#AND THE FACT THAT REMUS GOT UP AND LEFT AFTER HE SAID THIS

[rainydayathogwarts]

The rabbit hole - Remus Lupin

remus lupin has a way with all the ladies, even the popular girls wc: 1.3k

Despite not being the most sought after marauder, Remus Lupin got more than enough attention from the ladies. Everyone knew it, especially you, who lived around girls always gushing about their newest crush. You have to admit, his name did come up a few times. But did it even matter? The term 'popular' wasn't one you’d use to describe yourself because you didn’t believe in putting people up on pedestals, including yourself. However, you couldn’t help it if those words were thrown at you by other people. You weren’t mad at it; getting attention from boys and being admired by younger girls was fulfilling and validating, and meant you never had trouble finding dates when you got bored. 

Unfortunately, it seemed you had fallen into the same rabbit hole many other girls surrounding you fell into - the rabbit hole called 'wanting the one man who wasn't interested'. You don’t know when this fascination over him started, but you assumed it had to do with the fact that he didn’t pay any attention to you. It was refreshing, but frustrating. Guys always gave you what you wanted, or made the first move. Remus, on the other hand, had only ever spoken to you in class when you’d be paired up, and he’d never made a pass at you, unlike the two friends at his right and left side who had both previously flirted with you at parties in an attempt to getting on your roster. You had laughed and thrown a snarky comment at them before amusedly walking away. But Remus Lupin and his stupid chestnut hair had caught your eye, and when you wanted something, you didn’t stop until you got it.

Remus had noticed this new attention from you in potions class - a simple doe eyed look from you when you’d asked him to get pearl dust for your potion had him doing a double take, making sure he hadn’t imagined your signature move. He’d heard boys talking, and he had to admit, even he was intrigued by you. “Mate she just gave me those eyes...” was a popular start to a sentence when he heard boys exchange stories, but now that he’d laid his eyes on them himself, he knew he was in for it.

On the way back to his dorm, he wondered if that was you making a first move, or just a subtle ask for him to make a move. He decided that he'd wait and see, make sure he hadn't been mistaken and make a fool of himself by throwing himself into something nonexistent. The more he waited, the harder it was to hold himself back. Of course, Remus prided himself on being respectful to all women and being quiet, which is what drew many of the ladies in. This meant that he tried incredibly hard to hold back the flirtatious comments and sly responses during lessons. You knew the game he was playing, because you often took the route of playing hard to get.

"You're being delusional" Sirius finally told him, James nodding from his spot beside him on Peter's bed. "Like, good for you man if there is anything there, but there isn't." James said teasingly. "No- I swear! She's flirting with me! She's flirting and I'm enjoying it! She's flirting and now I like her, and now I'm like every other guy at Hogwarts." Sirius and James exchanged a look. "Well you're not like every other guy if you actually end up with her. How many guys have you heard of who actually became her boyfriend?" He thought long and hard, and when he looked back at the other two, knew they shared the same number. "None."

The map showed that you were alone by the black lake. If he wanted to catch you in time, he'd have to hurry along. He stole a book off his bed before rushing off, haphazardly throwing his jumper somewhere into the dorm. He slowed down his pace once he made it past the main entrance, catching his breath as he began walking in your general directly. Remus didn't want to seem to obvious, so he marked the page he had left his book from with his index finger dipping between the pages. His breath hitched when he got closer to you, realising you were just in shorts and a bikini top, enjoying the spring sun, a boombox next to you playing some music.

"Any chance I could sit in the shade under that tree without looking like a total creep?" He asks, gesturing to the tree merely a couple of meters from you. Your eyes flutter open, a hand coming to your face to protect your eyes from the sun. "Mhmm, I don't think there is. But that's okay, I'm used to being admired." Remus scoffs, sitting down with his back against the tree, and opens up his book. From the corner of his eyes, he sees your body turning in his general direction, as though surprised that he's not giving you any attention. If that was the case, his mission was already succeeding. He feels the hesitation from you, glancing up at you to see you open and close your mouth, speechless. You turn onto your back once more, closing your eyes with a sigh.

You both sit there in comfortable silence, but Remus hasn't turned a single page of his book and despite you having your eyes closed, the only thing you can think of is how close he is to you. Suddenly, you sit up, turning to take a long sip of the water bottle next to you. Remus has to pretend he wasn't looking at you, but when you address him by his first name, his head immediately snaps up to meet your gaze. "Yes?" "Want to go in for a swim?" Well he wasn't expecting that. You grin when he begins to stutter; you'd finally caught him off guard for the first time since you'd started flirting with him three weeks ago. "Well, I'm- I'm not in my swimmers." You cock your head to the side, raising an eyebrow at him. "Is that a problem?"

Yes, Remus wants to say. Yes, because I have scars and I'm insecure, and I don't want you to see me like that. But he doesn't say any of those things. Instead, he stands, and you follow his movements promptly. You wait for him to take at least his shirt off, but he only loosens his tie, pulling it over his head before stalking towards you predatorily. You try to take a step away from him when the proximity becomes too intimidating for you, but one of his hands snakes around your waist and your breath is hitching and he's leaning his head down close to your ear and you only hear "Hold your breath" before you're being whisked into his arms and your feet are leaving the ground.

You're suddenly gasping for air, breaking through the surface of the water, but you immediately spot Remus's grinning face, shaking his hair away from his eyes and you can't be mad. Like physically, it is impossible for you, even if your denim shorts are now all wet and you almost died. But you're swimming towards him and holding onto him with your legs wrapping around his waist and somehow you're leaning into him and pressing your lips against his. The position is weird: Remus can probably reach the ground, his hands supporting your denim-clad hips whilst your hands grip onto his wet uniform, but in some odd way, it's perfect.

The second you pull away, Remus's eyes are widening and he's muttering "Oh, no." Confused, you turn to see what he's looking at, only to spot a quickly approaching figure called the insolent Filch, already yelling about "Jumping in with Uniform!" and "Get them Mrs. Norris!"

[vinylfoxbooks]

March 26 - Skeptic | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 899

“I don’t like Regulus’ new partner.” Sirius mutters low to his boyfriend. They’re settled on the couch, mugs of tea in hand with Remus reading and Sirius curled around his partner, lost in his own thoughts. Said Regulus and partner have just left for the night, tucking into Regulus’ room. He says it only when he can’t hear them shuffling around between the bathroom and Regulus’ room anymore. 

Remus hums, putting a thumb on his line, “What about them?” 

“I don’t know, they're just… weird.” 

“I’m a werewolf, love, I don’t think you can be talking about dating someone a bit ‘weird’. I’m sure Regulus thought the same thing of me when we first met.” 

“That’s a lie,” he shakes his head, “He liked you from the beginning. I think it was all the nerdy book talk.” 

Remus gives him a flat look, “We both know that’s not true, I may have placated him with the ��book talk’ but he was on edge around me for months after we first met.” Then, after a couple seconds he bookmarks his book and settles it on his lap, “What about them is weird to you?” 

Sirius sighs and takes a moment to formulate his words, “They… came in here strong in an… odd way. Wearing odd, hand-me-down-looking clothes that were all dirty, the way they talked was… it was like they weren’t really present.” 

“What are you trying to say?” Remus sighs, seemingly getting frustrated with his boyfriend, “And it better not be you stuck up family beliefs trying to prevent you from seeing your brother happy.” 

“I don’t think that’s it.” 

“Don’t you?” Remus hums, “I came walking into your house for the first time in a similar state, so what makes you so skeptical about Regulus’ partner?” 

“I just-”

“Listen, Sirius.” Remus sighs once more, turning to lake eye contact with him, “Your brother is clearly happy with James, it’s obvious with the way that they look at each other. They’ve also seemingly been dating long enough that Regulus would have been turned away by them if something was wrong. James clearly cared about Regulus.”

“But-”

“No, Sirius. Your brother can take care of himself, in fact we both know that he prefers to. Whether James is ‘weird’ or not, they’re nice and they seem to treat Regulus well and that’s all that matters. It should be obvious that Regulus introducing them to us was just a courtesy.” 

Sirius sighs, “I know…” 

“Excuse me,” A voice says behind them, making them both turn to it. James stands politely in the entrance to the hallway, gazing at them with the most present look in their eyes that SIrius has seen from them all day, “Where do you keep the tea that Regulus likes?” Sirius takes them in while Remus answers for him, noting their threadbare sleep clothes and lack of as many charms and jewelry pieces as they were wearing before. There are still a couple bracelets on their wrist, blue and with little eyes on the beads, and a couple pieces of jewelry in their piercings, but they’re much less decorated than they were before. 

Remus hums and watches them for a moment, “In the cabinet opposite the sink, we just had the kettle boiling so it shouldn’t take long. Mugs are in the cabinet to the left of the sink.” 

James smiles at him, “Thank you.” And with that, they sweep into the kitchen and the couple can hear the telltale signs of someone preparing some tea. Remus gives his boyfriend a look, Sirius just shakes his head and lays it on the taller’s shoulder, smiling when a hand comes up to pet through his hair. 

When they come back out a couple minutes later, Remus hums, “James?” After making sure he has their attention, he starts, “Can you tell me about how to care for the basil you got us?” 

James nods, making their way over to the couch chair and settling in it, muttering something as they put the mug of tea on the coffee table, “Basil is a bit persnickety about its care. It needs lots of sunlight, so putting it in your sunniest window is best, and it’s demanding on water. Keep the soil moist at all times. Watering it every couple of days would be best.” They gaze over at the beautiful, hand painted pot that holds the half-started basil that Sirius and Remus put on the coffee table when James handed it to them, “Once it starts consistent leaf growth, then you can start cutting off the leaves and using it for things like cooking, I’ve found that homegrown basil is extra flavourful. It’s also spiritually protective, believed to bring luck, wealth, and health to a household so take care of it and it’ll take care of you.” 

Remus seems a bit taken aback by the last part, but he collects himself after a moment and nods, “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you James.”

James smiles at him, moving to stand up, “Of course, have a good night you two.”

“You as well.” And with that, James makes their way down the hallway and into Regulus’ room once more. The interaction leaves Sirius conflicted, but he doesn’t comment on it anymore. Remus picks up his book and continues reading, shooting a glance at their new plant every once in a while.

[alwritey-aphrodite]

hii ! can i request this prompt « my ex doesn't understand it's over, so I tell them I've already got someone new » with sirius or remus ? tysmmm

I went with Sirius, I hope you enjoy!!

Sirius is sitting at the table, peeling an orange and methodically removing any of the “stringy bits”, as you call them, so you won’t have to go back and do it yourself and ruin your freshly painted nails, courtesy of days and days of bugging on Sirius’ end. You’re washing dishes, and clearing your throat over and over like you have something to say.

“Just spit it out already,” Sirius gripes, still cleaning off the orange, after you clear your throat only to stay silent for what feels like the millionth time.

“I have a favor to ask,” you say, somewhat uncomfortably, drying your hands on the dish towel before turning to face him, leaning your hip against the counter as if you need the support.

“Shoot,” he replies, not bothering to look up at you for more than a glance, determined to get the orange spotless.

“It’s kinda a lot,” you cross your arms around your middle, and from your tone Sirius knows you’re practically crawling in your skin, so he finally puts down the orange and gives you his full attention.

“I’d do anything for you, you know that.” He tells you, voice dripping in sincerity, and his heart practically glows when you smile at him in response, a soft, shy thing as if he hasn’t seen you dancing on tables and stumbling home and lounging around in your rattiest, comfiest pajamas for a junk food and movie marathon. Sirius is your best friend, and even though you know you can come to him with anything, the fact that he’s your best friend makes your favor slightly more than a little awkward.

“Can you take me out on a fake date on Friday?” You ask, jumping in without providing any sort of context so you don’t chicken out.

“Darling, I’d love to, but what the fuck does that mean?”

Pushing off the counter, you sigh, all big and dramatic as you make your way over to where Sirius is sitting at your kitchen table and throw yourself into the chair next to him.

“So, you know Henry, right?” Sirius’s nod is accompanied by a rather exaggerated eye roll, but you plow ahead anyway, “Well, I saw him when I went out for a walk yesterday, and it seemed like he didn’t really understand the fact that we’re broken up for real.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asks, suddenly more alert than he was moments before.

“Nothing, really,” you attempt to quell his fears, knowing exactly where his mind went the second the words left your mouth, “just that he kept asking me to go out and do things together that seemed pretty couple-y, and he’s nice enough, but I broke up with him for a reason.”

Pausing in your story to take a breath, you see Sirius nodding along, but can tell he’s not really sure where the whole fake date situation comes into play. The fact that he’s even listening, even entertaining this bizarre idea of yours, makes your heart seize up, just a little, with affection and all sorts of things better left unmentioned and unnamed. 

“I just really wanted to let him down easily, so I said I couldn’t because I have a boyfriend, and he asked who and I could have made up a name but I was just thinking about you, because I had just bought the stuff for that salad you told me about, so I said you.” 

Unsure of what to say, Sirius just tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, and you plow on ahead.

“And I said we had plans on Friday and he asked where so I said that Italian place you like and apparently he works there.”

‘Well, I could have told you that,” Sirius says, his first contribution to the conversation since you started your little rant.

“I’ll buy you dinner and it doesn’t have to be anything too weird, we’ll just walk in holding hands and maybe a kiss on the cheek and we’ll just look like we’re in love if he happens to walk past us,” you’re practically pleading now, taking Sirius’ unusual silence for proof that this is one favor that’s too much, too awkward. 

“Please, I’m not that awful,” he slides the plate with the orange, now split in half, over to you, “I’ll pick you up at six and pay for your meal because I’m a gentleman.”

“Thank you, really, I owe you one,” you say, picking up your half of the orange as Sirius does the same.

“Hell yeah you do,” he responds, as if going out to dinner, out on a date, with you is some big chore he has to do, and not something he’s been thinking about for months now.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 1

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Warnings: violence, domestic abuse, non-explicit smut

Chapter warnings: mention of blood and injuries

Chapter word count: 5.1k

A/N: I started this fic all the way back in April, when we first got the news that Joe was cast as Caracalla in "Gladiator 2". I did a ton of research, read books and academic papers about Caracalla and his reign, the whole shebang. Then in July, we got the confirmation that Joe played Geta instead, but by then, I'd already written about 30k words and didn't want to throw it away. Since I never was going to follow the movie anyway (no spoilers here!), I thought, OK, if the great Ridley Scott wasn't going to be historically accurate, then neither am I! So I replaced "Caracalla" with "Geta", changed a few details, and here we are.

The biggest change I made is that Geta was the one that killed Caracalla, not the other way around (this is a historical fact so it's not a spoiler for the movie.) Their confrontation also followed history (which happened in the presence of their mother, Julia Domna.) The remainder of Geta's reign is based on the real reign of Caracalla - his various military campaigns, the war against Parthia, and his infamous assassination (attempted assassination, in this case) by Justus Martialis while peeing on the side of the road now all happen to Geta. Also, Caracalla is described as sometimes wearing a blonde wig, so my headcanon is that the ginger hair in the movie is a wig as well (sorry Joe, I know you were working that wig for all it's worth, but I can't take it seriously.)

Prologue

Once upon a time, two brothers founded the greatest empire in the world...

He and his brother had grown up with the tale of Romulus and Remus, as any child of Rome would. But unlike other children of Rome, he and his brother had also been told that they would one day inherit the empire that those two brothers had built.

Nobody told them the birth of that empire had come at the price of fratricide. Nobody told them that only one brother was destined to be emperor.

They knew anyway.

The only question was, after the blood had run dry, which one of them would be left standing?

He, for one, refused to wait for an answer. He would find his own. So when the Fates dealt him their blow, he fought back and reclaimed his destiny from them. And as he stood over his brother with the blade still dripping blood in his hand, as he looked at the shocked faces of the Praetorians, as he avoided his mother's horrified eyes, filled with the tears he didn't allow her to shed, he thought he'd done it. He'd had the answer.

"You all saw!" he shouted at them, daring them to contradict him. "You saw what he was going to do, how he was coming for me! I did what I had to do to protect myself!" No one said a word in response. Perhaps they thought, and rightly so, that it would be unwise to oppose a man holding a bloody sword. "He was a tyrant and a would-be murderer," he continued, indicating his brother. "There is to be no mourning of him." His mother flinched, her arms closing instinctively around her son's still-warm body, but she, too, said nothing. "I want his image removed from all paintings, coins melted down, statues destroyed, his name struck from records. Let it be known from this day forward that it is a capital offense to speak or write his name!"

His orders were carried out, of course. He was the Emperor now.

But in wiping all images of his brother off the face of the Earth, he also had to remake his own. They had been so intricately linked, so connected in the minds of the citizens of Rome, two sides of the same monstrous coin, that he had to become someone else to be seen as the true heir, as the sole emperor. Gone were the wig and the makeup. Gone were the flashy clothes and jewelry. He cropped his hair short, grew a beard, and dressed himself in the simple garb of a legionary. He went on campaign after campaign to expand the Empire. Caledonia, Germania, Alexandria, Parthia. He would become a soldier-emperor, like his father. He would become a conqueror, like Alexander the Great. He would build an empire, like Romulus. Because he, like Romulus, was the brother who survived.

Only he didn't expect the price of surviving would be so high.

Chapter 1

The smell of blood was in the air.

As he staggered over the rocky ground, he could smell it all around him, on him, in him, and there was no escaping it. The sharp metallic tang of it brought back unpleasant memories of battlefields, of death and screaming and decay. But this was no battlefield. It was quiet, far too quiet; there was none of the clashes of swords and armors, the panicked whinnying of horses, or the groans of dying men. The only sound was his own ragged breathing and the hammering of pulse in his ears. There were stabbing pains on his back and between his ribs, and it hurt every time he drew a breath. There was a pounding somewhere on the back of his head—he must have hit it when he fell down the slope, though he no longer remembered where that slope was. He no longer remembered anything except for a burning feeling of anger and hatred, almost stronger than the pains of his body, though at whom or what that anger was directed, he didn't know. And underneath it all was a threat of fear. He had never been afraid of anything. Yet now the cold breath of Phobos was on the back of his neck, driving him on, urging him to get away, as far away as he could.

His head felt heavy and light at the same time. More than once, he stumbled over a rock and went down on his hands and knees. That was when he realized he was clutching a dagger in his hand, a dagger sticky with blood—his own or someone else's, he no longer remembered either. He pushed himself up by the hilt of the dagger and continued on. His lungs burned, his skin was icy cold despite the warm spring sunshine, and his limbs were so numb he was afraid the dagger might slip from his fingers. He must not let that happen. That dagger was important somehow. And he walked on, over the rocks and the uneven ground and the thick undergrowth.

He came across a stream, its banks overflowing from the winter rain. He still had the presence of mind to tuck the dagger into his belt before plunging in. The water was much deeper than he'd expected. His feet went out from under him. The pains in his back and his ribs melted into one scorching spear that went through him from chest to shoulder blades, and he had no strength left to fight the current. A branch of driftwood floated past. He held on to it, by instinct rather than a conscious desire to live. Doing so hurt his chest, but the water cooled his pounding head and washed away some of the searing pain and the blood, so the smell no longer assaulted his nostrils. He let the stream carry him away.

So this is how it ends, he thought, feeling blood and life drain out of him. This little stream was to be his River Styx. Not for him the glorious death of the battlefield. Not for him the quiet, peaceful death after a lifetime of ruling and conquering. Not for him even the sudden, tragic death of a great man cut down in his prime. No, for him would be an ignominious death, befitting an ignominious life. Somehow he'd always known it. This was what the Fates had in store for him.

He never quite lost consciousness, though he didn't know how long he floated. At some point, the light shining through his eyelids lost its brightness, but he couldn't tell if it was because the sun was going down or he was dying.

Hands came down on his shoulders. It brought the pain back, and that was how he knew he was still alive. He'd stopped floating. Someone was hauling him up the bank of the stream, dragging him by the arms. So they'd found him, then. He was dropped unceremoniously over the rocky ground, where he lay motionless, waiting for the soft whisper of a sword being drawn from its sheath, for the final blow to end his misery, for eternal darkness to engulf him at last.

When it never came, he forced his eyes open.

For a moment, he thought he really was dead, and he was facing Charon—a dark shape loomed over him, with fire for eyes and a hairy, oddly-shaped head. The words of the Aeneid, learned from his youth, came to his mind unbidden.

A sordid god: down from his hairy chin;

A length of beard descends, uncombed, unclean;

His eyes, like hollow furnaces on fire;

A girdle, foul with grease, binds his obscene attire...

Now he knew he was dying. Since when did he start remembering poetry?

Something warm and moist brushed his face, a snort stirred his wet hair, and the illusion broke. It wasn't Charon that stood over him, but some sort of animal, perhaps a horse. The fiery eyes moved, and he realized they were a torch, held in the hand of a person—a real person, with a cowl covering the head, keeping the face in the shadow. Savior or executioner?

He twisted his head to avoid the animal's inquisitive nose. Even such a tiny movement hurt. A pair of small feet, clad in old leather sandals, stood beside him. A pair of slim ankles, brushed by the long hem of a dark gown. A woman's feet.

Gentle hands turned him over. He tried to focus. In the light of the torch, he found himself looking into a pair of green eyes, as green as the hills of Caledonia, as green as the forests of Germania, as green as the water of the Euphrates, eyes that soothed and calmed and took away his pains. 

And, as he looked into those eyes, Emperor Geta, the Imperator Caesar Publius Septimius Geta Augustus, uttered the one word he'd never thought he would say, in all twenty-eight years of his life: "Help."

Darkness took him then.

***

Daphne stared at the soldier lying on the bank of the stream by her feet. He was a soldier, that much she was certain of, despite his lack of armor. It was a good thing too, for he would've sunk to the bottom of the stream had he been wearing all those heavy metal plates. But what had happened to him? How did he come to be here, all bedraggled and bloody? Had there been a battle nearby that she didn't know about? Ever since the previous spring, when war with Parthia had broken out again, Daphne had seen her fair share of soldiers marching through the countryside. Her village was too small, tucked away as it was amongst the hills, to receive much attention from the army, but she'd heard complaints of people from bigger towns who had had their crops taken, their draft animals seized, and their lives disrupted by the war. Even her younger brother, Attikos, had been recruited by the army. He was now serving in a garrison somewhere in the north, and every day her family lived in fear that he would not come back. Daphne, whose own life had been disrupted by another war that took place nearly ten years ago and thousands of miles away, tried her best to ignore the battles that raged on just across the border, knowing there was nothing she could do about them.

But now, it seemed, the battles had found their way to her.

The soldier at her feet let out a groan, and her healer's nature took over. Putting the torch down, she slipped her hands under his arms and lifted him up. The soldier, though muscular, wasn't a big man, and Daphne was strong from all the climbing and walking she had to do every day, so with only some grunting and heaving, she managed to put him on the back of her donkey, Midas, who was hovering helpfully nearby. "Come, Midas," she said, and with the torch in one hand, she led the donkey back to their camp, in one of the many caves that dotted the bottom of the hills.

That spring, as soon as the pistachio trees began putting out their clusters of green blooms tipped with pink, Daphne had left her hut for her bi-annual journey to gather herbs and medicine, while hoping that nobody at the village would be so inconsiderate as to fall ill or go into labor while she was away. It was a journey she had been making with her grandmother since she was old enough to tell wild carrot from poisonous hemlock, and one she'd always looked forward to as a child. For days on end, the two of them would wander up and down the hills and valleys of the Balikh River, searching amongst the new growth that had sprung up after the winter rain, looking for leaves and flowers with healing powers. For Daphne, it had been like playing, running through the plants, gathering up armfuls of fragrant leaves and flowers, cooking on an open fire, sleeping under the stars or in a cave. It was the only playtime she ever had. In the autumn, they would come back for roots and seeds and dry branches, but she loved the spring trip the best.

Now, as a grown woman, Daphne still loved the journey, though she also understood why her grandmother had taken her along all those years ago. It wasn't because Daphne had been that much help, or because her grandmother had wanted to give Daphne a rest from helping her mother and taking care of her brothers. It was simply because the old woman wanted someone to talk to. Back at the village, there were always people coming and going, seeking help. Out here, with nothing but the sky above and the ground beneath her, Daphne sometimes felt as though she was the only person alive in the whole of creation. There was Midas, of course, but as sweet as he was, a donkey was not much company.

So it was with a strange sense of relief and gratitude that Daphne lowered the soldier onto the ground, stoked the fire higher, and cut open his tunic to look at his wounds. Yes, this was something odd and unsettling and perhaps dangerous as well, but at least she wouldn't have to be alone with her thoughts for the night. She would have company, even if he was unconscious, and more importantly, she would have something to occupy herself with.

The wounds—there were two, one on his back near the shoulder and one between his ribs, just below his chest—were deep but clean, clearly made by a blade. Whatever had happened to him, the soldier had certainly been favored by Fortuna. His cloak had softened the blow, and the blade had only gone through the fleshy part of his shoulder. At the front, the blade had also been deflected somehow and had slipped between his ribs instead of burying itself in his heart. There was no blood bubbling at the corner of his mouth, and his breathing was shallow but steady, meaning his lung had been spared. The soldier's trip down the stream had cleaned the wounds, leaving only a small trickle of blood.

Daphne opened her jar of vinegar, which she always brought along in case she found some plants that needed preserving, cut a strip of linen from the soldier's tunic, which was ruined anyway, dipped it in the vinegar, and carefully cleaned the wounds again. There was also a rather nasty bruise on the back of his head, but that would have to wait. Thank the gods she had her suturing needle and thread with her. She'd never gone on a long journey without them, not after the time she fell down a ravine and cut her foot. Had she been further away from home then, she would not have made it back. Yet another reason her grandmother had insisted on bringing along a helper.

The soldier's flesh trembled and twitched under the vinegar cloth. Daphne, bending over the wounds, didn't see him move. She only heard a hiss of steel and jumped back just in time to avoid the blade as it flashed in the firelight, right across her face. The soldier shot up, a dagger clutched in his hand, his eyes wide open, dark and enormous in the dimness of the cave. They were blank and unfocused, and she knew he saw nothing at all.

"Murderer!" he said in a hoarse whisper. "Traitor!"

Something hot and wet oozed down her cheek. Daphne clamped a hand to it and felt pain blaze across her cheekbone. The soldier's dagger had cut her. Had she been a fraction of a heartbeat slower, it would've taken out her nose or even her eye.

"You fool!" she shouted. Her grandmother would have something to say about the wisdom of arguing with a delirious man wielding a dagger, but Daphne had no time for wisdom at the moment. "You utter fool! I'm trying to save your life!" Blood was dripping down the side of her face, warm and sticky on her jaw.

The soldier wasn't listening. He was still ranting and raving about murderers and traitors, and something else in Latin, which Daphne couldn't understand. Then he tried to push himself to his feet, only to collapse in a heap by the fire. The dagger clattered out of his hand.

Daphne approached him cautiously, holding her injured cheek. He was motionless, though his chest was still moving up and down in weak, rapid breaths. Not wanting to take any risk, she picked up the dagger and tucked it into her pack, and, as extra precaution, bound the soldier's hands with some rope. Then, after wrapping some bandages around her cheek to stop the bleeding, she put more wood into the fire to stoke it higher, so its light filled the cave and reached even the furthest corner. Under that light, she sutured the soldier's wounds, using small, careful stitches just the way her grandmother had taught her. Once this was done, she went out again, torch in hand, passed the snoozing Midas by the mouth of the cave, and started searching the ground along the stream. She had seen some early-blooming goldenrods there—she never bothered to gather them, since they were abundant all around the hills of her village and in her own garden, but now she filled her mantle with the small yellow flowers.

The soldier was still unconscious by the time she came back. Good. She didn't want him awake and squirming and tearing the stitches. She crushed the goldenrod blooms and mixed them with vinegar into a bitter-smelling poultice, put it on his wounds and his bruise, and wrapped them in clean bandages. Some of the poultice she saved to put on her own wound as well, though the suturing would have to wait until the morning, when she could see her face more clearly.

With a sigh, Daphne sat back by the fire, trying not to wince as the vinegary poultice pressed into her cut. Her patient was lying peacefully enough, covered in her blanket, though he still writhed and grimaced from time to time.

She looked at him more closely, with curiosity. He was not a young man, though he was not yet old either, perhaps close to thirty. The same age as her husband, Galen, had he lived. But this man was no common foot soldier like her Galen had been. For all the ordinariness of his clothing, she could tell he was a patrician. It was there in the fine wool of his tunic, much finer than the coarse undyed linen of a soldier's, in the soft leather of his boots, in the gleaming buckles of his belt, in the carved ring on the little finger of his left hand. It was there in his face as well, in the high forehead framed by short dark curls, in the eyebrows that seemed locked in a permanent scowl above his fine-shaped nose, in the strong mouth and firm jaw covered by a neatly trimmed beard. Those noble features only heightened the riddle of the man, a riddle Daphne had no hope of solving any time soon.

Well, a good night's rest would bring clarity and wisdom in the morning, as her grandmother had always said. Leaving the mysterious soldier on the other side of the fire, Daphne wrapped herself in her mantle, lay down on the hard floor of the cave, and fell into a tired sleep, her cheek still smarting.

***

The fire had burned down to embers and the pale gray light of dawn was shining in from the mouth of the cave when Daphne was wakened by a shuffling sound. It was the soldier, who was pulling weakly at his bound wrists. His eyes were open, and though they were still dazed, some of the delirium in them had faded.

"What's the meaning of this?" he croaked. "Who are you? What have you done to me?!"

"Please, calm yourself," said Daphne, scrambling to her feet and holding up a hand. "I have to tie you up because you were tossing about. Calm yourself before you tear your wounds open. You're safe."

"Safe?" he repeated, almost to himself. "No... not safe... not safe..." The delirium was settling in again. She had to get a few things out of him before he lost consciousness or worse.

"What's your name?" she asked. "Which legion do you belong to? Is your camp close by?" He showed no sign of hearing her and only looked about the cave with wide, panic-stricken eyes. Daphne stepped closer and pulled her mantle down so he could see her face more clearly. "Is there anyone I can go to for help?"

His hand shot out and gripped her wrist so tightly it hurt. He fixed those enormous eyes on her. "No!" he shouted, though it came out little more than a rasping whisper. "Tell no one! Danger... must hide..." Then his eyes glazed over, and he dropped to the floor, fingers slowly loosening from her wrist.

Daphne made her way back to the other side of the dying fire and sat with her arms wrapped around her knees, rubbing her sore wrist. The soldier's fear was contagious. What had happened to him was no mere battle wounds, she could see that now. He had rambled about murderers and traitors... but was he the victim of murderers and traitors, or was he himself a murderer and traitor? Was he in danger, or was he the danger?

It was a two days' journey to the nearest town, Carrhae, and four days back to her village. The sensible thing to do was to bring him to Carrhae and leave him there for the authority to deal with. But with his injuries, he may not survive the trip. And even if they made it to Carrhae, a lone soldier, very possibly a deserter or even a turncoat, would not merit much attention. The magistrate there may leave him to die. Daphne wasn't sure she could live with that on her conscience. As she watched the unconscious soldier, she couldn't help thinking of her Galen, dead these eight years and buried somewhere in the cold, barbaric hills of Caledonia. What if something like this had happened to Galen as well? What if he'd been separated from his fellow soldiers and stumbled through a foreign land, lost and injured? And what if some woman had also happened upon him, but had decided to let him die because she thought he was too much trouble? What if this soldier had someone waiting for him?

With such thoughts circling around her head like a swarm of angry bees, there was no going back to sleep for her. As soon as the light turned from gray to white, Daphne went to the stream to fetch a pan of water, stopping briefly to check on Midas, who was contentedly cropping the grass around the mouth of the cave.

Her reflection in the stream made Daphne realize why the soldier had been so frightened upon seeing her. With dried blood down one side of her cheek, her eyes sunken from lack of sleep, and her hair all wild, she must have looked, to him, like one of the Furies. Returning to the cave, she tried to stitch the cut on her cheek as best she could, using the pan of water as a mirror. It was going to leave a scar for sure. Oh well. She had never been a great beauty anyway.

She then boiled the water to make some porridge for breakfast. As she ate, she dug around in her store of foraged plants and herbs and found some valerian, which she steeped into a tea to help the soldier sleep. He swallowed the tea easily enough, though Daphne knew what he really needed was some tincture of poppy, which was stored in a precious glass vial on the highest shelf back in her hut, four days away. But could she bring him back there? The villagers would not take kindly to a stranger.

Leaving the soldier in the cave, Daphne returned to the stream with Midas by her side. Mysteriously wounded men or not, she was determined to finish her trip. Throughout the morning, she worked hard on the bank, cutting down armfuls of young willow, as these large trees were of better quality than the scraggy bushes near her village. She took care not to stray too far from the cave and returned from time to time to check on the soldier, who remained unconscious. In the light of day, he was looking very pale. Whatever she was going to do with him, she had to decide quickly. Although his wounds were not fatal, he had lost a lot of blood, and if the wounds became poisoned, there was little she could do for him out here.

Daphne was busy stripping the leaves from the willow branches to get at the medicinal bark when Midas gave a warning bray. She turned around and saw two soldiers striding toward her from upstream. She quickly pulled the mantle over her head to conceal her face, while still keeping an eye on them. They were dressed much more elaborately than her patient, in chainmail and helmets, and carrying swords and shields emblazoned with a scorpion. Dressed for battle. What kind of battle could they expect here, in this lonely valley amongst these rocky hills of Osroene?

The soldiers had spotted her and were quickening their steps. She remained where she was, with her back to them, feigning oblivion.

"You there! Old woman!" shouted one of the soldiers in Greek. Old woman? They must have been fooled by her dark mantle and her hunched form. Part of Daphne was offended, but another part of her was glad. She didn't like to think what such beastly men would do to a lone woman in the wilderness. "On your feet! We have some questions for you!"

Daphne gripped her knife more tightly in her palm, concealing it between the folds of her chiton. With her other hand, she pulled herself up by holding on to a willow tree, making sure to keep her back stooped, trying to appear like an old, decrepit hag. 

"Have you seen a wounded man around here?" one of the soldiers asked. He was young, with a face like a rat. He took off his helmet to wipe at his forehead, revealing thin tuffs of pale blonde hair.

Daphne hesitated. These men could be her patient's fellow legionaries, and she could simply hand him over to them and not have to worry about him any longer. However, she was now seeing them more clearly, and the brutal, fierce look on their faces made her knees tremble. She could be handing her patient to his executioners.

"Wounded?" she said in a low rasp. "Why would there be any wounded men around here? Was there a battle? Have the Parthians invaded us?"

"Calm down, you silly old hag," the other soldier said. He was older and darker. A scar ran from his left eye down his cheek, making him look even more vicious. "There was no battle," he continued. "Our fellow soldier simply—had an accident while marching, and we lost track of him. We're trying to find him before he gets seriously hurt. If you've seen him, tell us, and the army will reward you handsomely."

A likely story. Those wounds were no accident. Daphne shook her head. "No," she said. "No, I haven't seen a soul."

The two soldiers glanced at each other in exasperation and something else, too. Fear? Worry?

"He can't have gone this far," the blonde soldier said. "If Martialis had managed to wound him before he was killed—"

"Quiet, you idiot!" the dark one hissed. He pulled his partner away from Daphne's earshot, but some of his angry words floated back to her. "This is your fault! If you'd gone with Martialis to make sure the deed was done, none of this would've happened! Now we're trampling all over this Gods-forsaken land, searching for a needle in a haystack..."

So Martialis—whoever he was, or had been, by the sound of it—must have been the one who attacked her patient. And then her patient had killed Martialis and escaped? Daphne wasn't quite sure what the soldiers' conversation meant, but she was sure that there was some conspiracy here, and those men were in on it.

Her heart stopped. The two soldiers had noticed the cave and were making their way toward it. If they found her patient, they would know she'd lied...

"I wouldn't go poking around in there if I were you, young masters," she called out. The soldiers paused near the mouth of the cave and turned back to frown at her. She bent down a little, so that her cowl fell over her face. "These hills are teeming with scorpions and venomous snakes, and they like nothing more than a cool, dark place like that to hide from the sun," she continued. "They would not take kindly to being wakened from their nap."

The soldiers drew back, peering into the dark of the cave warily as if they could see these snakes and scorpions lurking there.

"I told you, he can't have gone far," the blonde, rat-faced soldier repeated to his partner. "We would've seen him by now. Unless he'd fallen into the stream. And if he had, he's done for anyway."

The dark-haired soldier lifted his heavy mail away from his neck and looked at the sun, which was getting higher in the sky and burning hotter. "Yes, I don't think anyone can survive such wounds out here," he said. "Let's go."

They went back the way they came and eventually disappeared behind the rocky hills. Daphne let out a breath of relief. Carrying her bundles of willow bark, she returned to the cave, where her patient was still lying by the remnants of the fire, breathing his shallow breaths and wincing in his sleep. Daphne sighed. It looked like she was going to have to cut her trip short this year.

"Don't make me regret this," she said, though he couldn't hear her.

Chapter 2

A note on the setting: I know that based on the location of the story (Osroene, now southeastern Turkey), the people were more likely to be Mesopotamian than Greek, but I don't know much about Mesopotamian culture and the research overwhelmed me a bit, so I went with Greek for simplicity's sake. A later chapter does include an explanation as to why there is a Greek community in the middle of Mesopotamia (I doubt anyone would care, but I'm a stickler for historical accuracy, even in an alternate history fic.)

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92 (as usual, if you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[luveline]

hey! would you mind writing sirius black x reader (ole flame or something) when they meet for the first time since azkaban at a meeting for the order? thank you and happy holidays!

thank u for requesting, hope this is OK! ♡

—you and sirius both get to go home eventually, 2.2k. fem

You were still kids when Sirius… went away. You thought he hurt James and Lily, and it didn't matter that you loved him because he was evil and cruel and he hurt the people he loved most in the world, and then you were outposted thousands of miles eastward, your life a shadow. 

Remus sent you letters. You always answered, even when it hurt, but his last was too much to believe. You told yourself that someone forged his handwriting through a curse or some new gimmick, and then a second arrived with a smaller envelope hidden inside. 

No name written on it. No Dear anything to begin. 

Things are different to what you've been told. Please come home, it said. This penmanship was shaken like a hand out of practice, but something felt familiar in the curves and dots. 

If Remus’ letter (and the second smaller one too) were in fact telling the truth, it means you did something awful, and so, for a while, you don't go. 

Please, the next letter says, again enclosed within a larger explanation from Remus, I'm sorry. I just want to see you again. 

Getting home isn't as simple as he might think. You have to picture the destination very clearly to disapparate, and you have no sustained recollection anymore of the places you used to go. You remember silly things, slices of memories; the four of them laughing in a big green field, the sweet smell of hair oil to your left; the beige walls of a rented flat where you'd lay in bed for hours, sometimes days at a time, before things got too terrible to sleep; a string-lit garden that last summer, hands of poker on a glass table. These places aren't real anymore. You can't go back to them. 

Upon your request, Molly forwards you an address and a secret code. 

Trains, buses, trains again. A long walk through a cold street. Some secret this or that. You arrive in the night and a frowning face ushers you in, past a painting sealed away and up the creaking stairs. You spend hours sitting on the end of a bed coated in dust waiting for the sun to rise, your back stiff with nerves. You could slip out before anyone else knows you're here, it's not as if Moody would give you away. But why did you come, if you were going to run straight back to your outpost? 

You don't want Sirius’ betrayal to be true, of course. It took your breath away imagining what it would mean if he hadn't done what you thought. If it's all lies (as it seems to be), if he's innocent as he and Remus claim, it means you turned your back on him and left him to suffer, and he's still asking you to come home. 

A few people stir for breakfast. Molly, who's voice you remember, and some younger sounding ones that may be her children, or perhaps the newer Order recruits. Then comes Remus’ voice. He sounds different. Less Welsh, more tired. Homely anyways as he passes your door with someone beside him. 

“...any day now,” he's saying, “try not to worry.” 

“I do worry. I've worried about it every day for years.” 

You freeze up. 

The stairs creak, Remus’ voice moving further away. “She doesn't need worrying.” 

Sirius must stay at the top of the stairs for a moment. He sounds close. “I wouldn't know what she needs.” 

“Come have some breakfast.” 

“I'll write her again.” 

“After breakfast.” 

“What if she doesn't come?” 

“After breakfast,” Remus insists. “She can ignore you once we've had toast.” 

“I forgot how funny you are,” Sirius mutters. 

Hearing his voice fills you with doubt. He sounds nothing like he used to, no easy confidence to be heard, just fatigue. 

You look down at your hands. Hearing his voice has a new emotion sprouting, too. When you first learned what had happened to your friends, you felt anger like a knife everywhere you went. How could he do that to them? How could he do it to you, be that person, ruin everything you'd loved and made together? But later, when anger faded and grief ached, you'd missed the Sirius you loved. Shamefully, in longing pangs, you'd toss and turn to dreams where things were different. 

Now there's a chance he might still be that person, and you're hiding from him in his own house. 

“There's someone here,” Molly says as you leave your room, her voice nearly too quiet to hear from the kitchen. “Moody's told me this morning.” 

“What?” Arthur asks. 

“Who?” a younger voice says. 

A small intermission of quiet. “Well, I don't know,” Molly says eventually, though she must have guessed it was you from the letter you sent. “But I'll need another loaf of bread. You'd better go, boys.” 

“Mum,” one whines. 

“Come on now.” 

The stairs whimper as you descend, the bannister sticky with old gloss under your hand. Paisley wallpaper and drapes catch your eye as you pass the overflowing shoe rack. There must be more people here than you'd thought. The coat stand is similarly overloaded. 

You can see into the kitchen as soon as you take the last step down. Molly stands wringing a dish cloth between her hands, two teenage boys at the kitchen table. Remus stands near her right with a cup of tea, and when he sees you, he genuinely smiles. 

“Oh, good,” he says, the scar that bisects his lip pulling as he takes a sip of tea. 

The teenagers turn to see you. “Bread, boys! Arthur, you can go with them," Molly says.

Arthur doesn't complain. You falter in the hallway, quiet as the trio of Weasley's leave the kitchen in their slippers to take a quiet exit from the front door. They smile politely as they go, but the boys whisper as the door shuts behind them. You wonder if they have an inkling of who you are, and then you wonder what you might say now they're gone. 

Molly remains, inquisitive to know that you need privacy but also the security of her company. She was always smart like that.

“Come in, then,” Remus says. 

“I–” You clear your throat. “I'm not sure I should.” 

A startle of silverware against china. 

Remus gives you one of his looks. It has tears threatening to well. Why didn't I fight to see him more? you think. Suddenly years have passed and he's changed, but his reassuring glances remain. It's like he's saying everything is fine, why wouldn't everything be fine? Chin up, dove.

Sirius appears in the doorway. Dark circles beneath grey eyes, his cheeks gaunt with hunger rather than the sleek sharpness he once possessed. He's still pretty, if wounded. It's as though you've found an old photo of him that's been smudged with age. He's stepped out of one of your moulding albums to haunt you. 

“Angel,” he breathes, his hand clasped low on the doorway, “you're here.” 

You look past him to Molly and Remus. There isn't a reality nor dimension where they'd let him stay here if they didn't believe his innocence. Remus explained it all in the letter and still you worried if he might have gotten it wrong, and simply believed what he wanted to believe, but it's not possible. Remus loved James so much, he would've killed Sirius himself if he really thought Sirius was the secret keeper who betrayed them. 

So. It's a relief to be home. 

You stare at him. “You look tired,” you say quietly. 

“I'm fine. I am.” 

He seems alright, considering. You'd even say he was handsome with his hair pushed away from his face, a dark shadow of stubble around his mouth, but he looks exhausted.  

You're expecting him to say what you'd say. How could you ever think I'd do it? 

Sirius was prone to similar bouts of pride, or righteousness, justice, whatever you want to call it, but he doesn't bother with that now. He looks at you as though you're the only person on earth, gaze narrowed but eyes wide, pain between his brows as he asks, “What's wrong?” 

Your hand finches up to your cheek to wipe the sudden tear away. “I thought I'd never see you again.” Your Sirius. 

“Don't be upset,” he pleads. 

“How can I not be? I left you all alone for so long.” 

He laughs roughly. “Sweetheart, what were you supposed to do?” 

“Not just give up.” 

“You thought it was me. That's the only thing you could've done. Either of you,” he says, gesturing backward with his hand. “It was hard… to know who to trust, at the end. It's not your fault.” 

You really were only kids together, not half as in love as James and Lily, but that doesn't mean you weren't mad for each other. He looked after you. You would've had a life, you think. 

“You were just gone,” you say, looking down at the floor between you, eyes tracing lines of wood grain. “Everyone. There was nobody left. And I just let you go.” 

“Do you want to come here?” he asks. You lift your head. His hand is barely in front of him, fingers open, palm up. 

It's like taking a stranger's hand for the first few seconds. You keep them low between you both, unfamiliar to each other. But, you find, as his fingers wrap around yours in that selfish way they used to do, squeezing rather than intertwining to make all of them fit, he remembers you.

You step a little closer, your arm to his chest, and look up at him through your lashes. It would melt him like a candle near a furnace, this look. He'd be smug or seething about something and you'd sidle in to stand between his shoes, unsure of what to say but determined to be there for him. It's the same now.  

“What's wrong?” he asks under his breath. 

“I left you all alone,” you repeat. 

“It wasn't your choice, okay?” He smooths his free hand from your elbow to your upper arm. 

Molly says something to Remus. He chuckles and says something in return. Happier to admit it if it's only for Sirius’ ears, you say, “I'm really sorry, Sirius. I miss you every day.” 

“I miss you too,” he says. 

You push your arms around his waist and hide your face in his chest, feeling for the lines of who he used to be, the dip of his spine in his back or the soft cotton of one of his old t-shirts. You regret hugging him at all, until he puts his arm behind your head, a shaky breath released against your crown. 

I'm scared, he'd said. But I don't want you to be scared, okay? Barely twenty, he smelled of the sticky red powder on the end of matches after a night doing things he couldn't tell you about. You could tell him you loved him, and he you, but you weren't to discuss Order business. We'll be okay. 

But Lily–

Everyone's going to be fine. I promise. 

“You promised,” you say to yourself. Too quiet for him to hear, but he does. 

“I promised you so many things I'm not sure what one you mean,” he says with a disappointed laugh. 

You pull away, taking his face into two hands. “How do you feel?” you ask, ignoring the tremble working up from your wrists. 

“What?” His eyes are dark. 

“How are you? Did they– I mean, are you okay? Are you sick?” 

“Remus has patched me up. And Cordelia, the medwitch, you know her?” 

“I don't know anyone. I've been away.” 

He nods sadly. “Yeah. Well, you look the same.” 

“I don't.” 

“You do! You look the same,” —he almost sounds happy, his lips curling into a smile— “sweetheart. Sweetheart–” He closes his eyes. 

You push his hair behind his ears. “You don't look the same,” you confess, “you have wrinkles, right… here.” You touch the corners of his eyes. 

“You're still beautiful.” 

“Mm. You can't even see me.” 

“I don't need to see you. I knew you would be.” 

You rise up to kiss his cheek gently. “It's like you're back, like– like, I always felt like you were gone. And now you're home again. You are home, aren't you?” 

He covers your hand with one of his. “You're here, so–” 

You laugh together nervously. “Yeah, I'm here.” 

“I have stuff to do to make it right.” 

“Then we'll do it.” 

“Okay,” he says. He swallows a breath, and wraps you in a surprisingly tight hug. “Did you read my letters?” 

I don't want anything from you. Just to see you're okay. 

“I read them. I'm okay. Don't I look okay?” 

“You look perfect. Just like the last time I saw you,” he says. It startles you how suddenly he sounds like he did when you were young, his flirting drawl, voice velveteen. 

“Not like that,” you laugh. 

He pulls you as close as you can be, rough now, his arms solid around you. “I missed that,” he says, rubbing your back. “I forgot how you sound when you laugh.” 

You've led very different lives. “I didn't forget yours.” 

“You wouldn't. You love having things to hold against me.” 

You stroke his hair. “Maybe a little.” 

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hi there, what's your take on Lupin's atitude towards Harry and their relationship

I think that the scene at Grimmauld Place, on deathly hallows is a very cathartic one. Harry is seeing one of his last father figures fall from a pedestal, and for me Harry acted on the right here, what do you think?

Like, their relationship is one that I'm a little weird about. Like, I'm not a big fan of Lupin, as I mentioned here. And I kinda hate when fanon treats him like Harry's cool uncle or similar to Sirius in his treatment of Harry. That is so not the case with Lupin. Like, Lupin is an expert at messing his social life up, so any relationship he's part of can't be simple.

I saw another post once that stated that it's telling that Harry calls the Mauraders: James, Sirius, Lupin, and Wormtail in his head, and yes, that is telling. The fact he keeps calling him Lupin even after Lupin makes him his son's godfather is telling regarding their emotional closeness — or lack thereof.

Harry doesn't trust Lupin the way he trusted Sirius. During 3rd year, he's the one pressing Lupin and chasing him to teach him the Patronus Charm. Lupin never mentions, in all their interactions that he knew Harry's parents. In the movies, Lupin was much more paternal towards Harry than in the books. Book Lupin is having a mental breakdown every time he looks at Harry and sees his dead friend. He lives in a constant state of guilt and I think, in book 3 he has no idea how to even approach Harry and this topic since he knows it'll bring up uncomfortable questions such as: "Where were you for 12 years?" along with digging up memories of his past that Lupin doesn't seem interested in reminiscing about until Sirius forces him to.

“All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn’t do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I’d betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I’d led others along with me . . . and Dumbledore’s trust has meant everything to me.

(PoA, 356)

He says the above regarding Sirius, but the same is true for anything else in his life. Especially when it comes to his treatment of Harry. He wants to reach out, he wants to say something, but then he gets stuck wondering if he should and ends up not doing anything. He chickens out, basically.

Then Lupin disappears for, like, the entirety of book 4. Harry's in a death tournament? well, Lupin doesn't seem to care. Like, I think he does care, in a general sort of way, but he got wrapped in his own guilt and indecision that he just never makes an appearance. He probably convinced himself Harry would be worse off if Remus was there because that's what he does. He made joint appearances with Sirius and the Order in book 5, where he's clearly saying everything he needs to say to please as many people as possible because he wants to be liked. I do want to note this scene from book 5 that I feel is overlooked:

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OotP, 54)

I hate this passage so much, you don't even know. Like, in my most recent reread of OotP once I read this line I closed the book and took a month-long break from my reread. Like, reading this is chewing glass for me. Because the only question on my mind is: "How could you, Remus?"

Like, I just can't imagine having an ex-student of yours, or even worse, the son of your dead best friend, tell you they don't want to go back home, that their relatives would rather they won't be safe — and all you do is give a cryptic half-assed smile.

Like, if we go with the most generous interpretation of Lupin's character, we can say he does feel awful about it but he, again, is trapped in his own indecision. Dumbledore gave him orders, and according to them Harry must return to the Dursleys, but he also cares about Hary's well-being in a vague sort of way. So, that smile we see here is Lupin trying to be reassuring through his guilt and failing miserably.

Then, of course, we can go with less favorable interpretations of how he, like many other characters, is a product of his society and upbringing. The Wizarding World doesn't really have the concept of social care and they don't really see abuse the way we do. That he honestly thinks Harry is speaking in hyperbole and is smiling because he thinks Harry's being dramatic like James used to be.

I think the truth is somewhere in between these two options, tbh.

Then he has his romance with Tonks, but Harry isn't really privy to most of it and it doesn't really concern him.

Then, we get to book 7 and that scene you mentioned.

Now, obviously, I think Harry is in the right. I think Lupin is, once again, being an indecisive cowered. Something he is very aware of. I think Harry is right in calling him out, although, perhaps it could have been done better. Both Harry and Lupin lost their tempers a bit during this scene and it shows. But, still, Harry is right about everything he says and Lupin knows this. That's why he gets angry enough to actually attack Harry. Because he has no way to argue against the truth.

“Tonks is going to have a baby.” “Oh, how wonderful!” squealed Hermione. “Excellent!” said Ron enthusiastically. “Congratulations,” said Harry. Lupin gave an artificial smile that was more like a grimace, then said, “So . . . do you accept my offer? Will three become four? [...] “Just—just to be clear,” he said. “You want to leave Tonks at her parents’ house and come away with us?” “She’ll be perfectly safe there, they’ll look after her,” said Lupin. He spoke with a finality bordering on indifference. “Harry, I’m sure James would have wanted me to stick with you.” “Well,” said Harry slowly, “I’m not. I’m pretty sure my father would have wanted to know why you aren’t sticking with your own kid, actually.” Lupin’s face drained of color. [...] “You don’t understand,” said Lupin at last. “Explain, then,” said Harry. Lupin swallowed. “I-I made a grave mistake in marrying Tonks. I did it against my better judgment and I have regretted it very much ever since.” “I see,” said Harry, “so you’re just going to dump her and the kid and run off with us?” Lupin sprang to his feet: His chair toppled backward, and he glared at them so fiercely that Harry saw, for the first time ever, the shadow of the wolf upon his human face. “Don’t you understand what I’ve done to my wife and my unborn child? I should never have married her, I’ve made her an outcast!” Lupin kicked aside the chair he had overturned.

(DH, 184)

He knows Harry is right, but he also truly believes marrying Tonks was a mistake for how she and the yet unborn Teddy would have to live their lives with him being a werewolf. He feels guilty and awful and he's trying to do here what Lupin always does — run away from his problems. Except, in the above scene, Harry doesn't let him have a pretty excuse for running off. Because when Lupin runs from his issues, he always makes sure to have an excuse. Somehow the excuse is always: "I'm a werewolf, and I'll make everything worse". I mean, he quit being the DADA teacher before they could fire him. All he does is run before the other shoe drops. Because Lupin is convinced the shoe is there. He lived all his life with this constant fear. The moment Lupin sniffs an uncertain situation he bolts in the other direction.

Like, I know some call Pettigrew the cowardly Maruader, but, really, it's been Lupin all along. (Peter is also a coward, but a very different flavor of coward).

And I think, later in book 7, when Lupin makes Harry Teddy's godfather, that's his way of apologizing for the past 16 years. He's apologizing to Harry for wanting to run away from Tonks, (and Harry, and everything else). This decision is a sort of 'thank you' to Harry for convincing him to stick around and not be a coward for once in his life, and it turned out good. It's also a decision that basically promises Harry Lupin isn't going to disappear from his life again. That, to me, was Lupin's character development and apology. It's him saying he's stopping with his guilt-ridden indecision and that he is settling down. He isn't running anymore and he wants Harry as part of his and his son's lives.

But, we didn't really get to see that happen, if he'll really stick to it or run away again because he died.

[elegantlyeva]

Hi! if you are up for it can you write something with James potter and ice skating? Maybe r has been ice skating for years and James hasn't ever stepped foot on ice but is amazing somehow?

DAY TWO

Unfairly Balanced

Summary: James was much too good at ice skating for it to be his first time.

Word Count: 0.4K 

It was the last time you were ever going to be comforted by the fact that James Potter might be bad at something just because he had never tried it.

He was skating circles around you, for Merlin's sake.

The huff you let out caused him to laugh. "What’s wrong, sweetheart?" His tone was a mix of fondness and teasing.

The glare on your face intensified. “I’m the one who takes lessons. Shouldn’t I be better than my supposedly amateur skating boyfriend?”

He shrugged. “I’m a quick learner.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve been here five minutes.”

He was about to say something—likely a joke, you presumed—but before he could, a first year went tumbling into you. Before you could fall, James grabbed your upper arms to steady you.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, slightly embarrassed after scolding him just five minutes earlier for being good at the sport.

The first year stood up, muttering apologies profusely, until you waved the poor kid off.

You turned to face James. “Sorry. I’m being unfair. I’m happy you’re doing so well. I just wanted to help you…” Then you admitted, “That’s not true. I wanted to make fun of you first, then help you.”

He let out a cheerful laugh, the apples of his cheeks red from the cold. “Sorry, love. This is what happens when you have a multi-talented boyfriend.”

You replied dryly, “Ha. Ha.” Still, you were more than happy when he took your hand to skate around the edge of the frozen lake.

Another hour and a half passed before most of the students had left. The sun was setting, and you were ready to go inside too—your skating had become sloppy from exhaustion.

James looked perfectly fine, unaffected by the time spent skating.

“I don’t understand. It took me at least 30 minutes to skate without holding the wall, much less do laps around an area at the speed you’re going.” A hint of jealousy peeked through your tone, and James had the decency to look a bit sorry, maybe even guilty.

He skated to your side, hugging your waist until you were pressed against him, and kissed your pout away.

Once he heard your laughter, he let up his attack and helped you off the ice.

It wasn’t until later that you figured out what had really happened.

“Come on, love,” James groaned, following you like a puppy.

“I knew it! I knew that would've been impossible for you. I thought you were some gifted natural.” You were half-ecstatic, walking out of the Great Hall after Remus had accidentally revealed that James had asked him to charm his skates so they would skate for him.

“We got to skate together. Wasn’t that more fun than having to teach me?”

“No. Watching you fall would’ve been more amusing.”

He rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around you. “Yeah, well,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, “I’ll make it up to you.”

[sleepiexx]

The Sad Expression on the Face I Love So Much

Remus Lupin x fem!Reader

Note: one bad week and suddenly I’m a fic writing god again. Had a Sirius oneshot planned out and mostly written but I pumped this one out before I could think of an ending to that one so you’re getting this first!

Summary: Your boyfriend patiently awaits your arrival home after a day out with your friends, only to be met with your saddened form.

Warnings: describes what i would refer to as a panic attack, but it’s never expressed to be one

Word count: 1310

Remus was a good man, it was such a shame you couldn’t match his upbeat energy when you entered the door to your shared apartment.

He had heard the front door click open, which sparked a smile on his face. He never wanted to stop your outings with friends, as he knew having relationships with people other than your partner was important— his own friends the truest testament to that statement— yet he couldn’t help but miss you when the house was left without your presence. Which is why he was pleasantly surprised by your early arrival home, no waiting up late for his nightly cuddle tonight, no, rather a nice long cuddle with a movie in the background.

He called out to you as he stood from the couch, scrambling to make his way to the foyer, “you’re home early, darling, how was your day out?”

He stopped in his tracks when he saw you. Your frame stiff, eyes glued to the floor, clearly shined over with tears that have yet to be shed, keys still clutched in your hand, likely because you’d been too distraught to even reach up to put them on the key hook.

“Oh, sweet dear, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” His worried words and the safe environment he had provided made the tears finally fall. In an instant, he was in front of you, wrapping you in his arms. A pained sob ripped its way through your chest, you’d been holding it in far too long.

“My friends…” you began, having a hard time composing yourself to even say what was wrong.

Remus had a hunch what the problem was. He didn’t like your friends for a very specific reason, but he had always stayed firm in the fact that you were the judge in who you were friends with and it was really none of his business who you did and didn’t hang around. He knows he would not listen if you had said you didn’t want him spending time with his friends.

“I- I just… I’ve been really anxious this week,” You started to talk with the shakiest of voices. Remus could tell from the way your breaths started cutting you off that you were beginning to hyperventilate. He didn’t want to stop you from talking it out, though, so he led you to come and sit down beside him where he’d been on the couch before allowing you to continue.

“And irritable— and- and- and you know how I- how I spiral when I’m irritable, because- because I just think such mean thoughts, and- and I just hate myself,” your stutter only got worse the more you revealed, because speaking about it made you think about it, and thinking about it made breathing harder. Not to mention the sniffling you had to do every five seconds so you wouldn’t cover your upper lip in snot.

Remus held your hand, rubbing soothing circles overtop your knuckles and keeping his own breathing as steady as possible in hopes that you would eventually sync up. His free hand moved its way to your back, rubbing up and down.

“I just thought,” you sniffled, futility wiping your face with your sleeve as you continued to cry, “that maybe I’d f-feel- feel better if I went out with- with my friends but..” your lungs seized and your voice came out strained and cracked, “but no.”

You wanted to keep your breathing steady for Remus, but it proved impossible. Your diaphragm seemed to have a mind of its own as it contacted with no care whatsoever of your say so.

“They just kept- kept making that stupid joke,” your voice was drowned in a visceral sadness and a defeated anger, making evident to Remus how you’d held off on sharing your feelings for far too long.

He knew well what joke you were talking about. It never sat right with him, made him clench his fists every time he heard it. It took everything in him not to blow up on your poor excuse of a friend group. He’d played the diplomat with your friends as long as he possibly could.

“Where they-“ sniff. “Pretend that-“ sniff. “They hate me- but- but-“ sniff. “But they get away- get away with it because-“ sniff. “Because I’m such a pushover and- and I never call them ou- out on it.”

Another sob wracked your whole body, Remus pulled you into him, your cheek pressed to his chest as he made a valiant effort to calm you down with his soothing touches.

“I know- I know that I’m a lot-“ sob. “But I- I’m kind. I- I treat th-them good so- so why d-don’t I deserve the same?”

Remus felt his heart drop, holding you steady through what felt like, to you, endless sobbing. He had always thought that you deserved so much more than the friends you made, but he just thought you had a really thick skin towards the subject. Everyone has a breaking point, he supposed, and for his sweet girl, this seemed to be it.

“Oh dove,” he cooed, “of course you deserve better. You are not ‘a lot,’ you are true to yourself, if they don’t understand that then that is their problem. You do so much just for them to be so ungrateful.”

You buried yourself further into him, holding onto him tightly as though he were a buoy in a storm. You sat for a while like that, until you could speak without stuttering as much— still, your quiet voice hardly carried and the heartbroken rasp in it was a sound unlike any heartache Remus had ever experienced “I wish I could control myself sometimes. Just- just make myself shut up once in a while.”

Remus scoffed, “I don’t.”

You looked up at him through heavy lashes, “really?”

You looked as if even a small gust of wind would make you shatter, yet Remus would guard you from it all, wind, or storm, or even shitty friends who don’t appreciate you.

“Of course not, sweetheart, I love how genuine you are. It’s what made me fall for you. That, and how hard you love. I’ve never doubted myself for a second when I’ve been around you.” He brushed some stray hairs from your face, “I have never been able to stand your friends, they aren’t as kind to you as you are to them.”

You nodded. He knew that it would take a while before you fully believed it, but he was willing to shower you in love every day until you believed it. In fact, he was already planning on integrating you into his own friend group, James and Sirius adored you and he had no doubt they’d love the idea. Lily, Marlene, and Mary would all love you too, he knew for a fact that girls nights with them had to be more fun than with your old friends.

For now, though, he’d settle for the calm you’d finally achieved after talking your way through such an intense wave of emotions, he was proud.

“What do you say we go back to our room, have a cuddle, and watch your favorite movie?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Yeah?”

You nod and repeat yourself as he cracks a grin.

You walk hip to hip to your bedroom until you’re finally able to sink into your bed. Remus hands you the tv remote before disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a soft, wet rag covered in makeup remover. Your cheeks seem to tingle as you remember the mess of mascara that must currently paint them, Remus doesn’t hesitate to come wipe you clean. When he’s done, he tosses the rag and leaves a chaste kiss on your nose.

“There,” he mutters, lying beside you and pulling you into his arms, “this is much better, isn’t it?”

[remuslupinslittleslut]

Teach us - Part one

@missakward123: can you do dom! reader poly marauders? Also loved this!! Yes I can, but I have such a hard time writing a sub!Remus, so I kinda took it in my own direction.

Part two is found here!

Reader x Remus turned into Reader x Poly!Marauders.

Masterlist.

They thought it was strange how Remus had been the first to lose his virginity out of the three of them. Both Sirius and James had girls throwing themselves after them constantly, but somehow, Remus was the first to go all the way.

You had always found them all quite attractive, but thought that Sirius and James tended to be a bit obnoxious at times. When you saw Remus studying alone in the library one day, you thought you’d go up and say hi to the tall, handsome guy. The two of you had only talked briefly before this interaction, but soon found that you enjoyed each other’s company. It didn’t take long from there for you to go on a date and soon you were a couple. 

Remus, ever the gentleman, didn’t tell his friends about your first time, he thought it was best kept private between the two of you, therefore you always tried to keep it somewhat lowkey, finding time to be perfectly alone. Though any secret could not be held for long in that dorm and one evening the cat came running and screaming out of the bag. You thought you’d get to be alone with Remus, as the other two had practice. As it turned out, however, practice was canceled and the door to the dorm was thrown open just in time for the two surprised boys to see you orgasm, quivering around Remus’ cock.

It slightly ruined the mood and you struggled to cover yourself as Sirius went on a long rampage about “The betrayal! The absolute betrayal. Our baby moons got laid and didn’t tell us. Here he is, having had sex the whole time – while keeping us in the dark.” He was pacing back and forth, only half joking about his distress before deciding to be the bigger person and be happy for his friend. “Good job Moons. First one out of all of us. Amazing.” With a chef’s kiss he left the subject of betrayal and moved on to something else.

After the embarrassing moment of coming in front of your boyfriend’s friends, it didn’t take long before the question was asked.

“Hey Moony, since you already had sex, could you teach us how to do it?”

“Yeah, Moons, I wanna be ready for when Lily lets me go all the way if you catch my drift,” James agreed, with a very unnecessary wink as everyone understood exactly what he meant.

You stared, gaping. That they would ask such a question didn’t surprise you one bit. The fact that Remus seemed to be actually thinking it over did.

“I guess,” he started, patting your thigh, “you’re gonna ask her if she’s willing to teach you.”

You, teaching his friends how to have sex? The idea was preposterous. Yet… It did make you feel a certain tingle between your legs. You still found them attractive, and the thought of being the one to take their virginities? Oh, that was just beautiful. You thought it over in your head. Remus was quite dominant, not really treating you as a submissive but he liked being a bit in control, he’d never let you have all the reigns. These two however… Looking Remus straight in the eye, you searched for any form of hesitance – you didn’t find any.

“Alright then, we’re gonna have to set some rules,” you said.

It was agreed that the day after, you’d help take your boyfriend’s best friends’ virginities. You said 24 hours to give everyone a chance to back out, and told them very specifically that they would shower, properly, “none of that locker room stuff, a real shower, clean everything.” It was best to be clear when dealing with teenage boys.

A whole 24 hours later you found yourself walking up the stairs to their dorm. You knew Remus would be there, and you knew they’d given consent. You wore your school skirt, but without panties, a t-shirt with a very flattering bra and your hair out. You had to get yourself in that dominant mood, ready to boss the boys around. Since becoming Remus’ girlfriend, you had gotten to know his friends as well. You knew James would be easier to dom, and you knew Sirius would be a little brat. Therefore, you started with James. Opening the door, you could cut the tension with a knife.

The boys were so cute and nervous, standing up and waiting for you (not Remus, of course, he was comfortably splayed out on his own bed). “Jamie,” you said. “Do you still wanna do this?” He nodded. “Okay, then take your clothes off and sit down on your bed. You,” you turned to Sirius, “are gonna have to wait your turn.”

When James was naked and seated on the edge of his bed, you took a moment to appreciate his toned body. The moment didn’t last very long though as you wanted to feel him. Climbing into his lap, thighs straddling his, you took his face and held it in your hands. He was so pretty, so soft, so pliable. “Jamie, have you ever kissed a girl?” you asked him, bringing your mouth so close to his that your lips almost touched his. “No,” he said, cheeks flushing red. Holding onto his cheeks, you brought your lips against his, softly at first, then with a little more pleasure. The warm breath from his nose on your cheek sent chills down your spine. Deciding to progress, you slightly opened your mouth, letting your tongue out to lick lightly at his lips. He moaned.

You continued kissing him, making out really, until you felt he was ready to move on. Leaning back a little, you pulled your top over your head, revealing your soft tits, perfectly framed by your bra. “Go ahead, baby, you can touch.” With your permission, warm hands pressed against your back before following the lines of your body, meeting your front and lightly squeezing your tits. You allowed him to explore freely, until he pushed his head down, paused and looked up at you, eyes asking for permission. Instead of answering him verbally, you pushed your tits against his face, letting him know he could kiss and suck all he wanted. He did manage to get your bra off all on his (you were so proud of him), and as it fell to the floor, you felt his cock twitching.

You let him play some more with your boobies before taking his hand, kissing it once and telling him “Jamie, have you ever felt a girl?” When he shook his head, you kissed the top of his head and pushed his hand down, between your bodies and toward your core. “Feel that? I’m all wet, that’s all for you baby,” you cooed, watching his facial expressions in awe – he was so fascinated. “Now, do you know where your little cock is supposed to go?” Little was a big lie. His brows furrowed in concentration as he felt around for the right hole, he did find it, and pushed a finger in. “Good boy, now put your cock in.” You raised yourself, hovering above him, hand coming down to help him push his cock into your warm hole. “Oh that’s a good boy f’me,” you moaned, loving the feeling of him filling you up.

Being so focused on James had almost made you forget about your audience, looking to the side, you met Remus’ hungry eyes. You could tell he was enjoying the show, hand rubbing against the bulge in his pants. You decided not to look at Sirius, making him wait for your attention.

Grabbing James’ shoulders, you carefully tried moving, sliding yourself along his cock, making you both moan. You tried a few different movements, going up and down, back and forth. It felt really good and you enjoyed playing around with it, and it seemed as though he was enjoying it too, his head thrown back, glasses askew and mouth slightly open. Suddenly his hands squeezed hard on your hips, making you stop your movements. “Jamie, you okay?” You asked, massaging his scalp with your fingers. “Yeah,” he reassured, “yeah, just need to… I’m gonna come…”

You giggled softly, “it’s okay if you do, but first, I wanna do one more thing.” Pulling your body away from his was hard, letting his heavy cock fall out of you was even harder, and you immediately mourned the loss. Though, you knew it would be worth it. Laying down flat on your back, you beckoned for him to join you, to climb on top of you. “You should know how to fuck a girl, Jamie,” you said, helping him find his way back into you. His athletic body was made for this, for moving himself back and forth, hips pushing against yours. He didn’t go very fast, but you knew he’d be able to when he got more used to the feeling. Hiding his face against your neck, letting the vibrations of his moans shoot right through you, his hips started making the smallest, cutest, most desperate little movements. “That’s good baby, that’s a good boy, you’re doing so well, so good, making me feel so good.” You didn’t think you’d be able to come, he was a virgin, but the little thrusts pushed the head of his cock against you in a way that just felt too good to hold back.

“Jamie, baby, I’m ‘bout to come,” you moaned, kissing his head, holding him close, “you’re so go- ah-od,” your moans grew louder as you experienced a rather mild orgasm, though, an orgasm nonetheless. Your walls spasming around him made him come as well, pretty cock filling you up with his little virgin cum.

“Wow, Jamie, you did so well, I’m so proud of you,” you told him, after he had pulled out and collapsed on top of you. His head was still buried in the crook of your neck, his breathing fast and hard. “Did you enjoy it?” You asked, to which he pulled his face away, eyes wide. “Like it? That was amazing.”

You stayed like that, letting him hold onto your body for a while, not wanting to leave him without aftercare and love. Though you knew, as soon as James moved away from you, you’d have to deal with his mischievous best friend. Before you let James continue his cuddling – with Remus – you made him promise you something. “Next time love, you’re gonna let me take your cute little cock in my mouth, okay?” To this, he nodded, excitedly.

Part two.

[theemporium]

Would you consider writing part two for the last Remus story? I can't deal with them not admitting they love each other and getting together 😭

poor little james blurb got put on hold for this but oh well!! thank you for requesting and i hope this makes up for the last blurb🖤

part one

.

Remus Lupin had come to realise that life was absolutely horrible and pointless without you in it.

It had been almost a month since you walked away from him in the library, and Remus didn’t think his life could get much worse than seeing you not even look back at him but did. He was forced to confront the habits he gained over the years of your friendship. 

He would prepare a cup of coffee in the morning for you, only to realise you were on the other side of the Great Hall.

He would excitedly rush to your dorm to tell you about a book he just read, only to be told by one of your roommates that you were out for the night.

He would hear your laugh in between classes or in the corridors, and his head would be snapping around to see if he could even catch a glimpse of your smile. 

Remus Lupin was miserable without you and everyone could see that.

James and Sirius had tried to cheer him up. Lily had tried to coax him on weekends out to Hogsmeade. Marlene and Dorcas had even tried their fair hand in trying to get a peak of the old Remus back, but it was useless.

It was Mary who had the idea of trying to get the two of you to reconcile. However, approaching you was never going to work considering the fact you weren’t talking to any of them either. And they doubted Regulus would be any help in persuading you into talking to them. 

It left only one reasonable option—trapping the two of you in a room until you worked out your differences. 

Remus was easy enough to convince. It felt a bit dodgy to be using his general exhaustion from the full moon that just passed against him, but he didn’t put up much of a fight as they led him towards the Quidditch closet out by the field. You were a little more difficult, but it didn’t mean they hadn’t managed to do much, your fists pounding on the door the second you heard the lock click. 

But it was useless. You were trapped.

And then you turned around, finding Remus sat on the floor with his back pressed against the wall. There were dark bags under his eyes and his cheeks looked a little more sunken in that they usually did after a full moon. He looked paler and you noted the new scar slashed across his cheek, fresh and not fully healed yet. 

“Oh.”

But he didn’t say anything. He just looked at you. Partly because he was convinced he was imagining it and partly because he was scared that if he opened his mouth, he would ruin the first chance he had to see you in weeks. 

You squirmed a little under his intense gaze, turning to try and shove the door open a few more times. But with no wand and your non-verbal spellcasting skills amatuer at best, you were forced to accept your fate.

You settled on the floor, leaning against the wall across from him so you were forced to meet his gaze. Neither one of you said anything at first and it felt wrong. It was rare you didn’t know what to say to each other, and in the moments where silence did fall, it was nothing but comfortable.

But this was tense, awkward even. And neither of you knew how to navigate it.

Much to both of your surprise, it was Remus who spoke first.

“I’m sorry,” he started and you froze, unsure if he had actually spoken or if you imagined it. But when you lifted your head, his eyes were wide and pleading and you knew you heard him correctly.

“Remus—”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he continued, cutting you off and you pressed your lips together as you listened to him. “I did trust you,” he said before pausing to correct himself. “I do trust you. And I’m sorry I never told you—”

“Why didn’t you?” you asked, your voice so small you almost didn’t recognise yourself. 

“I was protecting—”

“The real reason, Remus,” you said sternly. “Give me the truth, I at least deserve this.”

He let out a shaky breath, his eyes falling to focus on the ground between his feet as he spoke. “People’s opinions of me change when I tell them my secret,” he confessed. “Even if they don’t mean for it to, it does. It happened with the boys, it happened with Lily and Dorcas and Mary and Marlene. The few professors that know, it changed their perspective too. I hate it.”

You didn’t say anything.

“I hate the pitying looks they give me after a full moon, I hate the way they treat me like I’m about to shatter into a million pieces,” he muttered with a bitter laugh, before he lifted his head and looked at you. “I couldn’t see that with you. The others…I could deal with but I didn’t want you to change how you saw me. I didn’t want you to stop looking at me like I was worth something.” 

You swallowed the emotions that laid thick in the back of your throat. “Remus, I could never.”

“But you did,” he said with a grim smile. “And it is my fault you did so.”

“Because you were a self-deprecating idiot who should have realised I knew all along,” you murmured and gave him a soft smile, and something like hope flared in his chest.

“That I am,” he admitted with a nod. “I’m sorry, love.”

“You and those puppy dog eyes are too hard to resist, Lupin,” you grumbled as you shuffled across the small closet, making your way towards him until you were straddling his lap. “I’m still angry at you.”

Remus' face fell a little but he nodded. “I understand.”

“But I still love you so I get to do this,” you murmured and before he could even process what was happening, you were grabbing his face in your hands and pressing your lips against his.

Remus melted into your touch instantly, his arms winding around your waist and pulling your body down until you were fully situated on his lap. He kissed you back eagerly, his tongue darting out to lick and tease you like he had been dreaming of doing since he knew what the feelings he had meant. He let out a small whimper when you nipped his lip, a noise that only got louder when you pulled away.

“You’re a fucking idiot, Remus,” you whispered, your forehead pressed against his. “But you’re my idiot.”

“And I’ll spend the rest of my life making up for my stupidity as long as you keep calling me yours, love,” Remus whispered back, lifting his head to peck your lips. “I love you too.”

.

[marauderslibrarian]

(Lesser Known) Marauders Longfic Recs, part 1

whatever our souls are made of (by damagecontrol & Solmussa) -

There’s something on his tongue, velvet soft and foreign. Regulus pulls his hand away from his mouth.

In his palm, a flower petal.

-

Or, Regulus is in love with James, but James doesn’t love him back. Now there are flowers in his lungs and vines wrapped around his ribs, for this is a love that might kill him. Unless…

Raise Hell (by BrigidFaye, inthesquare, January_First, Reu (reu_byrd), soliloquy_dawn, Solmussa & ThisLiminalSpace) -

Heaven and Hell have had enough.

Battling for the Earth like children, sending their Angels and Demons to enact their good and evil plans, only to see it defeated by the other side.

An ultimatum is decided upon: they have exactly one year to unleash everything they’ve got on the Earth.

The winning side will own Earth and all its inhabitants, finally putting a stop to this battle.

Now, if only these Angels and Demons could stop acting like humans…

Goldeneye (by ThisLiminalSpace) -

His day is going well, until it’s not.

In fact, James can pinpoint the precise moment that his day goes to utter shite. It’s Frank, who opens his mouth to announce some changes to the team, and James pays attention, until he doesn’t.

He can’t, because did Frank just say what he thinks he said?

“I’m sorry, Longbottom, did you just say that Regulus Black is joining the team?”

OR

It's no surprise to anyone that Regulus Black loves James Potter — except, perhaps, to James Potter himself.

The Catfish & The King (by TheBiButterfly) -

A soft tapping caught Remus’s attention. He glanced up, a smile lighting his lips at the sight of bright green eyes on a curly haired toddler. Harry was three...and a half, if he was asked. He and his father were regulars on Wednesdays, traipsing into the library for the Children’s Story Time every week, without fail. Immediately, Remus was charmed by the pair.

“Hello, Harry,” Remus greeted him, reaching for the stickers on the desk. He rifled through the stack for one with a train. Harry liked those best. Finding one, he offered it to the tot. “Are you and your Da-“

“Paddy!” Harry exclaimed, patting the leather jacket on the man holding him.

Suddenly, Remus spotted the rings on the hand wrapped around Harry’s middle. After that mental cartwheel, Remus’s gaze took a long, leisurely journey up the man’s body. Ffyc.

Mistigris (by Calypte) -

Mistigris: a specific card that the holder can play as if it were any card; a wild card.

The Marauders are schoolmates-turned-co-conspirators. After perfecting school level pranks and petty crime, they moved towards progressively larger targets until they were, unarguably, some of the best burglars in the world.

One major mistake nearly costs them everything. Luckily, Sirius didn’t entirely leave his connections behind when he left the Black Family. There is still one person Sirius is in contact with, and it just so happens that that one person is the perfect solution to their problems.

Enter Regulus Black, “cleaner” for the Black Family. He’ll do anything for his brother… for a price, that is. Unfortunately for the Marauders, his going rate is a favor for each person involved.

The Sun & Wayward Stars (by TheBiButterfly) -

“I’m afraid that’s your choice to make,” Peter said solemnly. “If you want Sirius back, James comes along with him. The two of them are inseparable.”

Regulus’s eyes locked onto Peter’s, “You believe that, don’t you? That they’re inseparable.”

“Only because it’s true,” Peter agreed, shrugging lightly. “It’s not fair to expect Sirius to choose between you, Regulus. James was there for him during some really tough times. He pulled him out of depressions and tantrums repeatedly, despite his protests. He can reach Sirius when no one else can. Do you really want to take that away from your brother?”

“Yes,” Regulus answered petulantly.

Peter snorted a laugh, “Piss off, Regulus. Now who’s a prat?”

“Still Potter.”

You're Still My Sunshine (by TheBiButterfly) -

Sirius has drawn a firm line between his family and friends, but James and Regulus flirt their way into a secret relationship. Add in insomniac Remus with a Marvel addiction, plum fights, sneaky smut, unhinged Barty with an ax to grind, rabidly possessive Sirius, and a brief horror sub-plot with Peter for maximum chaos.

Whatever happened to the young, young lovers? (by georgia_sk) -

Regulus Black, presumed dead for over 2 years, shows up at an Order of the Phoenix meeting with 6 mangled horcruxes and Voldemort's corpse.

How does the wizarding world move on following the abrupt end of the war, and how does Regulus come to terms with the last four years of his life?

Not on his own evidently, as his brother makes an effort to return to his life, James Potter tries to weasel his way into his heart and the friends he left behind in the name of the war aren't willing to leave him alone any longer.

Red, Gold & Royal Green (by ChloeDevanport) -

James is the son of the president of the United States. Regulus is second in line for the throne of England. Both handsome, both clever and both good at charming the press in their own ways. Oh, and they hate each other. Well, Regulus hates James and James...wants to be his friend. But things take a turn for the worse at a royal wedding and James and Regulus are forced to make amends. More than that, they suddenly have to be the best of friends and while Regulus slowly lets his walls crumble, James stumbles head-first into something so utterly chaotic that it turns his whole life upside down and it all starts with a cake...

[psychoticallykind]

Jegumas Day Fourteen - Feast

1,063 words

@noblehouseofgay

--------------------------------------------------------------

The phone rang once before his brother picked up. “Reg?”

“Don’t laugh,” Regulus warned him. He blew out a breath, looking at the ingredients laid out on the table. “I want to cook dinner for James.”

There was a suspicious silence on the other end of the phone.

“Sirius?”

There was a quiet clicking sound. “Yeah, sorry, I had it on mute for a second.”

Regulus’s eyes narrowed. “You were laughing at me.”

“No!” Sirius claimed. “Well. Okay, a little bit. Reggie, you know you’re wonderful at a lot of things, right? Like, absolutely brilliant.”

“…yes, I know.”

“Right,” Sirius agreed. “So, you know, you don’t have to worry about the fact that you shouldn’t try to cook. You love James too much to give him food poisoning.”

“Sirius!” Regulus growled. “I got all of the ingredients for the chili his mom used to make him from his email. But he didn’t email himself the recipe, and I’m hopeless at this kind of stuff, but it’s her birthday today and I know he misses her so I’m trying to make the meal she always made him.”

“Oh, that’s sweet,” Sirius replied. “Okay, now I do feel bad for laughing at you. Do you want me to text you the recipe or do you want me to talk you through it?”

“I’ll manage if you text it,” Regulus said, though in all honesty he wasn’t sure.

“Alright. Call me if you need help.”

Regulus rolled his eyes. “I won’t.”

Two hours later - thankfully - he had a pot of chili on the stove simmering.

Exactly on time, there was a knock on the front door.

Regulus glanced anxiously at the chili before going to open it, standing back so that Remus could come inside. “Did you get everything?”

“Yeah, Sirius actually made most of it,” Remus replied, bringing the large, insulated bag to the kitchen. “Because he’s better at it. He didn’t tell you?”

“No.” Regulus frowned, making a mental note to yell at his brother later. Or maybe to thank him. Maybe both, now that he thought about it. “Okay, help me set it up.”

“I know, I’m doing it,” Remus mumbled, already setting the containers down. “Okay, so -” he tapped each container as he spoke. “Homemade bread, cookies, tea, and mini cakes from Effie because she’d already made some and wanted James to have them when she heard what we were doing.”

Regulus nodded. “How did you get cakes from Mrs. Potter?”

“She hadn’t left for her cruise yet and Sirius was talking to her over the phone. He got them last night.”

He was definitely going to yell at his brother. Sirius wasn’t allowed to be thoughtful without telling him.

“And he called me sweet,” Regulus grumbled, setting everything nicely on plates. He surveyed the table when they were done, looking over everything. “I think it looks okay.”

“It looks great, Reg. Like a little feast,” Remus told him. He held up the bag. “I’m going to go before James gets here, but don’t panic, okay? You did a great job, he’s going to love it.”

“Yeah, okay.” Regulus tried not to sound anxious. “See you later.”

Remus stepped forward and gave him a quick hug. “Don’t panic.”

“I’m not,” Regulus insisted. ‘”Go home. I’ll text you later.”

The apartment felt too quiet once Remus had left. Regulus knew James would be home any minute now.

He lit candles to improve the atmosphere. Then he stirred the chili. Then he forced himself to take some deep breaths.

Eventually - finally - he heard the sound of James’s key in the door.

Regulus met him in the entryway. “James! How was work? How are you feeling?”

“I’m alright,” James replied, giving him a tired smile. “I called mom, wished her a happy birthday.”

“You’ll see her after her cruise,” Regulus reminded him, hating the sadness lingering over James.

James nodded. “I know. I’m happy for her, she’s really excited about the cruise.”

He’s smiling, but Regulus knows that today has been hard for him. He’s used to spending the day with his parents, and the change has been taking a toll on him for a couple of days now.

James, for all of his spontaneity and impulsivity, has routines he relies on. And spending his parents birthdays with them is one of them.

“It was a good gift,” Regulus replied. He tugged on the edge of his shirt, a little nervous. “Um. I made dinner.”

James gave him a curious look. “You made it?”

“Um. Yeah,” Regulus nodded, fully anxious now. “I made it.”

“I’m sure it’s wonderful,” James smiled, wrapping him in a hug and kissing his forehead. “Thank you for making dinner, love.”

Regulus takes another deep breath before grabbing James’s hand and leading him into the kitchen. “I knew today might be hard for you, so I asked Sirius and Remus to make some things your mom makes. And I made the chili. I got - um, I got the ingredients list from your computer and Sirius sent me the recipe. It might taste a little bit off, because I made it myself, and I’m not really a good cook.” He risked glancing at James then, and immediately panicked. “Oh, James - I’m so sorry. I’m - I didn’t mean to make you feel bad,” Regulus apologized, watching a tear fall down James’s cheek.

Of course this was a dumb idea. He’s probably just made James miss her more. “I’ll - I’ll order takeout, we don’t have to-”

“No,” James shook his head, giving Regulus a warm smile. “No, Reg, this is - this is incredible. I’m so grateful.”

Regulus felt like he could breathe again. “Really? You’re not upset?”

James shook his head again. “I’m so thankful. I love you so much. Do you know that? I love you.”

Regulus grinned at the words, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I know.” He stepped closer, gently wiping the tears from James’s skin. “I love you. You’re really not upset?”

“I’m really not,” James reassured him. He pulled Regulus’s chair out for him. “I can’t believe you did this. Thank you.”

“Of course I did,” Regulus replied. He watched James smile as he took in all of the familiar foods.

The chili, thankfully, tasted perfect. And Regulus watched James smile without any sadness for the first time in days.

[andillneverbethesame]

𝒔𝒍𝒖𝒕!

❥ remus lupin x fem!reader

❥ summary; you and remus can't be left alone.

❥ warnings; celebrity!au & soc. media!au

❥ a/n; inspired by taylor swift's "slut!". this is short af and it sucks, i'm sorry. but i wanted to finish it so badly......... hope u enjoy it anyway, ily yallll

the sun shone bright, its rays gently falling on your wet skin as you watched him swimming in your pool.

it was the first time remus came to visit you to los angeles as you've been in london thousand of times and wanted to show him the beauty your state has to offer. he seemed to like it so far, taking some rest from rainy england in sunny california.

the golden liquid you poured into two wine glasses almost matched the color of his hair as he swam from one end of the pool to another — to you. you handed him one of the glasses and he took it from you with a smile on his face. your fingers brushed with his, sending electricity through your entire body.

"to being young," said remus.

you nodded. "to being young."

clink, clink.

all you needed was him.

——————————————————————

later that day, remus took you out for dinner. you believed you've been in every single restaurant in l.a. but your boyfriend proved you wrong.

the moment you walked in, you felt almost everyone's eyes on you. anxiety rushed through your body. almost as if remus could feel it, he gave you a reassuring squeeze and the weight on your shoulders suddenly dropped.

he lead you to an empty table by the window and pulled out your chair. you sent him a smile before sitting down and he took a seat opposite to you.

that was when you made the mistake to look around, locking eyes with numerous people who weren't very excited to see you and remus together.

"ignore them, dove," remus spoke, reading the menu. "they're just jealous of how beautiful you look tonight."

you knew that wasn't the truth but you appreciated him trying enough not to say anything about it anymore. you nodded and picked up the menu and did your best to ignore the glares.

——————————————————————

@celebrityupdates

76,890 likes

@celebrityupdates well, who would've thought! actress y/n y/l/n and "the marauders" bassist remus lupin were spotted together yesterday on a date and then left together hand in hand.

12,656 comments

@user6346873 wasn't she literally dating sirius black like a week ago? bffr girl 💀

-> @siriusblack no, you bffr, she wasn't.

@remuslupinsgf NOO REMUS WHY. she'll cheat on you like she did on everyone else.

               -> @user2578584 name one person she cheated and give me a proof

                   -> @remuslupinsgf whatever. her movies suck anyway

@user742795853 slut.

okay, maybe reading the comments of this post wasn't the best idea, you thought to yourself as if it wasn't completely obvious.

it was the morning after your date with remus and you couldn't understand how these pictures were up already. doesn't the media have better things to do instead of not respecting your privacy and talking about whos hand you're holding?

what also made you angry was that none of the comments seemed to be mentioming the fact that remus recently broke up with someone. you, on the other hand, hadn't been in a relationship for six months.

not that you wanted everyone to attack your boyfriend but you'll be the one to pay the price for the things you two have been doing together. it wasn't fair.

"what got you upset like that?" you jumped at the sound of remus's deep voice from his spot beside you. you glanced at him, your eyes softening at how beautiful he looked lying in your bed with his hair all messy.

"nothing," you mumbled, turned off your phone and placed it at your bedside table. you sighed and got up from the warmth of your covers (and remus's body) before saying, "i'm gonna go grocery shopping. there's absolutely nothing in here. you want something?"

"i'll go with you." 

"i'd rather go alone. i'll be right back." 

and then you left him there, in your bedroom with confusion written all over his pretty features.

——————————————————————

there was no point in keeping your relationship a secret. everyone knew. the picture of your and remus's faces were plastered on the front page of every magazine in north america and united kingdom (remus's friend james said so). still, you tried your best to spend as little time as possible with your boyfriend in public.

unfortunately, as soon as you left the gates of your property to meet remus, you were blinded by the harsh flashes of the cameras. it took your brain a second to register what was going on. remus was waiting there. his two bodyguards were trying to keep the paparazzi away from the two of you.

"y/n!"

"y/n! over here!"

"y/n, what's your message to the haters?"

"y/n, did you hear—"

"i'm sorry," remus spoke loudly so you could hear him well through the voices of the yelling men. "they followed me all the way from hollywood boulevard to here," he reached for your hand and interlinked his fingers with yours. "we couldn't shake them off."

before you could even open your mouth to reply, you were interrupted.

"remus! there's a rumour y/n has been hooking up with sirius black. what do you have to say to that? is it true?"

he completely ignored the question. he knew it wasn't true. you knew he knew.

remus got the door of the car for you and waited for you to get in before shutting it close. when he took a seat next to you and kissed you a "hello" before saying, "you look beautiful tonight", it was easy to forget all about the reality.

——————————————————————

you both were invited to the met gala which took place the very next week. the theme this year was victorian england so you were wearing a pink-white dress with poofy skirt, holding an umbrella of the same colors in your right hand and remus's hand in your left. your eyes were practically glued to him. he looked so handsome in his white shirt, which he had a vest suit over, and dark grey pants. everyone seemed to think so.

while posing for photos on the stairs, remus suddenly turned into you. his face was, out of the blue, too close to yours. you could see it in his eyes, feeling like you could read his mind.

"it's a big mistake," you said, though your smile said otherwise. "it might blow up in your pretty face."

the voice in your head was screaming at him.

do it anyway!

and he's going to.

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

Could I request 16 for George Weasley? A angst/smut post-war one please??

ofc! i got too into the post war and making it too sad that I couldn't seem to fit the smut without it turning weird and just out of nowhere so i am sorry. but if you request something else with smut I'll definitely do it for you!

Christmas prompt 16- “I didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don’t mind if I spend it with you.”

COMPANY

pairings: George Weasley x Fem! Summary: George finds that his only comfort during Christmas is with you Warnings: none

George was tired.

he had gone so long in that house full of people who didn't seem to understand his pain, he had gone so long of his family pretending everything was fine, like Fred wasn't gone, like there wasn't an empty seat next to him during dinner

he felt so alone, so sick of everyone asking if he was ok, and even if it had been 8 months, nothing George could do was enough to shake the feeling of his twin being taken away rom him

and as Christmas approached, he found him regretting things, how he left things with people that had any connection to Fred.

mostly, his relationship with you.

you and George, a complicated situation that George always wondered about

it was difficult to figure out what you two were, and to anybody outside of your circle it would have been seen as a relationship, but you weren't

you were never his and he was never yours, but the late nights cuddling in his dorm, the words said in the astronomy were a whole different story

you were best friends, even if Fred would tease him

he would have sked you out- he was going to tell you he loved you the day of the war, but Remus had dragged you away before he could pack up the courage

one of the last things Fred had told George before getting split up was that he should have told you years ago, that the night of Yule ball should had woken him up to how you felt for each other, but instead ended in tears due to an unreciprocated kiss.

it wasn't like he didn't like it, you had just caught him off guard, and by the time he realised your lips were finally on his after years on pining, you pulled away, apologising as you ran away

that was one of his biggest regrets in life.

the next time George saw you after the war was at Fred's funeral. he had been too sad to go up and take to you, despite your effort the only word said between you was a measly sorry before he walked away, taking a piece of your heart with him.

George could have sworn he heard Fred's voice in his head, telling him to talk to you, to tell you how he felt. but he brushed it off

it was too painful to face you, too hard to look at you when Fred had gone so many years telling him that he needed to pack up the courage. and even if Fred was in his head telling him things, it was never the right time.

and as more time went on, the less and less you saw George

he had given up, he couldn't do anything but sulk around in his apartment above him closed shop for months, doing everything in his power to avoid contact with everything of Freds in his home he now lived alone in.

so, George at on his couch, reading a book, the fireplace on with a blanket thrown over his legs as he rested his feet on the coffee table.

he should be at the burrow, where all his family are right now, probably having dinner as festive songs played, the Christmas eve air coming in through a slightly cracked window of the kitchen as they all get ready to go to bed.

George felt like he couldn't move as he stared at the page, his vision blurry as he heard children's laughs outside, oblivious to the destruction the war had caused to their word,

George often wondered what he would be doing if Fred was still here, but he always stops himself from thinking like that, getting frustrated because he knew he was gone, and nothing could bring him back

he just hated the fact the rest of his family seemed to move on so quickly, he despised the fact that some chose to carry on with life as if George's wasn't just destroyed

he snapped out of him and sighed shutting the book, looking up at the photo on the mantle.

a picture of Fred and him, laughing as you stood in the middle, an unamused look on your face to something George chose not to remember

Fred had loved that photo, hanging it up there when they first got this place

❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

you yawned as you opened the door of your little cottage right outside Hogsmeade

you frowned and then raised your eyebrows as you took in the man you haven't seen in months as he stood in front of you awkwardly.

"sorry for showing up unannounced" he focuses his gaze away at his feet

you stayed silent for a while as you looked at him.

as if he could sense your confusion as to why he is here he looked up, running a hand through his hair

“I didn’t have anyone else to spend Christmas with. Hope you don’t mind if I spend it with you.” he spoke hopefully, his eyes full of something you could figure out

you stepped out of the doorway and let him in, still a little confused

"is your family away?" you asked as he slowly walked in your home, looking somewhat guilty

he shook his head as he played with his fingers nervously

you knew that had to be a reason for him coming here asking to spend Christmas with you, so you had fought the urge not to ask, just in case it might tick something off

"would you like some hot coco? I was in the middle of brewing some" you blinked

he mumbled a simple yes please as you guided him to your living room. he had sat down and shifted multiple times trying to get comfortable in an odd situation he put himself it, he wondered it he should leave, he rethought coming here as you smiled tightly at him, leaving so many words unsaid

"I can leave if you want me t-" he mumbled before you cut him off

"it's ok" you looked away before going to the next room, watching in the corner of your eye as he looked around, drumming his hands on his knee as you walked to the kitchen, making more hot coco for him

you were still so confused as to why he showed up here, out of the blue, it had been so long since you saw him last that you thought you would never see him again, and for a while it seemed like that was for the best. but who are you kidding you've always had a soft spot for the man, however broken he may be from the war, but you were hurt too

you had tried so hard to be there for him, try to be a shoulder he could cry on, but no matter the efforts he had shut you out.

but you could never stay mad at him, it wasn't his fault.

you walked out of the kitchen with two mugs in your hands and sat beside him, passing him a cup of hot chocolate with melting marshmallows

he took notice to the knitting beside you on the couch, laying there, seeming to be left half finished, he wondered if he had interrupted you while knitting.

that was something he always loved about you, the fact that you did everyday things the muggle way when it was easier to do it with a quick flick of your wand. he loved every part of you, even if he's messed everything up

the room was silent for a while, no one daring to speak as you sipped on your hot coco

"so..it's been a while, huh?" he chuckles dryly, placing his mug on the coffee table

"I've missed you" you said shortly, looking away to the candle burning slowly on the mantle

"I've missed you too.." he whispered, looking at you as you looked ahead, admiring the way you look

your eyes still had the same mischievous smile, but held a certain tiredness that couldn't have just been from the time of night he had held you up to.

"I'm sorry I've pushed you away" he started with a sigh

you looked over at him with a frown

he had nothing to be sorry for, yet here he was, on Christmas eve when he should be with his family, wanting to be with you, for the first time in months.

"You don't deserve it, you were trying to be there for me...and I've pushed you away. I want you to be there for me- I do...but I don't. I can look after myself, but I want you with me. I guess.. no one understands what I'm going through...everybody moved on and I'm so angry... I just don't want you around me when I'm like this but this isn't how it's supposed to be" he rambled, his voice wobbling as he spoke

you're trying to process what he means before he takes your hand in his, making you flinch at the coldness of his skin, as rough as his fingertips, they've never been softer, they've never been more gentle.

it reminds you of all the times you'd hold his hands during school, whether it was running from filch, sneaking out or just strolling around, joking about something or another.

"you were supposed to be with me... supposed to be mine, Fred always told me that and I was going to- I should have- and I'm sorry but... I've always felt comfort with you, love. and I just want you.. I miss you" he finished

it's been way to long since he's used that nickname on you.. almost 9 months, the night of the war before you got dragged away

"George..."

you gave his hand a squeeze before resting your head on his shoulder

"I love you... I should have said it years ago...there are so many times I could name where I should have handled things differently and I'm sick of the what ifs because one minute someone is there and the next they aren't and you don't know when the last time you can tell someone you love then. And for this case...the first.. and I'm not risking it..." he shook his hand, pulling you closer to him, his hands slightly shaking as he held you.

"it's ok, George... it's not your fault..." you wiped a tear that had falling down his cheek and kissed his head

he shook his head "no.. no it is.. you could have been here..with me.. I just didn't tell you..let you"

"I knew all you needed was time... and I gave it to you, because I love you."

George frowns as he looks down at you, a sad smile making it's way to his quivering lips

"you do?" he questioned

"I always have, George" you said softly, playing with the nails of your fingers

it's not like you haven't said it before, but it's definitely the first time you've said it with the weight on your shoulders, the meaning seeping off your tongue, coming out so sweet, tasting so good on your lips as you reflected on your relationship with the man currently having a crisis in front of you

"I'm not the same man, love" he closed his eyes, his leg twitching away from yours as he clenches his jaw

"I've known you through every phase, George, I think I can still love you now" you hum

"so I can spend Christmas with you?" he looked at you hopefully

"I guess I could use the company" you shrugged before smiling softly "I want what you want, George, if you don't want to spend it with your family, I'm not going to force you"

"you've always been too good to me...patient..." he furrows his eyebrows. trying to figure out why

why him? he's asked that question a million times this year. but this time he didn't care about any insecurity that held him back

he leaned forward and cupped your cheek, placing a soft kiss to your lips.

"you're the only company I want"

❅.⊹₊ ⋆❆‧⋆☃︎

[valentinetypewriter]

Y/n and Remus were used to Sirius bringing home strays, his heart was too big to leave them, but what do they do when their beloved husband brings home a stray they can't take to an animal shelter.

Warning: referenced/implied child abuse

Main masterlist // marauders era masterlist

Word count: 1,079

It was a cold winter night, I was sitting on the couch wrapped up in a thick blanket as I waited for Sirius to come home, Remus on the other hand was fast asleep upstairs. Though Sirius didn't say much about where he was going, he just said it was important. It wasn't until 10pm that I heard jingling keys from the door. I looked over at Sirius as he walked into the living room, he was staring at the floor with a sad look on his face "are you alright dear?" I asked him softly "please don't get mad, I just couldn't leave him there". I was quick to think that he had brought home another stray animal as I heard movement by the doorway. I stood up with a sigh, making my way over to the door "I swear Sirius if it's another dog you'll be sleeping on the-" I stopped instantly as I saw what was in front of me, it was in fact not a dog or an animal for that matter.

It was Sirius's little brother, his head hung low and his arms were wrapped around himself. I heard Sirius come up behind me "why didn't you tell me you were bringing him back here" I looked behind me at my husband "I'm sorry Y/n I was too worried about him". I shook my head, looking back over at the small boy "oh Regulus sweetie are you hungry?" The said boy finally looked up at me, his face made my heart break. He had a dried cut on his swollen lower lip and he was littered with small bruises and scrapes. He hesitated for a few seconds before responding "if it's not too much… trouble to ask" his voice was quiet and cracked slightly "of course not, why don't you two take a seat on the couch" I lightly placed my hand on his shoulder and gave him a soft smile. He muttered a small thank you before following Sirius into the living room. I fixed up the two boys the leftovers from the dinner Remus and I had made earlier, it was a simple Carbonara dish. I made my way back into the living room holding the tray, after setting down the bowls and two drinks I gave Sirius a quick kiss on the head "I'll go wake Remus" he smiled up at me "thank you for this love" I smiled back at him before making my way upstairs.

I quietly opened the door of our bedroom, quickly shutting it behind me. The only light in the room had been the small lamp on the bedside table Remus had left on after falling asleep while reading. I walked over to the bed sitting on the edge, I moved the book off of Remus before gently shaking him. He let out a soft groan, opening his eyes to look at me "Is everything alright?" he asked with a slight tone of concern "it's just… Sirius brought his brother here, the boy looked pretty roughed up" Remus sat up leaning into me "are they both alright?" His voice seemed quieter when he asked "I'm not sure, but they're both downstairs eating, thought I'd come let you know" I said as I combed my hair through his messy hair. "I'll be down in a bit" he gave me a soft kiss on the lips and got out of the bed, making his way over to the walk in closet. I left him to get dressed and made my way back downstairs to see Regulus cuddled up to Sirius, his head resting on his brother's shoulder as Sirius wrapped his arm around his shoulder. I sat down on the other side of Regulus putting my hand on his knee "are you alright Reg?" I rubbed my thumb lightly on his knee. He looked over at me with sad wet eyes "I'll be okay, i'm quite used to this sort of thing, though thank you for this Y/n… it means a lot to me" he practically threw himself at me wrapping his arms around my waist as his head landed into my shoulder quietly sobbing as I ran my hands through his unusually messy hair. "Hey you don't need to thank me, I'm more than happy to help you Regulus" I looked over at Sirius, he looked miserable at the state of his brother, but held a small smile on his face at the fact his brother trusted his Wife so much to be vulnerable around her.

Remus had finally come down, taking the seat next to Sirius as the said boy leaned against him, seeking warmth from his insanely warm husband. "If you want Reg you're more than welcome to stay here" the boy quickly pulled away from me looking shocked "are you serious, you'd actually let me stay here" the young boy sounded unsure and scared. Remus spoke up for me "we wouldn't mind at all Regulus, we have more than enough room, you can take the granny flat James and Lily used to stay in if you'd like" Regulus looked between the three of us looking like he was going to burst into tears again. He started quickly nodding his head "I'd like that a lot" tears started to stream down his face again and he lent back towards me. "How about we put on a movie for us to watch, how does that sound Little Star" Sirius asked, rubbing the back of his brother's head. Regulus nodded his head, slowly pulling back from my shoulder again "do you guys have Rocky Horror" I felt slightly shocked at his choice and so did Remus, I looked over at him to see his wide eyes staring back at me. "Of course we have that, what do you take me for brother" the two let out small laughs.

We all had blankets wrapped around us to fight off the cold while we watched the movie. Remus was the first to fall asleep, his head falling onto Sirius, he was quickly followed by Regulus, who had also fallen asleep on Sirius. "Thanks for this love" Sirius spoke quietly, trying to not wake up either of the sleeping boys "of course, I'd do anything for you and Remus" we both smiled at each other before falling asleep towards the end of the movie. Sure we'd all be super stiff in the morning but right now it was definitely worth it.

[petitemistletoe]

rewrite your elvis fic why’d you only call me when you’re high but with one of the marauders?

Title: Why'd You Only Call me When You're High?

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Warnings: smut, angst, drugs, old school rocker vibes

Word Count: 1.9K+

A/N: this could only be written about Sirius I'm sorry! He's so rockstar coded! happy holidays y'all :)

… The mirror's image, it tells me it's home time

But I'm not finished, 'cause you're not by my side

And as I arrived I thought I saw you leavin', carryin' your shoes

Decided that once again I was just dreamin' of bumpin' into you

… Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message, you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?"

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

Sirius finished his line of coke, flipping his head up and sniffing harshly. He gave himself a long look in the mirror. He looked great, obviously: leather jacket over a bare chest, a tangle silver and gold necklaces of varying lengths cascading down his neck to his chest. Most of his tattoos were visible and his pair of leather pants were impossibly tight. His fingers were adorned with a number of rings and his hair was that perfect combination of messed up and carefully styled. His eyeliner was smudged around his eyes and he couldn’t quite tell if his eyes were so dark from the eyeliner or from the lack of sleep. 

Sirius couldn’t remember the last time he had had a solid night of sleep, but that was the nature of touring. Of course his bandmates weren’t like he was. James was boring and married with a kid, who Sirius obviously doted on, but James spent all his time when they weren’t performing or practicing with Lily and Harry. Remus was dating this guy Grant who really got under Sirius’s skin. Was it because Sirius and Remus had had a fling, an excellent mind-blowing fling, and when Remus pushed for more Sirius said no and Remus moved onto Grant? Maybe. Was it because Grant was disgustingly kind and sweet and felt like the absolute antithesis of Sirius? Maybe. Was it because Grant had gotten Remus into tea and biscuits rather than coke and pills? Maybe it was that too. And then there was Peter. Peter, bless his heart, tried his absolute best but the coke made his nose bleed, pills made him constipated, and liquor made him vomit. So most nights after a show, James would go home to Lily and Harry, Remus would go home to Grant, Peter would go home to god knows who (probably his cats or gerbils or whatever), and Sirius would go anywhere but home. 

He had liked groupies, townies, the international girls and guys, but he liked you most of all. You were a bit of a forbidden fruit, you were his brother Regulus’s best friend, but that made it all the more appealing. Sirius only went home, only spent the night in his bed, if he knew you would be there too. 

Sirius dialed your number as he made his way home in the backseat of his limo. He was rolling something that he wasn’t sure if it was a joint or a cigarette as the phone rang. He did a double take as he drove past Newt Scamander’s house. Newt Scamander was an old school rocker, a living legend basically, and even though he was a little past his prime looks-wise, he was still a sex symbol. But it wasn’t just Newt’s house that caused Sirius’s double take, it was the fact that he thought he saw walking out of Newt’s house, carrying your phone in one hand and your heels in the other. Sirius shook the thought from his brain, figuring that he was so high he probably just saw a tree branch or something. Sirius got your voicemail but he knew, despite the late hour, that you were not asleep. He dialed you again. And again. And again. Until finally he heard your voice.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” You sounded annoyed but he just laughed it off as he walked into his house, stepping out of his boots and kicking them off somewhere, stripping his sweaty clothes haphazardly and letting them fall off his body haphazardly. 

“That’s how you answer the phone? No hi?” Sirius teased, falling back on his bed and stretching his sore muscles. 

“Hi.” You said pointedly, “why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

“I’m not high.” Sirius said, taking a long drag of his spliff. 

“It’s three in the morning, Sirius.”

“Come over baby.” Sirius crooned. 

“You’re still talking the same shite you always did.” You were rolling your eyes, Sirius knew you were. 

“It’s harder and harder to get you to listen, baby.” Sirius said, a bite of annoyance coming through. He was on the come down from his earlier line and and was getting irritated. 

“Luckily for you I’m incapable of making alright decisions. I’ll see you in a few.” You disconnected the call. 

Sirius finished his spliff and began to roll another one. There were a few messages on his phone from James, he was probably up at one of those late night feedings for Harry. He started to read through them when he heard his door open and shut and after a few moments you were in his bedroom, crawling your way up the bed towards him. 

“That was fast.” Sirius frowned. Usually it took you at least fifteen minutes to get from your place to his, even in the dead of night when no one was out on the street. 

“You complaining?” You asked, pulling your shirt over your head as you straddled him. Sirius was going to question things more but suddenly your tits were in his face and he forgot all about that. 

… Somewhere darker, talkin' the same shite

I need a partner, well, are you out tonight?

It's harder and harder to get you to listen

More I get through the gears

He buried his face between your tits and groaned,

“This is my favorite place in the absolute world.”

“Well make yourself useful, Black, and stimulate my nipples.” You said, gripping his hair harshly. Sirius obliged, wrapping his lips around one of your hard nipples and his nimble fingers flew to other one, tweaking and pinching it. You were grinding down in his lap against his hard-on until his lips moved from nipples up around the curvature of your breast, then up your clavicle, then up your neck, until he got up to your lips. Before he could connect his lips to yours, you pulled back and made your way down his body and wrapped your hand around his cock. Sirius gasped as you ran your hand between your legs to lubricate it and then started jerking Sirius off. You laid flat on your stomach between Sirius’s legs and continued jerking him as you lightly sucked one of his balls into your mouth. Sirius went from the light gasps to strangled, intense moans and he felt like his lungs were about the collapse. 

“Get up,” he choked out, “I need to be inside you.”

You lifted yourself up and without much warning you seated yourself on Sirius’s cock. Sirius groaned and held your hips hard in place, preventing you from moving. 

“Sirius, come on.” You whined, your nose touching his as you tried to move again. Sirius released his grip and started fucking up into you hard. Sirius lifted his jaw, capturing your lips in a deep kiss. You pulled away harshly, pushing yourself up so you were no longer pressed against his chest. Sirius thought about saying something but then you moved your hips in the most delicious way and he forgot all about it. Sirius pulled you off of him and flipped you over, bending you over so your chest and face were pressed against the mattress and your hips were up in the air. There was a tattoo at the base of your back that had have been new. He pushed into you, his hands grasping your hips like he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. 

He was close, so so close to finishing, but he was distracted by the tattoo on your back. It looked like a constellation, it was vaguely familiar looking, maybe it was something that he had studied in an astronomy course. One of the stars on the constellations was darker than the rest and it had a small green glow mark around it. 

“Did you snort too much or something? I’m getting rug burn here.” You said, turning and looking over your shoulder at Sirius. Sirius’s eyes snapped back up to yours and as he locked eyes with you he came. He always tried to pull out but he was caught off guard this time that he came inside you.

Incapable of makin' alright decisions, and havin' bad ideas

… Now it's three in the mornin' and I'm tryin' to change your mind

Left you multiple missed calls and to my message you reply

"Why'd you only call me when you're high?”

“Fuck Sirius!” You snapped, jumping off him and running to the bathroom. 

“Sorry,” Sirius murmured. It was weird…that tattoo was so so weird. It felt like something was sitting on chest he was so strangled by the idea that he had seen that exact constellation before.

“Fuck Sirius,” you repeated, walking back into his room and shaking your head, “I gotta get a morning after pill tomorrow.” You walked over to Sirius’s discarded tight leather pants and pulled out a few crumpled up bills that were in his pockets. “This is why I fucking hate having sex with you when you’re high.”

“I’m not high,” Sirius said weakly, still staring at your tattoo as you were bent over digging through his pockets.

“You only ever call me when you’re high.” You said, straightening up and starting to pull on your clothes.

“You aren’t staying?” Sirius felt like he was running out of time.

“I, uh, have to be up in the morning so I need to have an…early night.” You said, not looking Sirius in the eyes. 

“Am I starting to bore you baby?”

"Hi, why'd you only call me when you're high?"

… And I can't see you here, wonderin' where am I

It sort of feels like I'm runnin' out of time

I haven't found all I was hopin' to find

You said you gotta be up in the mornin'

Gonna have an early night

And you're startin' to bore me, baby

“I’m fine, Sirius. I just have an early morning.” You said in a snippier tone than Sirius had ever expected to hear from you.

“What’s that tattoo on your back?” Sirius stormed across the room and grabbed you by the arm harshly. 

“It’s the constellation Leo.” You snapped back, glaring up at Sirius.

“And what’s the glow on that star?” Sirius didn’t know why he was getting so upset but his blood pressure was only continuing to rise as he looked at you and thought about that tattoo.

“You really don’t know?” You smiled cruelly. “You really don’t recognize it.”

“What is it?” Sirius could feel his nose bleeding and he wiped at it. There was a streak of smeared blood on his cupid’s bow.

“It’s the star Regulus.” You grinned.

“Why’d you have to be such a bitch?” Sirius screamed.

“Why’d you have to be?” You retorted.

“Why’d you always lie?”

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?”

Why'd you only call me when you're high?

… "Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?"

"Why'd you only ever phone me when you're high?”