of yourself. And as you found your way out of the main entrance towards the forest—he spoke to you in a quiet soft voice.

You weren’t trailing behind him anymore, falling into step with your shorter, still exhausted stride. He spoke about the pain of his first transformation and as you passed the Whomping Willow—he revealed how it’d been placed by Dumbledore, for him.

When you reached the black pond, the sun was fully up, gracing the sky with warm rays and radiance. He’d been holding your hand the entire time—you began to wonder why he hadn’t let go.

Surely, it’d become uncomfortable for him, surely the surface of his skin burned from the cold. He must have noticed the skepticism in your gaze, asking, “Shall I let go?”

You shook your head, but pulled you both to a stop, opening his hand, and inspecting it—expecting it to be cold to the touch from the prolonged contact. But it wasn’t even flushed, just warm, too warm—considering.

He let out a breathy chuckle at your examination, rubbing his palm in confusion in confusion; the sound made your eyes snap to his face—lips stretched slightly across his face into crooked smile.

Simply taking your hand back in his grasp and continuing your walk, now back towards the castle.

In an almost smug tone—“I tend to run a bit hot, so don’t worry,”

How ironic.

Unprompted, as the exit to the forest became clear, he detailed how he got his condition—a cruel and vile act of revenge on an innocent.

He struggled to talk about it even after all these years, and you could hear how his heart rate quickened as though he’d been transported back to that moment—the little boy hiding in his wardrobe.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to say,” voice gentle and comforting.

“I know i don’t have to, I want to.”

And your thumbs found themselves instinctively ghosting over his knuckles, tracing the skin of each scar—as if trying to sooth him, heal the wounds that still linger in more than a physical sense.

“What i’m trying to say, is that, there are twisted and sadistic people of all natures, that doesn’t mean you’re as bad as the worst of your kind—I promise.”

You hummed back to him, with a nod.

“Will you do one thing for me?” he asked when you slipped through the door in the West Hall. He was looking at you, with an unexpectedly fond eye.

“What is it?”

“You have to say you’ll do it first,”

A smile cracked onto your face, the first he’d seen in weeks, the one that reached your eyes—making them crinkle at the corners, the same smile he’d found irritating for all these years.

“How can I just agree—“

“Please?”

Rolling your eyes as you relented, not protesting when he walked you both down the hall, but after two left turns, it dawned on you.

He’s taking to you to Pomfrey.

You froze, a few meters from the door—mouth suddenly dry. He squeezed your hand, turning to you with a pleading look, “You said you’d—“

“I can’t.”

His chest lurched at the fear in your eyes, the way your shoulder inched up tighter, closer to your ears—shaking you head frantically.

Stepping forward, he released your hand but wasted no time wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him, on palm gently running over your back, the other instinctively holding your head against him—stroking over your hair.

You felt the vibrations of his voice in rumble his chest, a hushed tone.

“You know you can’t go on like this—you—this isn’t how you fix things.”

You padded in softly hand in hand, Remus still leading you in—and when Pomfrey turned to the door. She paused, looking between the two of you—fingers interlocked, the smallest of smiles twitched onto her face.

“Here for your potion, my dear?”

But she wasn’t talking to Remus—back already turning to the cabinets, you mumbled a small, yes.

You’d sat down on a bed, he hadn’t let go, and you were grateful—his warmth distracting you from the swirling pits of your stomach as she approached you with one small yellow and a larger red vial.

Pouring them carefully into a small metal cup, she patted a hand onto your shoulder—encouraging, the hesitation in your eyes clear to her.

One deep breath, flicking looks between her, Remus and the cup. It slid down your throat with ease but the taste—coppery and sickly sweet—made you struggle to disguise the heave the pushed through your stomach.

You hated it.

Placing the cup down, a grimace still on your face—you body thanked you for it. The cramps fazing away slowing, mind instantly less foggy. Remus could see the colour coming back to your face and his shoulders relaxed as though he’d let out the biggest sighs.

Pomfrey came back, she handed you your lolly and sent you on your way. You didn’t wait to leave before you unravelled it—looking at it as if it was the best thing in the entire world, a soft smile on Remus’ face when you popped it into you mouth with a small hum.

As the doors closed behind you both, Pomfrey let a knowing smile split onto her face as she cleaned up.

Two of a kind, she thought to herself.

[sleepysheepytea]

i’d be annoying af at hogwarts

ft. fluffi being southern

[lqveharrington]

In Sickness & Health | R.L.

summary: you and remus after a full moon <3

pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader

includes: fluff, comfort, normal post full moon things

a/n: i’m in love with him :(

“Hey, Moony,” you murmured, settling onto the edge of his hospital wing bed. Your fingers gently threaded through his hair, careful not to press against any fresh bruises or reopen wounds. His hair was soft despite the sweat from the full moon’s toll. “How was tonight? Sirius told me it was… bad.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” Remus replied, though his voice was strained, and the attempt at nonchalance didn’t quite mask the pain lacing his words. He shifted, trying to find a more comfortable position on the stiff white sheets, but winced as he moved. “Jus’ got a little out of hand, that’s all.”

You frowned, your gaze lingering on the fresh scar just above his eyebrow. Without thinking, you brushed a few strands of hair away and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of the wound. His skin was warm beneath your lips, radiating both the fever of healing and the exhaustion of survival. “I’m sorry,” you whispered.

“It’s not your fault, dovey,” he murmured back, eyes still closed, breathing shallow.

“But it is,” you sighed, your voice cracking under the weight of guilt. Your fingers found his hand, lacing through his as your thumb sought out the steady beat of his pulse—a quiet reassurance that he was still here. Still breathing. “I shouldn’t have gone with Lily and Dorcas earlier. I should’ve been there when—”

“Stop,” Remus cut in gently, squeezing your hand to pull you out of the spiral. His amber eyes opened, hazy but sincere, locking onto yours. “You know it’s not your fault. These things… they happen. I’ve been dealing with this my whole life, yeah? Tonight was just a rough night, nothing you could’ve prevented.”

But you couldn’t shake the ache in your chest. Couldn’t stop the image of him curled on the hospital bed, covered in fresh scars that would never fully fade. You bit your bottom lip, emotions swirling, and brought his hand to your lips, pressing a tender kiss against his knuckles. “I’m still sorry.”

He chuckled, though it came out more like a breathy exhale. “I’ll get Madam Pomfrey to kick you out if you don’t stop with all this guilt,” he teased, squeezing your hand again. His eyes softened. “Besides… you’ll be here to help me afterwards, yeah?”

“Of course, Rem,” you nodded, voice thick with emotion.

He smiled—small, tired, but genuine—and tilted his head just enough to look at you properly. His gaze narrowed playfully until you finally cracked a smile, the tension in your shoulders easing just a little. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, the weight of worry momentarily lifted by his warmth. Remus shifted again, letting out a slow sigh as he tried to settle his battered body. You reached up to run your fingers through his tousled hair once more, the rhythmic motion calming both of you.

“Think you’ll be able to attend classes by Monday?” you asked softly. “We’ve got those tests in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts.”

He hummed thoughtfully, leaning into your touch like a cat basking in the sun. “We’ll see… Might just have to fake my way through them. Not like Flitwick hasn’t seen me half-asleep in class before.”

You glanced at the old clock hanging above Madam Pomfrey’s office door and sighed. “You should rest,” you murmured, though the last thing you wanted was to leave him.

“Dovey,” he mumbled, voice low, “you need to get to bed, too.”

You nodded reluctantly, pressing a lingering kiss to his forehead. His skin was warm, his pulse steady beneath your fingertips. “Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow? A change of clothes, books… chocolate?”

“Just yourself,” he grinned, eyes fluttering shut. “The boys already made grand plans to raid my side of the dorm for me.”

“Figures.” You rolled your eyes but smiled. Squeezing his hand one last time, you whispered, “Goodnight, Rem.”

“Night, love.”

As you slipped out of the hospital wing, the cool corridors of Hogwarts seemed colder than usual, the stone walls echoing with your thoughts. You kept replaying the night in your head—the ache in his voice, the scars on his skin—and you hoped, with everything in you, that he wasn’t downplaying the pain.

Remus spent most of the weekend recovering, pushing through the stiffness and soreness until, by Sunday afternoon, he managed to hobble out of bed with his cane, taking slow, measured steps. You stayed by his side every moment you could, abandoning weekend plans with the girls without a second thought. James and Sirius, of course, had already tried to rope him into plotting pranks, but Remus waved them off with a lazy grin. Next time, he promised. For now, he just wanted quiet.

The two of you ended up by the Black Lake, settling beneath the sprawling branches of a tree that overlooked the shimmering water. The late afternoon sun dipped toward the horizon, casting streaks of gold and pink across the sky. Remus lay back with his head in your lap, eyes closed, his breathing even as you idly ran your fingers through his hair.

“Did your dad make this?” you asked softly, tracing the intricate carvings on his wooden cane. The designs were delicate, swirling patterns framing his initials at the top—R.J.L.—surrounded by tiny etched stars.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded, opening his eyes halfway. “He started working on it after… after he realized how much I was struggling to walk after full moons. Didn’t say much—just handed it to me one morning.”

Your fingertips brushed over the stars, heart tugging at the thought of the quiet, steadfast love behind each carved detail. “It’s beautiful,” you murmured. “And it suits you.”

He chuckled, the sound vibrating softly against your leg. “I’ll owl him that. He’ll be pleased someone appreciates his handiwork.”

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the gentle lapping of the lake and the distant calls of students on the castle grounds. Remus turned his head slightly, letting the fading sunlight warm his face. For a moment, you saw beyond the scars and fatigue—to the boy who loved books, who smiled despite the weight he carried, who found peace in the little things.

“Help me up?” he asked after a while.

“Of course.” You shifted, careful as you helped him sit up. His muscles tensed under your hands, but he didn’t complain. Steadying him, you passed him his cane. He gripped it firmly, testing his balance.

“Thanks, dovey,” he murmured, his gaze catching yours. There was gratitude in his eyes—deep, unspoken, and profound.

You smiled, falling into step beside him as you wandered back toward the castle, the horizon painted with the colors of the setting sun. Whatever challenges lay ahead—tests, pranks, full moons—you’d face them together. Always.

The following week passed in a blur of classes, missed notes, and whispered conversations between you and Remus when Madam Pomfrey wasn’t hovering over him. By Tuesday morning, he was finally released from the hospital wing—still sore, still leaning on his cane, but stubbornly insistent on returning to classes despite your protests.

“Professor McGonagall’s going to have my head if I miss another Transfiguration lecture,” he grumbled as you walked beside him, his pace slow but determined. “Besides, I’ve already got Sirius taking notes for me. Not that I can read half of his scribbles.”

You snorted. “You’d have better luck asking a Hippogriff to write in cursive.”

Remus chuckled, the sound warming your chest. Even with dark circles still under his eyes and his movements careful, it was good to see him returning to his usual self—sarcastic comments, fond exasperation at his friends, and all.

By Wednesday afternoon, he was exhausted. You could see it in the way he slumped against the library table, one hand lazily turning the pages of Advanced Defensive Spells, the other propping up his head.

“Rem,” you whispered, nudging his leg under the table. “You’re not going to absorb any of that if you’re half-asleep.”

“M’fine,” he mumbled, though his eyelids drooped.

“You’re reading the index,” you pointed out.

He blinked down at the book. “…Shit.”

Smiling fondly, you reached over and closed it for him. “Come on. Fresh air might wake you up.”

Reluctantly, he let you tug him away from the library and out toward the Black Lake. The March wind was crisp, biting at your cheeks, but the sky was clear—a perfect gradient of pale blue bleeding into amber as the sun started its slow descent. You walked in comfortable silence, his arm occasionally brushing against yours.

“Here,” you said, guiding him to a familiar spot near the small cliff overlooking the water—the same place you’d been the weekend before. The grass was still damp, but neither of you cared. Remus sat with a quiet sigh, stretching out his legs as you settled beside him.

“I don’t deserve you, you know,” he murmured after a long pause, voice soft and a little too serious.

You turned your head toward him. “Where’s that coming from?”

He shrugged, gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the lake. “I know how hard this is for you. Worrying. Waiting around for me to pull myself back together after every full moon. Most people wouldn’t bother.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” you replied, nudging his shoulder. “And you don’t get to decide what I can handle.”

His lips quirked into a half-smile. “Stubborn.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” you shot back, and he laughed—really laughed—head tilting back, eyes crinkling. It was a sound you wished you could bottle up and keep forever.

Falling into a companionable quiet again, you watched as the sun dipped lower, casting golden ripples across the lake. Seagulls cried overhead, distant and fleeting.

“You know,” you started, tracing random patterns in the grass, “I don’t stay because I have to. I stay because I want to, Remus. You… you matter to me. Scars and all.”

He went still beside you, the weight of your words settling between you like a warm blanket. Slowly, cautiously, his hand found yours in the grass. Fingers entwined, familiar and safe.

“I’m lucky to have you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

“And don’t you forget it,” you teased, though your cheeks burned.

The sky bled into a soft lavender as the first stars began to peek through. Remus leaned against you, his head resting on your shoulder. “This… this helps,” he murmured. “Being with you. Makes it easier to breathe.”

You smiled, resting your head against his. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

The wind picked up, sending ripples across the lake and rustling the trees behind you, but neither of you moved. For now, the world could wait.

Here, in this quiet pocket of Hogwarts grounds, with his hand in yours and the stars beginning to glow above, everything felt… right.

And you’d hold onto that feeling—for him, for you, for as long as it took.

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[crescenthistory]

heyy carina, I hope you have a safe travel♡ how about our beloved Remus with the 'Person A waking up to a sleeping Person B clinging onto them tightly.' prompt and 'Saying "you're lucky I love you" and realizing too late what they said' prompt

for the journeys & journals mini-event <3

wc: 1.5k

cw: gn!reader, best friends to lovers, instinctual communication, physical affection, fluff, first kiss, reader pov, in denial!reader that can be interpreted as shy, reserved, etc.

It’s normal to be this close with your best friend.

That was what ran through your mind over and over like a mantra as you fell asleep in Remus’ arms yet again. This time, the excuse was that the get-together at James and Regulus’ stretched too long into the night, and the walk to Remus’ was simply shorter. You already had a toothbrush and your medication there. Convenient. 

It was only natural you wake up in his arms, the air of his flat light with dust particles dancing in the incoming morning sun. Both of you wearing some of Remus’ worn pyjamas, with his arms around your waist and his face buried in the crook of your neck, soft breathing fanning out over your skin informing you that he was still asleep.

You had been thinking more lately. And you were thinking even harder now, with your fingertips slipped up under the hem of his shirt, as if they belonged there.

Whenever you thought like this, Remus would pinch the space between your brows to emphasise the furrow and tell you “nothing good ever comes of that, dovey.” You always listened to Remus – you convinced yourself that that was the reason you had kept avoiding this specific line of thinking for years.

Truth is, you were a coward. And hopelessly in lo–

“Mm, good morning, dove.” Remus' voice rumbled against your skin, brushing his nose against your pulse point. You were amazed he could realise you’re awake without you moving or saying anything.

You smiled nonetheless. “Good morning, Remus.”

He tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer to him, despite your limbs already being an incomprehensible, tangled mess. Whether it was because he heard the shakiness in your voice, or because that is a normal thing for a best friend to do at 10 AM in the morning, you had no idea.

“Staying for breakfast?” he mumbled after a minute.

Normally, you would say yes without hesitating. Today, though, you were doing all this damned thinking, stalling you.

Remus answered for you. “Staying for breakfast,” he said, this time in the affirmative. He nuzzled into your shoulder and breathed you in.

“Well, if you simply insist.” You kept your voice light, breezy. You felt very breezy. And you were not in lov–

“I do, actually. The bastard that I am, keeping you here against your will.”

You knew he was joking, but even hearing Remus’ faux self-deprecation brought forth some primal, instinctual reaction in you, instilled after years of deconstructing every piece of misguided direction his father had drilled into him. You moved your head back enough for him to see your face, see that you were happy to be around him. “Breakfast would be lovely, my keeper.”

Remus grinned at you, lazy in the sunlit sheets. “At your beck and call, no?”

“Hey, I didn’t ask you to do that,” you argued, holding up your hands as if proving your innocence. 

He caught your hand with his, intertwining your fingers as he extracted himself from your neck to lay back against the pillow he had abandoned in your favour. He brought the hands up to his mouth to kiss the back of yours. “No, I do it because it’s fun. And I’m quite good at it.”

“That you are,” you whispered, voice too quiet to suit the moment.

Remus looked at you for a second too long, eyebrows twitching as if he was analysing you. Whatever he found, he decided to just smile at you. “The usual, then?”

“Do we have everything for the usual?” Remus had an elaborate breakfast meal he preferred to cook you up, a mixture of his and your favourites. 

His expression turned mischievous. In those moments, you saw his friendship with James, Sirius and Peter clear as day, etched into every furrow of his face. At least he had the decency to sound sheepish as he said, “I was hoping we could go to the shops.”

“The shops!” You let out a groan, rolling over to bury your face in the pillow beside his – you made a point not to let go of his hand, though. The nearest Sainsbury’s is quite the walk away. “Rem, it’s early.”

“Yes, it’s early, and I want to cook my dove a proper breakfast to wake you up. And I want to continue spending time with you. So…” 

It had taken years of friendship for Remus to get to the point where he would ask you to do anything you weren’t immediately thrilled about. The odd displayal of intimacy settled into your heart, even as you wore a mostly fake scowl to peer up at him. “Gods above. You’re lucky I love you, Lupin.”

A beat – then you realised what you had said. It was far from the first time you declared your love for him, but there was something about how the word love has been bouncing around your brain, uninvited and uncomfortable, for quite some time now that made it taste differently.

“That I am; alas, I love you more, so you must come along.” Remus’ tone and expression wore none of the weight to signify the same strife you felt at the minute.

The smart thing would have been to play off your momentary silence as you preparing yourself to get up. To brush it off, like nothing.

Then again, thinking like this had not been smart in the first place, so you were clearly not in the right headspace at the moment.

Remus’ gaze flicked back to yours when you remained frozen, looking at him in a way that was strange at best and concerning at worst. His brows furrowed properly this time as he studied you. He squeezed your hand and rolled over onto his side to see you better. “Dove?” he whispered, voice quiet. “Is everything… Are you alright?”

The anxiety you saw in his eyes told you he must think he had said something wrong. It made you ache enough to nod. Even still, you kept looking into his eyes, falling further and further down the well that was his amber eyes.

You had to physically tear yourself away and throw yourself back onto your back, putting distance between you as you let out a harsh breath. “Yeah, yeah,” you forced out, a bit choked. You made for a laugh, but failed. “Sorry.”

He didn’t let up. Instead Remus curled back against you, inadvertently pushing his plaid pantleg up as he hiked his leg over yours to lay against you. “Don’t be sorry. Hey. Hey.” 

With gentle fingers, he placed a hand on your cheek, turning it towards him. Your foreheads were a hairsbreadth apart. He looked between your eyes, fiercely studying. “What…” His question trailed off, unsure.

You looked back, confused and horrified with yourself. For a second, your gaze flickered down to his lips, noticing how they were slightly turned downwards into a frown. Almost panicked, you looked back up, just in time to see a sliver of realisation dawn in his eyes.

His expression seemed to be turning to one of entertainment, but you didn’t dare look back to his lips to see if they had changed. “Oh… uh…” He struggled to find the words. “Is this about…?”

You quite felt like going back to sleep right at this minute. You tried to turn your head back around, running despite there being no room to do so.

But Remus’ hand on your cheek remained steady, though it turned sweeter. “Hey, hey, no dove, it…” He swallowed harshly, eyes crinkling into a nervous smile. “Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”

Your lips parted slightly. He couldn’t possibly mean…

He brought your hands still intertwined together up to his chest and pressed them against his chest. Over his heart. His gaze chased yours, and now you had the guts to check, verifying that he was in fact smiling. One look at his eyes proved it real. 

“I meant it too,” he whispered, ushering an intense amount of hope into each syllable. Hope that you understood. “I meant it too, my love.”

Your breath caught. 

Two young adults, entangled beyond what any visual glance could infer, on a cheap bed in a small flat that was made big with love. It was love.

You brought your free hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his undereye as you looked at him with all the confused affection in your heart. “Yeah?” you let out. Maybe not eloquent, but he carried all the meaning in the world nonetheless.

“Yeah.” Remus’ voice was teary with laughter. “Dove, can I kiss you?”

You didn’t wait to answer him. You closed the minimal distance between you and kissed Remus Lupin, like you were always meant to.

He was your best friend – but you were also madly in love with him. And the sentiment was shared.

[sunskisser]

Hi my love!!

I’d LOVE a scarf for Christmas.

Can I do James Potter and “please forget all the times where i complained about you being a hugger.”

Maybe where reader is not really a touchy person most of the time (cuz I’m not either lol).

Thank you! Love you!!!

here’s your scarf, lovely mk!!🧣thank you for the request, love you loads <333

phone | j.p.

— “Please forget all the times where I complained about you being a hugger.”

james potter x reader

summary: there’s a creep, and it’s cold outside. fortunately, james lives nearby

tw: creepy guy, protective james <3, sorry i know i said that most of the sleepover drabbles would be christmas themed but the only christmasy thing about this is that the weather’s cold 😭

“Make sure she gets home safe!” you yell to Mary over the din of the club, steering a very drunk Lily into her arms. She grins and flashes you a thumbs-up as you turn around to leave.

Your tipsy friend’s high-pitched giggles can be heard as you make your way out, your heart jumping on beat to the music. It’s not just loud, it’s booming, and paired with the blinding disco lights, acutely overstimulating.

When Mary had first suggested this place, you definitely had your reservations — more often than not, you spotted drunkards stumbling out with either bruises on their faces or girls on their arms. But you decided to tag along. Admittedly, it had been fun. Now you were more than ready to go home to the warmth of your bed.

You’re about to push the door open when you realise you’ve left your coat back at the table. You swivel back around to find Lily swaying side to side, bent over.

She lets out a bulky groan, and your lips curve into a slight grimace in anticipation. You open your mouth to warn somebody but it’s too late; she hurtles forward, throwing up over everything in a one metre radius — your coat included.

You turn back to the front door and swing it open with a barely concealed sigh, heels clicking against the pavement as you step outside.

Cold wind hits you like a slap in the face. You’re pretty sure that your shudder is audible, rows of teeth clacking against one another as you curl into yourself. 

The mini dress your friends had picked out for you does nothing to help. You tug the ends of it downwards, squeezing your thighs together and wrapping your arms around yourself in a desperate attempt to keep warm.

You glance at the road, frustration starting to nip at you. There seem to be no taxis in sight, demand raging high on a Friday night. Walking home wasn’t an option — it was way too far away and freezing was an understatement for how you felt right now. 

James’ house was nearby, but you had been pulling out all the stops to avoid him for the past few days. Not that you didn’t like him — on the contrary, you really, really liked him. A friend from high school had introduced you to him at a party and you were immediately smitten. He asked you out, and you’d been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. He was everything you could’ve wanted in a man, more than what you’d ever hoped for. You just spent a lot of time worrying you were going to screw it all up — hence never called when he asked you to, made up excuses not to meet when he wanted to. James deserved better.

“Darling!”

You’re pulled out of your thoughts by the sudden voice, rough and sultry from behind you. You whip around, instinctively taking a step back as your eyes land on the long-haired man staggering around in front of the club. His face is tilted downwards, staring into his empty liquor bottle almost… sadly.

But then he looks up at you. His eyes are dark with desire, mouth curving into something vile. It scares you. “Come here, darling. Come here.”

“Go away.” You try to sound unafraid. It comes out on a shaky breath, betraying the anxiety clogging up your throat. You take a few more cautious steps backwards, eyes darting between the man in front of you and the path behind you.

Your hand is already reaching for your phone in your pocket as soon as he starts stumbling towards you. Your fingers feel heavy, turned to smudge as you switch it on and desperately click on James’ contact.

“I asked you,” the man growls, “to come here!” He takes bigger, unsteady steps towards you, liquor bottle smashed to the ground without a care in the world.

Your heart feels like it’s being roped out of your throat, mind turned to mush in your head. You press your phone to your ear, turning around and mustering the quickest steps possible in your 6-inch heels. The cold is all-consuming now, tearing at your skin like wild dogs to prey. But all that’s on your mind is getting home safe. 

You’re barely a few rings in when James’ voice cuts through. “Hello? Y/n, is that you?”

“James!”

“Y/n, sweetheart. God, have you been ignoring me? I was so worried, and thought you hated me, and — “

“James.” The panic in your voice must be really palpable, because he shuts up immediately. “Yeah?”

You glance backwards for a split second as you walk ahead, seeing that the man has sped up. His arms are outreached towards you, and he’s spewing dirty lines you’d kill never to hear again. The smirk on his face widens by the second.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” James’ concerned voice comes through again, and you snap your head forwards and exhale shakily.

“You know that club really close to your place, the one with the um… the huge statue of a horse outside? I’m near there. Could you please walk over and fetch me? There’s a creep, and it’s cold, and —“

“Hold on, there’s a creep?” His worry is obvious. You hear the rustling of fabric and the flipping of switches on his end. “Are you safe?”

“Not really,” you croak honestly, sparing another look behind you to find your stalker doubled over, spilling his guts out onto the side of the road. You fasten your pace.

You can almost hear the frown in James’ voice. “Be careful, sweetheart. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

You hang up and pocket your phone. Your nose is running, you can’t feel your fingers where they touch your cheek. You’re numbed.

You force yourself to keep walking, chanting James’ name like a desperate prayer in your mind. Your train of thought is interrupted by the creep once again. You squeeze your eyes shut as his voice hovers by, dangerously close, bracing yourself for what’s to come.

“You stupid girl, you better turn around or else I’ll —“

“You’ll what?”

Your eyes crack open immediately to find James jogging over to you, eyes locked on the figure behind you. It’s like your prayers have been answered. His gaze drifts to you, and in a second he’s got his arm wrapped around your back as he pulls you into his chest. 

“I’m asking you again, jerk. What do you think you’re gonna do to my girl?” You feel yourself melting into him with relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as you absorb the vibrations of his chest with each word he pushes out. His voice is hard, strained. A tone you’d never associate with the sweet boy holding you, but love does silly things to people sometimes. Maybe he loved you.

Your stalker mutters something unintelligible, along with a very loud, “Fuck you!” before staggering away.

James’ attention is on you instantly. He pulls away slightly to grip you by the shoulders, looking you over with a worried frown. “Are you okay? He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

You shake your head, teeth chattering too rapidly to give a straight answer. Your shivering doesn’t go unnoticed. He conjures up a jacket from seemingly nowhere, draping it over the back of your shoulders.

You can tell he’s trying to hold back for your sake, one hand rubbing circles into your shoulder while the other brushes strands of hair off your face. You’ve never been the type to want to be touched. But it’s exactly what you need right now, the gentle warmth of a hug that’s been wanting to be given, waiting to be received.

You lean forward and make your intent clear, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face into his chest. If he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it, immediately pulling you in and tightening his hold around you.

“You good, hon?” he says into your hair, face tilting downward to rest on the top of your head.

“Yeah,” you mumble, feeling the tension start to dissipate from your joints. You cling to him like a vice. “Please forget all the times where I complained about you being a hugger. Boy, did I need this.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle and starts to gently draw his hand up and down your spine. “You did? Well, I’m always glad to provide it.”

“Mhm,” you murmur, legs curling around his like you’re trying to hug him with every part of you. He stamps a kiss to the top of your head before slipping his hands under your thighs, hoisting you up till you’re wrapped around his waist. 

It earns a soft grunt from you before you’re relaxing into him, warmth seeping into your skin. He holds you with all the tenderness he would a baby.

“Your dress is lovely, by the way,” he mutters as he readjusts the jacket to cover your exposed ass. “You look absolutely lovely.”

“Thank you,” you mumble with a shy smile, tilting your face to rest it in the crook of his neck. 

He carries you back to his apartment, telling you all the things he’d wanted to say these past couple of days when you weren’t here for him to say it to. You decide that James is too lovely to let anxiety push away. You’ll probably phone him again sometime soon.

san’s christmas sleepover

[cursedmoon-doll13]

A New Year.

(Hogwarts Uni AU Intro)

Cw: Typical Blood Racism, Swearing

Features S/I OCs: Jasmine, (mine) Scarlet, (@vincent-sinclair-deserved-better) & Minoes (@myers-meadow)

Word Count: 2.8k

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

“Here we are, then. King’s Cross Station.”

The cabbie huffed gruffly. I checked the fare metre and, wincing, fished a few crumpled pound notes out of my purse. His eyes flashed for a moment, as if he’d noticed the bronze knuts and silver sickles gleaming at the bottom. I clasped it shut tightly, pressed the cash into his open palm and withdrew. 

“Thanks,” I told him, wrenching open the car door and swinging my legs out. The rush of cool, crisp London air felt like a shotgun blast to the face. 

“No problem.” 

I had barely hauled all my luggage out of the backseat before the taxi bustled away with a puff of smoke. Peaches meow-ed at me despondently from inside her carrier as I lifted her, shuffling her mittens against the bars, and my heart wavered. 

“Nearly there, baby,” I said softly. “Nearly there.” 

I glanced up at the sky. The clouds were cast in pearly white, though it occasionally threatened to release a patch of sunlight; or a spattering of rain. King’s Cross was packed with commuters in the early morning, and I cautiously nudged into a throng of people as I hurried inside, muttering apologies. 

When I caught a glimpse of a ruffled, tawny owl flapping in someone’s cage, I couldn’t help but grin a little. I followed them up to a quiet, inconspicuous brick wall and watched as they carefully leaned into it and disappeared altogether. After a few seconds, I did the same. Stumbling onto the hidden platform, I met a sparse gathering of young folk, garbed in jewel-toned scarves of green, blue, yellow, red. 

Well, evidently house spirit was strong this year. 

The Hogwarts Express welcomed me with a thundering air horn, expelling a thick jet of steam. Peaches yowled and writhed around in a panic, so offered her a consoling finger to nibble on as I boarded. Luckily, I found a free car; granted, I had made sure to get here as early as possible to avoid the crowds. I dropped my bags unceremoniously into the nearest booth. It was then I unclipped the carrier and allowed my cat to dive underneath the table. 

“I’m sorry, girl,” I cooed. She mewled quietly. 

Her unease was pacified a little as I soothed a finger over her striped, furry head. I was able to coax her out with some treats, and soon she was curled up and snug on my lap. As I unwound my sapphire scarf from my neck, I quickly checked my watch: 10:13. It would be over half an hour’s wait before the train left. 

Settling into my booth, I squirmed from the pack of butterflies whirling in my belly. You’ll get used to it, they told me. Soon it’ll lose its lustre, business as usual. But I could barely contain my excitement. Another year at Hogwarts! The only way I could resist the urge to shoot up and pace was by rummaging through my bag; my fingers skimmed over the latest Daily Prophet and soon it was in my hands, affectionately chin-rubbed by Peaches. 

The front page flicked past like an old black and white movie reel, featuring a gaggle of triumphant Quidditch players I couldn’t recall. I straightened it out, searching for the ‘short stories’ section; they had announced a while ago that they were holding a competition. My very-much-so muggle household had grown used to receiving news owls over the years, just as it had grown used to many strange and unusual things. Really, I was such an odd child that many of those magical peculiarities flew under the radar, but levitation is not a symptom unless the diagnosis is ‘witch.’ 

Then, a tentative rap on the glass spooked me out of my reverie. I looked up to see a violet-haired student steadying themselves against the car door. 

“Hey, am I allowed to sit in here? None of the other cars are… Um, accepting.” She shifted awkwardly from side to side, as if expecting me to hiss at her. 

“Uh, yeah, of course! Sit down.”  

They tip-toed in and closed the door shut behind them. I saw she was also struggling with a cat carrier. I grimaced as I felt Peaches’ claws dig into my thighs in alarm. She didn’t stay in my lap for long, opting to hide as far away from the intruder as possible. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare your cat,” said the visitor somberly. They casted a sad, longing gaze towards the antisocial Peaches.

“It’s okay, she’s just like this around other people.” I reassured her, and craned down to scratch my cat’s chin. “Doesn’t like anyone except me.” 

They nodded, sliding into the chair opposite to me. For a moment, I seriously wracked my brains trying to figure out if I had met her before. I knew, at least, that they couldn’t have been in my own house, because I would’ve made a point of it to befriend any other cat owner in my house. 

“Um, so what’s your name?” I asked, pushing my faltering glasses back up the bridge of my nose. 

“Scarlet. Scarlet Pimpernel,” she said simply. She undid the locks on the carrier and released two slinky cats. “The tabby’s Pip, cow cat’s Fiz.” 

“Aw,” I leaned forward to try and lure one over. “I’m Jasmine Daly. From Ravenclaw.” 

“Oh. That’s nice.” 

Silence. I turned back to my Daily Prophet and continued sifting through the usual quidditch feed and Skeeter’s latest gossipy drivel (“THE LOST GENERATION: Are our young wizards becoming lazier?”), past the continuous reports on Black and over the dull, meagre contest entries. Eventually, I got fed up and dug out one of my books to read instead, groaning at the sight of the well-worn pages partially fractured from the spine. Again. 

“I’m from Slytherin,” Scarlet spoke up finally. “But I’m also a muggleborn, so… Yeah, that’s basically why no one wants me around.” 

She chuckled, though it sounded rather forced. 

“Um, no worries. I’m not gonna kick you out or anything,” I said quickly, fumbling with my wand. “You’re fine.” 

I could’ve sworn they heaved a relieved sigh. 

“Reparo! There, that should do it… Sort of…” 

The atmosphere gradually relaxed, and after a few minutes, Peaches leaped back onto my lap with a squeaky chirrup, demanding attention. Pip, too, took to winding sleekly around my legs, though Fiz loafed safely beside Scarlet, muscles twitching. 

“… So, what’s your book about?” 

I peeked up over the cover at her. 

“‘Discovering Dragons,’” I said. “I know it looks childish, but I’ve found none other that goes as in-depth as this. Call it an old obsession of mine.”  

Dog-earing my page and turning it over gently in my hands, I felt a sort of nostalgic fondness swell in my chest. With its yellowed paper and peeling casing, it was nothing special, but it was the first token of the wizarding world I was truly able to call my own. 

“It’s about nine years old, this one,” I continued. 

“Huh. It looks… Scruffy.” 

“Yeah, I’ve only read it about fifty times, which is why it’s always falling apart. Poor thing probably just wants me to end it already.” 

As if to protest, the spine cracked ominously. 

“Hey, can I borrow that?” Scarlet suddenly asked. 

Nudging up my glasses again, I followed her pointed finger towards my discarded newspaper. 

“Um, sure.” 

My curiosity got the better of me, and I ended up distracted by the photograph of the feinting quidditch player on the back of it. Once or twice, I saw the paper sag down and reveal the headline: ‘Illegal Duelling Matches Endangering Local Muggles,’ before Scarlet drew it furtively closer. Quite engrossed, she pushed a few loose strands of purple hair back into her headband. 

“I love your hair, by the way,” I blurted out. 

For the first time, their mouth cracked into a smile. 

“Thanks. I dyed it a couple months ago.” 

Then, the compartment door slid open again. This time, I recognised our visitor a little: Minoes, who had been in my Ancient Runes class last year. 

“Scarlet, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!”

Minoes was balancing an owl cage on her hip, her luggage hooked around her arm. At this, Scarlet pursed her lips morosely. 

“You know how people are with me.”

“Oh, I know,” said Minoes, turning politely to me now: “Hello. I don’t think we’ve really met before?”  

“Hi.” I tucked a stray lock behind my ear. “Um, we shared a few classes, but we haven’t spoken much. I’m Jasmine Daly.” 

“Minoes Vleerebosch, It’s nice to meet you.”

Whereas Scarlet dressed neutrally, Minoes’ emerald-green robes singled her out. Her necklaces clacked together as she sat down beside us. Her spotted owl chirped happily in its cage, seemingly oblivious to the hungry, feline stares and chop-licking. 

“This is Hannah Theresa,” Minoes told me, prying in a finger to stroke her feathers affectionately. 

“Awch, she’s awful cute,” I said. “Can I pet her?” 

“Yes, go on. She’s very gentle, she won’t peck you.” 

I shifted over a bit as Minoes opened the cage door and allowed me to reach a hand in. Hannah Theresa’s huge, black eyes stared back at me, as shiny as polished buttons. I brushed an experimental knuckle over her feathery head, and she felt soft as cotton. 

“Hannah Theresa always delivers my mail. I have lots of pen-pals to keep her busy, so it’s a good thing she’s so sweet-tempered with me.” 

“She’s lovely, such a wee dote…” 

Pip, meanwhile, had had quite enough of me by this stage, and padded over to rub Minoes’ ankles. 

“Hello. I know you,” she murmured, scratching him lovingly under the chin. “But who’s this?” 

Minoes nodded eagerly towards the curled up Peaches, who had taken shelter beneath the table in the face of yet another unknown intruder. 

“Oh, this is Peaches.” 

Her face lit up joyfully. 

“Hi, Peaches!” 

Minoes bent over to offer a hand. Peaches only dared a cautious sniff before burrowing further into the corner, seeking refuge behind my legs. 

“She’s just a bit shy…” I said dolefully. 

“That’s alright,” Minoes replied, straightening up. “I’m absolutely determined to win her over.” 

After some failed attempts, she brandished her wand - a smooth, elegant thing - and tapped her palm and each of her fingers, uttering something in Latin. To my surprise, this changed Peaches’ tune instantly, and soon she was purring and licking her hand; something she only ever did for me. 

“You must have a soft touch, Minoes,” I praised. 

“No, no,” she replied slyly. “It’s just a little trick I came up with… Has much the same effect as catnip.” 

“You chose our seats well, I think,” Minoes told Scarlet, who smiled faintly at her, handing me back my crinkled Daily Prophet issue.

“Anything interesting in there?”

“Um. No, not really,” Scarlet claimed. 

Just then, I felt our surroundings jolt abruptly. 

“Oh, the train's going… Do you mind if I just stay here with you and the kitties?” Minoes asked me. 

“No, not at all, it’s totally fine.” 

I hummed as we exited the station and chugged off into the countryside. Still a perfect stranger, I drifted off into my own niche for a while. Minoes produced a roll of ornamented parchment and scratched at it neatly with a quill, while Scarlet pulled their wand out and used magic to braid a turquoise-hued bracelet. 

When the compartment door opened for a third time, even Pip ducked for cover. There, smirking down at us, was the sharp, pointed face of Draco Malfoy. 

I couldn’t help but go rigid on instinct. My past experiences with Malfoy were unpleasant - owing to my Muggleborn background - so I typically stayed clear from him. It was bizarre to see him without his gigantic orbiting satellites, Crabbe and Goyle. Their absence only unnerved me more. Why was he here? 

“I thought I could smell something vile,” Malfoy said smugly, turning his pale, baleful eyes on me. “I guess it was just the stink of mudblood.” 

“Must’ve caught a whiff of yourself, Malfoy.” 

“Oh no, Pimpernel. It’s definitely you.” 

Before I could even open my mouth, Scarlet had taken the initiative to sink their teeth in. Admiring Scarlet’s ferocious glower, I felt a surge of bravery. 

“Where’s your two big dirty limpets?” I said crossly.  

“None of your business, Daly,” he snapped, looming over haughtily without even sparing me a glance. “Shut your filthy mouth before I do it for you.” 

“Oh, give it a rest, Draco!” Minoes scolded. 

But Malfoy ignored her completely, his lips twitching into a nasty scowl. He met Scarlet’s withering glare with one of his own. Scarlet gripped their wand so tightly her veins strained blue, and for a brief moment I thought they might actually hex him.

“What the fuck do you even want, Malfoy? Potter’s not here,” Scarlet growled. “Or does any old pair of glasses have you pitching a fit?” 

“You disgust me just the same,” he spat angrily, eyes narrowing. “That goes for the both of you. You shouldn’t even have been allowed in.” 

“Draco!” Minoes cried. 

Scarlet scoffed. 

“I bet the only reason you were accepted was nepotism,” she said scathingly. “Do you bribe your ‘friends’ to pretend to like you, too?” 

The two continued to glare fiercely at each other. The air crackled with malignant energy, and I reached cautiously for my wand, heart rate spiking…

“You’re a waste of my time,” he snarled. “But watch yourself, Pimpernel. If you keep dragging your slime around, this year might just end up being your last.”

With that, Malfoy slid the glass door shut and strutted arrogantly back to his Slytherin clique. 

“What are you gonna do, Malfoy, tell your daddy on me!?” Scarlet called after him furiously. 

“Ignore him,” Minoes advised. “He’s not worth it.” 

Still, I saw that she had crumpled up her embellished parchment and was now smoothing it over. I slumped in my seat, still twinging with indignance. 

“Malfoy doesn’t typically wait for permission before he spews his bile,” I said flatly. 

“Of course, I understand,” she added quickly. “Being called horrible slurs like that, I’m sure it’s awful… Draco can be so immature. ” 

I sighed. I wished I could’ve fought back as fiercely as Scarlet, instead of falling into a moody silence like last year. I didn’t quite have the nerve yet, though.  

“Better a mudblood than a prat,” Scarlet muttered under her breath, pocketing their wand. 

“Yes, I would say so,” Minoes agreed coolly. 

I immediately decided to befriend them both. 

Fortunately, the rest of our journey resumed peacefully after that little incident. My companions and I fell into a nice rhythm, talking on-and-off between pastimes. I was surprised with how at ease I felt in their presence, considering that I had never properly spoken to either of them before. When the trolley witch hobbled by, we even shared a bag of sweets, which led to us scrambling after a runaway chocolate frog in order to keep the cats from poisoning themselves. 

All in all, I got disturbingly sparse reading done. By evening, the lamps had flicked on, our pets sleepy and quiet. Leaning against the window, I saw the cloud-filled indigo sky, and caught the first glimpse of Hogwarts’ archaic spires and twinkling lights 

The Hogwarts Express huffed and shuddered to a halt. Stretching, we guided the animals back into their carriers and filed out of our compartment to join the queue of yawning students. It was only now I truly realised how famished I was; sugar hadn’t really been enough to sustain me for the whole trip. 

“Jesus, my stomach thinks my throat’s been cut,” I groaned. “Well, I don’t reckon we’ll be sat at the same table, so it’s been nice chatting with you two.” 

“Oh, but that doesn’t mean we’ll never be seeing each other again,” Minoes said brightly. “I’m sure we’ll have classes together, just like last year.” 

“Maybe.” I smiled back, feeling somewhat hopeful. 

The night blanketed down thick and foggy, coating the ground in solemn, grey clouds, and it chilled me into a shiver as we left the Hogwarts Express behind. One of my favourite professors, Hagrid, was hailing us with a glowing lantern. I grinned and waved happily at him, but he was too preoccupied with corralling the rowdy newcomers to notice me. 

“Do you think we’ll be in the same potions class again, Minoes?” Scarlet called idly from behind me. “I know that you wouldn’t drop it, anyway.” 

For some reason, she sniggered. 

“Did you?” Minoes asked, arching one dark brow. 

“Nope! You’re stuck with me.” 

They drifted off into the Slytherin crowd and I lost sight of them. My body was still aching from being stuffed in a train car for so long. I climbed into one of the horseless carriages - though I knew from my own inquiries that they were pulled by the mysterious and fascinating thestrals - and slid in beside my housemate, Padma Patil. 

I felt a bubbly wave of giddiness wash over me again as we set off for the university proper; This year would prove to be a great one, I was sure of it. 

[moonstruckme]

hi angel!! can you please write a fic with sirius x shy reader where she meant to be going out with sirius and his friends where some girls who have previously liked him and shes feeling nervous/insecure about what they'll think of her so she drinks a bit for liquid courage and later on sirius takes care of her listening to her drunk babbling and reassuring her? thanks lovely!!

Thank you <3

cw: intoxication, feelings of inadequacy, some mature implications but nothing happens

Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The thing is, Mary is really lovely. She’s sweet, bubbly, gregarious. One of those people who makes you feel in on the joke. And she’s beautiful, so you can understand why Sirius dated her. They must have been a perfect match. 

You, you need three gin fizzes before you can even begin to match Mary’s natural congeniality. Not to mention the rest of Sirius’ friends. They’re a fun, chattery bunch, each clever and funny and entertaining in their own individual but reliable ways. Your packed corner booth covers so many topics so quickly it makes your head spin. 

You find some solace in the women’s toilets. White fluorescent lights that bring attention to the makeup smudged just underneath your eyes, it’s here that you realize you may have overdone it. You look at yourself in the mirror as you release a slow breath, listening to the laughter outside the door from within your little bubble of quiet. 

When you force yourself to go back out, Sirius is waiting. 

“Hi.” Your liquid courage seems to abandon you without the rowdy pub atmosphere to bolster it. This is just you and Sirius in a dim hallway, your boyfriend’s smile igniting a familiar warmth in his eyes and nervous flutter in your gut. “I could’ve found my own way back,” you say. 

“I didn’t think you couldn’t.” Sirius steps into your space, hand on your waist as he presses his lips to yours gently. “I just wanted a chance to do that without getting loads of shit for it.” 

You smile. “There would have been booing,” you agree. 

“Oh, definitely. James would’ve pretended to be sick.” 

You rest your forehead on his shoulder. Selfishly, you want to keep the both of you here a little while longer. Sirius seems to understand this, his hand drawing back and forth over the sliver of skin between your trousers and the back of your shirt lazily. 

“Mary had to leave,” he says, “but she threatened me with all sorts of vile things if I didn’t give you her number. She wants you to have coffee sometime.” 

“That’s nice,” you hum, really extraordinarily pleased. “Why’d she have to go?” 

“She forgot she was supposed to meet a friend at ten.” 

You smile ruefully. That sounds exactly like a girl like Mary. Her only flaw is that she has too many people who wish for her company and not enough time to devote to them all. 

Sirius smells nice. Like clove and nighttime, and a little bit like the greasy chips James ordered for the table. You imagine you smell like gin and fizz. You mumble your question into the neckline of his shirt, so that the warmth of your breath warms the cotton and Sirius makes a confused tsking sound. 

“I can’t hear you when you talk like that, baby,” he says, encouraging you away from him with a hand on your cheek. You look up at him through heavy lashes. 

“Have I embarrassed you?” you murmur. 

Sirius looks like he’s going to laugh. You won’t be able to take it if he does, you think. You’ll have to lose Mary’s number as well as his and move across town. 

“What?” His voice is amused, brows raised. “No, you haven’t. Not at all. Why would you think that?” 

You shrug, embarrassed. “There’s makeup under my eyes.” 

“Is there?” Sirius’ smile grows. He adjusts his hold on your face, licking the pad of his thumb. “I didn’t notice, but we can’t have that, can we? Hold still.” 

You don’t hold still, shying away the first time he reaches for you. But Sirius understands that it’s not him you’re trying to get away from; he’s patient and diligent, wiping beneath your lashes with careful touches. You feel hot from the tips of your ears down to your chest. 

“There. Perfect as ever before.” He plants a smiling kiss on your lips. “Is that all, lovely?” 

“I think I’ve maybe had too much.” 

Concern touches the space between Sirius’ brows. “Are you not feeling well?” 

“No, I just—well, no one else had as much. I feel like they can tell I’m faking.” 

Sirius is frowning properly now. Inadequacy rings baldly in your tone. His thumb strokes down your cheek. “Faking what?” he asks you. 

“Being good at this,” you murmur.

“You are good at this.” He seems defensive, as if you’re discussing his shortcomings and not your own. “You don’t—there’s no one way you have to be. Sweetheart, I want you here because I want my friends to meet you. It sort of defeats the purpose if you’re putting on someone else for them to meet.” 

“I just—okay. I’m not jealous of Mary. That’s not what this is.” You’re talking a bit too fast, drink lubricating your throat so near anything seems likely to come out. “But I can see how you two would have worked together, and how she works with your friends—she fits in. Everyone’s so fun, and you’re all fast with your jokes, and I’m, I’m not that. I can try, but I think…” Your voice quiets. “I’m not very good at it.” 

As you’re talking, Sirius’ eyes are narrowing. He’s brazen in his thoughtfulness, seeming to size you up while he listens. Whatever audacity is left in you sputters out under the weight of that look. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks after a moment.

You hum softly. 

“I don’t know how you’ve not managed to pick up on this, because I haven’t been trying for subtlety” —he draws you closer by your waist, until you’re nearly stepping on his toes— ”but I think you’re perfect. Really. You can go out there and ask anyone at our table, they’ll tell you I’ve been saying it since a week after we met. Marlene would probably love to tell you, actually, she found it rather irritating.” 

You look down at his throat, but Sirius encourages your chin back up with his finger. “You’re fun,” he says. “You’re loads of fun. And you’re just as quick with jokes—actually, you’re loads funnier than Remus, though you can’t tell him I said that.” 

“Sirius,” you chide, suppressing a smile. 

“Dead serious,” he says with a straight face. “Really, lovely, just because you’re not as outspoken as all of us twats fighting to shout over each other doesn’t mean you don’t have important things to say. They know that, they all know that. And can I tell you something else?” 

You hum again, made wary by the glint in his eye. 

Sirius leans closer to your ear. “I sort of like that you’re usually only loud for me. In private.” 

Your laughter comes out suddenly enough to startle you both, you closing a hand over your mouth while Sirius leans away, grinning. 

“God, sorry,” you whisper, looking around in case you’ve attracted attention, “that was loud.” 

“Well, we are in private.” 

“You’re awful.” You hide against his front, giggling. 

“Yes, yes, I’m awful and you’re perfect.” Sirius kisses your hair. “I know all of this already, it’s only news to you. Listen, I don’t mean to rush you, but we probably should get back to our table before they send James for us. They were already complaining about you being too long in the loo before I left; they’ve grown rather attached to you.” 

Your brief silence must communicate enough of your surprise, because Sirius laughs. 

“Oh, right, yeah. They really like you. Shocking.” 

[mallowsweetmiri]

I am foaming at the mouth after Potter!Reader x Remus. Like I’m literally obsessed, perfect characterisation.

I don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are, would you mind doing a part 2? Maybe more of them sneaking around or James finding out or something I don’t know.

Secret Potter!reader x Remus pt 2

Summary: Remus can’t stop thinking about you, you can't stop kissing him, and Theodore Pompous needs to hide from James

Warnings: smutty, mentions of consent, slight corruption kink

Word count: 3.5k

—————————————————————————

Remus woke up the next morning and sat up in his bed for a full minute thinking, what the fuck have I done? He had fucked his best friend's little sister, and the worst part was, he wanted to do it again. Remus rubbed over his eyes as he got up to use the bathroom. He splashed water on his face and tried to justify what had happened. It wasn't his fault that you teased him all weekend- with a surprising amount of stealth considering James was almost always around the two of you- and then made him feel your soaking panties when he tried to ask for your consent.

"Jesus fucking christ," Remus cursed, grabbing the sink and looking at himself in the mirror. He had to get a grip. By the time he had brushed his teeth, showered, and gotten dressed, it was lunch hours. Remus and the marauders strutted cheerfully down to the Great Hall, despite being at a party the night before. This was routine. Soon they'd be scarfing their faces with toast and sausage and sandwiches.

You had woken up a few minutes later and ended up walking to the Great Hall with Marlene and a few other girls. You were mildly hungover, though by this hour, you were ready to eat. When you walked through the doors, you spotted Remus immediately. He was already watching you as you walked towards the table, sitting down next to James as you did every morning.

"Mornin'," James greeted you, smiling through a mouthful of toast. You raised your brows and tried not to laugh for two reasons. James was staring at you like an idiot, and Remus was staring at your tits.

"Good morning," you laughed, hiding the smile on your lips. You started to fill your plate, intentionally looking away from Remus. He seemed to be nervous. Then you felt James fingers pull back your hair away from your neck.

"Y/N, do you have a hickey on your neck?" James sputtered, moving in closer to stare at it. Your eyes shot up to Remus who was currently looking away from you and your brother.

"So what," you scoffed, fussing his hand away. "You're the one who reminded me of my crush on Theodore. Now you're mad at me for it?"

Remus had to admit, you were a quick thinker. James' face turned a violent shade of red as he shot up to locate Theodore Pompous at the Ravenclaw table. When Remus met your eye, the two of you almost burst out laughing at James' reaction before you sprung up to grab his arm.

"James," you scolded, trying to stifle a laugh. "Seriously, stop. You can't just berate Theodore. That's so rude and there's no reason to." James shook his head at you with an incredulous look.

"No reason-"

"James," Marlene shouted, standing up as well. "Stop it. All of us are tired of you being such a dick to Y/N. You don't see her reacting like this when you have a bit of fun." The other girls murmured in agreement as James' eye twitched.

"Yes, but thats different-"

"Why?" Marlene raised her brow, "Because she's a girl?" The was a series of oooh's and cackles from Sirius and Peter before James begrudgingly sat down and passed a dirty glance your way. At least he was settled for now. James wouldn't continue to press you with Lily and the other girls at your defense.

Lunch went on and Remus came to the conclusion that he was utterly obsessed with you. He wondered if you were still teasing him or if it was just your body taunting him as his eyes kept finding their way to your chest. You had always been drop dead gorgeous. This was fucked. There was no way he’d be able to keep his eyes from wandering to you, and there was even less of a chance that he’d be able to go to whole week without fucking you at least once. He tried to feel bad about it, but that wasn't the case. He wanted you, and there really wasn't anything that was going to stop him from seeing you again.

Remus decided to approach this logically. If he wanted keep fucking you, he'd have to court you. He wouldn't mind that. You enjoyed literature, you were funny, and you were one of the most talented witches in the school. And you were his best friends brother, if he wanted to fuck you today, he'd have to do it in secret to avoid an interfering and angry James.

That's why when he found you studying alone in the library that afternoon, he took the opportunity.

"Hello," Remus cleared his throat, approaching your desk. "Mind if I join you?" Your eyes peered up from your papers momentarily, just enough to acknowledge his presence.

"Sure," you hummed, dipping your quill in the inkwell. "As long as you don't distract me from my work."

Remus huffed out a laugh and pulled a chair up to your table. Even sitting down, his frame towered over yours. You tried to continue writing, but the task felt futile as his knee rested just inches from yours. You sighed and put your quill down, turning to face Remus. His face wore a smile as he threw his hands up in defense.

"Hey, I wasn't even doing anything," he chuckled, watching as you rolled your eyes. A smile crept up to your lips.

"Yeah, yeah, Remus," you grumbled. "Did you want to talk about something?" He huffed out another laugh and you felt his breath on your face, the close proximity making your stomach do a flip. In the low lighting, he looked heavenly.

"Yea, actually. I did want to talk to you about something," his voice lowering as he leaned in. You narrowed your eyes at him as the smirk on his face stayed put. He thought he was hot shit and maybe he was right about that, but you wouldn't let him play with you.

"Hmm, and what would that be?" you asked innocently, looking up at him with your signature doe eyes. He scoffed out a laugh.

"Well, love. To be honest, I can't stop thinking about you," he purred, his arm slinging over the back of your chair as he leaned in even closer. You stifled the urge to press your legs together as his hand played with the hem of your t-shirt, rubbing it in between his fingers.

"Can't stop thinking about how good the sex was?" You teased, leaning in with a mischievous lip bite. This made Remus laugh and you blushed at his genuine smile.

"Straight to the point then," Remus chuckled, looking around the library. "Listen, I don't want to be disrespectful-"

"Okay, let me cut you off right there," you said sternly, pushing your finger into his chest. "If you're going to be scared of my brother, then this isn't going to work. I'm looking for someone who will fuck me and not hold back. If you can't do that, then we shouldn't do this." You finished, turning back to sit properly in your chair. Remus' hand stopped you by the shoulder.

"Love, if I cared about your brother right now I wouldn't be here telling you how badly I need to fuck you again," Remus whispered quickly, his gaze dropping to your lips for a second. Your face flushed immediately as the want between your legs throbbed again.

"Oh," was all you could make out. His smirk annoyingly made another appearance as he chuckled lightly at you, again. His thumb rubbed over the cap of your shoulder as you looked at him with a permanent blush, your lips parted slightly. The smirk slowly faded off his face as he stared at you. He couldn't focus while you were looking at him like that. With that blush on your cheeks, and those plump, pink lips.

"So what's your plan then?" You said, snapping Remus out of his trance. He sat up straighter.

"Meet me in the prefect's bathroom at 9:30," he instructed, his hand moving off your shoulder as he stood up. You smirked up at him as he moved his chair back to the table next to yours.

"I'll be there," you replied, turning back to your notes.

"See you then," Remus smiled, leaving before he lost control and bent you over the table.

Later that night

You padded lightly through the hallways. Curfew wasn't for another 30 minutes, but you tried to stay quiet. Your body buzzed with excitement as you padded up the staircase to the fifth floor. It turned you on that Remus was using his prefect privileges to fuck you in private, and it turned you on even more knowing there was a giant bathtub in the middle of the room. You chuckled lightly to yourself as you came onto the floor, Remus leaning against the wall near the statue. His eyes found your hips as you approached him.

"Hi," you whispered, stepping softly towards him.

"Hi beautiful," he muttered, pushing off the wall to come towards you. You weren't expecting him to kiss you, so a gasp escaped you when he surged forward to press his lips against yours. He grabbed your cheeks to deepen the kiss hungrily. You moaned into him as your fists clasped the front of his shirt, his prefect badge moving with the fabric.

"We should go inside," you gasped, pulling away from his irresistible lips. He hummed in agreement, not quite looking at you. His hands were gripping tightly on your hips like they did the previous night, as if he could barely contain himself. It took a moment but Remus led you through the doors and into the bathroom, dimly lit from the moon and enchanted colored lights. You bit your lip as you watched the water run from the faucets and into the bath, filling the room with steam.

"Let's take this off," Remus purred, coming from behind to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh of relief as he sucked down on your sweet spot, his hands running under your shirt to lift it over your head. You happily obliged and felt Remus groan into your neck as he realized you weren't wearing a bra. You knew this would drive him crazy, and hearing him groan in your ear made you pool between your legs. He pulled your shirt off and spun you around, leaving no time before dipping down to kiss you again. You could hardly think as Remus wrapped his arms around your body, burying into the kiss like he didn't need air. It was mesmerizing, the way your body fit against his. The two of you kissed like that for a while, the steam eventually pooling over both of your skin. It took a few minutes for Remus to stop kissing you, humming multiple times into your mouth before he finally pulled away.

"Rem," you groaned, tugging on the buttons of his shirt to take it off. He was practically soaking through his shirt anyway.

"Let's get in the water."

The two of you stripped and sunk slowly into the bath, Remus' hands pulling you into his lap. When your backside made contact with him, you gasped. His length pressed against you and you were suddenly reminded of how he stretched you out last night. You were glad to be soaking in a hot bath. You barely had time for another thought when he connected his lips with your skin, your head lolling back onto his shoulder as he massaged your thighs.

"Fuck," you groaned as his hands came up to grasp your breast. He hummed in response and bit your earlobe, earning a roll from your hips. His fingers slipped down between your legs, teasing you gently.

"Y/N," Remus breathed, pausing his kissing and earning a hum from you in response. "I want to eat you out."

He didn't wait for your response as he lifted you up and sat you on the edge of the tub, dropping down to his knees and moving between your legs.

"Remus- oh," you moaned as his mouth connected with your clit. You instantly gripped his hair, your head thrown back in an intense wave of pleasure. Remus was making you feel good, and by the way he was groaning into your core and wrapping his hands around your waist, you were pretty sure he was enjoying himself too. You couldn't form words and ultimately found yourself on your back. Remus shifted up higher to kiss your clit deeper, his tongue licking and dipping into your core. His hands stayed put on your hips, his mouth working overtime to send you over the edge.

"Fuck, please Remus," you gasped, you legs locking over his shoulders and bucking up into his face. He only huffed in response as his hands snaked under your back, pulling you deeper into his mouth. You twitched in his grasp, an orgasm teetering as his tongue swiped over your clit.

"So close, Rem," you whine, gripping his curls tighter. Remus could feel you pulse under his tongue, and it took every ounce of control for him to pull away. "Wh-what?" you whine, immediately sitting up to see Remus. He sat there with his arms linked under your legs, his smirk covered in slick down to his chin.

"You want to come for me, Y/N?" Remus teased, leaving wet, open kisses on the inside of your thighs. You whined and he chuckled, looking up at you wickedly through his kisses. "Do you?" He prompted again, moving to the other leg. You groaned with desire.

"Yes, Remus. Please," you cried, tugging on his hair to come towards you again. He hummed out a chuckle into your skin.

"Tell me how badly you want it," Remus challenged you, moving his kisses closer to your center.

"Please, Remus. I want you so badly. I need you. So badly, Remus. Please," you whined, falling on your back and continuing to grasp at his head. You felt the vibrations of his chuckle next to your clit.

"Such a good girl," he mumbled, planting a kiss right onto you. You let out another guttural whine as he continued to tenderly lap at your clit and your entrance, slowly savoring your wetness. You felt your orgasm building once more, sending jolts through your body that increased in force with every movement of Remus' tongue. Your hips were bucking badly, and Remus tightened his grip on you to bury himself once again.

"I'm going to come," you gasped, barely lasting a second longer before spilling into his mouth. The intensity felt doubled this time, and Remus ate you up graciously. You were almost embarrassed by how hard your orgasm had hit you, but Remus didn't seem to mind. In fact, he was moaning into your core as he finished you up.

"You taste so fucking good," Remus groaned as he climbed over you, his tip pressing against your entrance and slipping in momentarily through the slick. You gasped and felt yourself clench around him, still sensitive from his mouth. Remus' hand found the back of your head as he pushed himself into you fully. You gasped and whined simultaneously, digging your nails into his biceps. "Fuck, Y/N. You feel even better." He began to move in and out of you at a torturous pace, his tip burying deep within you. Just when you thought he had bottomed out, he bucked into you with force and moved even deeper inside of you. You let out an unprompted noise which seemed to please Remus as he started pounding into you, forcing noises out of you that were uncontrollable.

"F-fuck, R-remus," you said, your words bouncing with the pace of his thrusts. It was unrelenting, but you were so soft from his mouth that you started to near another orgasm. Your fate was sealed when his thumb came down to find your clit, the pressure of his cock adding to the pleasure immediately.

"So pretty, Y/N," Remus moaned, dipping to press a kiss to your lips. You hungrily returned it, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths as Remus' thrust slowed and deepened. "So. Fucking. Beautiful." He pounded into you, clenching his jaw as he fucked the life out of you. You were tightening, and tightening, and tightening until the coil in your stomach snapped and a rush of release pulsed through your walls. Remus groaned loudly as you felt him collapse into you, his thrusts deep and followed by spurts of warmth inside of you. He thrusted into you lazily, kissing you and rubbing your hips with his thumbs. Like much of the night, the two of you stayed kissing unhurriedly like this. It was only when someone knocked on the door that the two of you moved from your position.

"Thank Merlin you locked the door," you muttered, pulling on your pants after casting a dryer spell over you.

"Heh, I actually didn't. It's just common practice after prefect rounds," Remus laughed sheepishly. "It must be the end of the next shift." Your eyes widened at this as the two of you finished pulling on your clothes and drying off perspectively. You kept close to Remus' back as the two of you moved to leave the bathroom. You heard Remus say something to the other prefect but you didn't look up as you followed Remus out. He ushered you towards the staircase and muttered in your ear, "That was Theodore Pompous." You stifled a laugh as the two of you climbed the stairs. Remus was grinning at the coincidence and teasing you about your old crush. The two of you laughed and blushed and talked quite comfortably next to one another as you neared the Gryffindor tower.

"Do you think anyone will be in the common room?" you asked, lowering your voice and letting go of his hand. Remus shrugged and walked behind you, guiding you to the portrait hole.

"I don't think so. There's an early quidditch practice tomorrow and it's already past curfew," he muttered, giving the fat lady the password and climbing through to the common room. Remus' face hardened when he saw James sitting on the couch, his head turned towards them. He stood up when he saw you enter behind Remus.

"Y/N, what were you doing out past curfew? I was worried. I waited up for you," James frowned at you, his eyes filled with genuine concern. You felt your face flush red, realizing why you were out late. You might as well have been wearing a sign that said we just fucked. Thankfully Remus was exceptionally good at drying charms. 

"I found her sneaking around Ravenclaw Tower," Remus said with a nonchalant nod of the head. "Thought I'd bring her back." 

"Wasn't your shift done thirty minutes ago?" James questioned, stepping closer to Remus who showed no signs of embarrassment or concern.

"Yes, but I told Theodore I'd take his shift in exchange for him doing mine on Sirius' birthday," Remus shrugged. Your mouth formed a straight line as you looked at him. Seriously? That's the best you can come up with? James looked at Remus incredulously.

"Why would you trade shifts with him," James hissed, narrowing his eyes towards him. You started to walk towards your dorm.

"Well, I'm back," you dismissed James with a yawn. "Goodnight, Jamie." James huffed and stepped in front of you, grabbing your hands.

"Y/N, you know I love and respect you," he stared, causing you to roll your eyes by instinct. "But I just want you to be safe. Don't stay out late for some prat who you've hardly even talked to before." You sighed as he looked at you with those James Potter eyes that reminded you of home.

"I know. I'm sorry I worried you," you apologized, looking sympathetically to him. "I'm gonna go to sleep now. Okay?" James let out a sigh of relief as he gave you a hug.

"Goodnight," James called as you went up the stairs.

"Goodnight," you called back, sending Remus a wave. Remus waved subtly back to you before sighing and rubbing his eyes. He hated lying to James, and he hated even more how much he felt like he was corrupting his best friend's little sister. He knew it wasn't true though. You had shown him how badly you wanted him, how much of a slut you were for him... Fuck. Remus wanted you for himself and he wanted you for a long time. He made a vow to ask you out by the end of the week, and to do it with James' blessing.

"Sorry I got a little heated, Moony," James said, turning to face Remus. "I just can't stand the thought of her alone with some random git. Thanks for bringing her back." Remus hummed and nodded.

"It's no problem."

The two of them went up to their dorm and crashed respectively onto their beds. Sirius and Peter were already asleep. Remus laid awake again thinking about you. He thought about your face when you came, and the way you blushed when he teased you. He fell asleep dreaming of you during the summertimes when you would read outside with him and woke up the next morning with a plan. 

[singmyaubade]

Growing Pains

poly!marauders x female!reader

summary: you are in desperate need of a job, and the marauders are in desperate need of a babysitter, what's the worst that could happen?

you got the job! (technically first chapter)

week one

warnings: eventual smut! 18+ | age gap between marauders & reader (not heavily identified) | reader is 21 + | mature language.

! divers by @cafekitsune & @saradika-graphics !

© singmyaubade

[prettydaisygirl]

just like that! (streamer!James Potter x influencer/pornstar!reader): part two

stream title: playing GTA V with @yourusername | !podcast

🎧 cupid's chokehold/breakfast in america - gym class heroes

a/n: this is part two of a series I am writing with @twovialsofamortentia <3 part one is linked at the beginning of the chapter or above where it says !podcast. PS I hope it's not super obvious that I've never played GTA myself and I am only a casual fan, sorry :)

cw: NSFW 18+, streamer lingo, streamer!James being horny, reader makes twitter porn and has a sex podcast, James built a second setup so they can play together, Grand Theft Auto 5 and all associated warnings, reader is not good at games but is very enthusiastic, oral (m)

part one

streamer!James Potter Masterlist & series masterlist

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James is fucking nervous. Probably more nervous than he’s ever been in his life and of course it’s over a fucking girl. 

But this isn’t just any girl. She’s the girl. The girl whose pictures he’d jerked off to for most of his teenage years. The girl who he’d imagined in almost every fantasy since the first time he saw what her tits looked like.

The girl who is coming over to his house right fucking now. 

He’d cleaned the house from top to bottom three times. James wouldn’t consider himself a slob, but he’s certainly not a neat freak. He just doesn’t want her to think he’s gross, he really doesn’t want to fuck this up. In his journey to impress her, he found himself cleaning parts of his house he didn’t even know existed. He’d exhausted himself to the bone the last few days, fueled by anxiety and the chance to (maybe, possibly, someday) fuck his favorite pornstar. 

So now, everything is done, the minutes tick by and James sits on his couch with his leg shaking as he chews on his nails. His eyes are dialed in on the street, and he spots the moment your car pulls up.

He jumps up, opening the front door before you even have a chance to knock. 

“Hi,” He says, and his voice cracks in the most embarrassing way. He watches you adjust your bag on your shoulder, a light smirk appearing on your pretty lips. God, those lips.

“Hi, handsome,” You greet, pushing past him to enter his house. He watches as you take everything in, and seeing you in his house takes his breath away. 

He shows you around, eyes hardly leaving your figure at all. You seem to brighten excitedly when he shows you the stream setup. 

“Oh! It’s not that different from the pod!” You say, flipping your hair over one shoulder as you lean over and reach out to touch his mic stand. His eyes trail drown your body again and he swallows thickly, his hands itching to reach out and touch you. 

“Hey,” Your voice interrupts his thoughts, teasing and light. Your eyes are glowing with delight when James’ finally raise back up to meet them, and James finds himself turning bright red. He clears his throat, scratching the back of his neck, and looks at the streaming setup to avoid looking at you. 

“L-Let’s just get ready for stream, we only have about an hour…”

stream title: playing GTA V with @yourusername 

“Alright, love. This joystick moves you forward, and this one you can look around.” James explains, pointing to each knob on the controller. 

You sit cross-legged in his spare gaming chair, nodding at his instructions despite the confused upturn of your eyebrows. “Okay, but how do I shoot my gun?”

James snorts, pointing to one of the buttons on the controller. “Here. But don’t go around just shooting because-”

You’re already shooting. You laugh, almost maniacally, as bullets fly and hit random cars and NPCs. You get three stars almost immediately. James glances at you out of the corner of his eye, lips pursed as he holds in his own laughter. His chat seems to love you already.

prongsupmyahs: yooo is that yourusername??? 🤤 f3r4lb1t6h: her laugh lmaoooo better than her moan too maraudersfan420: you’re doing great, sweatie

James sets the two of you up to try a heist mission. You spend far too long planning your heist outfit, and James lets you while he stares at you with heart-shaped eyes. The chat bullies him relentlessly, especially after you catch him staring and send him a wink.

wormtail4mepls: omg??? 👀 00_robin: y’all fucking or what prongsupmyahs: hey notice me yourusername pls baby I could make you so happy

“Wait!” You gasp while James is speeding down the road on the way to start the mission. “Stop! Stop!” James does, he slams on the brakes and watches as your character climbs out of the car. His eyes dart over to your monitor, watching as your character sprints in the direction you just came from. 

Your face breaks into a mischievous grin, eyes alight with mischief. “You didn’t tell me there would be a strip club!”

James is forced to follow you into the club, watching as your character explores each room. You whoop and cat-call at the virtual strippers, which has chat going wild. It gets worse when one of the strippers does a move on the pole that has your head tilting and your lips parting in a way that leaves James breathless.

“I think I could do that.” You say. James thinks he might die if you try, and chat clearly feels the same.

rayzorrai: holy fuck prongsupmyahs: do it i will literally do anything plz 🙏 timl0ng_: hi prongs, hi chat, helloooo yourusername 😜

When he finally wrangles you into doing the mission, several hundred dollars wasted at the club and another outfit change later, he learns that you are simultaneously completely dedicated to the mission and also so easily distracted.

The two of you have to restart the mission dozens of times, either because of you dying or because of you killing an NPC that you shouldn’t. If it was anyone else, James would be so frustrated he would be ripping out his hair. But it’s you, and so he finds himself smiling and laughing and enjoying it all the same. He’s happy to be sitting next to you.

The chat loves it too, obviously. Some mock your poor gaming skills, but most find your enthusiasm (and cleavage) makes up for the lack of direction or actual progress. James finds himself completing the mission mostly alone, while you run around trying to shoot at things. 

He can’t help but adore you more and more every second.

When that “Mission: Passed” screen finally pops up, James doesn’t have a chance to celebrate. Because you are already celebrating. You stand, cheering loudly and shaking your ass in a way that makes James’ jaw drop and he immediately gets hard. Everyone in chat is too given the amount of messages flying by.

myb4biPads: 🥵🥵🥵put that on twitter prongsupmyahs: saved a clip for later  cxtxkem13: 💸cheer100 💸cheer100 💸cheer100 💸cheer100 💸

You finally sit down, brushing your hair off of your shoulders as you lift yourself to cross your legs underneath you. You give James a bright grin. “Back to the strip club!”

“The strip club?” James raises a brow.

“It’s not a real victory unless we get bitches, James.”

James watches as you readjust your bag on your shoulder, heading for the front door. He doesn’t want you to go, obviously. His chat loves you, already begging him to have you on again. At the end, someone even sent in a donation suggesting you join the marauders on their next game night.

“Oh!” You’d said, “Yes, your friends! They should come on the podcast!” All of his followers seemed excited at the idea, and you promised you’d invite on the entire Marauders crew to spill all of their dirtiest sex secrets. 

“Are you really going to have the boys on?” James asks now, and you tilt your head up to look at him. He inhales sharply, his heart skipping a beat. Sometimes your face will move a certain angle and his brain will be flooded with images of you naked, hips grinding, your head tilted just like that. 

“Yeah!” You say, completely unaware of his dilemma, “I think that would be fun! Don’t you think?”

“Um… yeah!” James tries to sound enthusiastic but all of the blood in his body is rushing to his cock and away from his brain. You notice, the corner of your mouth raising just a bit.

“You alright?” You ask him, eyes scanning over him as you seem to so easily figure him out. You read him like a book, like it's second nature.

“It’s just…” He swallows thickly, “sometimes I look at you and I can’t help but see you… you know.” 

“Naked? Covered in sweat and fucking myself on a dildo?”

“Jesus!” James chokes on his own spit, starting to cough. You’re so forward, he never gets used to it.

“I know, it's okay!” Your smile is sweet, but there’s a glint in your eyes that has his stomach churning, especially when they trail down his body again. “Do you… want help with that?” 

The whole world stops. James is sure he really did die. 

“You- I- Huh?”

You chuckle, a hand coming up to your mouth for a moment as your eyes meet his again. “Do you want me to blow you?”

“Are you serious?” James feels like he’s having an out of body experience when you nod and smile.

“I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious.” You say.

 “Holy fuck, yes.” James finds himself dizzy when you take his hand and lead him to the couch, kneeling between his legs. You pause.

“Do you have your phone?” You ask softly as you reach for the button on his pants. It takes him a moment to register your words, his brain overwhelmed.

“Uh- Yeah, I… I think.” He chokes out.

“Film it, so you can watch it again later.” You say, lowering the zipper and maneuvering to free his cock from his boxers. “Just for you, though. No sharing.”

James’ hands shake as he digs his phone out from his back pocket. He has to lift his hips and you raise your brows, a teasing smile on your lips, giving him that look he knows he could picture with his eyes closed. 

“Jesus, fuck.” He manages to press record and he hopes his hands aren’t shaking so bad that he won’t get every detail. Because he’s going to rewatch this so many times, he’ll rub his dick raw. 

You spit on your hand, wrapping it around the base, and smile up at him. He’s already leaking just from him looking at you like this. His breaths start to get shaky as your hand slowly begins to pump up and down the shaft. When you lean forward to lick his cock, tracing a vein with your tongue, his head falls back against the couch. He’ll be forever grateful that you suggested he record this.

You gently wrap your lips around the head of him, tongue tracing over the tip. James hisses and his hips buck just a bit.

“Sorry,” He says instinctually, really trying not to fuck this up.

“‘s alright, baby,” You pull back just enough to reassure him, and James lets out a whine, biting his lip so he won’t cum just from you calling him baby.

You take him into your mouth slowly, relaxing your throat as you push forward until your nose is against his pelvis before pulling back. You begin a slow rhythm, bobbing your head while sucking your cheeks in. The fingers of his free hand tangle in your hair, broken whimpers and almost-sobs leaving his lips.

“Shit, ah- you feel so good.” His hips jerk a bit again and you hum at the unexpected movement, but don’t choke. The vibration makes James hiss, and he grips his phone so tight in his hand that he has white knuckles, capturing the whole thing. 

You quicken your pace, tongue swirling around him as your fingers move to fondle his balls, gently squeezing and playing with them. James’ mouth is open, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as he tugs at your hair. He tries to watch, he really does, but it feels so fucking good and a lot of his focus is set on keeping the camera on you. He doesn’t seem to have much control over the rest of himself. 

“Ahh, mmmh,” James’ hips buck up into your mouth, his face contorting into a silent sob. Every nerve in his body is on high-alert, and he can feel himself getting close.

“‘m gonna cum,” His words come out just as whiny as his moans, about two octaves higher than normal. “Where… Where should I…?” He lets his question trail off as his eyes roll back again. His peak is approaching so fast, and then you pull away. He lurches himself to sit up, worried he did something wrong, but you’re still between his legs.

“Where do you want to cum, James?” You ask, and the sound of your voice will haunt him every night for the rest of his life. He can’t help but shiver, hissing as he holds back his release just a little longer.

“I…” He shakes his head, curls sticking to his sweaty forehead. “On your tits.”

You smile with a knowing look, easily tugging off your shirt. The sight of you, in your bra, kneeling between his legs, is enough to do it for him. He finishes as soon as your hand returns to him, hips thrusting into your fingers as the thick whiteness of his cum lands over your boobs. He groans your name, just like he used to in the shower. 

When his ears finally stop ringing, you’re cleaning yourself up. You smile at him, then stand, leaning over him to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. James manages to end the recording and stand up right as you’re approaching the front door again.

“You’ll have to get your friends to agree to the pod.” You tell him, leaning back against the door for a moment. “Mostly so I have an excuse to see you again.”

“I will,” James says, and there’s a moment before he moves forward, a hand coming to your lower back as he presses his lips to yours. Softly, and just for a moment. You blink up at him with eyes so pretty after he pulls away that his heart aches.

“I really like you.” He says, holding the front door open for you as you step outside. You blow him a kiss.

“I know.” You say, giving him a wink and a wave as you step out of his front door. “I’ll be waiting for your call.”

°˖✧✿✧˖°

© prettydaisygirl