#marauder x reader

[livinginshambles]

I thought you'd be different | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: A cinderella story (maybe a little romeo and juliet while we're at it) but Hogwarts - Enemies-ish to lovers. You find an enchanted parchment through wich you anonymously talk to a stranger (James). When you meet him at the Yule ball, he is not who you expected, but you give him a chance. When you realise that was clearly a mistake, you flee cinderella style.

Probably part one of two again.

Notes: Not proofread, grammar mistakes. Discrimination issues, themes of bullying. Regulus is our friend. James is an idiot, but we knew that already. Sirius sucks.

Masterlist. Part two. Part three

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You could still remember the moment vividly, as if it was engraved in your memory. That moment when the sorting hat placed you in Slytherin instead of Gryffindor like your two older sisters had been sorted. You could still see the look of surprise, concern, horror and then eventually disgust, every time you close your eyes.

“Now we finally know your true colors,” is what your sister Alyssa had hissed coldly at you. You had pleadingly looked at your other sister, but Marla had supported her twin sister, disregarding the confused and scared look in your eleven-year-old eyes.

“Don’t talk to us, don’t look at us and don’t mention us at all,” she sneered down at you and for a moment you wondered how she hadn’t been the one to be sorted into Slytherin instead. But you had cast your eyes down and agreed.

But years passed and you had become the very stereotype of a Slytherin student, completely leaning into the cold, distant, quiet but calculating persona that your sisters had created for you. Might as well, you figured after your parent’s dismay at the revelation of your house.

You were making your way down the corridor, long strides as you passed your sisters while looking them straight in the eye. They grimaced at the sight of you, but without their entire group of classmates, they didn’t dare make any comments. A feeling of victory erupted inside of you, and you couldn’t help the small smirk that crept up your face.

“What poor soul suffered for you to look so satisfied?” You turned your head to look at the person who called out to you. James Potter and Sirius Black were both leaning against a statue in the open yard. “Did you get rid of Regulus or something?” Sirius taunted. “Finally had enough of him following you around, did you L/N?”

“Go die in a ditch, Sirius,” you retorted with an eye roll, but seemed unphased.

“Why so much hostility,” James unpleasantly remarked, and you halted in your step. “10 points from Gryffindor for loitering,” you pettily decided.

“If you have nothing to do, other than insulting students, I would love to recommend you to Professor McGonagall for detention. Heard she was still looking for the person who made all the pumpkins explode last week during Halloween, and you guys are terrible at getting rid of the evidence.” With a last glance up and down, you continued your way towards the room of requirement.

When you entered the sober room with a sigh, you noticed the small scrolled up piece of parchment in the middle of the room. You frowned. This was your space. The room didn’t open this space for anyone else, you made it specifically as a safe haven.

You cautiously approached the parchment and rolled it open to reveal nothing. It was completely blank. You shrugged. If the room left this here, it was meant for you, and so you took a seat and started drawing on it.

James sat in an empty room, his invisibility cloak hiding him from plain sight as he pulled the now folded paper from his back pocket. He inspected it closely, almost pressing the paper to his glasses in a curious manner. He had gone to the Room of Requirements earlier that day and found a piece of paper floating in the air.

James unfolded the paper, and his eyebrows flew up. Lines were appearing on the paper by itself, and a beautiful portrait of a weeping willow with a girl, crying on a bench under the tree appeared.

James fumbled to find his quill and ink. Then he started to write something on it, in a handwriting that he only ever used for written exams. Credits to Professor McGonagall, who had announced that she would not be grading anything she couldn’t read. And she had looked over her glasses at him while she said it.

It’s beautiful.

You dropped the parchment at the words that formed right under your drawing. You traced it with your fingers. Then you decided to write back.

Thank you, I’ve been dreaming about this for the past two days.

You frowned at yourself, unsure why you would disclose such information, but figured no one would be able to trace this back to you anyway.

James blinked at the response he got, mouth open in surprise. He wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. It must simply be a spell of some sort after all. He stared at the sad drawing and the sentence, and then he made up his mind, writing back.

It must be lonely for that girl to cry by herself under the weeping willow.

Your eyes followed the words that formed in a trance.

If she ever feels lonely again, she can always pour her heart out on this parchment. I’ll be the mighty guardian wizard that will make all her worries magically disappear.

A grateful smile made its way up your face and when you scribbled back a response, James couldn’t help but smile as well.

Maybe she will.

You doodled a wizard sitting on the bench next to the crying girl, a consoling hand stretched out.

That's how you became James’ best kept secret. He learned that you were indeed a student at Hogwarts, but that you felt lonely. That you enjoyed butterbeer, but never got to enjoy it on a Hogsmeade outing with friends, because you rarely had any. He learned that you felt inferior to your siblings and a disappointment to your parents. He noticed how you would draw a circle as the dot on your ‘i’ and learned, when he asked, that you did that because you had once seen Professor McGonagall do that when you were in your first year, and had practiced mimicking her handwriting, should it ever come in handy.

In return, he had told you that he felt pressured by the reputation that he had to maintain. He loved Quidditch and absolutely despised Ancient Runes, to which you had replied, “who doesn’t?”. He told you that he had illegally learned to become an Animagus, a stag, and that he wasn’t sure yet what the future would hold for him. He even revealed to you that he desperately wants to protect his friends and sometimes had nightmares, which usually resulted in a sneak around the castle at midnight. When you had asked him if he’d ever been caught, he responded with, “never”, and had explained to you that he had an invisibility cloak.

Two months passed and before you knew it, you were explaining Transfiguration through the enchanted parchment. You did conclude from this that your pen pal was most likely in a year or two higher than yourself but decided not to comment on it. James on the other hand, was under the assumption that you must be from his year, as you managed to help him study for his exams.

But now, it was almost 12 o’clock midnight, and James chewed his lip while he looked at the parchment. He hesitated for a moment. Then he decided to ask you the one question he had been yearning to know the answer to.

Who are you?

You looked at the paper sadly, and sighed.

You’d be disappointed.

I understand if you don’t want to reveal yourself. But know that I could never be disappointed by you, Willow.

James sighed when you didn’t answer anymore. He waved away the light that emitted from the tip of his wand and took his glasses off. He went to put the parchment under his pillow as usual, when he saw the scribbling movement that he’d gotten so accustomed to.

He scrambled to grab his wand to shed light on the paper but accidentally nudged them off the nightstand and onto the floor, where it rolled under his bed. James’ eyes flickered back to the paper in his hand, and he managed to catch the first letter of your name as it was written in capital letters.

But your cursive handwriting, the dark and lack of glasses made it impossible to read the rest of your name. When he finally reached his wand and put on his glasses, he heard the clock strike twelve and he cursed as he grasped the parchment tightly, hurried ‘lumos’ and saw that the parchment had reset itself to a blank page again, just as every night at 12 o’clock at midnight.

Wait, please! I didn’t catch it before it erased itself. Please write it again?

You let out a sigh in relief after you had internally bashed your head against a wall.

No, it was stupid of me. I’m glad you didn’t see it.

You leaned back into your armchair with a racing heart. You couldn’t believe you had done that.

“Regulus,” you acknowledged as you pulled the chair back to sit next to him in the library. “Y/N,” Regulus quietly responded without looking up from his book, and if you didn’t know any better, his straight face would indicate annoyance. Luckily, you did know better.

“You smile any brighter, the sorting hat will transfer you to Hufflepuff, you know,” you teased him.

His face distorted in a grimace and without missing a beat, he replied, “do kill me before such a thing occurs.” You shook your head and finally sat down. Then you pursed your lips in thought.

“You know how I’ve been working all summer to earn galleons?”

“No.”

“Well I did.”

“So it seems.”

“Anyway, I rented a small flat,” you blurted out. Regulus finally looked up at you, surprise almost evident on his face. Then again, you didn’t have the most amazing home situation either. You often opted to stay behind at Hogwarts for the holidays. It is how you two had befriended each other, especially ever since Sirius left him to his own devices at home. Parents, it was a trauma bonding thing.

“Congratulations,” he nodded, his voice trailed off as he tried to see how this would concern him.

“So I thought you might want to stay with me over the Christmas holidays? Your mother doesn’t hate me, so I thought it might be possible. Gives you a chance to get out once in a while.” You tentatively brought up the sensitive subject.

“And what makes you think living with you will be any more bearable than living in my own mansion?” Regulus snarkily remarked.

You squinted your eyes at him in a scowl. “A simple ‘no’ would suffice don’t you think?”

“Do I have to pay rent?”

“Depends on whether or not the answer impacts your decision.”

“So not then.”

You huffed.

“Fine, I suppose I could join you in your small flat.”

“Merlin, don’t go doing me any favors Reg, I wouldn’t want to owe you.”

Regulus shook his head in amusement.

Satisfied with your rather successful attempt to invite him over, you got up. The chair you sat on screeched loudly as it was being pushed back. You could feel the librarian’s furious eyes on your back and rolled your eyes at her as you made your way to the door. “Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” you waved your hand in the air and exited the room.

You made it approximately two steps when you spotted your sisters again. “Of course you would cause a disturbance in the library,” Marla spat at you. You raised your eyebrows but remained unimpressed.

“I see you’ve got your buddies to back you up now?” you commented and tilted your chin slightly upwards. Your eyes flickered to your other sister, their closest friends, and the marauders.

For a moment, you considered walking away, but there was just something about that twitching lip of your sister that had you irked.

You stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your sister. You leaned in slightly and then, “Boo.”

It took your other sister, Alyssa about one second to have her wand pulled out and pointed at your throat.

James watched the interaction with a small frown on his face. He didn’t really speak with the fellow Gryffindor twins, but their friends and Lily were friends, so the marauders had joined them on their way towards the courtyard.

His mind flickered to a conversation he had had with ‘Willow’ about her sisters, and he wondered if you felt the same sadness and inferiority as his pen pal. And with that in mind, he pulled Alyssa back by her robe with one harm, the other lowering her raised wand.

“Let’s not,” he shrugged, when she raised her brows in question at him.

“She clearly threatened my sister,” Alyssa defended.

You scoffed at that. “I said ‘boo’. That’s hardly a threat,” you rolled your eyes and glanced at James who tried to offer you something that resembled a smile.

Was he mocking you? “Fancy yourself a hero, don’t you, Potter.”

“Hey, I was just trying to help,” he raised his hands in defense.

“Cause you’re such a good soul,” you sarcastically remarked.

“Yeah, actually. At least better than you. That hostility is so uncalled for,” Sirius mumbled under his breath, and you shot him a glare. “Right, better than me. Let me ask the two-dozen tormented Slytherin students you’ve bullied this past year. Bet Snape will buy your self-proclaimed ‘kindness’.”

You were already walking away when Sirius opened his mouth to call something out to you, but James kicked his shins in attempt to shut him up. Your words resonated in his mind.

Maybe he was a twat.

Am I a twat?

What the bloody hell are you on about?

Someone called me a twat today. Now that wasn’t necessarily true, but the implications were there.

Did you deserve it?

Sort of.

Sort of?

I mean, I am only an asshole to people who are assholes themselves and deserve it. But I guess that makes me an asshole too.

You hesitated for a moment and decided to write your opinion on the matter.

Maybe you being an asshole to people makes them assholes. And then it becomes a vicious circle. Self-fulfilling prophecy and all that bogger.

You reckon?

Wouldn’t have written it down if I didn’t.

On a brighter note, do you have a date for the Yule ball after the exams?

If you’re asking me out, I already promised my friend that we’d go together.

Oh right. But would you save me a dance? Maybe at midnight under the main crystal chandelier?

James bit his lip again in suspense. The Yule ball is a masked ball anyways, if you don’t want to reveal yourself.

Midnight, main crystal chandelier. You decided to leave it at that. Besides. You could enchant the mask a little extra, so you’d be even more unrecognizable. You wondered who would be behind the kind words of the parchment.

It felt strange to you. Really looking forward to something to the point you could feel jitters in your stomach in anticipation. But it was having a certain effect on you that even the younger Black couldn’t help but miss.

Regulus squinted his eyes and moved his jaw in thought. When he had had enough, he pulled you aside.

“Out with it.”

You deflated. You knew that he knew what he was talking about, so you shrugged. “Someone asked me to save a dance next week,” you mumbled.

“And you want to?” Regulus’ tone shifted to an incredulous one.

“I found an enchanted parchment in the room of requirements and it’s connected. I’ve been using it to have conversations with a mystery person.”

It felt great to be able to share this with your friend and you leaned against the wall behind you. “So yeah.” You finished the confession with an awkward hand gesture.

Regulus took a moment to register what you said. And then, as if it was the most normal thing ever, he responded with, “I see. And you have no idea who?”

You let yourself slide down the wall and tiredly put your head on your propped up knees. “Probably a Gryffindor.”

Regulus started laughing. You snapped your head up and scowled at him, not that he was used to anything else from you.

“As long as it’s not a mudbl-“

You kicked his legs and made him lose his balance. You shot him a warning glance. “You know my opinion on that.”

Regulus sighed. You had once confided in him about your home situation, including that time when you had overheard your parents argue when you came home for the first time after having been sorted into Slytherin. Your father had addressed the matter as soon as you walked through the door.

“You’re no daughter of mine.” He had said with disapproval in his voice. It wasn’t meant as a figurative insult. It was a statement. Your father believed that you could simply not biologically be his daughter. The words had you avert your eyes to the floor in shame.

“My entire bloodline has been sorted into Gryffindor.” He had looked at your mother. “Your family does have Slytherins. She’s most likely the result of your affair with that muggle a decade ago. It is possible.” And just like that, he had practically disowned you.

“Okay,” Regulus relented. “We’ll see who it is next week.”

James was nervously looking around, standing partnerless in the middle of the dancefloor. He had long forgone the mask that he had chosen because it prevented him from using his glasses. He looked at the great clock just above the table with drinks and pulled a hand through his hair.

It was time, so where were you? Hopefully you hadn’t chickened out yet because he was absolutely dying to meet you.

There was just something about you. It sparked something in him that he hadn’t felt since Lily. He’d look forward to your messages all the time. Every morning, he practically jumped up in anticipation and excitement as he reached under his pillow to read your ‘good morning’ message for the day. A smile would pass his lips each time.

James was ripped from his thoughts when a hand was placed on his shoulder blade. It tapped twice. He stopped breathing for a moment before turning around. And then the breath was knocked out of both of you completely.

For two different reasons.

James stared in awe at you. You wore a white and silver dress, covered in diamonds. A delicate white mask covered the upper part of your face, and he stared intently at your eyes, but somehow, he still couldn’t pinpoint who you were.

He could see all of your features clearly, but as if he was in a dream, he somehow couldn’t piece everything together to identify you. A charm, he realized. He was disappointed but shook it off. If you felt insecure, then he wouldn’t push it.

James’ face broke out in a grin, and he stepped forward. He couldn’t help but reach out to your face. But you took a step back. His hand fell and he frowned at your reaction, suddenly scared. He wasn’t wearing a mask after all. Compared to you, he was completely vulnerable.

Before he could say anything, you cut him to it. “No,” you hoarsely managed. “This was a mistake.” You turned around and escaped from the center of the dancefloor. James chased you.

“Wait, please. I’m sorry!” He called out after you.

You slowed your pace when you reached the corner next to the staircase. Then you shook your head with a sight, and you pinched your nose. James could see your furrowed brows.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. But my intention wasn’t to dance with James Potter. It was a mistake. Sorry for wasting your time.”

James shook his head in his turn. “Don’t say that,” his eyes pleaded. “So you know who I am. Am I..” He hesitated. “Am I that bad? I don’t know if you’ve heard any rumors about me, or what made you have a bad impression of me, but I’m the one you’ve been talking to for the past months.” He looked at you desperately. “Give me a chance, please. I only ask for a dance.”

Your eyes flickered over his sad face. You knew James from all the pranks that he did, mostly committed towards your house. You knew him from the banters you had with him, and from crying students that you undid hexes for. You knew him from pushing him out of the way as he purposely blocked your path to throw insults at you.

But you also knew the boy from the enchanted paper. The one who listened to all your worries. Who offered advice and indulged into your hopes and dreams for the future. You knew the boy who confided in you all his deepest secrets and own insecurities. Who made your day and cheered you up with his jokes and positivity.

“I can give you a dance,” you caved, and you offered him your hand, which he scrambled to hold.

James was a fairly decent dance partner, you soon discovered as he guided you with grace. “So I suppose you dance often?”

“I just practiced a lot,” he sheepishly admitted. “I had to impress you somehow, you know. Someone like you had to be crazy out of my league after all.”

Your lips twitched. “I think you’ve got it all backwards, Potter.”

“You know you can call me James, right?”

“Well, James,” you enunciated his name. It felt weird on your tongue. You had only ever spoken his last name in contempt. “I’m not very liked by more than half the students of this castle.” You motioned towards your mask. “Hence the enchantment,” you added halfheartedly.

“You don’t have to tell me who you are,” James immediately assured you, and you did relax at his words. “I’m just really happy that you’re real.”

You let out a laugh. “Why would I not be real?”

“I don’t know,” James whined. “Maybe I was just talking to really sentient paper or something?”

His answer only made you laugh more. James’ grin only spread wider.

“Whoever you are, I wouldn’t judge you,” James added quietly. You watched him silently as you swayed around the room.

“That’d be a first,” you joked sadly, remembering your own family.

“What can I say, I’m just different,” James cheekily winked and then twirled you around.

“We’ll see about that, James. You have the rest of the night to convince me.”

The dance ended and you curtsied to each other, out of breath. “But you’ll have to excuse me while I go find a bench because my feet are killing me. These heels are no joke,” you groaned in pain and sort of started to limp your way back.

James quickly came to support you and held your waist as he escorted you back to the side of the room. When you discovered that there were not in fact any benches, you sat down on the first few steps of the staircase. He raised his eyebrows when you kicked off your heels and saw that the entire slipper was made of glass.

“I transfigured those shoes myself, you know,” you proudly stated. James looked at it in disbelief. “This can carry a human weight?”

“Yeah, it took a lot of different enchantments and attempts,” you admitted.

James’ disbelief changed to awe. He took a seat next to you and you two started chatting about random things. You looked at James’ profile as he talked about Quidditch and felt soft towards him. Maybe he really wasn’t so bad after all.

The two of you were deep into a conversation when you were interrupted .

“Who is this, Prongs?” Sirius curiously stepped forward and shook your hand. You couldn’t help but grimace at him.

You politely nodded and explained the situation, but even though you engaged into a civil, nonchalant conversation, you couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable at the presence of James’ friends.

“Anyways,” Sirius leans in towards James. “Did you see Snape over there?” He nodded his head towards Snape, and you squinted your eyes at the boy in front of you.

“You’re not thinking of doing anything to him, are you,” you sharply asked. Both James and Sirius were taken aback by your new tone.

“Nothing harmful,” Sirius laughed, but it faded when you simply raised your eyebrows at him. Sirius looked towards James for help. James hesitated. He had been reluctant to indulge Sirius’ ideas ever since his conversation with you about being a twat. But Sirius was his friend.

“We’re just having a bit of fun,” James tried to explain. “We’re just joking around, besides, he’s in Slytherin, so definitely a blood supremacist.” Your face fell at his words.

You watched his features contort in disgust and suddenly you were eleven again, and all you could see was your sisters disgusted face.

By the time you had snapped out of it, Sirius was already making his way towards Snape. James had gotten up and his head flickered between you and his friend.

You got up as well.

“I really thought you’d be different, James.” You scoffed to yourself. “You really had me convinced there for a moment. But I understand that you’re really just a bully after all, blinded by prejudice. You really are a twat.”

James’ heart dropped at hearing you say those words. He felt ashamed and shook his head pleadingly as he searched for words. But the thing is, you couldn’t care less, because you were hurt too. So you turned around and fled up the stairs as fast as you could, just in case he would come after you.

“Hey Prongs, you coming or not?” Sirius called out. James looked back at Sirius as he contemplated his next move. He mouthed ‘no’, and then tried to run after you. But by the time he reached the hallway that you had disappeared to, you were nowhere in sight.

In denial, James ran towards the moving staircases and looked up, in hopes to find you there.

Had he looked down, maybe he would have caught the last shimmer of reflection of the diamonds on your dress.

James refused to give up, however and he started to knock on the paintings, hoping that they could tell him where you went. He just had to apologize.

A symphony of protests and yelling echoed within the hall. “Quiet you!” “Have you no respect for the sleeping?” “I will complain to Filch about this, young man!” “Leave us alone!”

When the voices resided, most portraits were empty, their contents having escaped elsewhere.

Defeated, James groaned and hit his head with his fists. “You stupid git!” he yelled out in frustration at himself. James slouched down to sit on the stairs. Then he reached for the parchment and a pen in the inner pocket of his jacket and started scrambling something down.

“Please answer,” he whispered. He almost had to laugh at how pathetic he must look.

You sat on your bed after having made your way to the Slytherin dorms.

I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know why I said that. I’m stupid and I ruined everything. Please let me make it up to you. I enjoy being with you, I don’t want you to think of me like this.

 Like I said before, this was clearly a mistake.

James read your words over and over again and he buried his face in his hands in shame. He stayed there for a long while and by the time he returned to the room, the party was over, and people had started returning to bed. On the left side of the staircase were your enchanted glass slippers precisely where you’d kicked the off and left them.

Preview of part two

Part two

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[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

When the Levee Breaks

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you. 

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone. 

“Antsy?” 

“No.” 

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.” 

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work. 

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high. 

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you. 

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to. 

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago. 

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue. 

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over. 

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.” 

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest. 

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down. 

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek. 

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?” 

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you. 

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor. 

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.” 

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.” 

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart. 

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly. 

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.  

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.” 

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction. 

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it. 

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there. 

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.” 

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.” 

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued. 

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you. 

1971: the year you met. 

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you. 

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks. 

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV. 

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.” 

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable. 

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips. 

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.  

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better. 

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin. 

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy. 

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible. 

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are. 

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!” 

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it. 

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows. 

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again. 

“Down here!” you whisper-yell. 

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa. 

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it. 

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.” 

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily. 

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair. 

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours. 

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful. 

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it. 

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all. 

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so. 

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.” 

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him. 

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it. 

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand. 

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…” 

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be. 

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.” 

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek. 

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.” 

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back. 

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended.  Remus just hums in response. 

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself. 

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary. 

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand. 

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. 

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other. 

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret. 

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch. 

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own. 

“Do you?” 

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it. 

“About my crush.” 

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back. 

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?” 

“Of course I did.” 

“What happened?” he echoes. 

“Nothing,” you confess. 

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once. 

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.” 

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you. 

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up. 

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear. 

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues. 

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path. 

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top. 

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it. 

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster. 

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit. 

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender. 

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation. 

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down. 

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you. 

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe. 

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them. 

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off. 

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you. 

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it. 

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.” 

“Other times?” 

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you. 

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.” 

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random. 

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick. 

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid. 

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes. 

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours. 

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state. 

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him. 

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face. 

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…” 

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile. 

“I love you.” 

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe. 

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.” 

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there. 

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed. 

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.” 

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full. 

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation. 

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours. 

“Ready, my sunshine?” 

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus. 

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours. 

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there. 

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry… 

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him. 

[cosmal]

reader falling asleep against remus?? maybe they aren’t dating yet but are oblivious idiots in love with each other and he freaks out !!

pillow

summary you fall asleep on remus at a party.

content remus lupin x fem!reader, she/her

"Mate, you've gotta be the worst pillow ever. Relax a bit," Sirius says to Remus who's gone stiff underneath you.

"I should wake her up, right? Like, it was an accident. She's gonna think I'm weird for not waking her up," Remus panics, trying to stay as still as possible.

"Hey, woah," Sirius puts his hands out to calm his friend like he's a spooked animal, "She wouldn't have fallen asleep on you if she didn't trust you, right?"

He takes a breath and looks down at you. He remembers how much he stupidly likes you and relaxes a bit. "Right," he says under his breath.

"Good," Sirius sighs.

He's not entirely sure how you've done it. It's loud at this party and the two seater isn't the most comfortable place to be. He then thinks about how if it were him in your position, he'd do the exact same thing. He trusts you enough to fall alseep on, despite the circumstances. He's sure his are different to yours, though.

He let's you get comfortable where you've got your cheek smooshed against his shoulder and hopes his sweater isn't too scratchy. Your lips are parted in the slightest and your nose keeps twitching. He remembers how tired you'd told him you were and hopes this moment of rest is enough to help until you have to go home.

He really wanted to talk to you tonight, maybe, if he'd found enough courage, he would've asked you on a date. But he's just as content with letting you use him to sleep comfortably. He envies it really, because he could also use a power nap.

He tries his best to keep you alseep, a hand around your shoulder to keep you shielded from rowdy partygoers but knows it's inevitable that you'll wake. The room starts to fill more as the sun falls behind the horizon and he feels you start to stir.

You lift yourself from his side and blink yourself awake. You look around the room confused, the cutest pout on your lips, before you catch Remus to your side. Then, you startle.

"Oh my god," you say, and hold your hands to your cheeks, "Remus, I'm so sorry!" You start to come into yourself and can't stop smiling. You duck your face into your shoulder and try to act unaffected, though you fail.

"It's okay," he says, and because while you were asleep, he'd swelled with courage, he wraps an arm back around your shoulders and encourages you back into his side. He's not forceful with it but you snuggle back into him like it's second nature and he melts. "I kind of liked it."

"Oh," you say under your breath, but because you're so close he can hear you. He treasures this position dearly, because most of the time you're too shy to speak as loudly as you should.

"You're cute when you sleep," he says, pushing it really, he expects to run out of confidence soon. "It's too loud in here, but I think you were snoring."

You groan and cover your face with your hands, bubbling with embarrassed giggles. "Stop it," you say, flustered and airy, "Was I really?"

"No, I'm kidding, sweetheart," he laughs, nudging your shoulder with his own, "It's okay, you were fine."

"Good," you say, looking at him through the parts in your fingers. "At least I didn't drool, I do that at home sometimes." You take your hands from your face but you still seemed flustered.

"Really?" he laughs.

"Yeah."

He doesn't stop himself from saying, "Well, I'll have to see that one day." He doesn't regret it when you start to roar with laughter.

"Are you inviting yourself back to my bed, Lupin?" you ask through pretty giggles.

"Is that okay?"

You tuck your head back into his side and try to hold back your laughter. He thinks you're trying to hide your flustered face. "Of course, it is."

[singmyaubade]

we are sorry

warning : mentions of cursing

sypnosis: a prank gone wrong

poly!marauders x upset!y/n

you were deeply upset at your boyfriends, they were sincerely pissing you off. it all started with them talking to other girls, making them laugh even.

then it was the fact that they were forgetting your entire relationship with them, i mean you knew that sometimes they could tend to get busy or distracted but it was getting to you.

and your period was making it worse.

you weren't even smiling anymore.

your emotions were off the radar and you just couldn't deal with anything without getting aggravated and what made it worse was that your birthday was today.

they hadn't even said happy birthday or anything, not even a card or flowers.

you didn't even think they would attempt to do anything for it.

little did you know, they planned a grand birthday party that they knew you would love and ignoring you was just adding to how busy they were because of the planning.

but they knew that they couldn't ignore you forever so they decided to have a good old prank to make you laugh, just to add to your birthday.

they of course knew it would make you laugh because that stuff always did and you didn't mind them as long as they were justified and not cruel.

and they had everything planned out for severus snape as soon as he would walk into the classroom.

a bucket of yellow paint would fall with a bunch of feathers that was impossible to get out and then he would trip on some rope, humiliating him.

it was perfect.

snape was always late to class and everyone else stayed consistent so there was no chance of this prank going wrong.

they even knew that slughorn wouldn't notice anything because he liked the boys so much.

but it turns out, you were gonna be a little late to class. you had accidentally misplaced your button up and had only found it five minutes after class started.

the marauders were wondering where you were but they figured you weren't attending and they would check on you after class.

you were running to slughorns classroom in a panic, hoping he would let you off with a warning.

you noticed snape was behind you as you started running but you ran ahead of him, trying to get to class fast. your backpack was hanging on your arm as you didn't feel the need to re-adjust it.

as you were in front of the classroom you opened the door to step in but before you could even take at least three steps in, a bucket of yellow paint and feathers dropped on your hair and all over your clothes and shoes, even your backpack.

the marauders looked horrified as the entire class gasped including slughorn.

it was in your eyes and you could barely see anything but yellow as you stepped forward and tripped on the rope, completely on the floor.

"ms l/n!" slughorn yelled but not coming over to where you were but instead trying to calm down the class.

some slytherins in the class started laughing and even a few from other houses as you started crying.

your skirt was completely flopped up which showed your panties.

the marauders ran over to you as remus and james tried to helping you stand and sirius tried getting your backpack but you knew they were up to it, "get the fuck off of me!" you yelled at them as you left your backpack on the ground, trying to stand but slipping on the paint and landing on your knee.

you were in extreme pain but that didn't even matter in the slightest.

"y/n, we are so sorry." remus apologized as if he was on the brink of tears.

you were mortified but honestly just so upset that you couldn't breathe.

"please let us help you." james said, grabbing on your arm.

you snatched it away, "just please fuck off of my life." you snatched your hand back.

you were uncontrollably sobbing and you couldn't see a single thing as you stood up to run out of the classroom.

you ran to the nearest bathrooms and looked in the mirror to see your hair completely soaked with paint and it was very pigmented.

you had never felt so humiliated in your life.

paint was all over you and you couldn't even get it out with water or a paper towel.

you were silently crying, just trying to get it out of your hair but it wasn't coming out.

the marauders had no idea where you had ran and they had never felt so guilty in their life and they had no idea what to say to you.

this was extremely bad.

you didn't even come out of the bathroom.

you just sat on one of the toilets and cried your eyes out.

this was the worst day of your life.

and it certainly wasn't a birthday you would forget.

[bobluvbot]

drivers license

pairing: james potter x f!reader summary: 'cause he said forever, but now you drive alone past his street. notes: muggle&modern!au, angst, reader gets in a slight panic attack. james as your high school bf :') first fic in a looong while, pls be nice! 2.6k wc

The moment you set the parking brake on, the evaluator began writing furiously on the long sheet of paper. 

You should be combing through your actions and decisions for the twenty minutes that seemed to go by quickly, but you don’t. You know you did your best. You remembered what those green arrows and red signs meant. The yielding and the measured speeds. That the car follows where your eyesight lands so you have to be careful on what you set your focus on. Everything by the book.

Why is it that the things that stick would be those taught to us by the people who are simply not there anymore?

But then again, you remember that you also made hard brakes that made both you and the evaluator lurch an inch forward; and you got confused when he tried to distract you by fidgeting with the trinkets your mom left in her car and asking about it, like her work name tag. So who really knows if you get this or not? 

You probably wouldn’t. Damn, you already bought your own key ring and neck pillows for this car, and your mom called off from work for this---

“..you’ll be getting your license in a few days or so in the mail so continue checking for that.”

Your what? You stare at the man blankly as he hands you the sheet before unbuckling his seatbelt. You could tell he was confused at your blank stare, so he reiterates, “You passed. You have to go inside to get your temporary license, ‘cause the card one will take a while to arrive.”

You could have gone with a more sensible, mature choice of words. He always gushed about how he loved your wit whenever you both were writing or doing something with words. He would get this idea of a feeling he wants to put down, but it couldn’t fit in the tone he was going for, so he’d ask you for a word or a phrase that encapsulated all that. It would be a perfect fit most of the time; and if it wasn’t, he’d work around it and be stubborn about not changing it ‘till he has to (even if you assure him many times that you won’t get mad). You asked him once why, and he says so nonchalantly, as if he did not set alight fireworks and butterflies in your chest, that his works are collages of his feelings, memories, and the people he loved most. 

But despite all that, you were just able to give the evaluator an “Oh my god?!”, complete with a gaping mouth; to which he responds with an emotionless ‘congratulations’ before shutting the door and walking away.

When you got out of the car— still in disbelief and in confusion— you hyperfocus on how your parking was too askew that it took two spots in the lot.

You inwardly groan as the fact that you can legally be incarcerated now for driving above the speed limit when you’re late for class start to sink in more. 

Your mom would probably be so giddy once you meet her at the waiting area, carrying that tiny white slip that had ‘temporary license’ plastered across it, since she’s not going to pay for driving school anymore, plus the fact that she’ll be free from having to drive you to school and around the city anymore. 

To be honest, you weren’t planning for it to end like this. You– no you and James– actually had the perfect plan months prior. Test day would be on the twenty-fifth. You’d go around town by the twenty-sixth to go get party supplies, groceries for dishes he wanted to cook, and order his cake for pickup the day after. Then on his birthday, twenty-seventh of March, You’d come over to the Potter house to celebrate with everyone, and before the day ends, you’ll drive him around San Francisco. You’ll both pretend to be tourists, joining the crowd of visitors as they marvel at the city’s popular spots, as if you and James didn’t grow up having these places a short drive away. 

You love your home. Even with the everpresent traffic, lack of decent parking, and ridiculous prices of nearly everything the city sports, going home to the suburbs everyday provided balance. ‘We have the best of both worlds’, James would say. ‘We both can go out and be whoever we want in the city, but we still have the familiar quiet to go home to.’ 

He made loving this place easier— even if you can’t walk to the nearest McDonalds anymore since it’s a good drive away, far from having your old school, the library, the park, and a Walmart being in the same plaza back in your former suburb, a few minutes away from Los Angeles. Everything was more spaced out here, but you never felt the gaps in between destinations. You didn’t need to, especially when there’s always James, his beloved blue Chevy pickup he inherited from Monty for his fifteenth birthday, and his endless stories about football team practice that day or the most recent shenanigans Sirius and him had devised during Minnie’s AP English class, that kept you company. 

You grew to love this place as much you did home. So much so that you never considered leaving, while James apparently did.

“Y/N, do you still have somewhere to go? I’m heading in.” Your mom says as she taps on your window, shaking you from your reverie. You got home a while ago. She finished unloading all the groceries from the back to the kitchen inside. Those were multiple trips back and forth, yet you never noticed. A cold breeze runs past you despite the closed windows and you shiver. Not this again.

Rolling down your window, you give her the best smile you can muster up. “You can go ahead, Mom. I’ll try to drive around a bit on my own, you know, for practice.” You throw in an awkward chuckle hoping it was convincing enough for her to let you go.

“Don’t go too far now, it’s getting dark. Be back for dinner.”

You give her a nod and a smile. You wonder if she knew why, but you appreciate her for not prodding. You don’t even know why you’re acting like this.

After circling your block for the third time, you decide to park the car under a willow tree, taking time and effort to park flush against the curb for no reason at all. You just think maybe somewhere, somehow, a familiar voice will pop up behind you and gush about your near-perfect parking skills.

It was, what, two months ago?, that you saw that car sticker on James’ Etsy cart that said ‘cute girls hit curbs’. It was right after a (semi-successful) driving session after school, and James decided that it was a parallel parking day. He had knowingly directed you to a busy city street, where the only available parking was street parking, and everyone seemed to get the memo of his evil agenda and parked irregularly, leaving you with little to no choice but to squeeze your mom’s family van in between them. 

With a number of curb hitting that would’ve sent your mother’s insurance agent to consider hiking up prices just for the fact, you were close to tears. 

James was quick to drop his teasing smirk as he saw how your face fell, dejected. With a warm smile, he placed a hand on your shoulder and gently reassured you, 'Hey, you did this perfectly on your own a few hours ago, you got this, doll.”

“No, James,” you choke out, trying to stifle down the sobs down your throat. Someone honks behind you, and your body took it as a cue to start hyperventilating, the shivers making its way down the nimble fingers clutching the wheel hard. “I don’t think I can, there’s so many cars—”.

James was quick to roll down his window to gesture something to the other car. Could be an expletive to tell them to fuck off or a kind wave to tell them to go ahead (James could’ve easily done both), but the car moves away nonetheless, returning you both back to the earlier predicament.

He tried to redirect your attention back to him without touching you, nicknames and encouraging words leaving his mouth out of habit. He learned from past experiences that in moments where you get overwhelmed with something, touch could either jolt you back to him or spur on a full on panic attack. His attempts were futile, however, as you were too entranced by watching the side mirror closest to you, flinching each time a car passes the van, even making it lurch forward if the oncoming traffic goes too fast and too close. 

Unbuckling his seatbelt and placing the car on park in quick succession, he reached over the console and gently cupped your face in both his hands, tilting your chin up to meet his soft hazel gaze. James had always looked intimidating; the most rambunctious one in his kindergarten class, the one who stood up against taller students that pick on the quiet ones, and once the growth spurt kicked in he quickly rose up the ranks, from little league to your magnet high school’s uber-selective football team. 

But he also had the kindest of eyes, those precious ones where you don’t even have to look hard and wonder what they’re feeling as it provides a window straight to their soul. It’s always a gift to feel his gaze on you, to have the privilege of knowing where the seven tiny specks of green in each iris merge with the honey brown. 

He gently cupped your face in both hands, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “Eyes on me, pretty.” 

James’ best trait was not patience, both of you had established that when you met in middle school. But when he got to know you and your tender-hearted nature, he tried his damndest to learn how. It’s crazy to think how much time spent in love can change a person inherently. You could’ve met James right then and there, and think he’s a natural. 

You shift your focus on his warm palms on your trembling cheeks, on his steady breathing. It slowed yours and soon became in sync with his. “There’s my girl. Let’s try again, hm? I'll guide you through it.”

Compelled by a mystical force, likely strong love and devotion to the boy who sat beside you, who looked at you like you’re capable of doing all things beautifully (one of which is parallel parking, apparently), you found yourself behind the wheel again with renewed vigor.

As you carefully edged the car towards the parking spot, James leaned over, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. “A little to the left,” he murmured.

“Turn the wheel slowly.” 

Firm hand on your shoulder, his steady presence gave you confidence to make adjustments based on your gut. “You're doing great, love.” You couldn’t see, but you felt the smile in James’ voice. 

Before you knew it, you were parked, albeit a snug fit. You heard shuffling, then you were wrapped in a tight embrace, bodies twisted in weird angles because you both forgot that unbuckling the belts were an option. “Knew you could do it, baby.”

You tried to throw some light punches to his chest despite your difficult position. “I still hate you for subjecting me to Geary street traffic.”

“Gotta throw you out on the deep end to learn how to swim!” he’d said, earning him a slap on the chest.

You laughed at that time, but maybe you should’ve taken that as a hint to what came next.

-

To kill time, you decide to take a picture of your temporary license and edit it for an instagram story. 

You get more and more lost through pictures and stories posted, trying to forget what you saw, that you forgot why you opened the app in the first place.

You wished, during the driving lessons, that you’d bothered to ask him, not only how to yield for an unprotected turn but also to live without him. So that you can make the most out of your senior year. So that you can drive around San Francisco without lugging a heavy heart. So that you could write songs again that weren’t about loss. So that you could be okay now that he’s gone. 

Mom says he’s not gone gone. He’s just off to college. You would be, too, soon enough. You could go to Yale too so you can be together. You give her a nod to satisfy her, to let her know it was something you’re considering; but in all honesty, you just wanted her to stop.

You and James weren’t perfect. There were ugly fights and soaked pillows and days spent without talk, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything better. You learned to finally befriend life because hatred was just too consuming to carry everyday. It was replaced with something bright and lovely you can carry around to keep you company. You’ve never felt anything remotely similar to it before. Somehow, someway, the warmth always came by when James was with you. 

One night while laying in his bed, after a long session of application essay revision, he tells you that Sirius broke off his long-term relationship because of college.

“What, why?”

He shrugs. “They’re heading to different ones.”

You were waiting for more details but he remained silent. “Just because of that?” You laugh. “That’s dumb.”

Now it was his turn to ask. “Why’s that?”

“It’s just college, Jamie. It’s just like when we go spend the holidays or summers with family. We don’t break up. We work around it. Because we know it’s not permanent. Nothing worth ruining a good relationship over.” You scoff, shifting your gaze from his hazel eyes to the white of your ceiling. “What a waste, I actually thought they were it for each other.”

He was silent. You turned to face him and he just gazed at you with an unreadable expression. “We’ll make it work like we always did, right, Jamie?”

He kissed your forehead in response. “Always.”

-

That was six months ago. 

Your knuckles turn white, a stark contrast to the black leather as you clutch the wheel as hard as you can. You could barely see through the tears that run uncontrollably down your cheeks. 

How can he be so okay now that I’m gone? 

You floor the brakes hard, flinging yourself forward before getting yanked back by the seatbelt. Some kid had kicked their red and gold striped ball towards the street. 

“Sorry!” You wave at the kids, signalling that it was okay. That they didn’t just give you a heart attack right then and there. 

You wipe your tears away in haste. It’s probably time to head home. Maybe these rogue feelings were just due to your sugar levels dropping, making both your mind and vision hazy.

But when you check your left if there’s something there you could hit, your eyes get caught on a familiar view. 

The Potter house. Same as before. It’s almost as if he’d go barreling out the doors to meet you outside, envelop you into a bear hug, and spin until you both feel dizzy with laughter. Now, his bedroom’s dark. A reminder that he’s not there. Your Jamie isn’t home anymore.

You head back to your house for dinner. 

[fuckmymunson]

Could you do virgin!reader x james potter where he shows her how to touch herself? If you're comfortable ofc!

💌: Yeah but only because I feel guilty for not posting /j.

💌; 18+!, smut, minors DNI. Fingering, tit sucking ����🏻.

"Spread your legs wider… yeah that's it" James says with a soft smile. "Good girl" He adds pushing his glasses over his nose.

Your fingers slid up and down your slick pussy, feeling absolutely mortified by being so exposed. This was a bad idea from the beginning, but, there was something about being watched and instructed by James that was thrilling.

And lowkey… hot.

"Now circle your clit with your index finger" James commands, his smile widening when you comply almost instantly. "See? Is that easy"

The way he talks is so sweet in contrast with the filthy way he looks at you. The pressure on your clit makes you release a shaky breath, as your eyes close. You don't hear him moving, and when you open them again James is standing next to you at the edge of the bed.

"Don't close your eyes" His tone his still sweet but firm. "Speed up"

And you do. Tight, fast circles on your clit work wonders. Your body shakes with pleasure, the good feeling crashing in small waves. Your chest rises with longing and that desirable climax is building on your lower stomach.

"Put one finger in" James says in a low, husky voice, leaning closer. He is now sitting at the edge. He presses a soft kiss on your forehead, smirking against your glowing skin.

Following instructions, it doesn't even hurt when you do so. The wet sensation of your tight pussy squeezing your finger it's rather foreign, since it's probably the second time you ever fingered yourself; Something James found baffling.

"Does it feel good?" He purrs in your ear, running his fingers over your neck down to your collarbone.

His index and thumb find your hardened nipple, pinching very slightly. You moan at the feeling, stopping the movements in your pussy for a second. "Don't stop, princess" He says. You resume your movements, sliding your single digit in and out your dripping cunt. "Good girl… now add another finger"

With a slight sting of panic, you nod subtly. Your middle finger joins the first one and this time it adds the tiniest bit of stretch. The discomfort quickly melts when James replaces his fingers on your nipple with his mouth. His tongue flicks the hard nub with practiced ease, enjoying the breathless gasp that escapes your plump lips.

"See? It feels good" He says against your breast, licking it a bit more. "We need to loosen you up a bit more darling, or else my cock won't fit your tight little pussy"

His bold words send another wave of wetness between your legs, as your wrist speeds up a little. "Curve your fingers upwards princess" James then instructs, licking your nipple in the process. His hand sneaks down in between your thighs and his thumb quickly finds your clit.

"Feel that baby?" He murmurs, rubbing lazy circles over your clit. "That's your G-spot"

Then it hits you, and your whole body curves upwards. This is a whole different sensation. You moan louder than before, and James has to bite back a laugh, purposely ignoring the uncomfortable hard on he has inside his trousers right now.

"Keep going, make yourself feel good princess" James says one last time before returning your mouth to your tits and speeding up his motions over your clit.

He sucks on your tits and nipples until they're harder than ever and almost swollen, James absolutely adores your tits, he could suck on them for hours.

Your fingers move and move and every single stroke over that spot James just showed you feels like touching heaven. The wet sounds of your pussy dripping down with desire are sinful and borderline obscene. You begin to moan a bit louder, as your eyes roll to the back of your skull.

James applies more pressure on your swollen bundle of nerves, sending you to another state of pleasure that you could only imagine in your dirtiest fantasies.

The orgasm crashes into your body and every nerve without warning. Crying his name in delight you shut your eyes, the force of your climax forcing your legs to snap close and shiver. Your fingers are now covered in your release, glistening under the dim lights of the room.

"See? Good girl" He praises you, kissing your lips lovingly. James grabs your hand from between your thighs and brings it up to his mouth, licking your fingers clean and humming at the taste of you.

"Are you ready for my cock?"

Sorry for any mistakes! English is not my first language. Thank you for reading!˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

[bealovesmarauders]

invisible string / james potter

⋆ ࣪.      ⁺⑅     ⋰˚     *.ﾟ    .˳⁺⁎˚     ˚⁎⁺˳ .    ༺ ˖

james potter x fem reader

word count: 4k

in which james potter has a quidditch injury, and, in healing, meets someone special <3

and isn’t it just so pretty to think, that all along there was some invisible string?

a/n: i've left reader's illness ambiguous because many people go through many different things, however this is heavily based off of personal experience. TW for hospitals, illness, and swearing (kinda??). this is my very first fic so i hope you all enjoy! you are not alone. you are beautiful. you are valid, & my inbox is always open if anyone wants to talk <33 likes & reposts are very appreciated especially as i'm trying to grow my account!!

⋆ ࣪.      ⁺⑅     ⋰˚     *.ﾟ    .˳⁺⁎˚     ˚⁎⁺˳ .    ༺ ˖

the hospital wing is quiet, and james potter is lonely.

he has never been this isolated before. he's sunshine, really- constantly soaking up love, light, and laughter. james thrives off of other people, and the fun that comes with them. merlin knows he's never turned down a prank- never missed a gryffindor house party- never passed up the opportunity to sneak into hogsmeade. but then again, james has never had a quidditch injury this bad either.

it was a normal practice, as it goes. he'd tweaked his shoulder about a week prior during a particularly rough collision with a hufflepuff player during a game, but he'd brushed it off- it was nothing. remus, naturally, had worried- "you'll make it worse, prongs,"- but the pain went away almost instantaneously due to a handy numbing spell flitwick had taught in charms a few months before. honestly, james had forgotten about it (among the numerous assignments he'd forgotten to do for both potions and transfiguration). but this practice had gotten...rowdy, to say the least, and he'd fallen off his broom, landing on his left arm and shoulder while attempting to show off a trick with the golden snitch.

he'd never felt any pain like it, really. madam pomfrey had performed a basic charm to mend his fractured collarbone, but there had been severe nerve and muscle damage to his shoulder, arm, and back. “we'll have to wait it out," the matron had told him, “but you musn't move it."

james knows he was impatient, but waiting is difficult when you're always the first at everything. the first young seeker in gryffindor history to catch the snitch and win the house cup in sixty years, the first student to ever get detention from professor dumbledore, always the first to down a shot at a common room party. in hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have snuck out to attempt a workout a few days into his stay at the hospital wing. “but what do you expect me to do?" he'd argued with professor mcgonagall when she found him cradling his injured arm close to his body in the common room rather than the hospital wing. “you let remus read and do his studies when he's ill! why not me? quidditch is my destiny!"

so now james is going on his fifth night in the wing, and madam pomfrey estimates he'll be staying for another week due to the damage caused from his impromptu exercise session. the matron is kind enough, and her touch is gentle on his shoulder, but no amount of gobstones with sirius and remus when they're out of class can cure james's boredom.

the wing is often empty. there's always an occasional illness, or spell gone wrong, but the healer witch always whips up a healing potion or casts a helpful charm in no time. it's her job, james knows, and so is confiscating the snitch in his pocket. but sometimes he wishes he would have a companion who lasts more than a few hours. maybe it's awful of him to think- that there would be someone in bad enough condition so that he could make a friend. and so james sulks.

but today, that changes. and, as james potter is soon to realize, fate- whether it be quidditch or love- often finds its way.

-

james hears many things when he wakes up in the middle of the night. voices- not unusual, but louder and more urgent than the typical hum of the hospital wing, especially at this time. forcing his eyes open and fumbling for his glasses, he draws the pale green curtains around his bed open to investigate the hubbub. to his surprise, his assumption in the multitude of voices is correct. through the darkness, james can just make out madam pomfrey in her crimson dress across the room, along with professors mcgonagall and dumbledore crouched around a rickety metal bed matching his own. madam pomfrey appears to be quickly mixing up a lavender potion, and mcgonagall and dumbledore step aside to speak in hushed whispers just loud enough for james to hear snippets.

“...very sick..”

“...st. mungo's..”

“..excused from classes..”

james's brow furrows, straining his eyes and ears for more. a sliver of moonlight passes through the latticed window above him, and he can barely see a figure on the bed being tended to by madam pomfrey. even the thought of st. mungo's seems extreme. but then madam pomfrey's voice, usually calm (or peeved), cuts through the night air shrilly.

“albus! minerva! i need your assistance-”

james sits up straight to catch a glimpse of what's happening, wincing from the hot flash of pain radiating from his arm and shoulder. but as the professors rush past him, dumbledore pauses before flicking his wand, consequently drawing the pale green curtains around james's bed closed.

“mr. potter,” he says with a tone james can't quite decipher, “there is something to be said about prying eyes on a night such as this one.”

with these cryptic final words, james runs a hand through his dark curls and falls back on his pillows, defeated and slightly ashamed of his own curiosity.

but, as we all know, the sun will rise again in the morning.

-

when james wakes, madam pomfrey is bustling around, and everything seems normal. normal, until he catches a glimpse of the figure in the bed. it's a familiar face, james realizes- a girl in his year, friends with lily evans and partnered with remus in potions class. he's seen her studying in the library on more occasions than one, studying by herself or with remus. warm sunlight pools on her bed, but her face is paler than nearly headless nick.

it takes james a moment to rub the sleep out of his eyes and regain memory of the night before. “poppy," he says, morning voice rough. “come to visit me again? couldn't keep away?"

madam pomfrey makes her way over to james to hand him his daily painkillers, a sludgy potion the texture of chalk. “mr. potter," she says severely, “how many times have i kindly requested that you address me by my preferred title?"

james is about to make a wisecrack at this, but chokes a bit on the potion instead. it's been several days, but he's not sure if he'll ever be used to the medication. “sorry," he says, grimacing. and then when curiosity overtakes him- “what happened last night- y'know, with that girl?"

madam pomfrey shakes her head, making a tsk sound. “that's not for me to share," she says. “but best not wake her."

james spends the rest of his morning chewing on buttered toast- one of the foods madam pomfrey says will help him heal quicker- and pretending to read a book on broomstick care that remus bought for him last christmas. it motivates him to get back on the field. he would do anything to polish his broom right now- he finds it relaxing, having a routine. but the words swim on the page and staring mindlessly at it does him no good, so he sips on pumpkin juice and finds himself watching the girl in the bed across the room.

she looks peaceful when she's sleeping. fragile, even, as if she might shatter into a million pieces if he were to touch her. hair fanned out on the soft pillow, she looks weak, bundled up in extra blankets. a muggle contraption that remus has mentioned before feeds a concoction of some sort through a long, clear tube into the girl's arm, and several more finicky-looking wires seem to be attached to her. that must feel awful, james thinks. he hopes she's okay. she's quite pretty, after all- it would be a shame if she was stuck in here for a while. hopefully she's out before he is.

when the girl finally awakes, looking rather disoriented, madam pomfrey rushes right back in, and james finds himself peering at a pale green curtain again. what is it with this matron and her privacy curtains? when james was getting fixed up, he was not allowed the luxury of them- instead he was forced to watch the bubbling pustules of a slytherin student beside him resulting from sudden onset dragonpox. sirius had gotten a right kick out of that one.

the rest of the marauders come to visit around lunch, and by then the curtains have opened again, revealing the girl once more. for once, james has trouble focusing on the words coming from sirius's mouth.

“...and then the spell just ricocheted off the wall and hit flitwick smack dab on the nose. he just about blew a fuse! prongs? prongs, are you listening?"

james startles when sirius's voice becomes louder. “sorry?"

remus eyes him, a concerned look on his face. "bloody merlin, you're out of it today," sirius replies, smirking. he's about to continue on with his story when james speaks.

“who's that girl?"

the marauders turn to glance. the girl is sleeping again, or has at least closed her eyes, the matron at her bedside. remus smiles knowingly.

“that's y/n l/n. she's very kind, prongs, you should make friends with her."

“isn't she friends with lily? have you moved on from your precious flower?" sirius asks teasingly. james smacks him gently on the head. “i'm just...curious. has she been in here before?"

remus gives a brief nod. “it's how we met. full moon. ya know."

james, leaves it at that- something remus recognizes as out of character, yet it doesn't go unappreciated. james doesn't want to pry, or invade y/n's privacy. maybe he'll talk to her when she wakes up. instead, james musters a smile, tries to force the trademark glint in his eye, and deals a rousing round of exploding snap with his best friends.

-

"psst!"

y/n l/n wakes up to an obnoxious sound from across the room. everything hurts, she's exhausted, and consequently, she's definitely not in the mood for mischief. regardless, she looks up. and what a sight to behold but none other than james potter.

james potter. of course it's james potter. remus's beautiful best friend, lover of mischief, master of quidditch. except evidently he still has much to learn on the quidditch front- his muscled arm is heavily bandaged, lying close to his chest in a sling. she forces herself to look up- his biceps look a little too nice peeking out of the hospital gown- and meets his deep brown eyes. “hello."

“hey," he parrots back.

there's an awkward silence in which they look each other up and down. she prays she's not drooling.

“what'd you wake me up for?" she finally asks. something in his tone has tied her tongue momentarily, and her voice is soft.

james grins. “it's lonely in here. and you don't seem to need any beauty sleep, you're pretty already."

so this is how it is. y/n blushes and smiles a little. for a moment, she forgets they're in the infirmary. “i'm y/n."

“i know," james replies. “i'm james. pleasure t' meet you."

y/n finds her voice again. “i know," she mimics. “you're friends with remus."

james attempts running a hand through his messy curls using his injured arm- presumably a flirtatious move, but it results in an exaggerated gasp of pain and eliciting a small laugh from y/n. she winces as she props herself up a bit, accidentally tugging on the muggle tubes attached to her body. to her surprise, james's demeanor changes completely, and all of a sudden he's the worried-looking one, asking hesitantly if she's okay, his voice laced with concern.

she smiles, albeit a weak one. “yeah. i'm used to it."

looking around, y/n realizes madam pomfrey is nowhere to be seen. noticing this, james clears his voice. “she's helping out with all the seventh-years. they're learning how to apparate, and there's a hell of a lot of splinching. she'll be back soon."

y/n nods, looking as if she's about to ask something. butterflies in james's stomach arise- a rare occurrence since his fifth rejection from lily evans- and the curly haired gryffindor feels as if he can tell there are words on the tip of her tongue, but perhaps she's too shy to say. “do you need anything?"

she exhales, and james realizes she's shivering despite the excess of blankets wrapped around her. “can you- can you get me a blanket? i would get one myself, but i don't think i can walk right now."

he nods so quickly she thinks he'll break his neck. “of course," he replies, and she attempts to shoot him a small smile despite the pain. james's heart flutters, and he gets up shakily from the bed. he's been bedridden for a while, so he's not used to walking, but it's clear already he's in a better position then her. making his way over to madam pomfrey's cupboard of linens and hospital gowns, james attempts to inject some swagger into his strut, prompting another small giggle. when he's finally by her bed, handing her the thick wool blanket, james's shoulder's aching more than it should, but he swallows and puts on another teasing tone. just for her.

“milady," he bows, wrapping the quilt around her shoulders as she props herself up into a sitting position. she shivers, but some color returns to her cheeks once she's started to warm up. “why thank you, kind sir. my knight in shining armor."

james stands there awkwardly holding his sling for a moment, and y/n is beginning to wonder if she shouldn't have asked him for help, but just as casually as she'd hoped, he lowers himself into the hospital bed beside her own, sitting like a little boy, criss-cross applesauce leaning back against the pillows.

a smile slowly spreads across y/n's face, and it warms james's heart. “i guess you'll be staying here for a while."

“i guess i will," james agrees, and neither of them can deny the tension in the air.

they spend the rest of the afternoon together talking and getting to know each other. madam pomfrey doesn't get back for a while- potentially prompted by a knowing remus waiting outside the hospital wing with a tale spun of sirius suffering from an unprompted vicious hiccup attack requiring immediate medical attention. (the marauders are positive that james wouldn't mind them stealing a few of his hiccough sweets from his zonko's stash if it meant more time alone with y/n.) james gets to know her favorite things- books, music, et cetera- and entertains her with stories about some of his most infamous pranks. surprisingly enough, when the matron returns, she only gives james a mild scolding for switching beds (“i'm sure you're up to no good, mr. potter,"), pours y/n another dose of medication, and- miraculously!- leaves them be.

the two grow close quickly over the next while. their conversations range from quidditch cup predictions to more vulnerable subjects, and they bond over their distaste for missing class. james knows not to push, but the elephant in the room looms over them: james growing healthier by the day, y/n deteriorating.

the conversation becomes difficult to avoid. soon, james's sling is taken off, and his new friend gasps excitedly at the news when she wakes up, stretching her arm out between their two beds to squeeze his hand affectionately. “you'll be out of here in no time," she grins, but the realization comes with a sense of deflatement. honestly, james doesn't know how he feels about it. he wants to get back to his friends, to life, to house parties, to quidditch. hell, even back to normal classes, with homework. but he doesn't think he can bear leaving her behind.

but overall, the encouragement and company of james's new friend makes resting easier, and in no time he settles into a new routine. his morning consists of waking up, taking his potion, eating, and talking with y/n, while his afternoons typically include having lunch, visiting the marauders, talking more with y/n, and eating dinner. due to the abundance of rest james is getting, he's healing faster, which pleases madam pomfrey very much- and it comes as a shock when she discharges him from the infirmary.

“are you positive?" james asks, slightly flabbergasted.

the matron gives him a dry smile.

“yes mr. potter, i am confident that you are successfully mended and i am rid of you at last."

james, elated, lets out a delighted whoop. he has to restrain himself from sweeping madam pomfrey up into a hug and spinning her around, he's so happy. but then the realization hits him- y/n. she's sleeping right now- she's been weaker than usual lately, never feeling well enough to talk for more than ten minutes. the muggle wires feeding into her body have multiplied, and the infirmary is significantly quieter, bar madam pomfrey's footsteps to check on her every once in a while. he doesn't want to leave her. that is the plain, simple truth.

james soaks in these thoughts for the rest of the afternoon, preparing to tell her when she wakes up. but she stays fast asleep. when remus and sirius come to visit and he breaks the news that he's out, he's mended, james greeted with open arms and claps on the back. but james catches the worried glance remus sends to his potions partner, dozing away in the next bed over. she looks as if she's barely breathing. it’s an odd mix of emotions. hoping to say goodbye, james eats one last meal in the hospital wing, and double checks with the matron that he’s totally healed. but all signs are clear, so he’s officially dismissed.

james stays uncharacteristically silent as he walks up to the gryffindor common room with all of his things- his sleakeasy hair potion, his robes, his stolen snitch given back by pomfrey. he's missing something- a goodbye. but he'll visit her later. he'll say farewell. because he has to. but until then, james thinks, he can distract himself. 

of course, sirius and marlene have organized a welcome-back party. even james, forever a maximalist, thinks it's a bit over the top. he loves sirius, they’re brothers, but james feels wrong being here. the only comfort he seeks is not in the fireworks terrorizing the portraits, or the butterbeer pong, or even in lily's open arms, who seems to have missed him quite a bit. it's the hospital wing he craves. calm, quiet, empty, yet filled with laughter. or rather, y/n.

dwelling on his thoughts, james takes a long sip of firewhiskey, recoiling from the scorching feeling in his throat- it's been a while. he's here, but he's not present, and remus, who's been nursing spiked pumpkin juice all night from the corner, nudges james and whispers into his ear: “go get her, prongs."

james weighs his options. he knows sirius, currently snogging someone in the corner, would say the same- the marauders are less oblivious to james's connection with y/n then he'd hoped- and when he spots a hufflepuff jock slip through the portrait with a gaggle of girls behind him, he’s fairly certain his welcome party is over. fabian prewett, outraged at the infiltration and also mildly drunk on butterbeer, slugs the intruder right in the jaw, and when the hufflepuffs have retreated and fabian's hoisted up onto their shoulders, the new hero of the night upon his pedestal, james knows it's time to leave. this is his chance.

halfway to the hospital wing, he realizes that he doesn’t actually know what the hell he’s doing. showing up at midnight to a beautiful girl’s bedside empty handed? invisibility cloak draped around his shoulders, james picks up his pace as he jogs through hogwarts all the way to the courtyard. hands assured now, he plucks some wildflowers from the grass- it’s too dark to tell what they are- and knows that he is following his heart. bouquet in hand, james is running now, sprinting up the moving staircases as quietly as possible to reach the hallowed hall that’s home to the hospital wing. half of james’s heart wants to make a scene- to swing open the doors to the infirmary with a bang- but he knows all too well how obnoxious sleep disruptions can get. so he takes a deep breath, and enters the hospital wing.

there’s a faint light that greets james as he comes in. it’s y/n- glowing wand at her side, providing enough light to read a familiar book: his broomstick care manual. her face absolutely lights up when she sees james.

“hello there mr. potter,” y/n whispers, quiet even though there’s no one else in the infirmary. “i think you forgot something on your way out.”

she holds up his book, a twinkle in her eye- one james hasn’t seen before. he rushes over to her bed, eager to gift her the bouquet. “well, you can keep it, love, along with the flowers.”

y/n buries her face in the wildflowers, immersing herself in the scent. moonlight pools through the latticed window, illuminating her face. she looks happy. truly happy. “thank you, james.”

there’s a moment, one where they are both gazing at each other, completely enamored. james is in pajamas, of all things- a heather gray shirt and plaid bottoms. it’s a contrast to the hospital gown she’s used to seeing him in. and she can’t help herself anymore, taking his hand and holding it. such a simple gesture, but one that holds such significance and weight.

that’s when james knows. all that’s left unsaid has been conveyed in the touch of a hand, and the wistful look in her eyes confirms it. he gently brushes away a stray wisp of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear, and his thumb comes to rest on her cheek, stroking it softly. and she knows, too.

“james."

a pause. 

“i’m sick. i’ve been sick since first year. i’m getting better, madam pomfrey says. but it’s a long recovery. i don’t want you to feel burdened by me. you’re not even supposed to be here. you should be at the welcome back party. lily was telling me about the planning of it. i thought you’d be pleased, you’d be having fun. back to normal, you know. but you’re here. why are you here, james?”

“i’d rather be here, love,” he tells her, truthfully. he takes a flower from the bouquet he made for her and places it in her hair. “you know i would. you’re not a burden. you’re so beautiful, sweetheart. and kind, and sweet, and funny. and anything at the party, we can do here. don’t believe me? want to dance?”

james potter offers his hand to her. she takes it, of course. and then all of a sudden she’s smiling, tears disappearing, as he carefully helps her get up and sweeps her into his arms, humming a soft melody and swaying her back and forth slowly in a slow, sweet dance- careful to not pull on any of her tubes and wires. she nestles the top of her head into the crook of his neck, and he kisses her forehead gently.

“it’s me and you against this illness, love,” he says through hums. she smiles up at him. 

“you, me, and the invisible string tying us together.”

[daintyys]

somethin' stupid

fem!reader x ex!james potter, 2k words, swearing, angst, smut

second chance romance and make up sex!!! no hate towards lily in this AT ALL! i adore her i j really felt like writing james x reader🩷🩷

3 months ago, James Potter had broken up with you. You appreciated him coming clean, you really did, but it still broke you when the words "I think I'm starting to like Lily Evans" left his mouth. He hadn't cheated, or even flirted, so there was no reason for you to hate him, yet you were furious.

You tried to avoid him in the halls at all costs, even if it meant shoving someone out of your way in order to hide yourself from him. He sometimes said hi to you, and you caught him staring at you in class, but you ignored him. You knew you shouldn't hold anything against him, but still you did. You hated him. James Potter was public enemy number 1.

"Y/N! Quit studying and start getting ready, yeah?" Marlene McKinnon shouted at you. She was getting ready with Mary McDonald, and the two of them stood staring at you with crossed arms. Lily was sitting on her bed silently, not feeling particularly welcome. You hadn't spoken to her since you and James broke up, and you felt awful for ditching her. You would make that up to her tonight.

"Alright, alright, Marls. Give me a second." You shut your potions textbook, using your wand as a bookmark for the page you were reading. You stood, giving Lily a weak smile. You were so incredibly guilty.

Once you were ready, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You thought you looked pretty damn good. You had on a plaid skirt, black cardigan, and a shiny new pair of boots. You applied a layer of red lipstick, and braided your hair as you and your friends left the dormitory.

You walked beside Lily, ready to start your little apology spiel. Things hadn't even ended up working out between her and James, so you should have spoken to her 2 months ago when they decided they weren't right for each other. "Hey, Lily." You mumbled, turning to her. Her head perked up instantly. "Hi Y/N." She replied, a hurt expression on her face. "I've missed you. So much." You whispered, not wanting to get Marlene and Mary involved.

Lily took a moment to respond. When she finally did, she had tears in her eyes. "I missed you too, oh my God. I am so sorry about you and James." She hugged you tightly, and you held her close. "It wasn't your fault, Lily. It's my fault I didn't even try to get an explanation from you." She giggled into your shoulder. "Yeah, that was pretty fucking stupid."

You and Lily were fine now, and that made your night incredible. You stayed by her side all night, laughing and catching up. You and the girls were just leaving Madam Puddifoot's when you heard a loud sound behind you. Turning around, there you saw them: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew, and, of course, James Potter.

You then noticed a trail of light coming straight for you. "Y/N! Watch out!" James screamed. He was too late.

Bang!

Next thing you knew, you were on the ground, feeling particularly nauseous and cold. You looked around frantically as you saw your friends and the boys run over to you. You almost screamed as James Potter bent down and effortlessly picked you up.

"You won't be able to walk for a little bit, that was a leg-freezing charm." He stammered, a guilty expression on his face. "You're a real goddamn genius, Potter. Were you trying to kill us?" Marlene shouted, just about to knock all 4 of the boys out. "I didn't know it was you guys!" James boomed, holding you slightly closer to him.

You could feel his heart racing as he carried you back up to the castle. He was extremely flustered, his cheeks bright red and breathing heavily. Marlene was still going back and forth with the boys, to your dismay. You weren't surprised by their stupidity, as you had put up with it for almost 5 months when you dated James.

Once inside the castle, you were shivering profusely. "Y/N, I am so bloody sorry." James whispered in your ear, gently rubbing your arm to keep you warm. "I-It's okay, not surprised a-at all." You chattered, avoiding eye contact. He scoffed, grinning down at you. "If you don't mind, I can help you out while this wears off." He almost mouthed to you. You nodded hesitantly, not wanting to admit to yourself you still had feelings for him.

You reassured your friends that you would be just fine before you were carried off to the boy's dorm. Lily gave you a knowing smile as you disappeared up the stairs, and you tried not to laugh.

James laid you gently on his bed. You had missed it there. "Still smells like shit in here." You cringed, pulling his comforter around yourself. "Yea, guess it does." You could tell he was nervous. "What's the real reason you wanted to help me out?" You asked, an annoyed tone in your voice. James sat on the edge of the bed and looked at you briefly before turning away. "I guess I missed you." He muttered, staring down at the floor.

Your heart skipped a beat, and then your throat began to burn. Don't cry, oh fuck, don't cry. And then the tears started to stream down your face. "Oh god, oh no- Y/N, please don't cry." He scooted closer to you, putting an arm around your shoulders, which just made you cry harder. "Shhh, I'm so sorry." James comforted.

"I fucking hate you, James!" You wailed, attempting to shove him away from you. He knew better than anyone that what you needed when you were upset was comfort, so he continued holding you. "I know you do, sweetheart, and I deserve that. I hurt you." You sobbed hard, and then finally gave in. He was trying to make it up to you.

You burrowed your face in his chest, taking in his scent. You missed this. You missed his scent, and you missed how safe you felt with him. "I should have gotten you back earlier, Y/N." James cooed, stroking your hair. "Yeah, you should have." You mumbled into his chest. "It broke my heart not being able to talk to you for so long." James confessed. You calmed down, and looked up at him sadly. "I hate seeing you cry, honey. I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He promised.

"These last 3 months have been hell, James." You admitted, still letting him hold you. "Oh I know, they've been awful for me too. I should have never let you go." He said, wiping a tear from your cheek. "I was confused about my feelings for Lily and didn't know what else to do other than let you down easy." You nodded, you truly did undersand, it was just hard to accept you hadn't been the only girl on his mind. "I know, James. I also shouldn't have ignored you."

"The charm isn't going to wear off for a while, so I would maybe suggest a hot shower..." James sighed, running his hands up and down your freezing legs. "Don't try and get in my pants, James." You scowled at him. His mouth formed a wide grin. "You know that's not what I meant!" You couldn't help but giggle at him. "Yeah, I know, you just want to help me." You said as you slowly pulled off your cardigan.

You heard James' breath hitch, and he looked away from you quickly. "I'll help you to the bathroom, but I don't want to invade your privacy." He whispered, face turning beet-red. "It's nothing you haven't already seen, Jamie." You cooed.

He slowly turned back to you as you were unhooking your bra. You knew how nervous James got when you were alone together, so it felt good to get to tempt him again. His tongue flicked out of his mouth and licked his lips, now staring at you shamelessly.

You both missed this feeling, hardly being able to keep your hands off of each other. "C-Can I?" James faltered, eyeing your tits. You nodded, and without another word his mouth was sloppily kissing one of your breasts. You opened your mouth slightly and shut your eyes. This was it. This had to be the best feeling ever.

He nipped at your boob and sucked your nipple, and you felt him smile as you let out a moan. "Shit- this is really great, James, but my legs..." You trailed off. His mouth disconnected from your breath and he looked up at you with a dazed expression. "Shower then?" He suggested. You nodded, and were instantly picked up.

His hands cupped your ass and he kissed your neck desperately. James needed to be as close to you as possible. You were breathing hard, anticipating what was to come.

Once in the bathroom, you were placed temporarily on the ground while James turned on the shower. You finished undressing yourself, and waited for James to do the same. He looked down at you, a smile forming on his lips. "You're so gorgeous, Y/N." He spluttered, eyeing the bulge in his trousers.

You were one step ahead of him, and sat up straighter to unbutton his pants. He gasped quietly as you pulled his pants down, revealing his hard. "Can I, Jamie?" You said, looking up at him enticingly. He could have finished right then and there. "Yes, fuck, yes please." James whimpered.

You pulled his boxers down and immediately began to fist his cock. He held onto the counter, knuckles turning white. "Dammit, Y/N." He hissed through his teeth. "That good, hm?" You mocked, running your thumb over his tip. James breathed in sharply, and quickly took off his shirt. "Need you." He mumbled as he picked you up again, bringing you into the shower with him.

Your body relaxed as the hot water hit you. Your legs were beginning to have feeling in them, but that wouldn't matter in a few minutes. James kissed you hard, cupping your ass once more. He slipped his tongue into your mouth desperately, and you moaned in approval.

"Merlin, you're so great." He panted as he took himself into his hand. "Why do that when I'm right here, Jamie?" You asked innocently. His cock shuddered as you spoke. "You're right, love." He lined himself up at your entrance, pressing your body against the wall of the shower. "You ready?" James asked, leaning his forehead against yours. "Yes, I am." And with that he was gently pushing into you, coaxing moans from your throat.

"So good, oh shit." He whined, tickling your neck with his hot breath. He began to buck against your hips, slowly and gently. You unravled as he thrusted inside you, and clawed at his back. "Oh God, baby." You squeaked, moans falling out of your mouth.

James fucked you harder, sucking on your neck with skill comparable to a vampire. "Doing so good, love." James breathed as he noticed your legs begin to shake. "Got feeling back in your legs, hm?" He laughed. You found it so attractive how he could still joke like that while fucking you.

James started to get sloppy, his thrusts becoming offbeat and lazy. Your legs began to clench around his hips, and the walls of your pussy tightened around his cock. "Shit- gonna cum-" James pulled out of you, cumming on your stomach. You released as well, letting out a shrill moan.

You leaned your forehead against James' again, and smiled. He looked into your eyes, pupils wide and longing. "You're amazing, Y/N." He whispered, peppering your face with kisses. You giggled, and held his face in your hands. "I really missed you." You proclaimed, rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs. James nodded and set you on your feet lightly. "I'm sure I missed you more."

He cleaned his mess off of you, kissing your stomach as he did so. "Pretty girl," He cooed as he began to wash your hair. "Can we try again? At us?" You spun to face him quickly, a grin across your face. "You think I would let you shag me if I didn't still want to be in a relationship with you?" You said laughing. James went red, embarrassed. "Well, I dunno, you can be confusing." He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to him, hugging you to his body, not wanting to ever let go.

[mazikeenofthelilim]

JAMES POTTER IS A SLUT !

tags: 18+ readers only, smut, sub! james, dom! reader, hand job, cockwarming, teasing, mentions of reader having tits & a vagina.

one thing about james potter that you knew since you met him was that he was a slut. not a slut in a 'sleeps with everyone' kind of way and more of the 'make me cry in desperation' kind of slut. maybe thats what attracted your dominant personality to him so quickly.

you didn't know how james ended up withering in your bed but god were you happy about it.

james was sat, perched on the light pink sheets on your dorm room bed. he was a beautiful sight, his lips were slightly gaped in pleasure, his eyes were glossy and his hair was messier then usual. "mommy more please." the boy begged.

you tisked, your hand moving up and down his cock in harsh strokes. his tip was leaking precum from your motions and he tried to buck his hips against your hand. "jamie, stop moving." you look at him in disapproval.

"cant mommy, feels s-so good." the desperate boy whined out, the tears welling in his eyes finally leaking down his cheeks as he continued to try and fuck your hand.

you stop your movements, removing your hand from his cock. "you're not being a good boy jamie." you sighed, getting up from your position on the bed.

james whined once again from the loss on contact on his cock, his eyes following your movements and traveling down from your face to your breasts. "m-mommy why'd you stop." he hiccuped and pouted his lips.

you pulled the lacy black thong off your hips, giving james a small show. "you don't know how to listen james, mommy has to teach you a lesson."

james' eyes grew wide at his full name coming from your lips. you never called him james, it was always jamie or prongsy. he now knew he was definitely in deep shit.

your hips swayed as you got back onto the bed, moving and positioning yourself on james' lap. your pussy was slightly hovering over his very red and dripping tip. "you gonna be a good boy ?" you question.

james nods his head quickly, a sight that you almost awe at.

you grab his twitching cock, positioning it at your entrance and slowly push yourself down onto it. your tight pussy swallowed his cock inside greedily.

james let out a loud moan, trying to stop himself from fucking into you. "so-so tight mommy." he whimpered.

you sat still as you took every inch of him into you. "no moving jamie, this is apart of your punishment." you start pecking kisses onto his neck, biting down onto it softly as you left marks on his pale skin.

james was seemingly having a hard time. his eyes were filled with lust, his cock twitching inside of you.

you tighten your walls against him, pushing his limits. you knew he would never disobey you willingly because james secretly loved cockwarming as much as you did.

"i cant. i cant mommy i cant." james wasnt even lasting two minutes with you wrapped around his cock motionlessly.

your hand stroked his cheek lovingly, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. "yes you can, such a good boy for mommy."

.

[luveline]

how abt reader holding her hand over her mouth to silence her cries because she was never allowed to cry freely in her house and remus walks in on her and comforts her?

thank you for your request!! tw for implied rough childhood ♡ fem!reader | 1.1k words

Remus gets home from the shop quietly like he always does. The door is well oiled and makes no sound as it pushes open. He shucks his shoes off with a practiced ease, the reusable bag hanging from his elbow making next to no noise. Remus likes his quiet life and so do you – he's too jumpy and you've always been his little mouse, and though you have more than enough to say, you tend to say it at a moderate level. 

He adores that about you, but he'd also adore you screaming or incensed, just to be clear. 

It had been a late night trip and you've been out of sorts today. Remus had suggested you stay home and maybe head to bed if you wanted to while he walked to the corner shop two streets away for a pint of milk to make tea in the morning and something sweet for you. He hadn't disclosed that part. 

Remus puts the milk in the fridge and the bag back in the cupboard under the sink, your sweet treat in hand. 

And usually he'd say something as he walks in, feels the saccharine Dove, I missed you, on the tip of his tongue. He withholds, worried you're asleep, and then can't summon words when he realises you're far from it. 

You stand with the back of your hand pressed over your mouth and your shoulders to him, shaking with the sheer force of your sobs. Remus can't remember ever having seen you cry this hard. The only sound is your ragged breathing. Panic drips off of you in waves. 

He doesn't want to surprise you. He takes a soft step back and hits his hand against the doorway as he comes back in to give you some more warning. 

He says your name softly. 

You flinch towards him, see that it's him and turn straight back around. Your hand turns, pressed so hard over your mouth that Remus is genuinely worried you'll leave fingerprint bruises over your pretty face.

"Dove," he says, dropping the sugary treat he'd found for you on the dresser. 

You don't protest as Remus wraps his arms around your back, your shakes calming very slightly when he crosses them over your front to rub aimless lines up and down the lengths of your sides. 

He pushes his face into your neck. "Tell me what's wrong." 

You try and it hurts his heart. The very beginning of a word warped by a sob, your hand slapped straight back into place to smother it. 

"Dove, you gotta tell me." 

You shake your head.

Remus turns you in the circle of his arms for a proper hug. You cling to him, hands fierce as they bunch in his shirt, damp face pressed to his collar. Remus curls one arm behind the nape of your neck like he might protect you from the world or at the very least what's hurting you so much. 

"Please tell me what's wrong," he says, his worry a tangible nausea, a sloshing, unhappy wave. 

"I can't- can't tell you without crying." 

"So tell me while you're crying," he murmurs. 

You don't. 

Remus is very quickly realising why you might not want to cry. He knows in some part how you grew up. Wonders, though he thinks the answer would break him, how often you were told to stop crying, lest you be given a reason to.

"It's okay," he says. "It's okay. It's okay. You can cry as much as you want to." 

You make a high-pitched keen that feels like a kick to the stomach. Remus pets your back desperately. 

From then your crying is both terrifying and easier than before. You make sound, real sound, and it's devastating, but Remus is just so glad to hear it, to know you trust his word. 

"That's it, get it all out," he says. 

"Sorry," you say. It's more of a gasp than a word. 

"No, it's okay. You don't need to be sorry." 

You shake your head, damp cheek rubbing against his skin. Your sobs taper out and turn to something softer. Soon, the tears draw to an end. You breathe heavily and sniffle, your lips moving up to his neck as you force yourself further into his open arms. 

You kiss his throat. It's messy, disorientated. "Sorry, Remus."

He bites back a frown, feeling very very sad for you. "It's alright," he says, rubbing your back. "Of course it is." 

"I… It was lots of little things." 

This is a relief. Though he's surprised. "Lots of things? You wanna tell me about them?" 

"Yeah," you say, voice thick. He can hear you swallow around it uselessly. 

He pushes your face from his neck to hold it in both hands, assessing. He gives you his softest smile, and is thrilled when you smile back. 

His fingertips press into your temples lightly. "Is there something I can do now that will make you feel better?" 

"No. None of it is about you, Remus." 

"It's okay if it is. And," he strokes your cheek, "it's okay to cry about these things. You don't have to cover them up. You don't have to hide from me when you're upset." 

Your eyes close. You shudder as you lean into his touch. "I know," you say. 

Your face is sticky in his palm. 

"You wanna come and make a cup of tea with me?" he asks. 

You nod but don't move otherwise. His fondness for you is an ocean. 

Your eyes open as he drops one hand to your neck and gives you a small squeeze. "More of that later," he promises, and means it. He'll hold your face for hours if you want him to. 

But for now he wants to make sure you're all ticked off. A hot cup of tea, something to eat, a soft blanket. 

"I got you something," he says, trying to tempt you. 

You peek at what he's taken into his hand. When you realise what it is your entire face crumples and you look dangerously close to crying again as you say, "Thank you, baby." 

He sets about kissing away a sluggish tear, frantic as it curves down your cheek. "Anything for my girl, yeah?"

He wants to say, please don't cry over a snack that cost me a pound, but that directly contradicts the whole cry as much as you need to thing, and so he wipes away tears and hums to himself the whole time. "Poor girl," he says, trying for lightness as he jokes, "if you don't like it you can just say, don't have to cry about it." 

Your wet giggle is a ray of sun. He knows you'll be okay.

[yrluvjane]

𝒀𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒏 𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅 (𝑺𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔)

[Old money] James Potter x fem!reader

Material List

[SUMMARY - When billionaire James Potter falls for his cook, and now they both have to deal with the consequences that comes with their love.]

°○ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 - (4.6k)

°○ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈 - (6.5k)

°○ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈 - (5.2k)

°○ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐕 - Coming soon

°○ 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐕 - Coming soon

°○ TBD

- If you want me to add you to add a taglist, please comment.

[livinginshambles]

But what about me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: Established relationship - You're jealous of the new girl but are mature about it, James is oblivious, and he also forgets your birthday and anniversary.

Notes: So here it is, a new version. I'm not going to continue the taglist, because it is kind of a hassle to take care of. Lily is our friend. OC Rosalie sucks. James is stupid. Spelling mistakes, grammar mistakes, probably a happy ending, you know the drill.

Masterlist

“What’s on your mind?”

_________________________

You stared at James from a distance.

You shot up, your eyes widened in an alarmed manner before your posture relaxed when you saw it was Annabelle. She was a Hufflepuff ghost, a student who had tragically died during a Triwizard tournament, a few decades ago.

You shook your head in reassurance. “Nothing’s on my mind-“

“-So, the usual then?” Sirius’ voice popped up behind you and you wasted no time in elbowing him in the ribs, causing him to let out an “oomph”. You quickly waved at Annabelle who floated off.

“Watch it Padfoot,” you sternly told him, and you tried your best to give him a reprimanding look. By the laughing sound of his reaction, you failed in appearing intimidating.

“So,” Sirius began. “Big day tomorrow ey?” He wiggled his eyes suggestively. You laughed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, my birthday. Stop making it sound weird,” you huffed, and you shook your head.

“Totally worth it, Annika just walked past us with a beet red face,” Sirius defended with a mischievous grin.

“You should stop your inappropriate comments, I mean you are literally my cousin,” you stated loudly, and Sirius earned a disgusted look from another student passing by.

Sirius’ mouth hung open and then he scrambled to defend himself. “So, we’re not related at all, she was kidding!” His voice and pitch raised by the end of the sentence as he called out to the student who’d given him a not-so-subtle side eye.

You gave him a smug look. “Fine,” Sirius relented. “Truce?” You two shook hands.

“You’re not trying to steal my girl, are you Pads?” Two arms found their way around your waist, followed by a kiss to your cheek.

Sirius let go of your hand to hold them up in surrender. “I wouldn’t dare, Prongs, just chatting because she seemed lonely,” he shrugged. You shot him a glare.

“Lonely?” James’ attention immediately zoned in on you.

“He’s just talking out of his ass, Jamie,” you waved it off.

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, because you were definitely not longingly looking at Prongs here, talking to that gir-“ This time, you kicked his shins.

“Nah, I’m just pranking you, mate,” Sirius nonchalantly changed course and patted James on the shoulder while he passed him. James ignored him and focused on you.

He spun you around by one arm, held above your head like you were doing a ballroom dance. His hands quickly settled on your sides when you faced him, and he leaned over to pepper your face full of pecks. You grinned up at him and he fondly looked back before pulling you in again for a deeper kiss.

“Really?” A portrait next to you spoke up snorted. “Right in front of my salad?” He gestured to the painted salad on the dinner table in front of him.

James pointedly ignored him and instead tried to pull you a little bit closer. Not that that was possible.

“Oh, now you’re just doing it on purpose,” The man in the painting complained, and you would imagine the grimace on his face if you weren’t too preoccupied with James, who was leaving small pecks against your lips.

“Don’t like what you see, look away,” James murmured against you.  

“Disrespectful cretin these days. I would look away, but you are right in my sight,” The portrait huffed dramatically. You softly pushed James away to offer the poor man a sheepish look but found that he’d already escaped to a neighboring painting.

“So tomorrow,” James started, and you couldn’t help but get excited at the prospect of a date with James. That giddy feeling sank very quickly when James finished his sentence.

“I’ll be training our newest Chaser for the day. That’s the girl I was talking to before,” he explained. “Her name’s Rosalie James, isn’t that funny? Like her last name is James, it confused me a lot during today’s practice,” James continued, not noticing that your mind had wandered of the brunette girl.

“She even joked that if we’d get married, I could change my name to James James,” he laughed. You didn’t particularly see the humor in that.

“Anyway,” he continued, “I know I said that we would study together in the library tomorrow, but I think we should move that to Sunday.”

You frowned, “can we not just move it to the evening then?” you asked, wondering if James was really planning on spending the entirety of your birthday with someone else.

“Well, it’s from 9 o’clock until 7 o’clock in the evening, and we have a Quidditch party thing afterwards, but it’s more of a teambuilding thing. I can ask them if you can join though?” James offered.

You blinked at him in confusion before offering him a smile in return. “What, no- I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you denied. You assumed that he’d find some time to squeeze in a birthday celebration.

James shrugged. “Suit it yourself, love.”

You didn’t actually think James would forget your birthday. After all, James was literally the perfect boyfriend. He was proud to show you off to people, always ready to lend an ear when you needed to, and most of all showering you with love, any chance he gets.

But we’re all still humans after all, today was very busy so it probably just slipped his mind. That’s completely okay, you told yourself. And so, you tried to push away your thoughts, wanting to enjoy the cake that you and the girls had snuck from the kitchen as a late-night snack.

“Red velvet is the best, I swear,” Lily laughed with a sigh as she let herself fall flat on her back in satisfaction. Marlene agreed wordlessly, preoccupied with stuffing more cake in her mouth.

“Happy birthday again,” Alice smiled kindly at you, and you beamed at her. “Thank you, guys, for today, you shouldn’t have bought me the expensive painting equipment,” you said as you motioned towards the brand-new canvasses, brushes, primer, and oil paint.

“Nonsense,” Marlene replied in mock offense. “But you will paint me one day, right?” She batted her eyelashes at you. You pretended to think about it. “I mean, for 15 galleons?” you joked and then had to rush to take your words back when Marlene agreed without hesitance.

“I was only joking,” you laughed and swatted her lightly.

“Eh, leave the joking to your boyfriend and the other marauders,” Lily teased you. “Speaking of them,” she started, and you looked down, knowing the follow up question. “What did they get you for your birthday?

“Well,” you recalled your day so far. “Peter, Remus and Sirius gifted me an expandable suitcase, so I can put all my collectables in there.”

“Damn,” Alice whispered. You sheepishly scratched your head. “Yeah, it took me by surprise too. Last I checked, it cost way too much. I sure hope they acquired it in a legal manner,” you joked.

“I mean, both Sirius and James are well off, so maybe they could afford it and actually bought it,” Alice joked along.

You shrugged. “Oh, James didn’t pitch in for the suitcase. Remus said that he’d told them he was getting something more personal for me,” you said.

“Ugh, what a sap,” Lily commented lightheartedly, and you agreed with a chuckle. “So, what did he get you then?” Lily asked exasperatedly, already expecting something ridiculously grand.

There was a beat of silence.

“Uh, I’m not sure, we didn’t get around to celebrating my birthday together,” you settled on answering.

“What?” Marlene, Lily, and Alice asked in chorus.

“He was busy,” you defended James.

“The entire day?” Marlene squinted her eyes, absolutely seeing through your bullshit excuse. You shrugged in response but nodded your head. “The entire day?” She repeated in disbelief. “Like he couldn’t pop in in the morning or during breakfast?” You shrugged again.

“I guess he forgot,” you mumbled, starting to feel down again. Alice quickly caught on to that and decided to change the subject, trying to cheer you up. “Anyway, should we picnic tomorrow by the lake?”

You exhaled in relief. “I would love that.”

Sirius and James entered their dorms and greeted the other two marauders. “And? Did she like the suitcase?” Sirius immediately asked while he made himself at home on the foot end of Remus’ bed.

“Definitely, like she couldn’t believe it. She even did the happy wiggly dance,” Peter and Remus laughed at the memory. Sirius held his hand up to high five them and grinned in victory. “I told you guys, she needed someplace to put all that stuff she collects.”

James had been utterly confused since he stepped into the room and was not at all following the conversation. It was definitely about you, he figured that much from the wiggly happy dance. But what on earth were they buying you stuff for?

“You guys gave Y/N a suitcase?” He asked cluelessly.

“Yeah, why?” Remus inquired, eyebrows raised. “Is that not up to standard to the great James Potter?” He sarcastically asked, already expecting James to start gloating about whatever he got as a present for you.

“Well, if you guys have that much money in abundance to spend, save some for great pranks too,” James complained jokingly.

Sirius stared at James in confusion. “Huh?”

Peter tilted his head while examining James’ facial expression of confusion and then hesitantly asked. “James, did you forget about Y/N’s birthday?”

Time stopped for James, and he could hear his heart beat loudly, blood rushing to his ears as realization dawned on him, entirely to slowly.

“Merlin!” he loudly cursed, wide-eyed.

At his confession, Remus and Sirius’ jaws slacked. “You forgot!?” They shouted in unison.

Peter covered his ears at their yelling.

“Y/N!”

You turned your head, trying to find the source and halted in your step when your eyes landed on James who was frantically making his way through the hordes of students, crowding the corridor. He had been trying to find you since breakfast.

“Yes?”

James stopped in front of you, out of breath, a little flushed in the face and an apologetic expression adorned his face. You already knew what he was going to say and held up your hand to stop him in advance.

“I don’t need your apology,” you sighed out. James words died in his throat, and it took a moment for him to break out of it. “Love, I’m a right twit, I know.” He unintentionally shot you a defeated look with puppy eyes that you couldn’t help but melt for.

“How was your day yesterday?” was all you ended up asking as you continued making your way towards the library. You motioned with your head for him to follow you.

“I missed you,” James sincerely answered. He still pouted, seemingly upset, but all directed at himself of course. “I can’t believe I forgot,” he frowned. “I’ll work to be the greatest boyfriend again, I promise.” His eyes sparkled with determination, and you couldn’t suppress your amusement anymore, a smile lifting the corners of your lips.

“Well, you’re not off the hook yet, Potter.”

“Not the last name,” James whined. You shot him an unimpressed look that had him accept defeat.

“So, no kisses for you anymore,” you huffed for extra measure, in retaliation to his complaint.

“Wait what? You can’t do that, that’s so mean,” James immediately protested.

“For a week,” you added. “Forgetting about me yesterday was mean to me too.”

James’ hand made its way to intertwine with yours. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But this is still okay, right?”

You squeezed his hand. “It’s twelve o’clock right now. Do you want to have lunch first or study a little bit in the library?”

James gave you a bright smile. “Whatever you want.”

“I want you to choose,” you retorted.

“Lunch, please.”

James spent the following week almost draped over you. His entire body leaned into you, your hands always together, and every time he came in for a kiss, he reminded himself to respect your wishes, which left him burying his face in your neck instead.

It was Sunday and you hummed peacefully to yourself while you were sketching in the boys’ dorms, on James’ bed. You sat in the middle of his crossed legs, his arms were wrapped around your middle. His chin was rested on your shoulder which left him with the perfect view on your drawing in progress.

“I love you,” he quietly mumbled.

“I know, Jamie. I love you too,” you nudged him. James’ arms slipped away, and he moved away from you, you frowned at the loss of contact and warmth, leaning into the pillows behind you instead. “What are you-?”

James moved in front of you and nestled himself between your own crossed legs, back to your stomach, exchanging the position you had previously been in. He slouched a bit until his head leaned against your chest.

“My, you’re putty today, love,” you teased him softly. You closed your sketchbook and started untangling his curly hair.

“I’m really sorry I missed your birthday,” James whispered. You melted.

You chuckled and shrugged. “Sometimes things slip our mind. It just made me feel a little bummed out, that’s all.”

James hummed. “Well, I can promise you that I won’t forget about our anniversary though,” he said, voice filled with determination. You laughed. “That’s still a long time from now Jamie,” you mused.

“I’m already counting down the days so that there’s absolutely no way that I’ll forget it.”

“Hey James?”

James looked up at you.

“It’s twelve o’clock.”

James blinked twice and then a wolfish grin appeared as he practically jumped up and turned to face you, tackling you to bring you in for a kiss.

You groaned at the impact of your head against the wall behind you and James grinned sheepishly in apology before grabbing your hips and pulling you further down the bed to make space so he could finally press his lips to yours, all while completely melting into you and sighing in relief at the feeling.

And for two weeks, everything seemed to be perfectly fine. Until Rosalie joined the picture again, that is.

Dorcas sat next to you in class and elbowed you softly. “What’s up with James and that girl?” she whispered. You looked up from your notes and glanced at James who was nodding enthusiastically at a drawing that Rosalie was showing James. It was a portrait of him, and you couldn’t help but feel a pit in your stomach at how well she drew him.

Features that were so on point, up to the little details like the three tiny birthmarks that seem to disappear amidst his freckles and that one freckle on his upper lip that you often pressed an extra peck to. You knew that for such a detailed, accurate and hyper realistic drawing, Rosalie had probably spent a lot of time studying him up close.

You averted your attention back to Dorcas and forced a smile. “She’s their new Chaser,” was all you replied.

Dorcas sent another skeptical look in James and Rosalie’s direction but didn’t comment on it any further.

“Guess what, love?!” James burst into the common room where you and Remus were calmly reading. James skipped over to the couch you were sitting on and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“What?” you entertained him.

“I just made a deal with the kitchen elves and they’re going to cook us a candle lit dinner for our anniversary,” James triumphantly grinned from ear to ear as if he had just won the Quidditch cup.

Your eyes widened and you jumped up in excitement and disbelief. “How did you manage to do that?” You curiously pondered.

James puffed his chest. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he secretively replied, and you huffed and swatted him with a laugh. “We’re all magicians here, James,” you pointed out with a pout.

James leaned down to press a kiss to your pouted lips. “Just enjoy dinner with me. It’s in three weeks.” He was not about to tell you that he made a deal with the elves to go and clean the kitchen every day after supper for three weeks.

“Thank you, James,” you said, voice muffled because you had your face buried in his neck, arms around him in a tight hug.

You were incredibly excited for your anniversary, having a surprise for him as well, as you managed to get him tickets to the Quidditch world cup.

You waited for James in the changing rooms, Gryffindor had just lost an important match to Slytherin, and you knew that James would be feeling down. The Gryffindor team walked in, and you got up from the bench you were seated on. When you found James, he immediately came in for a hug.

“You did great out there, love. I’m proud of you,” you whispered.

“But it wasn’t enough,” James frowned. “They’re just always better than us, it doesn’t even matter how much we practice, because in the end, we can’t beat them.”

You stroked his hair in a consoling manner.

“And what’s the point if we can’t bloody beat Slytherin,” James spat out in frustration. You threw Sirius a look over James’ shoulder.

“Don’t say that, Jamie. You’ve won the last two games, and you don’t have to win against them,” you tried. Apparently, that was not what James wanted to hear and you would later beat yourself up for seeming to discard his feelings.

James pulled away with a frown. “But it’s not enough!” You flinched at his loud tone. “I just want-, It’s,” he let out an aggravated sound. “You don’t understand, okay. The feeling of constantly losing to the same opponent, its-“ James was struggling to find the words and you tried to apologize, alarmed, and feeling guilty.

Rosalie showed up behind James and put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, we’ll get them next time, James. She just doesn’t get it because she’s not on the team.”

You felt hurt by her dismissive statement and wanted to retort when James agreed with her. “Exactly, Y/N, you don’t even play Quidditch, you don’t know what this feels like.”

Your heart sank in embarrassment and hurt, and your mouth formed an inaudible ‘oh’.

“Come on, Prongs. It’s not her fault we lost, don’t take it out on her,” Sirius moved to stand next to James and swatted him lightly. James sighed, closed his eyes, and pinched his nose.

“’m sorry, love. That was totally uncalled for,” he admitted, and he reached his arm for you to pull you back in for a hug. You subtly evaded his arm and swiftly moved yourself to the door.

“No, no. I actually need to go meet up with Peter, so uh. You guys have fun. And yeah,” you awkwardly did a mini wave with your hand towards the  team and fled.

Sirius leaned in towards James. “Good job, mate.”

“Sod off.” You didn’t leave his mind at all for the rest of the night.

You were about to scream bloody murder when you were shaken awake in the middle of the night, but a hand covered your mouth and when your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you could vaguely make out your boyfriend.

“James?” you incredulously whispered. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”

James motioned to his invisibility cloak. “Sleep with me?” He asked and gave you a pleading look. You folded and so you tripled to the boy’s dorms under the cloak and then nestled yourself in his arms. A leg draped over his while you two fell into a peaceful slumber.

James was once again looking everywhere for you. This time with a slight sense of dread instead of the usual excitement.

When he finally found you and saw that you were laughing along with Sirius, he hesitated. He was halfway through changing his mind on addressing the issue with you when you called out to him.

“Morning!” you said, and you slid a sandwich in his direction. “You missed breakfast today, everything okay?" You asked.

James glanced at Sirius, and he excused himself and then left.

“I know we were going to go to Hogsmeade for our anniversary, but Rosalie managed to get tickets to a Quidditch game of our favourite team, and we even get to meet them afterwards. Like I can ask them for tips on playing, it’s just such an opportunity…” He trailed off when he noticed your fallen expression, which you quickly tried to cover up.

“Hey, that sounds like an amazing opportunity,” you assured him because it was true.

“We’re still on for that candle lit dinner, though?” You tried to joke, but it came off more as an insecure question.

James immediately enveloped you in a big hug. “Of course we are, 10 o’clock in the evening and I promise I’ll make it up to you afterwards.”

You laughed quietly. “You better.”

Your eyes crinkled in laughter as the kitchen elves tried their best to cheer you up and keep you occupied while James was hopefully simply running late. But by the time it was one o’clock in the morning, you decided to call it a night and thanked the elves for teaching you two new dishes and chess.

On your way to the dorms, you heard hushed whispers around the corner. When you turned it, however, you saw it was empty, but you knew better. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, contemplating if you wanted to do this now or tomorrow.

“James,” you called out.

There was a beat of silence and then the invisibility cloak slid off to reveal James and Rosalie, sneaking back inside the castle.

“Love? What are you doing up at this hour-“ he stopped halfway through his sentence with a curse.

“Wait, Y/N, this is my fault, not James’,” Rosalie piped up, but you were done with her.

“Go.”

Rosalie shot James one last glance and when he didn’t look back at her, instead still frozen, attention focused on you, she scurried away.

“I lost track of time. We went to have drinks with the players and time flashed by so quickly and then I completely forgot. And then Rosalie got sick, so -“

“Stop talking about her for a moment.” James looked at you, confused.

“Every single time, it is always you and Rosalie. It’s always her.” You didn’t bother hiding your hurt feelings anymore.

“But what about me,” you whispered defeatedly.

James shook his head. “No, it’s not her. I swear it’s not. It’s bad timing.” he firmly stated. “This isn’t even her fault, it was me and my enthusiasm to go to the game, I-“

“Why do you keep defending her?” You cut him off, allowing tears to well up in your eyes. James bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry,’ he eventually admitted.

“Yeah,” you breathed out exhaustedly. “You always are, aren’t you? Just like you always promise to make it up to me.”

“I will,” he weakly defended. “We can go back to the kitchen right now, eat food, celebrate our anniversary,” his eyes desperately searched yours for forgiveness, but in the darkness of the castle, he couldn’t find any.

“I spent three hours in the kitchen already, I’ve eaten the great food that the elves prepared for me, and our anniversary has already passed,” you coldly stated.

James’ eyes averted to his own feet, ashamed.

You tightly shut your eyes for a moment. And basked in the silence. When you opened your eyes again, you took in James’ posture. He seemed so very small all of a sudden.

Then you walked straight past him, while he was still frozen in place. When you passed him, you halted next to him and turned your head towards him. “I really hope she’s worth it, James.”

This seemed to snap him out of it, and he turned around in a flash. “Wait!” he called out in panic and immediately lowered his voice. “You’re not breaking up with me, right?” His eyes were pleading, and he looked distraught.

You scoffed softly to yourself. “I don’t want to talk to you right now. I’m tired, so I’m going to bed, or else I actually will,” you replied shortly and retreated to your dorm.

Sirius whistled when James entered the room and unknowingly started to rub salt right in James’ well-deserved wound. “One o’clock in the morning, damn Prongs. You two must’ve had fun in the kitchen. How was the food? Did you like the present? I helped her with that,” he boasted.

James shook his head, “I messed it up again, Padfoot.”

Sirius eyes squinted ever so slightly at James. “No way,” he ended up asking in disbelief.

James didn’t answer right away, and Sirius got up out of bed and approached James. Then he shoved him. “Tell me you showed up for your anniversary, Prongs.”

James who had been looking at the ground finally met Sirius eye to eye, tears pooling in his own eyes. “We just lost track of the time, and then Ro-“

“If you finish that sentence and it’s about Rosalie, I will hurt you, James Potter.”

James helplessly looked at Sirius. “But you guys have it all wrong. It’s not her fault-“

Sirius grabbed James by the collar and shook him for good measure. “Prongs, mate. Wake the bloody hell up, would you.” His eyes bore straight through James’.

“Rosalie fancies you. It’s as clear as day. She demands your attention at all times. Asks for Quidditch practice, specifically with you, for an entire day. She diminishes our Y/N’s value in front of everyone, is pretentious and makes it seem as if you two are more compatible. She tries so hard to have so many common things with you like her last name, and she literally has a sketchbook full of portraits of you, which is rather creepy. Besides, she fully knew you were supposed to be back by ten o’clock for your date. I get it man, it’s subtle, but you’re smarter than that.”

Sirius released James and sighed. “And worst of all, Prongs, is that you let it happen. And every time you do, she wins a little more until Y/N will stop playing this stupid game for you.”

James let Sirius’ words sink in and the more he thought about it, the more he realized how right Sirius was.

“I don’t do it on purpose, Pads. Believe me. I know everything looks terrible, but I didn’t realize it.” James took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes tiredly, and pulled a hand through his locks.

“I forgot her birthday, but it was just a busy day, and I don’t really have a choice as captain but to train the new players. A-and I immediately apologized to Y/N when I realized what a twat I was in the locker room. And I didn’t miss my anniversary for a date with another girl or anything, there was a once in a lifetime opportunity to meet people I’ve looked up to, and I know it looks bad together because Rosalie was involved in all those instances, but I never meant to hurt Y/N. You know I’m in love with her.”

James started pacing through the room. It was a miracle that the others hadn’t woken up yet.

“Okay, I believe you,” Sirius decided after consideration. “But maybe try properly explaining and apologizing to Y/N. And then confront Rosalie and tell her to sod off.”

James nodded. “Yeah, yeah okay. I’ll do that.” Sirius looked a little skeptically at James and then patted his shoulder before climbing back in bed, while James did the same.

He had almost fallen back asleep when James asked, “Do you think she’d forgive me?”

Sirius was quiet. He’d seen the hurt look on your face multiple times and had instead tried to keep your mind off of James whenever he saw you stare at James and Rosalie.

“I think she might break up with me, Sirius,” James whispered in a small voice. He couldn’t sleep, his mind was filled with guilt, distress and you.

“Go sleep James, we’ll figure it out in the morning.”

You took a deep breath before pushing through the grand doors of the Great Hall. You spotted the empty seat amongst the marauders and let your eyes slide across the Gryffindor table to look for James.

You found him talking with Rosalie, and you almost wanted to turn around and leave, when you spotted her sour face when he finally walked back to his seat. James wore a relieved expression and was greeted by the marauders with pats on the back in congratulations.

Sirius spotted you and waved you over, scooting over himself so you could squeeze in.

“Good morning,” you gratefully smiled at the boys and sat down. James absentmindedly loaded your favourite food on your plate out of habit and then hesitated. He hadn’t really dared look you in the eyes yet, still ashamed after lying awake all night, thinking of all the things he’d done.

When your stretched out hand appeared in his sight, he looked up and saw a kind expression on your face. He handed you the plate and relaxed a little.

“Sirius tells me you want to explain some things to me, so unless you have a date with Rosalie over there,” you gestured to the girl who was not looking happy. “We could talk after breakfast?”

James nodded eagerly, eyes wide. “Yes, please.” He stared at you, and almost frowned, wondering why you didn’t seem as angry as you did last night, or rather this early morning.

You noticed his stare and knew what he was thinking. “I told you; I was tired, upset and couldn’t deal with it then. But I’ve had a good night’s sleep. I have thought about everything and decided that I’m not going to rashly throw away two years of unconditional love and friendship between us, for things that I feel like you want to explain to me. It’s not so black and white in decisions when it comes to love and my love isn’t that fragile.”

“Thank you,” James breathed out, already feeling like crying.

“Don’t thank me, thank Pads, he is vouching for you,” you hummed. “But your explanation better be worth it. And that’ll be at least two weeks without kisses.”

Taglist:

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@lizzxoxo @empath-bunny

@quackitysdrugdealer @frxcless @notasadgirlipromise @potter-head-phanatic @anyasthoughts @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @imnikki

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hi!! this is the same anon from earlier and i saw you wanted to write for james potter. and i’m so sorry if you’ve done something similar. so maybe after a quidditch match, win or loss, all james wants to do is lie and bed with reader and hug her. but they’re not dating and he ends up confessing too, still tired, he doesn’t even realize he’s admitted his feelings

thank you again for your time:))

-can i be ‘🎀 anon’? lolol

hi lovely 🎀! thanks for your sweet words and adorable requests 😊 i hope you like it!

pairing: James Potter x reader tags: fluffy fluff, some angst, gn reader if you want word count: 1.9k

Cuddles and Confessions

So close. So bloody close. And to bloody Slytherin to top it off? The defeat stung worse than any other James could remember. 

As he lumbers back up toward the castle after the match, frustrated and furious, some Slytherin fans jeer at him from across the lawns. It pushes him over an edge, and he turns to — well, he’s not sure to what; berate them? beat them up? — a strong hand grabs his shoulder and turns him back around.

“Easy, mate. They’re idiots but they’re not worth it,” Sirius says easily. Sirius of all people being the voice of reason has James realizing maybe he needs to calm down. 

James falling into step with Sirius without a word, the two make their way back up to the castle. 

When they get to the common room, it’s packed with mad and sad-looking Gryffindors consoling each other, complaining about bad calls, bad-mouthing the Slytherins: a typical post-match defeat. 

“Thank Godric,” Sirius sighs, heading immediately to a small table stacked with firewhisky. He grabs two glasses, but James stops him before he fills the second one.

“No thanks, mate. Don’t really feel like the company,” he says, scanning the room. He admits to himself there is one face that would have made him stay, one person whose company was actually the only thing he wanted right now. But he doesn’t see you. So he stalks off, bounding up the stairs to his currently empty dormitory. 

He’s lying on his bed, tossing a ball up and down when he hears a soft knock. 

“What?” he yells, the harshness of his voice even surprising him a bit. Surprise shifts to horror when your beautiful, blushing face peeks around the door. 

“Hi, Jamie,” you say shyly. “I’m sorry. Sirius said you wanted to be alone. I should’ve listened. I didn’t mean to annoy you. I’ll just —” 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he rushes, going over to you and pulling you into his room. “I’m so sorry, love. Please don’t go.” 

You smile a bit at this, looking down at your feet before nodding slightly. 

“Ugh, I’m a prick. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His voice is soft now, warm and enveloping as you look into his pleading eyes. 

“It’s okay,” you chuckle. “I get it. Rough night, huh?” 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, smiling for the first time all day. You had a way of bringing that out in him. 

“Want a hug?” you offer. He nods immediately, internally cringing for being so uncool in front of you.

“Yes please,” he half laughs. 

You step close to him, and even this increased proximity has him reeling. He can’t wait to feel your warmth around him, to smell your hair as he nuzzles into you. 

He’d been hoping to win tonight’s match for more reasons than one. He hated Slytherin for starters. He loved winning for seconds. But also, he had been hoping a Gryffindor victory party could be the perfect place to finally tell you how he feels about you. Firewhisky flowing, adrenaline pumping, maybe he’d finally have the courage he was supposed to have as a Gryffindor and tell you the truth. 

You bring your arms up around his shoulders, pulling him close to you, bringing one hand to his messy hair and scratching comfortingly. James’s large body immediately melts into yours. He hums into the crook of your neck, and you giggle. 

“Thanks for coming to check on me,” he whispers into your shoulder, holding you close. 

“Why would I want to be downstairs wallowing with everyone else when I could wallow with you?” you tease, pulling back slightly to be face to face again. He hates how much he just wants to pull you back into him. 

“Oh, I’m much better company than those wankers,” he plays along. 

“Yes, I’m sure. Seems you’re quite chipper from your greeting.” 

He cringes and whispers “sorry” again. You shake your head quickly, wanting him to know you’re only teasing. 

The silence stretches a bit too long, neither of you knowing what to say. It’s especially awkward because your hands are still on his shoulders, his on your hips. 

“So what were you doing?” you ask, coming up with nothing better. 

“Just lying in bed, wallowing,” he confesses. 

“Sounds fun,” you chuckle. You break apart from him, the tension becoming too much and head over to his bed, plopping down onto it. He laughs and follows, sitting close next to you. “What do you want to do?” you ask, your voice low. “I came to cheer you up, but I think I’m doing a bang up job so far,” you chuckle, scrunching your nose. 

Before thinking about it, James brings his hand up to your face, lightly tracing his finger down your nose for you to relax it. 

“You’re not,” he says earnestly. “I’m already better, just having you here.” He thinks he feels your face warm where his hand still caresses it but pushes the idea down, not wanting it to be wishful thinking. 

“So what do you want to do?” you ask again gently.

“Honestly?” he asks shyly. Nervous was a weird look on him, usually so cocky. 

“Of course,” you giggle in your warmest tones, wanting him to be open with you, relishing in the intimacy you seemed to be building. 

“I want to keep lying in bed wallowing.” 

You stiffen immediately, chiding yourself for misreading his nerves. He wanted you to leave; that’s why he seemed shy. 

James sees — and feels — you tense at his words, and luckily for him, he realizes right away what you’re probably thinking. He continues before he can stop himself, dreading your leaving more than dreading saying something stupid. 

“With you,” he adds hastily. He feels himself blush, hates it, but pushes on. “I want to lie in bed and wallow… with you,” he repeats more softly. 

“Oh,” is all you can think to respond.

“I mean, just hang out, you know. I just… you just… I just like hanging out with you. And even just your hug made me feel better,” he rambles sweetly. 

You smile and pull away from him a bit. Before he can be disappointed, though, you’re pulling him with you as you shuffle further back onto the bed, lying down and bringing him horizontal with you by the shoulder. 

You’re lying next to each other, both tense, facing the ceiling, your sides grazing but nothing more. You look over at him, and he looks at you, and you both look away like idiots. 

You take a deep breath, reminding yourself he literally just told you he wanted to be here with you, clinging to that to give you the courage for what you were about to do. You turn toward him and bring your hand up to his hair. His eyes snap to yours. First they show shock but that quickly melts to adoration. Then they show nothing at all as they close in comforted bliss. You chuckle softly and see the corners of his mouth tug up at the sound. 

“Feels nice,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” you whisper too. He just nods. 

You shuffle closer to him, and he turns his body towards yours. Your arm is cramped now between your two close bodies, so you do the reasonable thing for comfort, you tell yourself, and wrap your arm under his shoulders. His face coming to the crook of your neck, you miss the huge smile that breaks out on it at the contact. 

He’s lying on your shoulder now, the rest of his body flush with yours. Your arm is around him, your hand coming up to continue playing with his hair. James brings his arm over you, hugging you close, and you place your arm on top of his. 

It crosses James’s mind that friends don’t cuddle. But he stops his internal monologue in time to savour the moment rather than over-analyse it, which he’s bound to do later.

You just lie there in silence for  a bit, the tension having eased considerably. 

In your warm, comfortable cocoon, you bring your face closer to the top of his head on your shoulder and nuzzle him a bit. He just hums in response. 

“You’re comfy,” he says. It sounds muffled, his mouth squished against your shoulder. You laugh, and it shakes him up and down the slightest bit. 

James loves the feeling of your vibrating chest just below him. He can’t help himself and tickles you where his hand rests near your ribcage. You laugh louder. You hold down his arm to stop him and playfully shake him off a bit to protect yourself from more tickling. His grip tightens in response, and he’s almost on top of you by the time he’s done adjusting himself. 

“No, no, don’t go,” he chuckles. “I’ll stop.” 

Your laughter has mostly subsided, but your voice is raspy as you respond, “Promise?” He nods into your shoulder. “Fine. I’ll stay if you behave.” 

He laughs, squeezes you, whispers, “Promise.”

Any tension that had been left has dissipated completely, and you fall into easy chat as you hold each other close. Your hand continues playing with his hair, tugging it when he says something stupid. His arm draped over you occasionally squeezing you more tightly whenever either of you says something nice. You go over the highlights of the match, lamenting the result. Without realizing it, you start talking about any and everything else, and by the time the conversation lulls for the first time, both of you chuckling lightly, James wonder how much time has gone by. Not enough, he thinks to himself, wishing this would go on forever. 

The quiet, your hand in his hair, your warmth radiating around his body, it all soothes him into a half slumber. It washes over him how exhausted his body is from the match, how tense it had been from the fury at its result.

“This is nice,” he slurs. 

“Mmhmm,” you hum. 

“I’m not even mad anymore.” He sounds astounded even in his sleepy tones. You chuckle. 

“Good.” 

“Mmmm. We’ll prank the Slytherins tomorrow. And I’ll think of another time to tell you how I feel.” Your hand halts its motions. James is still completely relaxed, and you realize he’s pretty much half asleep, not truly realizing what he’s saying.

You don’t want to take advantage of him in this state, but you want to be honest with him too, and he clearly wanted to talk to you about whatever this was. 

So, you warmly whisper, “How do you feel, Jamie?”

“I love you,” he mumbles. You’re melting at his words, and you can’t wait till tomorrow to say them back. You shift your weight so you’re more facing James than under him, and this rattles him a bit more awake. His drowsy eyes are heavy initially but then they startle slightly. Before he can worry or regret, you hold his face gently in both your hands, your thumbs caressing his cheeks. 

“James…” He just looks deeply into your eyes, his eyebrows furrowed, not saying anything. “I love you, too.” 

His face shifts as if in slow motion. His eyebrows rise; his lips smile widely; his eyes crinkle.

“You love me?” He sounds equal parts giddy and disbelieving. 

“Yeah, I love you, you grump.” He chuckles. “You love me?” you echo.

He takes his time responding. Scanning your features adoringly. Eventually, finally, calmly and assuredly he says again, “I love you,” nodding as he closes the little distance between you. 

Your kiss is slightly awkward at first, your lips smiling automatically at his words before realizing they’re being called on to take on new, intoxicating shapes. 

[cosmal]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.

or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption

note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.

word count — 12.4k

“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.

“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.

“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer. 

“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs. 

You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale. 

“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”

“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long. 

“He’s drinking?” 

“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze. 

“I’m sure he’s doing okay.” 

“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.” 

You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard. 

“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet

“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open. 

The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle. 

James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.

He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.

His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.

He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.

“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.

“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.

Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”

Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.

They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”

“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs. 

His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut. 

“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup. 

“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh. 

“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle. 

“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet. 

“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details. 

“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.” 

“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.” 

Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair. 

“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles. 

“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think. 

“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly. 

“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes. 

“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.” 

You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is. 

“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really. 

You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same. 

“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws. 

You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”

“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds. 

You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that. 

“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,” 

He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again. 

Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology. 

He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever. 

Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.” 

You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep. 

“You smell good.” 

You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.” 

Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying. 

“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers. 

“You smell nice,” you laugh. 

You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.

Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”

Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”

Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”

“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.

He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject. 

You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.” 

He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh. 

The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.” 

He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him. 

“Sirius?” He hiccups. 

“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.” 

There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else. 

“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants. 

“Yes, you.”

His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.  

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” 

“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.” 

You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?” 

Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same. 

“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume. 

“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp. 

“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.

“I would never.”

When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory. 

“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.

“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly. 

“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?” 

You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober. 

“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired. 

“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his. 

“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance. 

“You sure?” 

“Positive.” 

Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep. 

“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing. 

His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time. 

He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol. 

“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep. 

“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach. 

He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.” 

You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?” 

He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh. 

You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle. 

“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?” 

He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting. 

“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.

When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.” 

“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks. 

“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy. 

You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.” 

Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.” 

“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”

Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks. 

“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.

“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.

You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”

When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.

-

Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly. 

On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do. 

Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.  

Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation. 

In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed. 

He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching. 

Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts. 

“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head. 

“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it. 

When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.” 

“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier. 

Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.” 

“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?” 

What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.” 

“You wear boxers?” you grin. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you. 

“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.” 

Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much. 

You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking. 

“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room. 

“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room. 

“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?” 

He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.” 

You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter. 

“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.” 

“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window. 

“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk. 

“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.” 

“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn. 

He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows. 

You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once. 

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched. 

“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers. 

“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.” 

You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” 

“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at. 

“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.” 

He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”

When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius. 

Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way. 

Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads, 

uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx

He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat. 

Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you. 

what do U mean nothing happened? 

I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home. 

U both stumbled. in her sheets. 

Fuck off. Idiot. 

Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company. 

-

The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since. 

It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.

You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things. 

You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?

“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar. 

“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.” 

And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left. 

And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner. 

You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.

It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.

Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!

Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.

“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is. 

There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked. 

And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.

You’ll make yourself sick.

“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.

“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.

”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.

“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes. 

“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”

“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”

Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”

Remus sighs, very happy with himself.

“You done?” you ask. 

“Maybe.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”

You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.

“Are you?”

You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”

“Great. Me too.”

The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.

“Great.” 

A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.

-

The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.

You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.

You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.

Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.

James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.

Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.

When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.

When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.

“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.

Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.

“Remus! You’re here.”

Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats

“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.

“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.

“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.

“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.

“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.

“I am now,” he grins.

Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.

“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.

With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.

Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.

“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place. 

Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.

“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side. 

You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.

Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,” 

You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm. 

You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.

“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.

You nod, gleefully.

“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back. 

“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.

“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.” 

He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.” 

You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!” 

You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”

You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.

“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.

“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.

Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”

You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.

As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you. 

He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat. 

He knows he’s truly done for.

He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business. 

He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.

“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.

You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.

“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.

“Up your ass.” 

Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.” 

He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.

When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.

“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.

-

“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.

Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”

“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.

“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.

Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.

“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.

“Fuck up.”

“Whatever.”

There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.

“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”

He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.

“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.

“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.

Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”

He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”

He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.

The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”

Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.

“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.

Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine. 

Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.

“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.

“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.

“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose. 

“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.

Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.

You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.

“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.

Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.” 

You frown. 

“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins. 

“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff. 

The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.

He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.

He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.

“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.

“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.

You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.

The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.

You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime.”

You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.

“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.

“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.” 

“It’s a good one.”

“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”

-

After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.

Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.

“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm. 

“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.

“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.

“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.

“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head. 

You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”

Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best. 

You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.

Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin. 

Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy. 

“You okay?” he murmurs. 

You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.” 

Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in. 

Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in. 

“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off. 

Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist. 

“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully. 

“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens. 

“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer. 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns. 

“Thank you, Remus.” 

“That’s okay, lovely.” 

-

You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk. 

Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something. 

So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius. 

“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting. 

“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away. 

He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity. 

“Expecting someone else?” you laugh. 

He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?” 

“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.” 

“That’s great!” 

“Yeah, how are you?” you question. 

Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?” 

In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum. 

Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up. 

“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says, 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?” 

He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt.  “Yeah, I am.” 

You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”

Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal. 

“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.” 

Oh. 

Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you? 

He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity. 

Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.” 

He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!” 

“Bye, sweetheart.” 

Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers. 

“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”

“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re too happy. Calm it down.” 

Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.” 

Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?” 

“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago. 

“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out. 

“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies. 

“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh. 

“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.” 

“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.” 

Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Bye, Sirius.” 

Sirius hangs up before he can. 

-

Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead. 

He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head. 

“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly. 

“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics. 

“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm. 

“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says. 

“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin. 

“From the bus stop.” 

“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.

Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”

You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks. 

“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball. 

Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.” 

You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet. 

Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs. 

You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed. 

“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people. 

“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?” 

“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly. 

“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder. 

“I’m not having any repeats of last week.” 

“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.” 

You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.” 

He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.” 

You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be. 

Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid. 

“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar. 

“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people. 

“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully. 

You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.” 

Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.” 

“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.” 

“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”

“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”

“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”

“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat. 

By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him. 

Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.

Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.

It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.

As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.

“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.

The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”

“I can tell.” 

“You can?”

You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”

Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”

“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.

Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder. 

Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.

You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.

The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here. 

The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.

The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.

“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.

“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he frowns.

You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.

“You okay?”

Fuck sakes.

“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.

“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.

“You’re not.”

“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”

“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”

You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”

“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”

His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.

The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.

“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”

Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.

“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.

“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.

“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles. 

“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.

Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”

Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.

“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.

“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.

Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”

You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”

He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.

You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.

“I don’t?” You blink slowly.

He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough. 

His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”

“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,

“No?”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”

“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.

“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.

Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”

“Completely,”

It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater. 

He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.

The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.

“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.

“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.

“Yeah.”

“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.

You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”

Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”

“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.

“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

“Nothing.”

[singmyaubade]

back to black

warnings : mentions of smut and cursing

sypnosis : you have been with the marauders for so long, just to be abandoned when they found a prettier young thing but they would regret it.

poly!marauders x y/n

part 1 / part 2

it had been an almost 10 days since the entire incident.

you had been ignoring everyone in the situation, hiding in your dorm. it was almost surprising that you were left alone after being bombarded for so long.

you couldn't help but admit that you were shocked at everything that had happened, i mean how could you expect a kiss from a girl that had stolen the people you love the most?

you were nervous to go back to the class, you had even considered skipping the class entirely.

you took a deep breath, practically begging for a chance at a calm class.

you stepped inside the stone floor of the classroom to see the marauders crowding aurora, she looked nervous. aurora noticed you almost immediately. you avoided eye contact and sat in your usual seat.

"uh everyone please get in your seats!" slughorn announced.

you heard james sit next to you, you could already feel him about to speak before slughorn spoke again, "um excuse me potter, i would like you to switch seats with aurora." the marauders and auroras face twisted in confusion especially yours.

"yeah uh sure." he slowly got up, moving to the back with his friends as aurora quickly packed her back.

you saw remus and sirius with a worried look on their face as if they were worried you would hurt aurora or be rude to her.

they clearly don't know you.

aurora practically ran over to you as you shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

she sat down next you as you looked at her in your peripheral vision. she was trying to say something but couldn't find the right words clearly.

you could also practically feel the marauders staring at you, it was getting uncomfortable. you were about to rush out again until you heard her, "hi y/n."

you didn't know how to act towards her so you muttered a hello. she looked at you in sadness, "i'm really sorry fo-"

"there's no need to apologize." you replied quickly, writing something down in your notebook, not looking up.

she slightly grinned, "oh, thank you."

you sat there for a few more seconds in silence, "so how are you?" she asked, fiddling with thumbs.

"why did you kiss me?" you replied instead, looking at her.

aurora blushed, "i-i." she took a deep breath, "i just really like you since the first day i came here."

you looked at her questiongly, "this doesn't make any sense." you scoffed, looking back at your notebook.

"what doesn't?" she practically whispered, it was so quit that you were surprised to hear it.

you slammed your quill down, trying to keep a low voice at the same time, "the marauders love you with their entire being, yet you kissed me, and you are telling me that you like me, and this is all very confusing." you did a long sigh at the end.

she looked down, "i didn't lie to you, i don't love them."

"but i do." you said, looking at her heart breaking, "i-i can't like you while they love you and i can't love them without you liking me."

she grabbed your hand, "i know this is all very confusing and i und-"

you snatched your hand away, "but you don't understand, i don't even understand why you would." you saw tears rimming her eyes, "you seem wonderful but i can't like you or love you so just accept it." you spat.

you saw a tear fall from her eye, raining down to her cheek as she ran outside of the classroom before you could blink. the marauders looked at you with total judgement on their face as if you meant to hurt her.

everyone looked at her than back to you.

sirius was the first one to quickly chase after her as remus approached you, "you really are nothing like her." he berated, grabbing her bag and notebook before exiting as well.

slughorn was entirely lost, not understanding why everyone's leaving. you put your head in your hands, not understanding how a simple heartbreak could turn into you hurting others.

you didn't want to hurt aurora but how could you be with someone who was practically your competition?

before you knew it, the bell had rung, signaling it was time for a rest period.

you were walking in the hall, lost in your thoughts as you bumped into someone, apologizing quickly as you looked up to see sirius.

you rolled your eyes, almost walking away as he grabbed onto your wrist, "why did you hurt aurora?" he looked furious.

you scoffed, "you clearly don't understand what happened so please stop talking to me as if you do!" you snatched your wrist away.

"even though she refuses to tell us what happened, i still know you said something vindictive just because we want her." he argued.

you slapped him, pointing your finger in his face, "don't you fucking dare make this about you, any of you. i kissed aurora in the bathroom the other day and i was hard on her for rejecting me, that's the reason. it wasn't about you guys because quite frankly, i don't give a shit about any of you and i regret a relationship with all of you." you asserted, moving past him as you knocked his shoulder. his mouth was gaped in confusion and shock.

you didn't want to out aurora in the process and you knew you couldn't let sirius get off thinking that you would make aurora cry over them. it would be right to take the blame, aurora never deserved your harsh words and you knew it.

you went outside to relax your mind, you were glad to see no one else there.

you opened your notebook and began writing for what felt like hours and it had been in fact a few hours.

you didn't even feel a person sit next you before she spoke, "thank you."

you looked up from your notebook, confused, "for what?" you asked.

"for not telling sirius." she smiled at you.

"i mean that wouldn't be right of me and i never meant to hurt your feelings." you sighed in between your words, "you are so kind and pretty all around and i lash out without thinking and i know it's not your fault that they like you but it just hurt."

she took your hand in hers, rubbing your knuckles with her thumb, "they don't deserve either of us, i made sure they knew that."

you looked at her with a smile as she continued, "ever since i saw you that first day i arrived, i thought you were the prettiest thing i had ever seen and i knew that the only person that would have my eyes would be you. you are thoughful, compassionate, and brave which is what i enjoy about you, i have seen everything you do and it has not left my mind since. seeing you cry that day had hurt me and all i wanted to do was be with you." she explained, "and between me and you, i begged slughorn to switch james and i." she smiled.

you looked at her, surprised.

in that moment, you knew that you weren't meant to be with the marauders but that there was someone who actually cared about you and your feelings and that you knew would never leave you.

for once, you actually felt safe.

you rubbed her soft cheek, causing her to blush tint pink. you hesitated, leaning in to kiss her. you took her in her pink lips, softer than you had imagined.

you pulled back to see her reaction as she grinned brightly, kissing you back deeply.

and you agreed then and there,

that you would never go back to black.

tags : @i-cant-stfu @katlovesall @halobaby @h1storicbabe @iamahallucinationnn @swagfurytriumph @venomsvll @sweetwizardtragedyy @helloitsmeeeeeee @rayrayredpanda @sweetiecutie @moonysupremacy011 @anapnovo-blog @valxvz @howlnights @swag696942069 @reading-writing-737 @kosem1656 @louyoursins @hrryp0thead @the-abyss-gazed-back @tswiftiesposts @desi-brownie @mlovally @idkanygoodusers @nanainwonderland @padf00ts-l0ver @losttrainwreck @seenit @liltimmyt1m @urmomsgayforme5 @steorrq @anuncalledbridge @graytrical @ayyeitssarahh @faceache111 @agustdeeyaa @nothing2113 @psychobitchsthings @fromcabin13 @miaandthediamonds @luvdi0r @slytherpuffh0e @queenstarlight @reggiegyal @kissforvoid @555stargirl555 @lou-lj @xxemberlights @amira0303 @itohajime3200

thank you all so much for hyping this up and im so sorry if this isn't the ending you wanted !

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

regulus black x potter!reader headcannons

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regulus black x potter!reader universe

yn is a very outgoing person, but when she gets comfortable with someone she could just sit in silence with them for hours. James, her mom, remus, and regulus are those few people

regulus always lets yn know where he's going/what he's doing

like when they become public, regulus will walk over to yn after he's finished breakfast (which is always before her because he wakes up earlier) and always lets yn know whats going on

"hey. I'm going to potions now."

"okay reggie, i'll see you at lunch!"

and in public it's always yn initiating pda, but in private reg is really the more cuddly/touchy one

and when yn does show him affection in public he gets very awkward

"heyyy honey! you're eyes look pretty."

"okay.. i gotta go."

"you look so hot in your quidditch uniform!"

"mon amour, i have to go warm up.."

"i love you!!"

"i love you too." 😐

yn braids regulus' hair while they cuddle

they both like making their brothers uncomfortable by being coupley but hate when either brother interrupts their couple time when they're alone

yn know regulus hates awkward silence, so i imagine that like the first dinner after their brothers found out about them, it was very awkward and yn had to fix that for her boy

"did you know that dinosaurs all had big ears but everyone forgot because dinosaur ears don't have bones?"

"no i didn't know that, hun." -effie

"thats cause it's not true.."

regulus flirts with yn in french and after a while she gets fed up at reg not telling her what he's saying so she learns french

yn is a terrible cook, effie had tried to teach her countless times, when reg moves in with the potters effie teaches gim how to cook in order to bond with her and he is just a natural

Regulus fell first, Y/n fell harder