#hufflepuff!james

[slytherinsimp12]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊ 𝓖𝓸𝓵𝓭 𝓻𝓾𝓼𝓱 ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

Pairing: James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: James Potter was charming, mischievous, captain of the quidditch team and very popular among the girls at Hogwarts. He had a certain talent for making his presence aware , a charisma that was unmatchable. You didn’t have many friends, no matter how hard you tried, people never seemed to acknowledge you. To put it quite plainly, you were the polar opposite of James. You spent years trying to push out and ignore any romantic feelings you had for him, because come on… there is no way he even knows you exist…. Right?

Warnings: Mild swearing and kissing/ making out.

Author’s Note: Hi my loves, this is part 1 of a mini series called- Gold rush. I will keep updating, as fast as I can. If you like my work, feel free to send in requests and leave comments 💌. Happy reading xx. Part 2 and Part 3 out now! (Comment to be added to the taglist)

The lively chatter of students filled the corridors. Golden light shone on the cold, aged walls. The air was heavy with the scent of old books, dust and a hint of magic. You made your way towards the dungeons, just in time for Potions class. You were fairly late; your usual spot was taken by another student. You scanned the classroom, looking for a vacant seat. Unfortunately, there was only one, at the very front of the class.

You settled in the empty seat, when you noticed the boy sitting next to you. His messy black hair was overgrown, and ruffled in a way that looked purposeful. His hazel eyes appeared large beneath his round glasses. James Potter was unreasonably attractive, that wasn’t a secret. You spent your first few years at Hogwarts trying to deny it, but it was of no use. You tried telling yourself his good looks didn’t make up for his arrogant and vexatious personality. He was insufferable.

You hated the way he paraded around the school, hands casually tucked in his pockets, increasing his voice by a few extra decibels whenever a pretty girl walked by. You hated the way he effortlessly drew attention to himself as soon as he walked into a room. And what you hated the most, was when he would catch your gaze lingering on him for a little too long.

“Good morning students. I will be assigning you your partners from now onwards. You will stick to these arrangements for the rest of the academic year.” Professor Slughorn announced, earning disappointed groans from the whole class.

“I have learned my lesson after the ‘incidents’ young Mr. Potter and Mr.Black have caused.” He continued, causing wide grins to spread across James and Sirius’ faces.

Slughorn spent most of the lesson reading out the pairs he had made. You were growing impatient, he hadn’t called out your name yet, maybe this was the perfect opportunity to finally make a new friend… and you know, make it last this time.

“Mr.Potter and Ms. Y/L/N” The professor called out.

You have got to be kidding me, you thought to yourself, a horrified look plastered across your face.

“Why that face, love? I don’t bite” James said turning towards you, then to Sirius and letting out a laugh.

You rolled your eyes and left class, saved by the bell.

The next day, you decided to spend your free time in the library and catch up on some homework. Immersed in your work, you almost didn’t notice the figure walking towards you.

“Feeling studious, are we?” James asked, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward.

“I was, until you came along.” You mumbled, mostly to yourself, as you stared packing your things up.

“Wait, where are you going?” James asked.

“I’m sorry, is there something in particular you want from me?” You snapped.

“You’re my new potions partner aren’t you? I thought we could study for the upcoming test together.” He said cooly.

“Right… well, I’m y/n.” You said, extending your hand.

“You’re kidding right?” James asked, with an almost offended expression.

“Why would I be kidding about my name?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Bloody hell… I know who you are y/n!” James exclaimed. “Third year, Defence against the dark arts, fourth year transfiguration and history of magic and fifth year, divination and astronomy. Those are all the classes we had together, do you not remember?” James continued.

“Oh- um… yea, I guess.” You said, dumbfounded. You remembered. You obviously remembered. How could you forget? But the real question was, how in Merlin’s Name did James freaking Potter know who you were? Did you hit your head and fall into an alternate reality, where you were one of the bimbos he noticed?

It had been a week since that unforeseen encounter with James. He would wink at you during meals or purposefully walk too close to you in the corridors, just enough for your shoulders to brush. He would pretend like he didn’t notice you, but you could feel his stare penetrate when you weren’t looking.

The following night, you woke up in a cold sweat. Your stomach was churning with nausea; it must have been the puking pasties a girl named Marlene gave you.

You were in desperate need of fresh air. Careful not to wake your dorm mates, you slipped out of bed, not caring that you’re in your pyjamas and decided to take a stroll around the castle. You had to be really cautious to not get caught, you didn’t want your house to loose points. You made your way to the dungeons, as it had a lovely view of the black lake.

“Light them up before Filch comes!” A voice whispered.

“What if the Slytherins wake up!” A shrill voice filled with fear added.

“Leave if you must , Pete! But do not ruin this for the rest of us.” You could recognise that voice anywhere.

You peaked your head from the corner of a wall, spotting James and his group of friends, ‘the marauders’, they called themselves. How cheesy. They were in-front of the Slytherin common room, with what seemed to be dung bombs and fire crackers in their hands.

‘Bloody hell. They’re mental.’ You thought to yourself.

“Shit! Run!” One of the voices shouted.

The crackers exploded, creating loud sounds and a strong pungent smell. From a distance, you could see Filch running towards the mess. Suddenly, you felt someone grab you from behind. Before you could shout, their hand covered your mouth. You turned your head to see James signalling you to be quiet. He pulled you into a hidden corner as Filch scoured the surroundings, looking for the culprits behind the mess.

He released his hand from your mouth.

“What the hell! What are you guys doing! Have you absolutely lost your minds??!!” You whisper shouted.

“Y/N Y/L/N, are you following me?To answer your question, no our minds are very much intact. Just a bit of sweet revenge on the Slytherins. Nothing special.” James smirked.

You noticed just how close the both of you were standing. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. You could see the soft curve of his lips and the slight flush in his cheeks. You could hear his heart racing.

He lifted his arm, gently brushing a strand of stray hair away from your face.

Whatever gap was there between the two of you, was closed by James. His lips crashed into yours with an intensity that set your skin on fire. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You didn’t hesitate to kiss him back. All the years of pent up emotions you felt for James came rushing. He pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, the overwhelming force left you reeling.

“Prongs! Prongs, where are you?” A voice hissed.

“Shit.” James said, through clenched teeth.

“Prongs?” You asked, smirking and raising an eyebrow.

“It’s Sirius. I’ve got to go. Will you be able to go back to your dorm on your own?” James questioned.

You nodded.

“Catch you later, y/n” He said, flashing you that famous James Potter smile.

That alone was enough to make your heart melt.

(All rights reserved, ©)

[carpentvrs]

DREAMY EYES

pairing :: james potter x fem!reader (implied girly!reader)

warnings :: mentions of getting laid (no smut), fluff!! please mind that english isn’t my first language. 1.5k words

james was truly smitten. he couldn’t not ogle at you at any given moment, heart eyes following you around every single room or corridor, sighs of pure admiration leaving his lungs whenever you would talk to him at breakfast or lunch while his head rested on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.

but who was to blame him? you were just so pretty, your hair swaying lightly as you rushed to class, your hand accidentally brushing his as you stepped past him.

„why the rush, darling?“ he asked, keeping up with your pace as well as he could, still tired from last night which had lasted longer than it should’ve; peter, remus, sirius and him too busy sneaking around the castle and setting up shenanigans to sleep. at least there wasn’t ever a single day of boredom with them in the castle.

butterflies erupted in your stomach at the nickname, but you tried to suppress it the best you could. he managed to fluster you with his little pet names everytime without exception, and every yet so small sliver of hope you would get from them, you’d kill off. you’d go mad, otherwise.

„i’m hurrying to class james,“ you smiled at him, „and i think you should be too.“, grabbing his arm to pull him with you. you couldn’t see the way he blushed at your action, and he was glad. it was embarrassing how in love with you he was, considering the amount of attention other boys were giving you.

he could understand, obviously. it was already hard to not fall for your looks, but the fact your bubbly and inviting personality was just as perfect? how could anybody not fall for that? he was sure the sole reason remus and sirius saw you as only a friend was because they knew how enamored with you he was.

but you didn’t know. „he’s just a very sweet and nice person“ was what you said to lily when she asked you about it. you liked him, no question. but you saw the way he would flirt with other girls at parties and in hogsmead, occasionally winking at them even though lily and you were walking just next to him. so to you, he was just a friend, even though you would easily smother him in kisses if he ever just bought you flowers or opened doors for only you like the other stupid guys always did, not only as a friendly gesture but as something more.

you realized he wouldn’t, so there was no point in waiting for him. instead, while he was busy chatting with different girls at parties, you were seated in a quiet corner, talking to your girlfriends and having a drink or two yourself, dancing with guys here and there if they asked you nicely and sometimes, if they were being very polite, you’d give them a tiny kiss on the cheek and a little wave before getting another butterbeer and walking back to your friends once again.

that was probably what made you so irresistible, the fact you would never go as far as even giving a little peck on the lips while other girls were ready to go back to the dorm with said guys. you weren’t one to judge, neither the girls nor the boys, they could do whatever they want, it wasn’t your business. and if they wanted to get laid and got the chance, why not do it? just not with you.

however, they thought you were playing hard to get on purpose, and who wouldn’t be up for a challenge when it’s about a girl like you?

but even when every guys’ head turned to look at you whenever you entered the room, you didn’t care. you didn’t even notice, you were just living in the moment, deeply into the meaningful - or sometimes meaningless - banter with your friends, not a single care in the world.

well, for some reason one nerve of yours always got very terribly struck whenever you would lift your head only to see james‘ hand steadied on some other gryffindor‘s back. „whatever“ was what you always thought, head turning back to whoever was talking right now.

and it didn’t take long for james to leave your mind, at least until you were laid down on your bed at three in the morning where james would haunt your mind in ways you wouldn’t dare to say out loud.

„you got a date for the party today yet?“ he asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as he possibly could. „i prefer to go with my friends, as you already know.“

„well, we are friends, no?“

„class starts in a few, we can talk later.“ you said to him, avoiding his eyes as you made your way over to lily who was already sitting at your usual place in the charm‘s classroom, her hands immediately going to fix the little ribbon in your hair when you sat down to her right. she must’ve seen that you were in a rush just a few seconds ago, and the confused look on your face didn’t go unnoticed either. „what’s up with you, you look-“

„james just asked me on a ‚date‘, i think“ you stated, but it came out rather like a question while you knitted your eyebrows in a puzzled manner.

„well, i told you before he has a thing for you“

„but i don’t believe it“

„why not? it’s basically written on his face that he’s head over heels for you“

you were just about to reply, a look of disapproval already plastered on your face, but got interrupted by the professor. after the lesson the topic was already forgotten, lily and you talking about what you were going to wear tonight rather than the, to you very ridiculous, james situation.

it wasn’t until the party, which you attended hand in hand with lily, that james and you began to talk again. you were just about to get yourself another firewhiskey shot when he appeared right next to you at the small bar counter.

„how come you always reject when you get asked out?“

the question caught you off guard. he wasn’t the first to ask you that question, but you’ve never felt so called out after someone interrogated like that. your eyes widened slightly and you nervously bit your lip. what were you supposed to answer? „i realized i don’t have a chance with you so i gave up on relationships completely“?

„i just don’t want to date someone i don’t like like that, i guess.”

it wasn’t a lie, after all. you could just simply wait until the feelings faded, and then maybe you would be open for something new. until then, you would just have to keep on pretending like your feelings towards him did not exist.

„i suppose you don’t like me, then?“

„what?“

„you rejected me too today, didn’t you?“

you were startled by his questions, and suddenly it felt like it was just you two in this actually very crowded common room, the air around you feeling tighter and more stifling than usual.

„do you like me, james? like, like-like me? because everybody’s been telling me but i feel like i’m going crazy because i like-like you but you keep flirting with other girls and you wink and wave at them and you put your arms around them and i hate that but i don’t want things between us to be weird because i don’t want to lose you as a friend eith-“ you stumbled over your words in hurry, every nerve of yours spinning and pulling and you could feel your own face heat up.

“you like me?”

“i- uh- i asked first!” your heard was racing and you hoped to merlin that he felt the same way and you didn’t just make a fool out of yourself, confessing to a guy who doesn’t even see you like that.

he didn’t exactly answer the question, but he showed you.

his eyes were full of appreciation as he leaned down to you, gently caressing your face as he pressed his lips against yours. and finally, you felt at peace with your own feelings. your lips continued to move in sync until you heard a few claps behind you which broke you apart. when you turned around, you found sirius winking at you and lily eyeing you with a proud look on her face.

it was only when you faced james again that you saw the way he actually looked at you all this time, with his head resting on his hand, dreamy eyes trying to catch yours.

“of course i like-like you, how could i not?”

[itsriotmotherfuckers]

Sirius caused the longest hat stall in Hogwarts history when he was sorted, by the way

[incorrectquotesharrypotterv]

Hermione: If I fall…

Ron: I’ll be there to catch you.

Fred: *looks at George* What if I fall?

George: Then I’ll fall with you, never leaving your side.

Harry: *watches these two interactions*

Harry, to Y/n: And if I fall?

Y/n: I’ll be the one who pushed you.

[the-nameless-poet]

Petition to make

'loud, chaotic and dramatic husky girlfriend x sunshine, lovable and adorable golden retriever boyfriend'

to happen.

"Chaos follow me everywhere I go." Boyfriend x "Are you calling me chaos!?" Girlfriend

[bryan-writes]

Green smoke and golden smiles— barty crouch jr x reader

Summary: you find yourself at a Gryffindor party, celebrating with Lily and the marauders on a win against Slytherin. Barty decides to crash it, prank the Gryffindors and steal you away to get to know you.

Hufflepuff reader, fluff, Barty calls reader darling and my lady, super cute!

Credit to @strangergraphics-archive for the lovely dividers :)

The Gryffindor common room was alive in a way that only followed a narrow victory against Slytherin. Laughter and voices bounced off the stone walls, and red and gold streamers, charmed to burst into mini-fireworks, spiraled across the ceiling in dizzying loops. Near the bar, which boasted an impressive line-up of Butterbeer, Firewhiskey, and an alarming amount of snacks, Lily Evans was chatting animatedly with you, the token Hufflepuff in the crowd. Your easygoing friendship with Lily had opened doors you’d never anticipated, including one straight into the rowdy, reckless world of the Gryffindors.

You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced around, feeling a familiar, comfortable warmth. James was being his usual self, arm slung around Lily’s shoulders as he tried and failed to impress her with exaggerated retellings of his quidditch heroics. Sirius was close by, grinning and tossing popcorn into Peter’s mouth like it was some kind of game, while Remus sat on the sofa next to you, watching them with a faintly amused smile, occasionally chuckling at your comments and sipping a warm mug of Butterbeer. You were surrounded by friends, wrapped in warmth and cheer, and yet there was something gnawing at the edge of your mind— a sense that tonight wasn’t going to stay peaceful for long.

In the back of your head, you could practically hear the gears of fate turning. After all, a win this close against Slytherin? They wouldn’t let a game this hard fought go without consequence.

And that’s when it happened. The Gryffindor portrait door burst open, the fat lady yelling obscenities as Barty Crouch Jr. strolled in, looking like he had every right to be there. With his classic lopsided grin, he paused at the threshold, one brow arched as he scanned the room with a gaze sharp enough to unsettle even the most stalwart lion. Trailing behind him were a small group of his Slytherin friends, each wearing expressions that ranged from smug to wary as they took in the Gryffindor revelry.

A hush fell over the crowd for a heartbeat. Then, true to Gryffindor form, James leaned toward Sirius with a snort, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Since when does Crouch drop by without hexing someone first?”

Sirius grinned, nudging him back. “Just give it a minute.”

Barty, meanwhile, held up his hands, that smirk never leaving his face. “Evening, Gryffindors!” He announced, voice effortlessly cutting through the chatter. “Thought I’d drop by to congratulate you lot on your narrow— and I mean narrow— victory today.”

A few students raised their Butterbeers, chuckling, though Lily rolled her eyes, muttering, “Oh, this should be good…”

He walked right up to her, bowing with an exaggerated flourish. “Lily Evans! Captain of this unruly pride of lions.” His grin widened and his eyes flitted around the group. “A spectacular game, truly. It’s Gryffindors like you who make these matches worth every bit of trouble”

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not all you’re here for,” Lily said, unimpressed but unable to hide her faint smile. Barty’s charm had an annoying way of creeping up on even the most suspicious of people.

You were trying not to laugh when he caught sight of you, and his expression shifted from playful to intrigued, his eyes narrowing just a bit as they took you in. Then, in one smooth motion, he turned from Lily and closed the space between you with a look of casual interest, leaning in just close enough to spark a thrill of excitement in your stomach.

“And who might you be, tucked away here among all these lions?” He asked, eyes gleaming.

“Y/N,” you replied, fighting to keep your tone neutral. “I’m here with Lily.”

”Y/N,” he repeated slowly, as if savoring it. “The one and only Hufflepuff in a den of Gryffindors. Fascinating. Tell me, darling, how does one of your gentle disposition find themselves here, surrounded by all this… ferocity?”

”Just lucky, I suppose,” you quipped, surprised at how easily the words came.

He let out a low chuckle, glancing at the marauders with an amused smirk before looking back at you. “You’re certainly braver than I’d have guessed,” he murmured, a spark of something playful in his eyes. “Though, I’d advise staying close. If I know Gryffindors, there’s bound to be some… retaliation.”

You raised a brow, feigning innocence. “Retaliation? For what?”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that sent a chill down your spine. “Oh, nothing too sinister. Just a little fog to set the mood.”

Before you could question him further, a loud pop echoed through the common room, and in an instant the space was filled with thick, swirling green mist, tinted in unmistakeable colors. There were shrieks and laughter as green fireworks began going off, Gryffindors stumbling blindly, coughing and waving their hands in front of their faces. Even the maraduers were caught off guard, fumbling around in the chaos, yelling and laughing as they tried to locate each other.

In the confusion, you felt a hand slip around yours, warm and steady. You didn’t need to see his face to know it was Barty. With a grin you couldn’t see but could practically feel, he pulled you through the haze and out into the hallway, leaving the chaos behind you.

Once outside, he turned to you, grinning as he gave a mock bow. “My lady, saved from the treacherous fog by none other than yours truly.”

You laughed, catching your breath, swatting at the green powder bound to stain your sweater. “Saved? You started that!”

”Perhaps,” he said, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself, “But you can’t deny I got you out in one piece, can you?”

”I suppose I can’t,” you admitted, unable to stop smiling. “Though, I have to admit, that was… well-executed.”

”I’m a man of many talents, what can I say?” He shrugged, as if leading a stealth operation into the Gryffindor common room was just another day for him. Then, his tone softened, though the mischievous light never left his eyes. “But tell me, Y/N… what are you doing here?”

You crossed your arms, pretending to scrutinize him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to chat me up, Crouch.”

”Trying?” He raised an eyebrow, placing a hand over his heart. “You wound me. Here I thought I was doing a splendid job.”

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up at his confidence. “Maybe you are, just a little.”

”Only a little?” He asked, feigning disappointment. But he was smiling, that lopsided grin that could probably melt ice if it tried. “Well, that’s a start.”

He took a step closer, eyes flickering over you with a hint of genuine curiosity. “It’s not every day I meet someone who can handle a little chaos with such grace. Most would’ve hexed me by now.”

”Maybe I have a soft spot for chaos,” you teased, feeling bolder than usual.

“Oh, dangerous,” he murmured, eyes lighting up. “And here I thought Hufflepuff were all sweetness and sunshine.”

”Well, maybe we are,” you replied, unable to hold back a smile. “But we’re also more than people think.”

At that, he let out a laugh, warm and rich. “I’ll have to remember that.” Then, offering his arm with a wink, he leaned closer. “So, what do you say, darling? Feel like risking another adventure tonight?”

You glanced back toward the common room, where the Gryffindors were slowly recovering from the smoke bomb. The thought of slipping away into a night of spontaneity with Barty felt like a much better way to spend the rest of your evening.

Grinning, you looped your arm through his. “Alright, Crouch. Show me what you’ve got.”

With that, he led you down the hallway, the two of you walking in step as the night stretched out before you, filled with possibility, laughter, and just the right amount of trouble.

[zwelcii]

sense | james potter

"you're not selfish for wanting to be treated well," you remind yourself, your voice barely a whisper as you slip into the dimly lit library. the echoes of your parents' howler still ring in your ears as it did while it echoed off the walls of the great hall. its harsh words were seared into your mind. you can still see the mocking smirks of the slytherins, and hear the whispers from your own housemates—hufflepuff loyalty running thin.

you’ve been trying so hard, but your grades this year have been less than impressive, and nothing you do seems to make a difference to your parents. it was enough that you'd been housed in hufflepuff. you just always seemed to find a new way to disappoint someone.

you wander through the rows of books, blinking back the tears that have been threatening to fall since breakfast. you find a quiet corner, hidden behind a stack of dusty old tomes, and sink to the floor, hugging your knees to your chest. the library is mostly empty this time of day, a perfect place to disappear for a while.

but not for long.

you hear him, harsh whispers exchanged with his friends, before you see him.

james potter's sat in front of you, a concerned frown replacing his usual grin. he leans back, crossing his arms as he watches you with those warm, green eyes. the two of you would talk often. either in passing or during classes. he'd gotten into the habit of pairing up with you for projects. whether compelled by pride or pity, you weren't entirely sure. you considered him a good friend. not so much a close one.

“fancy finding you here,” he says, trying for his usual light-hearted tone but failing. "don't even remember the last time I've seen you 'round a book."

you don't look up at him, your vision blurry with tears. "not really looking for company right now, potter." your voice is muffled as you speak.

james tilts his head, his frown deepening. "good thing it found you, then."

you sniffle, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "what do you want?"

“to talk, maybe?” he suggests, leaning forward with a playful smirk. “or at least distract your pretty little head from all that house shit with my dazzling wit and charm.”

you can’t help but let out a small, watery laugh. “you really think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“someone has to,” he quips, but there’s no real arrogance in his voice, just a gentle teasing meant to pull you out of your funk. “besides, you’re one to talk. weren't you the one calling yourself dumbledor's reincarnate?” james laughed, his eyes teasing as they held your gaze. "he's not even dead, love."

love.

you roll your eyes, but his effort to make you smile isn’t lost on you. “was just joking."

"well then, it was a wonderful joke."

"flattery will get you no where, potter," you retort.

"charmed thing i like it right here with you, isn't it?" james' expression softens, his teasing fading into genuine concern. you blush. “i saw what happened this morning. i'm sorry about your parents… they’re tough.”

you nod, swallowing hard. “they're just… pureblood. you know? nothing will ever be enough.”

james sighs, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on your knee. the warmth of his touch somehow grounding. his silence is far more reassuring than any combination of words someone else could string together.

you look down at his hand, at the way his fingers curl gently against your knee. your voice is barely above a whisper, ashamed of all that's happened in a single morning. “they said I was selfish. for… for wanting more from them.”

“they’re wrong,” James says firmly, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’re not selfish for wanting to be seen and heard. for wanting to be loved for who you are, not for what they want you to be.”

“you sound like professor mcgonagall.” a tear slips down your cheek though you can't help but laugh. "thank you," it's soft and endearing when you say it.

james grins, a bit of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. “anytime. now, what do you say we blow off some steam? maybe a trip to the kitchens?"

james stands up, offering you his hand. you take it, letting him pull you to your feet. he doesn’t let go right away, his fingers lingering in yours as he looks down at you, his expression suddenly serious again.

“you know, the others'll make sense of it. eventually,” he says softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

"i know," you give him a small, grateful smile. “just as long as it makes some sense to you.”

[syymplypotter]

၄⋆၃ harry potter as your boyfriend

pairings: harry james potter x fem!reader

a/n: this is my first time writing things like this so if it’s bad or not long enough then i’m sorry, i’m not used to writing things like this.

ꕥ• his love language is definitely acts of service. whether it’s getting you breakfast in the morning or helping you with homework, he needs to make sure you never have to worry about silly like errands.

ꕥ• his favourite body part of your is definitely your hair. his favourite thing to do is play with your hair when you’re freshly out the shower. he just loves the smell of you shampoo and the feeling of your silky hair under his rough skin

ꕥ• he doesn’t get jealous easily but when it does it’s horrifying. he doesn’t physically do anything in the moment, instead he death stares everyone. he doesn’t care who it is. no one dares to go near him and this shows just how scary he looks.

ꕥ• he loves to buy you flowers, he thinks his pretty girl deserves something just as gorgeous as her. he knows your favourite flowers and buys them from the best florists in Hogwarts. He always keeps a flower for himself so he knows when to buy you new ones.

ꕥ• he’s memorised your entire schedule just so he can wait outside of your class and walk you to your next one.

ꕥ• loves to take you out of dates. Some days the two of you just go out on walks, enjoying each other’s company and enjoying the fresh air. Other days harry would surprise you with a date to your favourite fancy restaurant to enjoy dinner and some wine together.

ꕥ• harry loves you. he think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him and he can never ask for a better partner than you.

thank you sm for reading <3

comments are reblogs are appreciated

[slytherinsimp12]

₊˚⊹♡ 𝓞𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓫𝔂 𝓝𝓪𝓶𝓮₊˚⊹♡

Pairing: Harry Potter x Lestrange!reader

Summary: Y/N spent her entire life at beauxbatons. Her whole world turned upside down when her mother she never met escaped Azkaban, forcing her to transfer to Hogwarts in her 5th year for her safety. Harry knows he should stay away. She’s a Lestrange, the daughter of the woman who destroyed part of his world. But the more he sees of Y/N, the harder it becomes to believe that blood decides who we are.

Author’s note: Hey cuties! I wrote this fic in a moment of creativity when I decided I wanted to put my A- levels in english to use. This is kinda different from my usual writing style- it’s more bookish vibes ig. I’m also currently working on the entire story- including Y/n’s point of view- from when she finds out about the transfer to living in Malfoy manor till falling for Harry. Let me know if you guys would be interested in reading that. Happy reading xx.

Update- Wrote a sequel

He noticed her the moment she walked in.

She wore the red and gold like it didn’t quite belong to her yet. Her head was high, her gaze unreadable, but not cold. Observant. Detached. Controlled, almost. She sat at the far end of the table, away from the usual clusters of fifth years. Her plate was untouched.

“Who is that?” Harry asked, squinting slightly. Hermione’s head snapped up like she’d been waiting for the question.

“That,” she said, voice low but intense, “is Y/N Lestrange.”

Harry frowned. “Lestrange?”

“As in Bellatrix Lestrange,” Hermione hissed, like the name might hex the table. “She transferred from Beauxbatons. A week ago. After her mother escaped. Apparently Dumbledore had to step in personally to get her in. No other school would take her.”

Harry blinked. “She’s in Gryffindor?”

“Yes!” Hermione waved her fork like it was part of the argument. “No one knows how the hat made that decision, but people are saying stuff about her… you tell him Ron.”

Ron leaned in with a mouthful of mashed potatoes. “Total nutter, mate. Looks normal, but I heard she hexed a portrait on her first night because it looked at her funny.”

“Ron,” Hermione snapped. “That’s a rumor.”

“Still. Her mum tortured Neville’s parents. She’s bound to be a bit cracked.”

Harry didn’t answer. He was still watching her.

She didn’t look like someone dangerous. Or unhinged. She didn’t carry herself like someone craving attention, or trying to prove anything. She just… was. Quiet. She didn’t laugh when the first years made a mess. She didn’t even look uncomfortable sitting alone.

She looked up suddenly- maybe sensing eyes on her and her gaze met his. Harry froze. It wasn’t cold. Or hostile. It wasn’t even particularly curious. It was just… calm. Like she’d already figured something out about him, and wasn’t surprised.

He dropped his gaze first.

He felt Hermione watching him and shook his head. “She doesn’t seem like—”

“She’s her daughter, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “That doesn’t just go away.”

Harry frowned, but said nothing.

Because something told him this girl was nothing like the story they were trying to write for her.And whether he liked it or not, he wanted to know why.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Harry rounded the corner toward the Fat Lady’s portrait and nearly bumped into someone already standing there.

Y/N Lestrange.

Y/N glanced over her shoulder at him, arms folded. “Why won’t she bloody let me in…” She mumbled under her breath.

Harry blinked. “Um… you have to tell her the password.”

“Password?” A puzzled look spread across her face.

“It’s snargaluff root.” Harry said.

The Fat Lady sniffed. “Well finally. I was beginning to think she was just decorating the corridor.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry… first the staircases try to throw me down three times, and now I need to impress a talking portrait to get to bed. What’s next, a hallway that quizzes me on wand theory or eats my shoes if I get it wrong?”

Harry smiled,surprised; he didn’t expect her to be funny.

The portrait swung open with a dramatic sigh. They stepped into the common room together. It was late. The low crackle of the fire filled the room.

Y/N stretched out her hand,

“I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N Lestrange….” Harry continued, shaking her hand.

“Sorry- I’m Harry.”

“Harry Potter.” She finished.

Harry had seen Bellatrix Lestrange’s face before—smeared across wanted posters, screaming from the memory in Dumbledore’s Pensieve, twisted with madness and cruelty. And yet, no matter how much he stared at Y/N, he couldn’t find even a trace of that face in hers. Her features were softer, steadier. Her eyes weren’t wild; they were soft and kind. There was no madness in her smile. No chaos in the way she was. If anything, she carried herself like someone trying not to be noticed.

Harry glanced at her, curious. “So… you settling in alright?”

Y/N gave a small shrug. “As well as someone with a homicidal mother and a French accent can in a room full of people who think I sleep with a dagger under my pillow.”

Harry blinked, caught between concern and trying not to laugh. “Do you?”

She smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He grinned despite himself. “Only a little.”

“Goodnight, Potter,” she said, already halfway to the stairs.

“Night,” he said, still watching her go.

He sat down on the nearest couch and stared into the fire, frowning.

He didn’t know what was happening.

But he was pretty sure it had just started.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The classroom smelled faintly of parchment, ink, and something burning—probably the result of Neville’s most recent attempt at a Shield Charm. Harry slid into his usual seat in the back corner of Charms, only to realize Ron and Hermione were already mid-whispered conversation across the row.

“He’s doing it again,” Ron muttered, eyes flicking toward the door.

“Of course he is,” Hermione said, sighing. “Three months ago, he barely noticed she existed, and now—”

Harry looked up just as Y/N walked in.

She didn’t make a show of anything. She never did. She just nodded to Professor Flitwick, scanned the room, and made her way toward the empty seat next to him without hesitation.

“Potter,” she said, dropping her bag onto the desk with a small smirk.

He grinned. “Lestrange.”

She arched a brow. “Still not scared of me? You’re losing your touch.”

“Terrified, actually. I’ve just gotten better at hiding it.”

She gave a quiet, sarcastic laugh as she pulled out her wand. Harry caught himself staring again—not at anything in particular, just her. The way her hair fell forward when she leaned over her notes, how her quill moved fast and messy but confident, how she always seemed like she was both in the room and somewhere far away.

Three months ago, she was a stranger with a reputation.

Now, she was… something else.

Class ended too quickly.

As they packed up, Y/N turned to him and said, “Try not to miss me until next period, yeah?”

“You assume I will,” he shot back.

“You always do,” she said with a wink, then disappeared into the hallway crowd.

Harry was still grinning when Ron and Hermione flanked him on both sides.

Hermione didn’t waste time. “You’ve gotten close to her.”

Harry blinked. “Yeah? So?”

Ron frowned. “Mate, we’re not saying you can’t talk to her. Just—don’t forget who her family is.”

“Right,” Hermione added quickly. “We know she’s in Gryffindor, and we’re not saying she’s her mother—but Bellatrix Lestrange isn’t just a name, Harry. She tortured people. She killed people.”

Harry exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “I know who her mum is. Believe me. But Y/N’s not like her. She’s—”

“What?” Ron asked, folding his arms. “Different? Misunderstood? The ‘funny, cool’ kind of Lestrange?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. The thing was, he didn’t have a clear reason. Just… a feeling. A pull. When he was around her, the world quieted down. She didn’t treat him like the Chosen One. She didn’t flinch at his past or parade hers. She was just real.

“I don’t know what she is,” he said honestly. “But she’s not her mother. And I’m not going to treat her like she is.”

Hermione sighed, clearly unconvinced, but she didn’t press further.

As they walked to their next class, Harry couldn’t stop thinking about that last look Y/N gave him.

The way she smiled—not sweet, not soft, but like she saw him and didn’t care who he was supposed to be.

And maybe that’s what scared him most.

Because every time he looked at her, he felt himself slipping.

And he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

The library was quiet. A few students sat hunched over textbooks, and Madam Pince watched them all like they might steal the shelves. Harry hadn’t planned on staying long. He came in looking for notes on their DADA essay, but he hadn’t made much progress—mostly because Y/N was sitting across from him.

She was reading, her quill tucked behind her ear, hair falling slightly over one eye as she leaned over her book. She made a face—half confused, half annoyed—and Harry caught himself smiling.Then she looked up.

He dropped his gaze to his own book too quickly. Definitely too obvious.

“You’ve been on the same sentence for twenty minutes,” she said.

Harry looked up slowly. “Just… taking it in.”

She smirked. “That parchment must be very moving.”

He let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, well. The writer really captured the emotional arc of ‘Wand Movements: A Historical Analysis.’”

Y/N tilted her head. “You’re a terrible liar.”

Harry leaned back in his chair. “And you’re surprisingly good at reading people.”

She looked at him for a second. Not teasing. Not sarcastic. Just… quiet.

“I’ve had practice,” she said softly.

He wasn’t sure what made him ask, but the words came out before he could stop them. “Do you miss it? Beauxbatons?”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. She looked down at her hands, turning her quill between her fingers.

“Sometimes. It was cold, the rules were insane, and the food was too pretty to eat… but no one looked at me like I was a walking headline.”

Harry nodded slowly. “We’re good at that here.”

“Yeah.” She gave a dry laugh.

Harry’s gaze didn’t leave her face. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

She looked up again, and this time, she didn’t look away. Her voice was quiet, but steady.

“You don’t believe I’m like her, do you?”

Harry didn’t answer right away. He wasn’t sure he could. Because everything in his life- every reason, every scar, every instinct, should’ve told him to run.

But instead, he said, “No. I don’t.”

Something shifted then. Barely a breath. But it was there. It was there in the way her eyes softened with relief. The way her lips parted slightly, like she might say something else, but didn’t.

Harry’s heart was beating faster than it should have been.

She looked away first this time. “Good. Because I’m tired of pretending I’m not afraid I might be.”

“Then I’ll remind you,” he said.

Y/N looked back up at him, startled.

“Whenever you forget who you are,” Harry said, voice low, “I’ll remind you.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Hogsmeade in winter was something out of a postcard—snow lining the rooftops, warm butterbeer fogging up frosted windows, students crunching along the path in thick scarves. For once, Harry wasn’t thinking about the cold, or even the war.

He was thinking about her.

Y/N walked beside him, her gloved hands buried in her coat pockets, cheeks flushed from the wind. She was quiet—but not in the withdrawn way she got around others. It was the kind of quiet that felt easy, like she didn’t need to fill the silence. Like just walking next to him was enough.It was.

They were just passing Honeydukes when the voice came from behind.

“Well, well,” drawled Draco Malfoy. “Didn’t think I’d find a Lestrange slumming it with Potter.”

Y/N stopped, jaw tightening

Draco stepped forward, his smirk already venomous. “Your mum would be so proud. First Gryffindor, now roaming with a half-blood. You’re practically a Weasley in disguise.”

Y/N’s face didn’t move, but her hands curled slightly at her sides.

Draco kept going. “What do you think she’d say if she saw you now? Holding hands with the ‘Chosen one’, cozying up to the very people she wanted dead? Guess blood doesn’t mean much when you’re desperate to belong.”

“Shut up, Malfoy,” Harry said sharply.

Draco snorted. “What, going to defend your little project? You think she’s some tragic misunderstood soul? She’s just like the rest of her family. She’ll break the second you trust her.”

Harry didn’t think. He just drew his wand.

A second later, Draco was knocked flat on the icy path, skidding backward like someone had yanked the floor out from under him.

He groaned, sitting up and glaring. “You’re going to regret that—”

“Keep talking and I’ll make sure your tongue sticks to the next stone wall,” Harry snapped.

Draco scrambled to his feet and stalked off, muttering curses and clutching his side.

Harry turned back to Y/N. A single tear trickled down her cheeks

“Hey,” Harry said softly, stepping closer. “He’s wrong. All of it.”

They ended up at the Three Broomsticks, a quiet corner table, where no one could see them. Two mugs of butterbeer sat untouched between them, steam curling in the golden light.

Y/N leaned forward slightly. “You didn’t have to hex him.”

“Felt good though,” he said, and she gave a small laugh. There was a pause. And then,

“Thank you…” Y/N whispered.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the steam from their butterbeer curling between them. Her eyes were still a little glassy, cheeks still flushed from anger, from cold, from everything. Harry couldn’t stop looking at her.

Before he could change his mind, Harry leaned across the table, slow but certain, one hand reaching out to brush her hair gently behind her ear. Her breath caught. Her eyes didn’t leave his.And then, he kissed her.

It wasn’t soft. Not completely. It was hungry, like the tension between them had finally snapped and neither of them cared what happened next. Her hand came up to his collar, gripping the edge of his scarf, pulling him closer like she’d been holding that impulse in for weeks. Months. She kissed him like she was daring him to regret it.

And he kissed her like he already knew he never would.

When they broke apart, barely a breath between them, her forehead rested against his, her voice low and unsteady.

“You really are reckless, Potter.”

Harry’s lips brushed a smile against hers. “Takes one to know one.”

She laughed quietly, nervous and thrilled all at once, and Harry realized his heart hadn’t slowed down since the second their lips met.

Then, almost a whisper, he said, “You know… they can say whatever they want. About who you are, who she was. But you’re not her. Not even close.”

He tilted his head, brushing her knuckles with his fingers.

“But I’m still a Lestrange…” Y/N trailed off.

“Only by Name.” Harry smiled, pulling her into a tight embrace.

[rose24207]

May I request a George Weasley x Slytherin reader where after being dating in secret for a while they decide to stop hiding but George's friends are mean to her when he's not around and she doesn't want to say anything because she knows how important they are for him but George eventually finds out and defends his girlfriend? a bit angsty with a fluff ending please

What they’re like

Summary: George confronts his friends after overhearing hurtful comments about his Slytherin girlfriend, defending her fiercely and making it clear that their behavior won’t be tolerated.

Genre: angst, fluff

TW: bullying

A/N: love the idea! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

You’d always known dating George Weasley wouldn’t be easy, especially not when the two of you came from different houses. A Slytherin dating a Gryffindor was bound to raise eyebrows, but you thought the worst of it would come from your own housemates. You hadn’t expected his friends—people George trusted and cared about—to be the ones who made it so hard.

It started small. A muttered joke in the common room when George wasn’t there. A pointed glance or a scoff when you passed by. At first, you told yourself it didn’t matter. They didn’t know you, not really. George did. That should’ve been enough.

But then the comments grew sharper, more direct.

“Wonder how long this one’s going to last,” one of them said after you’d walked by.

“She’s probably using him,” another replied. “That’s what Slytherins do, right?”

It stung, but you kept your head high, pretending not to hear. You didn’t want to burden George with it. You knew how much his friends meant to him. If you said something, it might make things awkward for him, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Still, you couldn’t hide how it was affecting you—not entirely. You started avoiding Gryffindor Tower unless George was with you. You lingered at the edge of conversations when his friends were around, smiling tightly and letting their barbs roll off your back. Or at least, trying to.

Fred noticed first.

It was during a free period when Fred overheard it. He’d been on his way to the courtyard when he spotted you in the library. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but a familiar voice caught his attention.

“Poor George,” one of the Gryffindor girls said, her voice dripping with mock pity. “He has no idea what he’s gotten himself into.”

“Do you think she’s told him yet? That she’s just using him to make her parents angry?”

Fred frowned, stepping closer.

You were sitting just a few tables away, your back straight, your shoulders tense. It was clear you’d heard them, but you didn’t turn around. You didn’t say a word. Instead, you buried your nose in your book and pretended they didn’t exist.

Fred’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t one to get involved in George’s personal life—it wasn’t his style—but seeing you sit there, clearly hurt and refusing to show it, struck a nerve.

Fred cornered George that evening after dinner.

“Oi,” he said, grabbing his twin by the arm. “We need to talk.”

George raised an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Fred didn’t answer right away, pulling him into an empty classroom instead. He shut the door behind them, crossing his arms as he turned to face his brother.

“It’s about Y/n,” Fred said.

George frowned. “What about her?”

“She’s dealing with a load of crap from our so-called friends, and I don’t think you’ve noticed.”

“What?” George asked, his confusion quickly shifting to concern.

“I heard some of them in the library earlier,” Fred said, his tone sharp. “They were saying awful things about her—calling her a user, a manipulator. And she just sat there, George. She didn’t say anything, didn’t react. She just took it.”

George’s face darkened, his fists clenching at his sides. “Why the hell didn’t she tell me?”

Fred sighed, his anger softening into something more understanding. “Because she doesn’t want to cause trouble for you. She probably thinks you’ll feel torn between her and them.”

“That’s not—” George started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair. “That’s not fair to her.”

“No, it’s not,” Fred agreed. “So what are you going to do about it?”

The next day, George waited for you outside the library, leaning casually against the wall as if nothing was wrong. You smiled when you saw him, your heart lifting at the sight of him.

“Hey,” you said softly, stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” he replied, reaching out to take your hand. “Walk with me?”

You nodded, letting him lead you down the corridor. It wasn’t until he steered you toward an empty classroom that you started to feel uneasy.

“George?” you asked, your voice hesitant.

He closed the door behind you, his expression unusually serious. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?” you asked, though you already knew what he meant.

“About my friends,” he said. “About the things they’ve been saying.”

You looked away, your throat tightening. “It’s not a big deal,” you said quietly.

“The hell it’s not,” George said, his voice rising slightly before he softened it. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because they’re your friends, George,” you said, finally meeting his eyes. “They’ve been there for you forever. I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“They’re not my friends if they’re treating you like this,” he said firmly. “And they don’t get to insult you and act like it’s okay. None of this is okay.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away. “I didn’t want to cause problems for you.”

George stepped closer, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re not causing problems,” he said softly. “They are. And I’m going to set them straight.”

“George, you don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do,” he interrupted. “Because I love you, and I’m not going to let anyone make you feel like you’re anything less than amazing.”

Your breath caught at his words. “You... what?”

“I love you,” he repeated, his voice steady. “And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

The tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, and you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you too,” you whispered, your voice muffled.

George held you tightly, his warmth and reassurance wrapping around you like a shield.

The Gryffindor common room buzzed with its usual energy, students chatting and laughing as they settled into the evening. George stood just inside the entrance, his eyes scanning the room for the familiar faces of the people he once considered his closest friends. His jaw tightened when he spotted them clustered near the fireplace, laughing over something one of them had said.

Fred had offered to back him up, but George insisted on handling it alone. This was personal.

He strode across the room, the crackling firelight casting long shadows as the group fell quiet at the sight of him. The easygoing George they were used to was gone, replaced by someone far more serious.

“Alright,” he said sharply, planting himself in front of them. “We need to talk.”

The group exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke.

“I know what you’ve been saying about her,” George continued, his voice low and dangerous. “About my girlfriend. Do you think I wouldn’t find out?”

One of them, a lanky boy named Callum, had the nerve to shrug. “We were just joking, mate. No harm meant.”

“No harm?” George repeated, his voice rising. “You’ve been insulting her behind her back—making her feel like she’s not good enough. How the bloody hell is that ‘no harm’?”

“She’s a Slytherin,” another boy muttered, avoiding George’s fiery gaze. “You know what they’re like.”

George’s fists clenched at his sides. “Don’t you dare generalize her like that,” he snapped. “You don’t know her. She’s smart, she’s kind, and she’s been nothing but patient with you lot while you treat her like dirt.”

“George, calm down,” Callum said nervously.

“No,” George said firmly. “I won’t calm down. She’s my girlfriend, and I love her. If you can’t accept that—if you can’t respect her—you’re not my friends.”

The group fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in. Some looked ashamed, while others refused to meet his gaze.

“She didn’t even tell me,” George continued, his voice thick with frustration. “She didn’t want to make things harder for me. She sat there and took your crap because she knew how much you all mean to me. And you used that to make her feel unwelcome.”

“George, we didn’t mean—” one of the girls began, but he cut her off with a glare.

“You did,” he said coldly. “And you can take your half-arsed apologies somewhere else because I’m done. If you can’t show her the respect she deserves, then you’ve lost me too.”

He turned on his heel, leaving them in stunned silence as he made his way back to the portrait hole.

Fred was waiting for him just outside, leaning casually against the wall.

“How’d it go?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“They won’t be bothering her again,” George replied, his voice still simmering with anger.

Fred smirked. “Good. About time they got knocked down a peg.”

George shook his head, his expression softening as he thought of you. “I just hate that she felt like she couldn’t tell me.”

“She loves you,” Fred said simply. “She didn’t want to hurt you.”

George nodded, determination settling in his chest. “Well, she doesn’t have to worry about that anymore.”

Thank you for reading!

[myjealouseyes]

Request from an anon: Hello! I would like to request a Harry x Reader who’s from Hufflepuff. She’s very sweet and often finds herself surrounded by many magical creatures (even dangerous ones like dragons, etc..) I want to know how Harry would react and feel by this type of reader.

A/N— sunshine!reader has my heart!! ☺️

Content warnings: none. (Shirtless Harry but it’s not suggestive and it’s not a major point of importance.)

Send a request here.

“Is it true you’re friends with the Giant Squid?”

Harry asks casually, as he juggles all the bundles of yarn you’ve handed him on your quest for the red one you need. You practically stripped him of his Gryffindor sweater when you noticed the hole in it. It was small. He hadn’t even noticed it, and even if he had he would’ve just left it alone or gotten a new sweater. You weren’t having that though, insisting that you’d patch it for him. He asks this question with hopes that the answer will distract him from the fact that his extremely lovely girlfriend who he’s in her dorm with alone, is seeing him Shirtless for the first time.

You don’t seem to be affected by this moment of significance as you continue your search for yarn, only pausing to give him a slight smile and a head tilt. “You mean squidy? ‘Course I am! He saved me from drowning in first year.” And if Harry needed another reason to be head-over-heels, just like that, he had it. Not only were you friends with it, you’d even given it a nickname. Just being around you is enough to make his heart ache with fondness. It’s quite sickening really.

“The Giant Squid saved you?” Despite the underlying wonder in his tone, he believes you a thousand percent. It’s so on-brand for you; having an aura so bright that a squid that seems to torment the rest of the student body somehow likes you enough to save you, and become your friend. “Yep!” You respond enthusiastically. “He’s very lovely, but because of how big he is and his…less than ideal way of trying to make friends, everyone’s always afraid or at least annoyed with him all the time. It’s a very lonely existence.”

Harry has to purse his lips to keep himself to audibly cooing. He’s not sure he’ll meet ever someone else even half as caring as you are. The way you believe every single being, including the ones known for trying to grab people and drag them under, is just worthy of having friends makes him worry you might be a little too sweet for this world. You huff in disappointment as you see that you’ve run completely out red yarn. You hold up a dark pink one instead, closest to red you have. “I guess I forgot to grab some. Would the pink be too noticeable for you?” The slight guilt In your voice and pout on your face makes him want to smother you in a hundred kisses and buy you a new sweater, but he just brings your hand up to his lips for just one on palm instead.

“Pink sounds wonderful.”

[constancezin]

Infatued

@jilymicrofics

[nastasyablake6]

Tom and Harry together~ 💚🐍💛🦡

[luizd3ad]

You'll Be Fine | Poly!Moonwater x Reader

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader x Remus Lupin WC: 430 CW: Slight talks of anxiety, talks of a bad day (not really tbh), no use of Y/N, kinda a comfort fic ig? Author's Note: Idk man this is my first time writing Moonwater so hopefully it’s good. Summary: Remus comes home to you napping on Regulus.

does anyone even like these? why do I keep making theses collage thing?

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

When Remus gets home from work he doesn't expect much. Usually you and Regulus would be home before him. Both of you would usually be reading books or talking just typical things that people do when they get home to unwind a bit. 

What he hadn't expected was to come home to what seemed to be an empty and quiet home.

To say he was confused when he walked into their flat would be an understatement, normally there would be some evidence that his partners were home. But there wasn't.  

He started looking around the flat in search of you or Regulus, but he couldn't find either of you. His anxiety started to get the best of him, what if something happened, were you two okay? He felt his mind start to go a mile a minute.

Eventually he made his way to the shared bedroom and he felt his anxiety die down significantly at the sight of you sleeping on Regulus' chest while his hand ran up and down your back with a book in the other hand.

It wasn't necessarily uncommon for Remus to come home to one or both of you to be napping but it was so rare that he didnt think about it.

Regulus looked up, putting his book on his side and then pressing his finger to his lips telling Remus to speak quietly to avoid waking you up. Only then did Remus notice your tear stained cheeks, Remus brows furrowed and he shot Regulus a look that asked ‘what the hell happened?’ Regulus just sighed and spoke quietly.

“They had a bad day, nothing too terrible but it was just one of those days.”

Remus just nods and he crawls into bed next to you so that you're in between both men. He turned so that he could look at you and Regulus better, putting his hand on your hip, rubbing his thumb gently over it. 

“Everythings okay though, yeah?” Remus wisped to regulus, a look of worry still on his face. 

“All things considered, yes.'' Regulus sighs looking away from Remus for a moment but Regulus never stopped rubbing your back, he wanted you to know even in your sleep he was there for you. “They'll be fine, mon cœur. They have us and we will always be there to make sure that everything is fine.” Regulus said, looking back at Remus, who just nodded. 

Remus knew as long as you had each other in your lives that you, Regulus and him would be okay. Sometimes that's all anyone could hope for.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

[ldrloversblog]

Shit post cause I’m bored

[ellswritings]

Like I Can

James Potter x Reader

TW: Cute fluff, idiots in love, mutual pining.

Based on “Like I Can” by Sam Smith 🫶

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The Quidditch pitch buzzed with excitement as Gryffindor’s final match of the season drew to a close. Y/N, perched confidently on her broomstick, was a force to be reckoned with as the team’s Keeper. James Potter, the ever-charismatic Seeker, soared high above the game, his eyes darting between the Snitch and his favorite distraction: her.

She blocked yet another shot from Slytherin’s Chasers with a deft flick of her wrist. The crowd erupted into cheers, but James barely registered them. His focus lingered on her—her determination, her skill, the way her smile lit up the entire pitch. She was brilliant. And yet, there she was, constantly entertaining the advances of the most undeserving blokes.

By the time James caught the Snitch, securing Gryffindor’s victory, Y/N was already back on the ground, laughing with the team. But his celebratory mood soured when he saw who had approached her: Marcus Flint, a smarmy Slytherin with a reputation for sweet-talking girls.

“Brilliant saves today, Y/L/N,” Marcus drawled, leaning in closer than necessary. “I bet you’d look just as good off the pitch.”

Y/N’s laughter rang out, though James could tell it was more polite than genuine. Still, the fact that she humored him made James’ blood boil.

He shoves his glasses higher up his nose and turns to Sirius, who was already grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“She’s just being polite,” James muttered, as Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Polite?” Sirius barked a laugh. “Mate, she’s practically inviting him to Hogsmeade with that smile.”

Remus, who had just walked over, gave James a look. “You could just tell her how you feel, you know. Instead of standing here glaring holes into the poor bloke.”

“And miss out on watching this love triangle unfold?” Peter chimed in, grinning.

James ignored them, opting instead to yell, “Team meeting in five minutes!” just loud enough to interrupt Y/N’s conversation. She glanced at him, raising an eyebrow, before turning back to the Slytherin.

This was only the beginning.

In the library, Y/N and Remus often sat together, their heads bent over books. James would join them under the pretense of studying, though he spent most of his time watching Y/N.

“James, you’ve been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes,” Y/N said, raising an eyebrow. “Need some help?”

“Maybe,” he admitted, sliding his Potions textbook toward her. “Think you can save me from another Howler from Mum?”

Y/N chuckled, flipping through the pages. “Alright, but only because I’m feeling generous. Start by not adding twice as much dragon liver as the recipe calls for.”

“See, this is why I need you,” James said with a mock-serious expression. “You’re the brains of this operation.”

“And you’re the charm, I suppose?” Y/N replied, smirking.

“Obviously,” James said, winking. “It’s a good thing I’ve got you to balance me out.”

On top of being the most obnoxious and charming students in the school, The Marauders’ pranks were legendary, and Y/N quickly became a member of their mischief-making crew her first year. She and Sirius made an especially chaotic duo, often dragging James and Remus into their schemes.

“Are you sure this will work?” James asked, eyeing the enchanted balloons they’d filled with color-changing paint.

“Of course it will,” Y/N said confidently, handing him a balloon. “Just aim for Filch’s office window.”

“I thought you were the sensible one,” Remus muttered, though he was already holding a balloon of his own.

“Sometimes, sensible is boring,” Y/N replied with a mischievous grin.

As the first balloon hit its target, exploding in a burst of green and gold paint, the group dissolved into laughter. James couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so carefree.

About a week or so later, the Marauders found themselves at the Three Broomsticks. James had hoped for a quiet afternoon, but when Y/N entered, arm-in-arm with a cocky Hufflepuff who had clearly overdosed on self-confidence, his mood soured.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius teased, nudging James’s arm. “There’s your girl.”

“She’s not my girl,” James snapped, though his eyes were glued to Y/N as she laughed at something the Hufflepuff said.

“She could be,” Remus pointed out, his tone calm but pointed. “If you actually said something.”

James groaned, sinking into his seat. “She wouldn’t be interested. Look at her! She’s... brilliant. And she’s dating that git.”

Peter snorted. “She’s humoring him, mate. Big difference.”

But James couldn’t take his friends’ advice. Instead, he found himself watching from the sidelines, frustration mounting as the Hufflepuff leaned too close and Y/N laughed a little too hard.

“Doesn’t it bother you to have such overprotective friends?” Dorian McMaster, the Hufflepuff Y/N agreed to hang out with for the day asks her. His eyes narrow over at James and the other boys who are now trying to pretend they weren’t just staring at her.

The (h/c) haired girl shrugs, “I wouldn’t call them overprotective,” she defends.

“Then why haven’t they stopped staring at you since we walked in?” He asks with an almost disgusted expression.

“Because they probably want me to go say hi?” Y/N tilts her head. “I don’t know. I’m not them.”

“I’m getting real sick of that Potter,” Dorian grumbles. “He thinks he owns everything.”

Y/N puts her hand up to stop him, “Well, first of all, he doesn’t think he owns anything. Second of all, if you’re implying what I think you are, I can confidently tell you that I am not something that can be owned.”

Dorian rolls his eyes, “Look, all I’m saying is that you agreed to come here with me. That git needs to back off.”

Y/N laughs lowly before standing from her seat. She shakes her head with a dangerous smile, “Just because your father happens to be the head of the Department of Mysteries doesn’t give you a right to act like an entitled prat. James isn’t a git, but it seems you are.” She smooths over her robe, “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Are you gonna go after her?” Remus looks at James expectantly as they watch Y/N saunter out of the Three Broomsticks, leaving a fuming Dorian behind.

James looks after the girl, a battle going on inside of his mind. “No,” he finally mumbles with a sigh. “She doesn’t need me hovering.”

Sirius, Remus, and Peter all collectively groan, rolling their eyes at his ignorance. It’s rather irritating watching the two of them constantly play cat and mouse with one another. It’s clear to everyone but them that they are head over heels for one another.

“Ten galleons says he cracks by the end of the month,” Remus whispers over to Peter and Sirius as James continues staring longingly at the door Y/N just walked out of.

“I’ll take that action.”

Weeks passed, and James Potter’s resolve wavered. The relentless teasing from his friends only made things worse, especially as Y/N continued to attract attention from boys who couldn’t possibly see her the way he did. She wasn’t just beautiful; she was brilliant, witty, and fiercely independent. She had passed all her O.W.L.s with Outstanding marks and still somehow found time to pull pranks with him and Sirius. To James, she was everything.

It was maddening. Every smile she gave to someone else, every laugh she shared, every time another boy got too close. The jealousy gnawed at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. If only she knew how much space she occupied in his thoughts, how he wanted nothing more than to sweep her off her feet and show her what they could be together. He just needed a chance—one chance to prove he was the one for her.

The breaking point came during one of Slughorn’s infamous parties. James arrived late, his confidence faltering the moment he saw her. She was on the arm of yet another admirer, a Ravenclaw seventh-year who prided himself on his intellect. James couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wore a dress that shimmered with every movement, and her laughter carried across the room like a melody he couldn’t ignore.

The Ravenclaw boy leaned in to whisper something in her ear, and she smiled, but James noticed the slight distance in her expression. When the boy’s hand drifted a little too low on her back, James’ restraint snapped. He drained his goblet of punch, handed it off to Sirius with a muttered, “Wish me luck,” and crossed the room.

“Y/N, can I have a word?” he asked, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.

She looked up at him, surprised, and then turned to her date, who seemed ready to protest. “I’ll be right back,” she said, brushing off the boy’s attempts to intervene. James felt a surge of satisfaction as she followed him to a quieter corner of the room.

James took a deep breath, gathering his courage. His heart pounded as the words tumbled out before he could stop them. “No matter how many guys you date, they’ll never treat you the way I can. They don’t see you—not really. They don’t know how brilliant you are, how funny, how you scrunch your nose when you’re annoyed. They don’t know you like I do.” He paused, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “They can be the most famous bloke in London, or some homeless man on the street, but they’ll never be me. I know it’s meant to be you and I.”

Y/N stared at him, her eyes wide with something he couldn’t quite place. Then, to his horror, she smirked.

“James Potter, are you confessing your undying love for me?” she teased, her voice laced with amusement.

James ran a hand through his hair, a nervous habit she’d always found endearing. “I’m serious, Y/N. I—”

“I’m just joking,” she interrupted, her smirk softening into a gentle smile. “I’ve always known, James.”

His breath hitched. “And?”

“And you’re an idiot for waiting this long,” she replied, stepping closer. “But I suppose that means you’re my idiot.”

The world seemed to fade away as she closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a kiss that was long overdue. It was soft and electrifying all at once, a culmination of years of unspoken feelings. James felt like he was floating, his heart soaring higher than any Quidditch match ever could.

From across the room, Sirius clapped Remus on the back, the latter groaning as he handed over ten galleons. “Should’ve bet on the party,” he muttered.

Later that night, as James walked Y/N back to the Gryffindor common room, their hands intertwined, he couldn’t help but grin like an idiot. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“So, Potter,” she said, “does this mean you’re finally going to stop glaring at every boy who talks to me?”

“Not a chance,” he replied, pulling her closer. “But they’ll never stand a chance now, will they?”

She laughed, and the sound was music to his ears. “You’re impossible.”

“And you love it,” he quipped, his grin widening.

As they stepped into the common room, Sirius and Remus were waiting by the fire, their faces alight with poorly disguised glee.

“Finally!” Sirius exclaimed, throwing his arms up dramatically. “Do you know how exhausting it’s been watching you two dance around each other?”

“Subtle as always, Padfoot,” Y/N said dryly, though her smile betrayed her amusement.

Remus chuckled, closing his book. “We’re happy for you both. Truly.”

James glanced at Y/N, his chest swelling with pride and affection. “Thanks, Moony. Means a lot.”

Sirius leaned forward, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “So, Y/N, now that you’re officially part of the Potter package, does this mean you’ll help us prank the Slytherins next week?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smirk. “What makes you think I wasn’t already involved?”

James burst out laughing, pulling her into a side hug. “That’s my girl.”

In the days that followed, James found himself unable to keep his hands to himself. Whether it was brushing his fingers against hers in the corridors or slinging an arm around her shoulders during meals, he reveled in the newfound closeness. But the jealousy lingered, bubbling to the surface whenever someone dared to flirt with her.

One afternoon in the library, a Slytherinboy approached Y/N, clearly smitten. James watched from across the room, his jaw tightening as the boy leaned a little too close. When Y/N caught James’ eye and winked, he relaxed marginally, though he still made a point to saunter over and plant a possessive kiss on her cheek.

“Hey, love,” he said casually, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Everything alright here?”

The Slytherin stammered an excuse and quickly retreated, leaving Y/N to shake her head in exasperation.

“Was that really necessary?” she asked, though her tone was more amused than annoyed.

“Absolutely,” James replied, grinning. “Can’t have anyone forgetting who you belong to.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her smile. “You’re lucky I find your jealousy endearing.”

“Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Their relationship quickly became the talk of the school, much to James’ delight. He wore his love for Y/N like a badge of honor, unashamed and unapologetic. And while Y/N occasionally pretended to be annoyed by his antics, she secretly adored the way he made her feel like the center of his universe.

As the year progressed, the Marauders found countless ways to tease James, but he took it all in stride. After all, he had Y/N by his side, and that was all that mattered. Together, they were unstoppable—a perfect match in every sense of the word.