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sayoneee · 1 year ago

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☆ LOOKS THAT KILL!

even after your rise to fame, sirius is still as determined to annoy you as ever (1.4k)

contains: rockstar! sirius black x fem! reader. references to motley crue. swearing. theyre americans sry. fake dating au

kashaf’s note: this is a very indulgent atrocity. pls dont flop

“THE TWO OF YOU are quite the rivals,” the tv show host begins, smiling wide—his teeth are almost as blinding as the studio lights glaring at you from behind him, casting a shine on his bald head. your eyes focus on the spot as he continues, almost leering at you, in his regular, oily fashion as his mustache—almost as if it gained a life of its own—seemingly wiggles at you. caught up in the distractions of it all, you almost miss the end of his question entirely, “how did this fearsome rivalry turn into the sudden whirlwind romance we’ve all been hearing about?”

the host plasters on a well-practiced smile, too plastic to be anywhere near genuine, and you’re reminded of why you cannot stand the industry and all the interviews that came with it. the longer you sit here, the more you regret saying yes to your manager’s sudden whim to turn yours and sirius’ mutual hatred into a cloyingly sweet love story in an effort to sell concert tickets for your upcoming (separate) tours.

realizing that sirius was not about to grace the tv show host with an answer, you take the lead—your manager never said you couldn’t have any fun with this, so, eyes twinkling, you set out to ruin every shred of sirius’ infamous bad-boy persona. you leaned forward, adopting a conspiratorial whisper as if letting the host and the audience on a well-kept secret as if you weren’t a rockstar and there weren’t cameras picking up on your every movement, “well, i’ll have to admit, it took a lot for sirius to actually win me over. but i mean how many times can you say a man serenaded you, standing outside the window of your apartment in the dead of night with ‘my girl’ by the temptations?”

you leaned back on the couch, a self-satisfied grin on your face as the audience cooed their adoration, and the host’s expression morphed from one of shock (even this old geezer knew of sirius black’s reputation for stringing along a long list of broken hearts) into a more neutral one.

you glanced at sirius, noticing him opening his mouth to reply, but you couldn’t have him ruin your fun, so you continued, “it was so sweet—i couldn’t even laugh at him, poor guy, we all know why he’s a drummer and not the singer.”

the audience burst into laughter, swept up and pulled in by your playful words and almost easy-going affection.

sparing a glance at sirius, whose usual swagger and fuck-all demeanor seemed to be missing, you watched as he blinked twice, before settling back into his persona. the viewers at home and the current audience would later declare this to be an endearing reaction to your loud show of love; even your respective bandmates would believe the act. only your manager, having conducted the arrangement herself, would be privy to the truth.

you basked in your victory: sirius: zero, you: one; as short-lived as it was as sirius leveled a roguish grin at the cameras, and the audience, stretching enough for his band tee to ride up and a small silver of skin to be noticeable, before wrapping an arm around your shoulder, and shuffling you uncomfortably closer.

“what can i say—only the best for my girl,” he shrugged, grinning so large, he was almost baring his teeth.

the audience tittered, their amusement palpable, as the interviewer excitedly leaned forward, almost as if he was forgetting he was delving into the details of a relationship between two nineteen-year-old rock stars, “would you say that you’re head over heels?”

“oh, totally,” sirius confirmed with a smirk, nothing short of self-assured, as he squeezed your shoulder, “i actually wrote a song of ours about her.”

it takes all of your self-control to not grind your teeth right now and to reach over and slap him—his shameless promotion was going to jeopardize this stupid fake relationship and ruin both of your careers. you manage to keep your fake smile plastered on and your hands controlled. the silver lining in this entire ordeal was that this was a lesson learned for you because next time you weren’t going to mess around with any other rockstars—oh no, you’re swearing off rockstars, entirely.

the tv show host leans forward, almost on the edge of his seat, making you shift imperceptibly closer to sirius, “now, come on, young man, don’t keep us hanging.”

sirius smirks again, his gaze lingering on you so briefly, you feel like you imagined it, “i wrote ‘looks that kill’ off our latest album about her.”

the host, far too caught up in unraveling the details of your whirlwind romance for any respectable aging old man, rushed to provide context, “for our listeners who are not yet familiar with the marauders’ latest album, it’s called ‘shout at the devil’.”

“listen, i know all you critics are gonna be like ‘oh that’s such a superficial song’ and all that bullshit,” here, the audience titters at the profanity, but sirius only looks faintly apologetic, running a hand through his messy hair, “but what i was thinking when i wrote was about the first time i met her and how i just kept thinking she was the prettiest girl i’d ever seen, even when she was yelling at me.”

he’s earnest—his expression almost looks raw, like he’s personally telling you all this—and the rare show of vulnerability from a rockstar as infamous is alluring. sirius even referenced the moment the two of you solidified your mutual hatred across the world of rock n roll—getting papped in the midst of a heated argument. his charisma is on an entirely different level that even you, like the audience, get swept up in his little show for just a minute, before you’re able to snap out of it.

the audience coos over the two of you, yet again, and you reach up to play with his hand hanging off the edge of your shoulder, not wanting to be outdone. you make a mental note to remind sirius that he definitely had potential as an actor if he ever decided to make an industry switch, even though you supposed he was laying it on a bit thick, trying to ignore the sudden burning in your cheeks and the warmth you felt in your chest.

the host’s voice faded into the background as the applause of the audience washed over you, and you exchanged a knowing glance with sirius. as you stepped off the stage, the rush of adrenaline that had carried you through the interview began to wane, and you found yourself standing in the parking lot, the world around you returning to its regular pace.

there he was, leaning against his suzuki, effortlessly cool, the helmet hanging nonchalantly from the handle. a smirk tugged at his lips, almost as if he knew you were both playing a dangerous game. he was an invitation for danger, and after dealing with him and his antics, you knew better than to get involved.

however, even though you knew better, you couldn’t help yourself. you never could, around him—like a moth drawn to a flame, you were always drawn to the temptation that was him. you approached him, feeling nowhere like the undaunted rockstar you were recognized as.

you stared up at him as the sun glared down at both of you, casting a glint off his silver nose ring. the silence was almost as suffocating as the heat.

“y’know,” you started, the desperation evident, and you wondered if he noticed, “you could make a really good actor if you wanted.”

“huh?” sirius blinked, momentarily caught off guard by your unexpected remark. his confusion quickly gave way to a familiar grin, the twinkle in his eyes betraying the mischief hidden beneath the surface. “yeah, i definitely put on the performance of a lifetime.”

you rolled your eyes at his reply, well aware of his knack for charming his way out of any situation. “where’d you get the brilliant idea to self-promote your album using the bullshit about writing about me? now lily’s going to be after me to do the same to promote ours.”

sirius let out a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture that was strangely endearing. the confident facade he usually wore seemed to fade, revealing an almost nervousness alien to him, “i guess i really am just a genius.”

you couldn't help but scoff at his self-assuredness, recognizing the teasing tone in his voice. he stared off into the distance, lost in thought. then, as if jolted back to reality, he turned his attention back to you, his grey eyes piercing and direct.

“do you wanna get out of here?”

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shaynawrites23 · 1 year ago

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I feel like Sirius Black was classically taught how to dance. Could you do a HC based on the reader not being good at it so when somone asks her to the yule ball infant of her friends she said no then tells the marauders she can't dance so she won't be going.

I Don't Dance... Or Do I?

Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 877

A/N: i turned this into a fic instead bc i was feeling the format more than a HC, hope you don't mind! it also turned out longer than expected lol

You love and hate the Yule season.

Love, because all the most gorgeous ballgowns go on sale, the excitement is palpable in the air, and the school grounds always resemble a winter wonderland straight out of a fairytale.

Hate, because the big event is a ball, and you can't dance.

Well, strictly speaking, you can. You're not very good at it, though; you always end up at least two steps behind your partner even when you swear you did everything exactly as all the other girls did. It's a sight, watching you flounder on the dance floor attempting to catch up, and it's a sight you refuse to give Hogwarts the pleasure of.

So usually, you skip the ball.

Or sometimes, you sneak in for a few minutes, just long enough to soak up the atmosphere before you go back to ensuring nobody asks you to dance. Which they can't if you're far, far away from the dance floor. The harder part, honestly, is coming up with reasons not to go if someone asks you to the ball.

This year is no different. You manage to dodge the few invitations you receive; your potential dates suffer the case of disappointment that so often accompanies (gentle) rejection, but you know they'll get over it. And as the Yule Ball grows ever closer, you're beginning to believe you're in the clear for yet another year. Your secret is safe, just as you wanted it to be.

Until someone asks you in front of your friends.

The boy—you can't even remember his name, that's how little you've spoken to him—takes your answer as expected, and while you do feel a twinge of guilt for turning him down like that, your fear of humiliation is stronger.

"You're not going to the ball?" Is this the first time your friends realize you aren't going? See you turn down a date to the biggest event of the winter season? Judging from their reaction and the three pairs of incredulous eyes on you, it probably is.

"No," you huff, sitting back down on the floor of the common room, where you'd been sitting when what's-his-name approached you, and you lean your head against Sirius' thigh. Sirius, who only smiles and pets your head affectionately from where he's taking up half the couch.

When you don't offer any further clarification, the boys share a look, and you swear you can pinpoint the moment they decide they want to hear the reason.

"Well, why on earth not? You love Yule, and as Sirius here always says, you'd look beautiful in a gown." James skillfully dodges the pillow Sirius throws at his head. Sirius concludes James has had too much practice dodging bludgers during Quidditch.

"Would you believe me if I said I just don't feel like going?"

The reason feels weak already on your tongue, and you gather from their similarly raised eyebrows that the answer is no. Darn it.

"You don't have to go," Remus starts, "but if you don't, we'd like to know why so we know you aren't missing on the fun over a small thing we could have helped with."

Fun. The Yule Ball does sound like fun, a lovely night off among all the beautifully dressed students and faculty alike, enjoying the decorations and the music and the atmosphere...

"I can't dance," you groan into Sirius' thigh before you can help yourself. "I can't dance, and it's a ball, and I don't want to humiliate myself in the middle of the dance floor."

Because the fear of the embarrassment far outweighs your desire to take part in the festivities.

"Is that all?" You look up for just long enough to see Remus' surprised expression, mixed with something that looks half-smug, the way he does whenever he wins complicated debates. "See, I knew it'd be something solveable. Just have Sirius teach you. Then you'll know how to dance, and you can come to the ball."

"Sirius?"

"Despite what you might think, princess, I am qualified to teach ballroom dancing. Or to take you to the ball. Or both," the boy in question chimes in with a wink. The disbelief must still be plain on your face, because he adds, "All members of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black are formally trained in more styles of formal dancing than I want to count. You've heard tales of my mother, do you really think she'd be able to live with anything less?"

That is a good point. Sometimes, it's easy to forget Sirius' high-society upbringing. And honestly, what do you have to lose?

"You'd really teach me?"

"Would the condition of going to the ball as my date be pushing my luck too far?"

That one, you don't even have to think about. Who wouldn't want to go to the ball on Sirius Black's arm?

"No, Siri," you laugh, using your hand on his leg to help you sit up. "But you better teach me properly."

"Don't worry, princess," he chuckles. "You won't be disappointed."

That evening, when you receive your first dance lesson from Sirius Black, you can only conclude he isn't as good a teacher as he made himself out to be.

He's better.

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midi4ri0love · 1 year ago

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remus and marauders addiction *that i have since 5 effing years and that is robbing me my mental health and life*: I'M BACK BITCHES

#addicted to the marauders #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #wolfstar #remus x yn #sirius x yn #jily #life of a teen girl #diario #listening to shakira my queen

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inkdrinkerworld · 4 months ago

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Sirius Black x touch starved!reader hehe, I hope you guys enjoy <3

Sirius knows you want something by the way you keep looking over at him and then turning your face back towards your journal.

You’ve been scrapbooking in it for a bit, but it seems like the glue and photos aren’t keeping your attention well enough anymore.

Sirius has to be tactile though, if he comes off too strong he’ll spook you and you’ll probably never be able to look him in the eye again.

He stands, petting your head as he passes. The way you lean back into his touch is unmissable.

Sirius smiles. He goes to the kitchen, brews a cup of chamomile tea and comes back, trying his very best not to look too smug at the way your body tilts you into his direction.

“Dolly, can you come up here? I brewed some tea.”

You don’t scramble up to his lap, you’ve too much self restraint for it - Sirius hopes soon the self restraint will wash away.

Still, you climb near Sirius and take the cup from him with a pleased smile.

“Thank you,” you murmur into your second sip, gratitude filling your bones.

“Anything for you,” Sirius kisses your forehead and uses your relaxed state with the tea to scoot a little bit closer to you; your knees knocking his thighs. “Can we have a lie in?”

Your eyes brighten and Sirius smiles. Ever shy to voice your needs but Sirius never really has to guess what you need anyway.

“Please.” There’s a longing in your tone. Sirius can fix it.

“And I can brush your hair for you, or twirl it if that’s better. That ponytail you had early seemed like it did a number, poppet.”

You’re sure if he were to touch your collarbone he’d feel how flushed you are.

“It was pretty bad.” You mumble into your tea and Sirius claps his hands together with a big smile.

“That settles it then doesn’t it? I’ll oil your hair and give you a proper massage while we watch something we definitely won’t finish tonight.”

You smile, tipping your head up under Sirius’ attention.

“Can I have a kiss before you go?”

Sirius beams, lips brushing yours. “You can have whatever you’d like from me, sweet thing. Whatever you’d like.”

#siriusblack #sirius black #sirius black one shot #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black drabble #sirius black fluff #sirius black blurb #sirius black x reader #sirius black x black reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x yn #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x shy!reader

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bobluvbot · 10 months ago

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late night cravings

pairing: sirius black x afab!reader summary: you sneak off the night for a cheeky midnight snack, hoping sirius won’t notice (spoiler alert: he does, and he’s sulky about it) wc: 4k cw: pregnancy & baby talk, descriptions of food and eating, brief allusions to sex (not directly stated), no physical traits of reader specified but sirius can hold things out of reader’s reach a/n: so i had a lengthy angst fic for sirius’s debut on my blog and im halfway done on it but i cant seem to finish it bc it sends me to a depressing spiral each time <33333 so pls enjoy a very self-indulgent domestic excessively fluffy blurb with my beloved <33333 p.s this is not proofread so plz ignore mistakes ty <3

opening the tomato salsa jar turned out to be the hardest part.

back in bed, you thought the trickiest part of your late night escapade from sirius black was his long limbs wound up tight with yours, even in low light of the small nightlight in the corner, you could still make out the intricate script and designs following the curves and dips of his strong arms, holding you close to his chest.

you had it committed to memory by now, having explored sirius’s body well enough to memorize the way his skin feels against yours, with heartbeats and breaths falling in sync without much effort.

judging by the way his breathing gets heavy after every exhale and the little snores that escape in between, you knew he was beyond knackered. it was day five of sirius’s new job as an deputy director at the auror office. the day he learned about the promotion was pure unadulterated happiness. after letting you know through an express owl, you mustered up enough vigor available to your seven months pregnant self to get out of the house and go to the local shops to get party supplies and food to celebrate sirius’s achievement.

Coming in third out of the list of things he genuinely loved in this life, after you and his luscious locks of course, was his job as an auror. young sirius had never thought in his wildest dreams that he’d work at the ministry, much less actually enjoy it. can’t really blame sixteen year old sirius, starting an underground rock band with the marauders seemed like the perfect thing to do after gruelling hours of studying at hogwarts.

defense against the dark arts came to him naturally, with some counterspells like second nature to him as being exposed with use of dark magic young gave him no choice but to grow up quickly and defend himself from the excruciating pain or the mind control that was from his own family’s doing. Winning the first wizarding war alongside his friends and found family has solidified sirius’s calling in eradicating the use of dark magic and making sure the next generation can have a safe and normal life without the looming threat of a megalomaniac sorting people with their blood status and taking over the wizarding world.

that night, sirius walked into a dark and eerily quiet home that had his senses on overdrive. but when the lights turned on and he saw familiar faces of his loved ones all beaming with pride, and there you were in the center, looking ethereal and round and all his, with his favorite red velvet cake on hand and a ridiculously big balloon that says “congratulations” tied to the candle, he could have melted in a syrupy mess of gooey happiness right then and there if he hadn’t caught himself together last minute.

Sirius had thought– that after you agreeing to go on one date with him to hogsmeade, winning the quidditch cup and seeing the proud look on minerva’s face, going home for christmas break and euphemia welcoming him with a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug, remus teaching at the very same classroom you all were in years back, james and lily’s first kiss at the altar, holding little baby harry in his arms, you walking down the aisle with a bouquet of peonies in the most beautiful dress, and when you held his hand that one night and told him that you were expecting—- that he knew of love. but you do something extraordinary that has him scrambling to add to the endless list of why you’re the love of his life. he was so focused on you that he wasn’t prepared to catch pure muscle of james’s body as he flung himself to tackle his best friend in a hug. luckily, remus with a party hat was aptly standing between a toppling sirius and the living room wall, and he singlehandedly saved the two from creating a huge hole in the drywall.

this was the life, sirius had thought after many hours of partying celebrating and eating, when he laid beside you in bed, limbs tangled, sated and dizzy and warm as you both came down from your highs. and he gets to spend it with you.

but as fun and exciting sirius’s new job is, it entailed an increased amount of responsibility as he was assisting the head auror. his least favorite part of the job was the boatloads of paperwork he has to deal with. An express owl almost dropped a howler letter into the soup you were making for dinner earlier that day and you opened it up panicking thinking it was an emergency. But no, it was just sirius whining that his hand hurt and is about to fall off and that he needs you to kiss it better.

You did eventually, and one thing led to another and here you were, tucked in your husband’s warm embrace. you could stay here forever, only separating to drink water and bathroom trips, but the gnawing urge to eat something savory, sweet, tangy, and crunchy has possessed your entire being, the only way to quell it was to get up and go to the kitchen. the baby doesn’t seem to have a semblance of time yet, a fact you both envied and despised, because the clock on your nightstand said it was 3:48am in bold red numbers. A few months ago, you’d never be caught dead awake at this time, taking your precious sleep time seriously. The man himself would poke fun at you and say you’d gladly sleep through an earthquake or a housefire just as long as you get your seven to eight hours of sleep per day, and despite of your assumed role of contradicting and arguing with spontaneous and stubborn sirius, you had to agree.

But this was not about you anymore, or at least not quite yet for a good seventeen years, so you untangle yourself from sirius and your perfectly warm and cool side of the bed and waddle down the carpeted stairs, careful not to set foot on the creaky step that might risk waking sirius up. You need your secrets too, and you’re not in the mood to share food.

Grateful for the heavens that you and sirius stocked up on groceries two days ago, you had a wide selection of random items to munch on. A few days ago, you were introduced to the idea of a fluffernutter sandwich while scrolling through the short videos on your feed. Peanut butter and marshmallow fluff as spreads on their own was something you didn’t mind eating, but both together in a sandwich? You were enthralled, and the only way to quell the curiosity was to make it. So you did.

You shovel and slather more than enough spread on each slice of bread, though you might have used the same spoon on both jars.. but who’s to tell you off otherwise, your snoozing husband upstairs? pfft.

Smiling happily as if committing a particularly naughty crime, you place the spoon in your mouth, licking off the gooey mixture as you place the sandwich on a piece of paper towel (yes, you take the no dishwashing tonight seriously) on the table. humming, you mull over what to prepare next.

The baby needs something savory and tangy, but you’re not particularly keen on going through all the effort of heating up the soup from dinner, not to mention the amount of cutlery and dishes you’ll use for that, so you zero in on the tostada shells you chose rather than tortilla chips because its much more crispier.

Opening the fridge, you see the laughing cow on a round packaging and decide its the one, so you grab two cheese wedges from it.

Sirius had argued that the next aisle had actual, real blocks of cheese with a variety on display and that there was no point in getting artificially flavored ones. But you’ve gotten really good at giving him the stank face, which inadvertently ends 75 percent of nonsense bickering before it even starts; and since you’ve started showing more and more, sirius has admittedly gone softer on you, not that he was ever more but a pushover your entire relationship. Merely widening of eyes and a jut of your lower lip, even adding a slight tremble or two during times where you did actually fuck up, sirius can’t hold his stance longer than a minute before sighing and taking you in his arms. he might call you out for being a brat at times, but there’s no denying he loves it. And so the artificial wheel of cheese wedges got purchased and bagged home, and you’re meticulously spreading it over the golden shells, leaving little to no gaps of it bare.

Laying it on another paper towel, your heart gets giddy on your chest knowing you’re in for a treat tonight. But not quite time to start munching, the baby reminds you that you still need something tangy to complete the meal. So comes your big predicament, should you get dill pickles or tomato salsa?

It took you ten seconds too long of weighing down the pros-and-cons of choosing one and feeling like you made the wrong choice if you end up not liking it. It doesn’t help that the pregnancy hormones make you more anxious and tend to put you always on the verge of tears. So when the not-so-groundbreaking idea of just eating them both hits you, you feel the weight slide off your shoulders as you sigh. Because again, who’s gonna tell you that eating pickles this late at night can give you bad acid reflux, your snoozing husband? Pfft.

Snacking on some, you do manage to pick out the juiciest looking pickle chips and lay them atop of your tostadas. You and the little one are beyond excited to dive in. It’s looking like a mini upside-down pizza with the cheese spread first then the pickle as toppings. Only thing left now was the the tomato salsa slathered on top to seal the deal.

Opening tight lids wasn’t an issue for you before, in fact, you took pride when friends hand you a jar or bottle to open because you could do it in a breeze. Chances were, the lid wasn’t even screwed on that tight, you were just built different, you’d say with a shrug once you give the items back. So when the tomato jar doesn’t budge after two attempts, you get puzzled.

Maybe your hands were slippery? You wipe them down with a tea towel and try again. No.

You weren’t holding it tight enough? Fingers held taut against the lid, you try three times. Still no.

Determined, you try different positions before letting the jar go, shooting it glares as if it’d get intimidated and just open up for you. You were also getting lightheaded, and passing out on the kitchen floor due to excessive stimulation of your vagal reflex because you were too stubborn to use magic or wake your husband up to open it for you doesn’t seem like the best way to spend the early Tuesday morning hours.

Magic was even out of the option (well, in your brain it was), because your wand’s tucked beside sirius’s on your nightstand, and frankly, you don’t have the patience to drag yourself upstairs just to flick a utility spell to open the wretched thing. So you do the next best option: lose hope.

The disappointment was mutual between you and your baby. And the acid reflux did start to kick in, making your stomach grumble in both hunger and pain. This was all going so well until it isn’t, tears began to make its way up to your eyes.

“See, this is what you get for being greedy and eating all snacks by yourself,” sirius huffs behind you, deep voice still raspy with sleep. You didn’t even hear him getting out of bed and coming down the stairs, that’s how preoccupied you were with opening the jar.

He grabs the container away from you to open it, but not without throwing a scowl at your direction, handsome face contorted with furrowed eyebrows and downturned mouth, enough to express that he felt betrayed by this whole ordeal. If you were in a better mood, you’d poke his sides and tackle him playfully, teasing him for being sulky. But for now, you need the jar opened so you could eat in peace. You’ll deal with the sharing food issue later.

“t wasn’t supposed to take long,” you mumble, caught off guard and refusing to make eye contact, pretending the fridge magnets beside sirius’s head is ten times more interesting than his face. You don’t miss his raised eyebrow and snort at your response.

The second attempt comes and he opens it with a satisfying pop. your mouth falls agape, eyeing the *now accessible* tomato salsa dip in disbelief. What the hell?

And you couldn’t even take the smug grin spreading across sirius’s face by the millisecond. Refuse to. You try to snatch the open container away from him but he holds it higher and out of reach, making a show of puffing his chest, flexing his biceps, even giving it a kiss. This is all James’s doing, you need to have a talk with Lily soon about keeping these two separated.

“Sirius!” you try to plead your way out. the trademark innocent, pouty expression settles on your face like a second mask, hoping he’d go down this easy.

It doesn’t work. He just chuckles, mocking your pleas and face while his free hand sneaks up and pinches your unsuspecting cheek to tease you further.

You yelp in mock outrage and swat his hand away, trying your best to keep your displeasure firm on your face, but you feel the giggles coming up. “This is why I sneak out alone to eat, you’re such a bully,” you huff, but take a seat in front of your makeshift spread.

Sirius places the jar near you, but not without poking your exposed sides, armed with the knowledge that the easiest way to get you laughing (and eventually conceding in an argument) is knowing where your tickle zones are. “Oh yeah,” he drawls, plopping himself beside you. “That’s also why you’re the only one waking up with an upset stomach, stinking up our bathroom so early in the morning.”

Now this one got you appalled, embarrassed, disturbed, basically hit with all the feelings. You’ve been living together long before you got married, and he never brought up this issue until today. “That’s it. I’m leaving.” He makes a move to snatch the sandwich away but the embarrassment on your cheeks made you more agile, swatting his hand away and shielding the sandwich with your hands. “After I finish my meal,” you continue, shooting him a glare.

But see, one of the things that drove you nuts even way back at Hogwarts, was how Sirius Black mostly managed to outsmart you or be one step ahead of you in everything. After you turned him down without much thought whatsoever despite his grand declaration of interest, Sirius took it upon himself to show you (1) that you made a mistake for rejecting him, (2) that his ego won’t let you embarrass him like that again, (3) and that you won’t get rid of him that easily. Once he set his eyes on you, you were face to face with him in everything: grades, OWLs/NEWTs scores, Quidditch plays and bets, wins at the duelling club, even with the fucking gobstones tournament. He never let you catch a break.

Things were surely different now, since you vowed to be with him in sickness and health and untill death parts you both– hell, you’re carrying his child. So you figured maybe, maybe, he’ll let you catch a break this time. Let you eat in peace as you mull over his bathroom comment and how you’re going to get him back.

But again, no. Unlike you, Sirius remembered to grab his wand from the nightstand. Not even batting an eye, he says nonchalantly, “Accio sandwich.” And the fluffernutter you protected with all your physical might managed to escape your watch, and land gracefully on his waiting palm.

What irritated you more from this whole ordeal? The prodigal auror that climbed his way up the ranks and became the youngest deputy director, fully capable of complex spells and wielding different kinds of magic, felt the need to do a verbal Accio spell just to make a point to you.

Out of words, you just stare at him blankly. Too stunned to even cry in frustration because you knew you made a conscious, willing choice to be with this man.

Maybe your best guilt-tripping expression comes best when you’re not trying. Color drains from his face when you remained silent and he scrambles to take a bite off the sandwich before handing it back to you, or rather placing it on your limp hand as you refuse to acknowledge it, still too hurt to budge. “‘m sorry, baby. Just wanted to eat with you since we didn’t get to earlier.”

He did arrive later than usual, deciding to finish the stack of case files and paperwork so he won’t have to sift through them again the next day. There were plans to wait for him before eating, but when the jitteriness and slightly nausea started to kick in, you had no choice in the matter. Sirius had been sulky and clingy the moment he got home, and as compromise, you stayed to watch him eat; listening and reacting animatedly as he ranted about his stressful day.

So you cut him off some slack, also exhausted from all the emotional stimulation sirius brought since he woke up. As a silent peace offering (also because you’re not ready to say sorry to his face), you slide the tostadas within his reach and finally take your bite of the goddamn sandwich. It was good, tasted as expected, sweet peanut butter. You’d probably have it again as a drunk at 3am meal.

Sirius also went and got snacks of his own: microwaved popcorn, pickles, toasted bread slathered with butter, and grapes. Together, you munched on the little spread of random food you could find in your kitchen at 4am in comfortable silence, which is surprising after the earlier bickering. No matter how cheesy it sounded in your head, sirius was the only person that can drive you to the brink of insanity and right back. You were in for a hell of a ride for the foreseeable future; and while there’s a lot of uncertainty right now and changes to be made when the little one gets here, you’re beyond happy that you get to do all this with him.

Sleep was beginning to creep up on you. Of course he notices this right when you do, so a warm arm wrapped across your back urges you to settle on his lap, bodies melding into the familiar crevices like puzzle pieces, though you both had to adjust certain angles to accommodate your growing belly. You sit like this for a while; your head tucked securely in the crook of his neck, steady breaths lulling you to sleep, while sirius’s hands instinctively finds its way under your sleep shirt and on the natural curve of your belly, lithe fingers stroking and drawing soothing circles anywhere he could reach.

you wish you could stay like this forever– cozy and soft and safe– but alas, you were carrying sirius black’s offspring. the baby decides to reward you with a round of kicks, probably giddy after feeling their father’s touch. Sirius chuckles and coos at your bump, while a muffled groan leaves your lips from the sudden onslaught of movement, but still refusing to move from this comfortable position.

Smooth cold lips touch the side of your forehead and you relish in the feeling. “Does it ever hurt, love? All that kicking and wiggling?”

“Not really,” a content sigh leaves your lips. “Feels strange at times, seeing your belly move on its own.”

To prove your point, two tiny bulges make a split second appearance just above where Sirius’s hand lay. His thumb soothes the area lovingly.

“Definitely getting stronger though; Lily told me during the later months, harry for some reason loved to kick downwards, making bathroom trips more frequent than it already is. Not excited for that.”

He presses kisses on your forehead, temple, hairline, anywhere he could reach without moving too much. “Things that you do and endure for this ‘lil troublemaker,” sirius murmurs. He doesn’t need to say it out loud, you could feel his body reverberating with awe and fondness. You try to bask in it for as long as you could, but a passing thought makes its presence known to you again.

“Do i really make the bathroom stink?” it comes out whinier than you intended it to be but you just had to know for peace of mind.

Sirius’s whole frame vibrates as he tries to stifle his laughter, taking you with him. He’s laughing at your expense but you feel your own giggles brewing in your belly. You try to hold it in for longer, preserving some self respect. “A little bit,” he says solemnly. You groan, earlier mortified feeling returning in full swing. It triggers another round of chuckles.

“But dove, it’s nothing that my deep love and adoration for my lovely strong hot and sexy wife can’t handle.” He says assuredly, and you curse yourself for being so down bad for this man as blood rushes to your cheeks from his words. Good thing it’s dim and your face is still tucked in the crook of his neck.

You do pinch his arm in response, and both your laughters compliment the comfortable silence.

“Although,” he says after a while. “The betrayal of you eating without me still hurts.”

“Siri.. i’m sorry,” you mumble. “‘y looked so tired, Didn’t wanna wake you up.”

He tuts and doesn’t say much after that. In sirius dictionary, this means he just wants some affection from you— for you to dote on him and coax out his forgiveness, even if you both know he’s not really mad; judging by his arms still wrapped securely around your frame and steady breaths that tickle and fan on your bare skin.

So you mimic his actions from earlier, planting tiny kisses on his neck, collarbones, jawline, anywhere your lips could reach. Kissing his cheek seem to do the trick, his fake scowl quickly coming undone as a bashful smile breaks through the frown, and his tiny dimple you love so much making an appearance. The muggle maternity books did say dimples are genetic, so an image of a little Sirius running around and smiling up at you with those dimpled cheeks is a warming thought.

“I am charming all the lids to be stuck at night as soon as i wake up tomorrow for work.” You poke a sensitive spot on his side, making him jolt, but you couldn’t resist laughter as it bubbles out of the surface. “You’re insufferable, I can’t believe I married a psychopath.”

“And you let him knock you up too. I’d say it takes one to know one, hm?”

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vanteguccir · 11 months ago

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗤𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗜𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Matt skips Tara Yummy's 1M party to have quality time with his girlfriend.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt's car glided through the moonlit streets of Los Angeles as he headed toward Y/N's apartment after dropping off his brothers at Tara Yummy's 1 million celebration party. The radio played the playlist created by him and Y/N, which they constantly fed with new songs that reminded themselves of each other.

Matt smiled as he looked to the little surprise he had prepared for his girlfriend. He made a brief stop at a flower shop on the way, where he bought a simple bouquet of pink tulips - Y/N's favorite. His eyes momentarily found the bouquet carefully wrapped and placed on the passenger seat before returning his gaze to the road.

Upon arriving at the building where Y/N lived, his access to the parking lot was quickly granted, the doorman already knowing him very well. The boy didn't take long to take the bouquet in hand, locking the doors and taking the elevator to the corresponding floor.

The sound of the keys against the front door lock sounded faintly through the living room, followed by the sound of the door opening and closing seconds later, Matt quickly taking off his shoes and resting them against the wall.

"Baby?" His voice echoed through the walls, expanding to the nearest rooms, while his eyes quickly surrounded the space, searching for the girl.

"Kitchen!" Y/N shouted back, an involuntary smile growing on her face almost automatically, her body reacting to Matt's presence.

Matt made his way to the kitchen and found Y/N with her back to him, focused on the counter as she moved her arms over the ceramics. With a smile on his face, he approached her silently and hugged her from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his hands on her stomach covered by her hoodie and little green apron.

"Hi, pretty boy." Y/N murmured softly, rubbing her hands together to shake off the flour before wrapping her arms around his, caressing the hoodie-covered skin. "I thought you were going to Tara's party."

"Without my girl? Never." He responded in a low tone against her neck, laying his head on her right shoulder so that his face was facing her neck and sealing her jaw gently. "I brought you something." Matt pulled away slightly and retrieved the bouquet he had rested on the table.

Y/N turned to him with eyes full of curiosity and confusion, which soon turned into pure ecstasy, her heart overflowing with love.

"Oh my... Matt, they're beautiful!" The girl beamed, accepting the bouquet and cradling it in her arms as if it was a newborn.

"I always bring you flowers, I don't know how you still react so surprised." Matt murmured jokingly, smiling as he watched her enjoy the little gift.

As Y/N carefully arranged the tulips in a new ceramic vase, Matt approached the oven to peek at what she was preparing. The delicious aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air, making his stomach growl with anticipation.

"Did you make cookies?" The boy asked excitedly.

"Yes! I was baking it to take it to you tomorrow." Y/N nodded quickly, returning to her starting position. "Do you want some, hon?"

"Yes, please."

Matt watched in awe as Y/N bent slightly, opening the stove door and carefully taking out the baking tray with her hand covered in the soft yellow fabric glove, resting it on the counter.

He knew he was lucky to have someone so incredible in his life, someone who cared about making every moment special.

The girl rose to her tiptoes after closing the oven, opening the cabinet above the stove and retrieving two dessert plates designed with little strawberries. She placed them side by side next to the tray before taking a small spatula and moving two cookies to each plate carefully, afraid of breaking or dropping them.

Matt walked over, taking one of the cookies from the tray with the tip of his fingertips, ignoring the slight burn from the high temperature. He lifted his own hand, blowing on the sweet before biting off a piece, closing his eyes automatically and letting out a sigh of pleasure through his nose. The way the cookie was still warm made it melt in his mouth, the chocolate exploding against his tongue, multiplying the variety of flavors.

"Is it good?" Y/N giggled, watching him with a smile gracing her face, receiving a quick nod with wide blue eyes. "Come on, baby."

She took the plates in her hands delicately, leaving her kitchen and walking to the balcony with Matt following close behind as he licked his fingers, removing all the chocolate residue.

The night was cool and clear, with the sky dotted with twinkling stars. The couple snuggled into the cushioned chairs that decorated the small space, Matt quickly reaching for the pink blanket that was folded on the small table on the right corner, opening it and throwing it over his and his girlfriend's legs, protecting them against the light breeze.

"Oh! Matt, remember the dog constellation I was telling you about the other day?" Y/N's excited voice cut through the comfortable silence, her eyes lighting up just like the stars above them.

"Sirios? No, wait, Sirius... Right?" Matt frowned, a cute look of confusion spreading across his face as his eyes darted from Y/N to the sky and back again.

"Exactly! Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. Right there." The girl raised her arm that wasn't holding her plate, pointing her index finger upwards.

Matt looked in the indicated direction, navigating through the stars for a few seconds until he found it.

"Wait, it's actually beautiful. What else do you know about it?"

Y/N smiled truthful, her heart warming at being able to talk more about something she loved so much, without having restrictions or feeling ashamed for her excitement.

"Well, Sirius is a binary star, which means it is actually two stars orbiting around each other. It is part of the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog, and is known as 'The Dog Stars'. Oh, oh! Do you remember Sirius Black? My favorite Harry Potter character? So, this star..."

Matt listened intently, slowly chewing the small cookie pieces while keeping his eyes fixed on Y/N. Her passion for astronomy and the universe always fascinated him, and there wasn't a time when she brought up the subject that he wasn't willing to give her his full attention.

As the night progressed, Matt and Y/N continued to stargaze, lost in conversations about the cosmos and its mysteries.

As the last cookie crumbs disappeared from the plates and the sky began to brighten with the sun that appeared over the horizon, Y/N felt a wave of comfort and contentment envelop her body, resting the ceramics on the corner table and moving gently towards Matt, settling on his lap.

The boy opened a big, involuntary smile, automatically wrapping her with his arms and the pink blanket, protecting them from the slight cold of dawn, while she laid her head on his chest, feeling the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat and serene breathing.

Together, they kept their eyes fixed on the sky that was beginning to take on color, the sound of the first cars on the street, and the laughter of children going to school filling their ears.

Little by little, Y/N began to feel the effects of exhaustion after staying up all night, her body relaxing against Matt's comforting warmth. Sleep came like a gentle wave, enveloping her senses in an embrace.

Her breathing became slow and regular, while her body became limp and light. Her brain shutting down and giving in to deep sleep, to the point where she didn't hear the little whisper of "good night, petal" from her boyfriend, let alone his arms carrying her to her bed, where they finally slept in each other's arms.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

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evermoreness · 23 days ago

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quidditch | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x ravenclaw!reader

summary: you borrow your best friend's quidditch jumper, and he is thrilled to see you wear it in his game

obs: reader is james potter's sister!

obs2: im taking requests, so feel free to send me any ideas

The day of the Quidditch match dawned crisp and clear, with a faint breeze sweeping across the Hogwarts grounds. The chatter of excited students filled the air as they made their way to the stands. Slytherin versus Hufflepuff was always an entertaining game, but one thing was out of the ordinary: y/n Potter, a proud Ravenclaw, was decked out in green and silver.

Specifically, you were wearing a well-worn Slytherin Quidditch jumper with the name "R. Black" and the number "7" embroidered on the back.

“Merlin’s beard!” James groaned, spotting his sister as he climbed into the stands with Sirius and Remus. “What are you wearing?”

You smirked, twirling in the jumper dramatically. “Oh, this old thing? Just a little something Reggie lent me.”

“You mean the thing you stole from him after pestering him for a week,” Sirius interjected, grinning. “Nice move, by the way.”

“I did not steal it,” you retorted, crossing your arms. “He gave it to me willingly.”

“After you badgered him into it,” James snapped, his face turning red. “y/n, you’re a Ravenclaw! You can’t just go around wearing Slytherin gear! Do you have any idea what people will say?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, stop being so dramatic, James. I’m supporting my friend. Is that a crime?”

“Friend,” James muttered under his breath, glaring at the pitch where Regulus was warming up on his broom. “That’s what we’re calling it now, is it?”

Sirius burst out laughing, clapping James on the back. “Relax, mate. It’s just a jumper.” He leaned closer, his grin turning mischievous. “Besides, you might want to get used to it. Never know—she might be wearing Slytherin colors at her wedding one day.”

James turned on Sirius, his eyes wide with horror. “Don’t. Even. Joke about that.”

Remus, who had been watching the exchange with quiet amusement, finally chimed in. “You’re going to pop a vein, Prongs. Let her enjoy the game. It’s not like she’s waving a Dark Mark banner.”

You snorted, trying to hide your laughter. “Exactly. Listen to Remus. He’s the sensible one.”

James groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I’m going to hex Regulus if he so much as looks at you during this game.”

“Good luck with that,” you said smugly, turning your attention back to the field.

---

On the pitch

Regulus Black was used to being alone. Even in the middle of a roaring crowd, he never felt like anyone was truly there for him. But today was different.

As he circled the pitch, his sharp eyes scanning for the Snitch, he couldn’t help but glance at the stands. And there she was—y/n Potter, wearing his jumper, waving at him with a grin that made his heart stutter.

“What are you looking at, Black?” sneered one of the Hufflepuff Chasers as they zoomed past him.

“None of your business,” Regulus muttered, refocusing on the game. But the warmth spreading through his chest was impossible to ignore.

---

In the stands

James was practically vibrating with tension, his eyes glued to the field. “Did you see that? He looked at her. He looked at her!”

“Maybe because she’s literally wearing his name on her back,” Remus deadpanned, not looking up from the book he had brought to the game.

“Calm down, Prongs,” Sirius said, leaning back in his seat with an easy grin. “This is hilarious. I’ve never seen you this worked up about anything.”

“It’s not funny, Padfoot!” James snapped. “That’s my sister! And he’s—he’s him!”

“You mean your future brother-in-law?” Sirius teased, winking at you, who was doing your best to ignore them.

“You’re all insufferable,” James muttered, slumping back in his seat.

---

Post-Match Celebration

Slytherin won the match by a narrow margin, thanks to Regulus’s impeccable Snitch-catching skills. The team celebrated as they landed, but Regulus’s eyes were already searching for her.

You were waiting for him just outside the stands, your cheeks pink from the chilly air. When he approached, you grinned and held your arms out, showing off the jumper. “Looks good on me, doesn’t it?”

Regulus rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet, here you are,” you teased, stepping closer.

He glanced around, making sure no one was paying attention before leaning in slightly. “You really wore it to the game?”

“Of course I did,” you said, your voice soft. “I’m your biggest fan, Reggie.”

His heart skipped a beat at the way you said his name. “You’re probably making your whole house mad right now”

“It's worth it.” you said cheekily, giving him a playful nudge. "Let's have a huge celebration! You won!"

"You know i hate those, right?" He said with his brows furrowed

"You're boring" you rolled your eyes but smiled, tugging on his arm as you both walked back to the castle.

He didn’t reply, but the way he seemed to relax and pull you close was answer enough. He loved having you around, even if he didn't admit it. You were like a shining star in his dark sky.

---

Meanwhile

James, watching from a distance with Sirius and Remus, groaned loudly. “I can’t take this. Someone stop them. Remus, you’re responsible. Do something!”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “What exactly do you want me to do, James? Tell your sister she’s not allowed to have friends?”

“Yes!” James said, throwing his hands in the air.

Sirius laughed so hard he almost fell over. “You’re ridiculous, Prongs. You’d better get used to it. She’s not a little kid anymore.”

“She’s sixteen!” James hissed.

“Exactly,” Sirius said with a smirk. “Old enough to make her own choices. And, hey, at least it’s my brother. Imagine if it were Snape.”

James looked horrified at the thought, and Sirius burst out laughing again.

As the group eventually walked back to the castle together, you and Regulus fell a few steps behind. James kept glancing over his shoulder, his protective instincts on high alert, but Sirius’s teasing and Remus’s calm reasoning kept him in check.

For Regulus and you, the world seemed a little brighter, even under the watchful gaze of your overprotective brother.

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #marauders #sirius black #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius and regulus #james potter #harry potter #x reader #x yn #y/n #marauders era #fanfic

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astralee · 8 months ago

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sirius doesn’t know what possessed him to stand in front of you and ask for a hug but as he stares at your shocked expression, he’s already regretting it. “ah y’know what, it’s fine. dunno what came over me.”

you catch onto the sheepish expression on his face before he lowers his head to stare at his shoes. it’s not like you’ve never hugged before so why were you so shocked? “of course you can have a hug sirius. i was just shocked you asked me is all.”

“thought you might not have wanted one, i didn’t just wanna jump you.” he murmured but made no move to hug you.

taking the lead, you wrapped your arms around him first and he sagged into you as though you’d taken a heavy burden off of his shoulders. his hold on your waist was tight and secure and you come to realise he must’ve really needed this hug. “you okay?”

you could feel him nod before he spoke. “m’fine.” his words were mumbled into your jumper so he lifted his head and rested his chin on your shoulder. “weathers just miserable.”

you’d noticed he was often a bit more down during shitty weather, how could you not take notice that the usually loud boy was unusually quiet. “shall we go and listen to music? blast it loud enough to cover the storm.” you suggested. “we can close the curtains and act like it’s not even happening.”

“you want to?” he pulled away and questioned. “don’t wanna make you stop reading just because i’m a bit dramatic.”

“i want to.” you assured him. sure, the weather was perfect for getting cozy and submerging yourself in a book but there’s always time to read. making sirius cheer up was the only thing you wanted right now. “and for the record, you can hug me whenever.”

you couldn’t quite tell what he felt when he stared at you but the smile on his face hinted at something positive. “yeah?”

“yeah.”

#marauders x reader #marauders #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x yn

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 4 days ago

Note

HI ALLIE CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR 1000 FOLLOWERS I THINK ABSOLUTELY DESERVED BECAUSE YOUR WORK IS INCREDIBLE YOU ATE THAT UP SLAYYYYYYYYYYYYY

I............ I have never submitted a request, unless I was explicitly asked by the writer because ksjdjdjjjsjsj ME ASKING FOR SOMETHING?????? SNSJSJSJ ANYWAY I was like it should be fine because it's for your celebration SOOO hear me out. Remus Lupin ? IM GOING THRU A REMUS THING ? 1000 scars/1000 glances???? WHICHEVER IS FINE YOURE GONNA EAT WITH THAT

WEE OK BYE I LOVE YOU BYE

xxx

ilysm and I hope this only deepens your Remus fixation 🫶🏻 thank you so much for all of your love and support, I genuinely get excited when I see you pop up in my feed or notifs. my favorite hanni 🤍

1000 inked scars | R.L.

feat. Remus Lupin x tattooartist!reader

cw: mdni 18+, possessive!Remus, marking kink, oral (fem receiving), tattoo needles and tattooing, mentions of injury and scars, probably inaccurate representation of tattooing in the 70's, no war

1000 things prompt list (closes feb 1!) | masterlist

“Quit squirming or I’m going to turn this constellation into a penis,” you griped, lifting your machine from Sirius’ leg.

“Maybe if you didn’t handle that gun like a cudgel—”

You slapped his fresh tattoo and he yelped. “Pull yourself together, Black. You’re almost done.”

He groaned, slumping back onto the table with his arms slung over his head. “Sadist,” he hissed.

You resumed your tattooing, packing black ink to the map of stars. “Said the masochist that paid me to stab him a million times.”

He glanced down at you. “Are you flirting with me?”

You glared up at him.

Just then, the bell on the front door or you shop chimed. A tall man with sandy hair, dressed in jeans and thick sweater stood in the foyer, looking around at the art and plants strewn about. Given your profession, you immediately noticed his lack of tattoos, and the scars marring his hands and neck, one even stretching from his sharp jaw towards his nose.

“Moony!” Sirius called, jerking his leg and nearly inking himself.

“Sirius,” you bit, but he was already out of the chair.

“What’s—uh, what’s up, Pads?” the stranger, Moony?, said, glancing down at Sirius’ rolled up pant leg and the nearly finished tattoo on his calf. Then, his eyes flicked to you, a deep brown and sallow with exhaustion, but his beauty struck you like a blow, the lines of his face coalescing in a way that would make the great painters weep.

Based on the countless stories Sirius had told you in the hours spent on your table, you surmised that this was Remus Lupin, his level-headed, long-suffering schoolmate.

“I wanted you to meet my friend!” Sirius grabbed his by the elbow and dragged him towards your station.

You sighed and set your machine aside. Clearly, you were taking a break.

“Remus, this is y/n, the architect of my beauty,” Sirius said, gesturing grandly in your direction.

You slid off one of your gloves and extended it to Remus. “Pleasure. I’ve heard loads about you.”

“Oh?” Remus asked, shaking your hand with a light touch, his skin warm and a bit rough. “Terrible things, I wager?”

“The worst,” you chuckled, and the corner of his mouth twitched up into a half-smile.

“Well, then there’s no where to go but up,” he said with a cheeky wink, and your heart damn near leaped out of your mouth.

“I asked Moony to come hang out for the last bit of the tattoo so he could pick your brain,” Sirius said, hopping back up onto the table.

“Sirius—”

“Pick my brain about what?” You asked, pulling up a chair for Remus and sitting back onto your stool, putting on a fresh pair of gloves.

“I, uh—”

“Moony wants to know if you can tattoo over scars,” Sirius said, earning a glare from Remus.

“Absolutely!” you chirped, hoping to dispel Remus’ clear discomfort. “Just takes a few extra passes, but it shouldn’t be an issue.”

Remus gave you a small, grateful smile. “Really?”

“Really. I’ve tattooed over dozens of scars, cover-ups, or decorations. I’d love to work with you.” Merlin, did you just say that out loud? You needed to get it together; you were a professional.

“See, Moons? I told you!” Sirius propped his leg back up, and you fired up the machine. “And it doesn’t even hurt.”

You lowered the machine back to his leg, taking a few quick warm up strokes.

“AHH YOU WITCH!” Sirius wailed. You and Remus both jumped at his shouting, but he quickly dissolved into laughter. “Bloody hell, I knew you two would get along. You’ve got twin scowls,” Sirius chuckled, leaning back against the table with his hands behind his head.

You glanced at Remus, and he looked back at you. A flicker of connection flared between you, and heat rose in your cheeks. Quickly, you looked away, turning your attention back to Sirius’ tattoo.

“So, what are you thinking you want to get, Rem?” Sirius asked after a few moments of quiet, the buzzing of the machine filling the air.

Remus shrugged. “Hadn’t really thought about it. Just wanted to do…something.”

“Well, if you want, we can try and cover any up. But I find that people really get more out of going the decorative route,” you supplied, looking at Remus while you picked up more ink. “I can hand draw a few designs that flow with the scar, turn it into an art piece itself.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, contemplative, and Sirius gave you a knowing smile. “I think I might like that, yeah,” Remus said, his voice soft, almost awestruck. Like he’d never ever considered the possibility before.

As a tattoo artist, you were intimately aware of how much a person’s skin could impact their well being, scars in particular weighed heavily on many people’s spirit. Remus, it seemed, was no exception.

Sirius guided the conversation in another direction, giving Remus a chance to process the implications of what you offered, and you finished the tattoo half-an-hour later. While you were wiping it down, Remus hovered over you, looking down at the piece.

“You’re really good,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell the wool of his sweater, the lingering notes of cinnamon and tea from his cologne. “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, Rem,” you said, smiling up at him, and he smiled back, a flush creeping up his neck before he hurriedly stepped away.

You patched up Sirius and sent the boys on their way, an appointment for Remus on the books for the following week. All he’d given you to work with was placement, his forearm, and that he wanted something natural, like a plant.

Having no more appointments for the evening, you folded yourself into your studio couch with your sketchbook. You sketched a few things, lavender and roses and chamomile, but your fingers itched to draw something else. Remus’ profile floated into your minds eye, sorrowful and striking, and your pen started to move of it’s own accord. His expression came to life under your hand, with long lashes and a crooked nose and that jagged scar.

You clapped your sketchbook shut, sitting back with a sigh.

Next week couldn’t come quickly enough.

You paced around your shop, pouring over your sketch for Remus. You wanted it to be perfect for him, lest you scare him off a tattooing forever.

The door chimes, startling you out of your concentration, and Remus strode in, carrying a tray of drinks and a paper bag

“Morning!” You chirped, hugging your sketchbook to your chest.

“Morning,” he said, passing you one of the cups. “I asked Sirius what you liked, so if it's awful, blame him.”

Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach. It wasn't unusual for clients to bring you coffee and food, but with Remus it felt…different.

“Oh! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, Remus,” you said, taking a sip. It was your favorite drink, and it's familiar warmth settled some of your nerves.

He gave you a small smile, but you could tell he was nervous. He set the bag on your desk. “I also brought some pastries. Sirius mentioned you like chocolate?”

“I love chocolate.” You beamed. “Come on in, we can sit over here and go over the design.”

Remus nodded, shirking his coat and following you over to the couch. He was like an anxious thundercloud, tense and unsteady, and it made your chest tight with empathy.

“How are you feeling?” You asked, patting the spot beside you.

He sat down, coiled in on himself despite his long limbs. Like he was afraid to take up too much space. “Ah, fine,” he replied, taking a sip of his drink. Earl gray, from the smell of it.

You arched a brow. “It's okay to be nervous, Rem,” you said. “But it's just us, and nothing is set in ink. If you change your mind, it's totally fine.”

“It's just—” he sighed, lifting his arm. He started to roll up his shirt sleeve, dexterous fingers folding the fabric neatly over itself, revealing inch after inch of his forearm. Lightly tanned and taut with lean muscle, veins tangling with the map of scars littering his skin.

He watched your face, gauging your reaction. You tried to stay neutral, but you were practically salivating. He was so beautiful.

“Are they too bad?” He asked, his voice rough with tension.

You met his brown eyes. “Not at all.” You pulled out your sketchbook, flipping to the page you had ear marked. “And it's perfect for what I sketched up.”

He managed a half-smile, some of the clouds disappearing from his aura, and accepted the sketchbook when you handed it to him. His eyes widened.

“Goldenrod,” you said, shifting closer to look at the sketch over his shoulder. “Used to treat pain.”

Remus traced his finger over the tangle of stems, the delicate florals. “I take it almost everyday,” he murmured, looking over at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn't quite place.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, your gazes lingering on one another.

“I think it's perfect,” he said, and you smiled, genuinely thrilled that he liked it.

“Okay, ready for me to start sketching?” You asked, and he nodded. You led him over to your station, already set up and waiting for him, and he hoped up onto the chair,, his long limbs dangling near to the floor. To break the quiet, you put on a muggle record, and Remus seemed to relax a bit, sipping on his tea and watching you putter around through dark lashes.

When you settled onto your stool, ink pen in hand, anxiety bloomed in your stomach. Remus was about to watch you draw on him. You’d drawn on hundreds of clients, but like everything else, with Remus it felt…different.

“It might tickle,” you warned, resting his arm where you wanted it, your fingertips tingling from the contact. “And try to stay very still.”

“Whatever you say, love,” he murmured, getting comfortable. Entirely oblivious to the way the petname made your thoughts turn to static.

You placed your sketchbook just beside his arm and made the first line, a quick stem arching alongside a scar stretching from wrist to elbow. Slowly, line after line, the sketch started to come together, flowing with the natural shape of his forearm and it’s scars. You got lost in the act, sinking into the labor of creating.

It wasn’t until Remus made a soft, approving hum in his throat that you peaked up him, breaking your focus. His eyes were almost sleepy, heavy-lidded and soft and the corners, a smile tugging at his lips.

“No wonder Sirius like this so much,” he said, tracing your face with his eyes. “Watching you work is fascinating.”

Heat roared to your cheeks. “Oh, I don’t—he seems more interested in teasing me than letting me work.”

“That does sound like Sirius,” he chuckled. “I like your focused face much more than that scowl.”

Merlin, what was happening to you? You felt like you could melt into your chair like a pile of pudding. Was he flirting with you? Or does he always talk like a romance book hero?

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, changing the subject and ducking back down to your work to hide your expression.

“Decade at least,” Remus said. “We met our first year at Hogwarts. Never thought I’d befriend the Sirius Black, but y’know, stranger things have happened.”

“Why’d you think that?”

Remus shrugged, the muttered a soft apology for moving. “Sirius is…Sirius, and I’m…”

“Charming? Sweet? Clever?” You asked, glancing up at him. “Sirius talks about you like you hung the moon.”

A flush creeped up his neck. “He’s dramatic.”

“And brutally honest,” you said, holding his gaze.

“Can I ask you something?” Now it was his turn to change the subject.

“Of course,” you said, capping your pen and setting it aside.

“Why haven’t you, ah, asked?” He glanced down at his scars, and you know what he was implying.

You shrugged. “I figured you’d tell me if you felt comfortable. I’m not here to pry, just help.”

His eyes flitted over your face, swallowing hard, and it seemed he was at a loss for words.

“Ready for ink?” You asked, giving him as reassuring of a smile as you could muster.

He exhaled, turning his wrist to inspect the design. “Ready.”

The rest of the appointment flew by, with Remus sitting like a stone while you tattooed him for close to four hours. You didn’t speak much, letting the music fill the empty air, but it was a comfortable silence, broken by the occasional question or annecdote. Remus seemed to appreciate being able to relax, and you were happy to give him a safe place for little while. Holding space for what this moment meant to him.

When you were finished, Remus stared at the tattoo in the mirror for a long time, and when he turned back for you to wrap it up, you could see tears collecting on his lower lashes.

"Thank you for this," he said, clearing his throat. "You were--this was amazing."

You knew he meant the art, but still, the praise made your heart glow all the same. "Of course, Remus. I'm glad I got to be the one to do this for you."

Before leaving, he placed another appointment on your books for the following week, this time asking for a tree along the back of his calf, the roots spreading across the scaring he had there.

After Remus’ second and third appointment, you noticed a change in him. He seemed more confident, a little more outspoken. He was coming to life before your eyes, and you were starting to see the fuller picture of the boy Sirius loved so much.

Already, you felt so close to him. Connected. And you were starting to miss him those days in between, his appointment becoming the highlight of your week. Your sketchbook was filling with sketches of him, like you mind needed a place to spill your overflowing thoughts of him. With him, it was like every sound was heightened, every movement sharper, the very colors in the room more vibrant. Overwhelming in the best way.

But then he cancelled your fourth appointment, citing illness, and you didn’t see him for two weeks. It wasn’t until he sent and owl requesting an appointment for this coming Friday that you finally felt like you could breathe.

Sorry again for cancelling. Are you free this Friday? Thinking a moon and stars on my chest, with those gorgeous clouds I saw in your sketchbook. Can’t wait, RL.

When Remus walked into your studio, you had to stop yourself from hugging him, you were so excited to see him. He looked tired, a little dimmer than the last time you saw him, but he greeted you with a warm smile and a bag of pastries, and that was all you needed.

You had him sit up on the table, busying yourself with the station in avoidance of the inevitable. He was going to have to take his shirt off. Your heart was palpitating just thinking about it.

“Alright, Rem. Strip for me,” you said, ripping the metaphorical bandaid off.

He huffed a laugh, seeming a bit shy himself. “Yes ma’am.” In a fluid motion, he hooked his fingers under his sweater and tugged it overhead. His chest was tanned and lined with lean muscle, the kind built outdoors, not in the gym. The scaring was worse, deeper gauges in softer flesh, but you barely registered it, too busy staring at the half-healed red slash across his ribs.

You gasped. “Rem, what happened?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was in a fight club?” He rubbed the back of his head, averting his eyes from yours.

“No, but you don’t have to tell me anything. Just that you’re alright,” you said, unable to mask the warble of concern in your voice. You were already starting to gather that Remus was…different. And you'd only met one other person with scars that matched his, and they also always cancelled around the full moon.

His eyes softened. “I’m alright, dove. Don’t worry about me.”

“I’m the only one that gets to gauge you with weapons,” you huffed, grabbing up your sketching marker.

He barked a laugh, head tipping back on his shoulders. “Fair enough. Only you get to wound me permanently from now on.”

“Glad we reached an understanding.” You propped the sketchbook on the table and leaned in to start sketching. Remus sat up as straight as he could, resulting in your head hovering around his clavicle. But, with his long legs, you couldn’t get close enough.

Remus seemed to pick up on your dilemma and slowly spread his knees, allowing you to step between them. The heat of his body was intense, drawing you closer, but you swallowed your impulse, trying to focus instead on the moon and constellations you were mapping out.

As you drew, you started to shift closer, drawn in by the work and his proximity, the clean smell of his skin, until you were practically leaning against him.

“You smell nice,” he hummed, close enough that you felt his breath tickle the hair around your ear.

You nearly dropped the marker, but managed to keep your grip steady. “So do you,” you said, unable to come up with something clever.

“Y’know, I probably shouldn’t say this, but I—I missed you the last two weeks.” Remus’ voice was low, just above a whisper, resonant like a drum in his chest. You wanted to wrap it around you like a blanket.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted in shock, so close you could brush your nose against his if you moved a hair closer. “You did?” You asked, certain that if pupils could turn into lovehearts, yours would be beaming out of your head like a cartoon.

His hand came up to caress you jaw, tentative and gentle. “Being with you is the best I’ve felt in ages,” he said, tilting your face a little closer to his. “I don’t—”

The bell to your studio rang loudly, and you jumped back from Remus’ hold, nearly tripping over your stool.

“Hey Moony! There’s my favorite artist!” James came plowing through, wrapping you up in a bearhug that squeezed the air from your lungs. “How are you, sweetness?”

“I’m good, Jamie,” you wheezed, and he set you back on your feet.

The boys clasped hands, a quick, almost automatic handshake.

“What are you doing here, Prongs?” Remus asked, trying and failing at not looking irritated.

“Sirius said you were getting some ink today so I figured I’d swing by and have you take a peak at how mine’s healing.”

“James, it’s been like six months. Your antlers healed fine,” you reminded him.

“You did his antlers?” Remus asked, a flicker of something dark passing through his eyes.

You nodded. “Yeah, you didn’t know?”

He shook his head, glancing sidelong at his friend.

“I suppose it might be time for a touch up. Let me see,” you sighed, crossing your arms over your chest.

James lifted his shirt, revealing a peak of his washboard abs, framed by a pair of sprawling antlers across his hip bones. You leaned a bit closer, checking for any faded spots or ink spreading.

“Looks perfect, Jamie. All good,” you said, sitting back on your stool, mildly impressed with yourself.

“Brilliant. I love them, and they’re very effective.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you and Remus rolled your eyes.

James hung out for another hour, chatting with Remus while you finished the sketch of the tattoo. Your bodies were just as close as before, but with James, you were forced to keep it strictly professional. But the proximity without being allowed to touch was melting your mind, making heat pool in your lower belly. You could feel every breath Remus took, feel the rumble of his voice in your chest, the warmth of his body mingling with yours.

It was maddening, and you could tell Remus was growing more impatient by the second, the muscles around his neck taught with tension, his fingers twitching against his thighs.

At one point, you laughed at one of James’ jokes and swatted at his chest, earning a smile from him. When you glanced back at Remus, his jaw was clenched tight, eyes glaring a hole into the drink in his hands.

Was he…jealous?

He had no right to be, but still, the thought of him being possessive made your heart rate quicken.

Finally, James left, leaving you and Remus alone in the simmering tension you'd built. He watched you closely as you returned to your station, prepping the tattoo machine.

“Would you ever get a tattoo like that?” You asked, glancing up at him through your lashes.

He leaned back on the seat, bracing his hands behind him. Showing off the lean expanse of his torso, the rugged look of him that stood in sharp juxtaposition to his style and personality. “Not sure I could pull it off.”

You scoffed, allowing him to see you peruse his body. “I strongly disagree.”

He chewed on his lower lip, a nervous habit. A flush started to spread across his chest, reaching towards his cheeks. “What would you suggest?” he asked, a sultry edge of his voice.

Unhurried, you stepped back between his legs, letting your fingertips graze along the valleys of his lower abdomen. “Perhaps a snake.” You traced the shape along his skin, his muscles tensing to stop himself from shivering. “Or ferns. Maybe a wolfs jaw—”

“A wolfs jaw?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow at you.

You met his eyes. “You should give me a little more credit, Moony.”

He blinked at you, clearly taken aback that you knew his secret. “You knew.”

“I do now. I've only seen scars like yours once before, on another werewolf. And with the nickname, your tattoo choices, being MIA on the full moon…it adds up.”

His eyes searched your face. “And you don't care?”

“Of course not. I care about you, not your affliction.” Your hands still lingered on his hips, like your skin was magnetized together, you couldn't seem to pull them apart.

Remus straightened, his hand coming up to cup your face again. “I haven't been able to stop thinking about you,” he breathed. “You’ve gotten under my skin, dove.”

“It's risky, y’know, to flirt with your tattoo artist,” you murmured, grazing your fingers over the mostly healed goldenrod tattoo. “You've got a permanent reminder of me.”

He smirked, his hand sliding into the hair at the nape of your neck. “Well, the thing about werewolves…” he was so close, warm breath fanning across your lips. “We're a possessive sort, territorial. So having your mark on my skin…” he sighed, eyes dark with desire. “I'm finding it hard to hold myself back.”

“Then don't,” you replied, heart in your throat.

Remus surged forward, lips colliding in a heady, toe-curling kiss. You immediately gave into him, his tongue caressing the seam of your mouth, dipping past your lips to taste you, claim you.

Your arms found their way around his neck, fingers digging into his feathery hair and tugging at the roots, drawing a low groan from his chest. He nipped at your lower lip in warning before soothing it with his tongue.

“Be gentle with me,” he grated, kissing along your cheek, down towards your throat. He craned your head back, grazing his teeth along your pulse, and you shivered. “I’m trying to savor this, not devour you.”

“Do you always keep yourself on such a tight leash?” You asked, breathless as he lapped at your skin, your thighs trembling with desire.

“Patience, dove,” he chastised affectionately, lifting his head. “Just be good for me, yeah? You’ll get what you want.”

Your brain emptied. Seeing this dominant side of Remus had you folding like origami. You nodded, letting him drag you in for another languid, bone-melting kiss.

Remus slid off the table without breaking the kiss, leaning down to scoop you up by the thighs in a fluid motion.

“Rem!” You gasped in surprise when he turned and dropped you onto the table he just vacated.

He leaned over you, one hand reaching down to recline the seat so you were laying back, legs on either side of his hips. His lips found your neck again, kissing and licking his way down while his hands pushed up the hem of your shirt, fingertips cool against your fevered skin.

“Tell me if you want me stop,” he said, shifting to kiss around your navel.

“Don't stop. Please don't stop,” you pleaded, and he smiled against your hip before sucking the skin between his teeth, biting at your flesh just hard enough you make you keen.

“I won't, love. I'm not going anywhere.” His fingers hooked into the waistband of your jeans, easing them down over your hips until they fell to the ground in a pile.

Your knees tried to pull together on instinct, the vulnerability making you flush, but his hands gripped your inner thighs, spreading you apart for him. You could tell he was in his element, something having loosened from his usually reserved demeanor. It felt like you were seeing him completely for the first time. No holds barred.

“Don't hide from me, pretty girl,” he cooed, lowering to his knees. “You're gorgeous.” He trailed kisses up your thigh, charting a tingling path until his nose grazed sodden panties, making your pussy flutter and clench. “Fuck, you smell divine,” he muttered before dragging his tongue over the thin fabric.

“Oh, god—Remus,” you moaned when he sucked on the fabric over your clit, pleasure blooming from your center. Your eyes rolled back, fingers tangling in his hair as he flicked your swelling bud with his tongue.

“So responsive,” he praised, pulling your panties aside with his middle finger. “You this sweet for all of your clients?”

You shook your head. ”I've never—fuck, baby.” Your words splintered into a cry as he eased his middle finger inside of you, your dripping entrance accepting him eagerly. He nudged your clit with his nose, making you cry out again.

“Just me?” His voice almost sounded like a purr, deeply pleased by your admission.

You nodded, urging him closer by the roots of his hair, and he practically growled.

He nipped at your thigh, overpowering your meager attempt easily. “Patience, remember?”

You whined. “Remus, please. Just wanna feel you.”

He withdrew his finger, then added a second, pumping you slowly. “I know, baby. I'm right here, I've got you.” His mouth found your clit again, his tongue circling around and around, and you arched off the table, moans spilling from your lips like a song.

Steadily, the fire built, with Remus' devoted attention pouring over you like gasoline. He moaned against you, eyes screwed shut when your pussy clenched around his fingers, teetering on the edge.

The table shifted, rocking back a bit, and you looked past Remus' hair tangled in your fingers to his body. He was rocking his hips against the edge of the table, so turned on by the act of eating you out that he needed some relief.

“Rem, baby,” you whined, the sight dragging you that much closer to release. He glanced up at you, his eyes glazed and pussydrunk, and he whimpered against you.

His deliberate motions got sloppier, greedier, as he rutted against the table. Losing control of himself, like his entire being was desperate to be inside of you.

With a final curl of his fingers, you toppled over the edge, coming with a cry loud enough to rattle the windows as relief crashed over you, cool water dousing the flames beneath your skin.

“Good fucking girl,” he growled, withdrawing his fingers to lap directly from you, savoring every drop of his efforts. “That's it, love. Relax f’me.” He brought you back to earth with his tongue, long, languid licks and kisses around your trembling center, across your inner thigh slung over his shoulder.

“Fuck, Remus,” you panted, slumping back against the table. “That was—”

He made his way up your body, catching your words in a messy, top-lip kiss. “Got your mark all over me now, dove,” he purred, pecking your cheek with a cheeky grin.

“What about…” you trailed off, fingers toying with his belt, unsure of what you were asking for him to fuck you, or mark you. Or both. All you knew was that you wanted him, badly, even more so with that post-orgasm clarity.

“Patience,” he replied, chuckling at the annoyed look you shot him. “Ready to finish up this tattoo?”

“But you didn't get to—”

“I’m, ah, a bit embarrassed to say that I did.” He straightened with a sheepish smile, revealing the dark spot leaking through his jeans.

Holy shit. You'd made him cum in his pants.

You surged up, throwing your arms around his neck and tugging him down in to a ravenous kiss. “Merlin, you're so fucking hot,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He grinned, breaking the kiss to nuzzle into your neck, hiding the flush you could see staining his ears. “Says the girl that made me cum without touching me,” he muttered, almost indignant.

“I’m not sorry,” you chuckled, sighing when he pressed his plush, kiss-swollen lips to your racing pulse.

“It's alright, I'll get even,” he teased, his teeth nipping at your skin.

“Is that a promise?”

“Most normal people would interpret it as a threat.” He picked his head up, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, I'm not normal people,” you replied.

“And thank Godric for that.” He kissed you again, all smiles and airy pecks.

Normal was never your style anyway.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fic #marauders #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x reader smut #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin x sirius black #wolfstar #the marauders era fic #the marauders era #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #harry potter smut

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sayoneee · 1 year ago

Text

☆ LET'S DANCE

slughorn decides to play matchmaker for the day, leading to your public humiliation (2.4k)

contains: idiots in love. very loosely based on the david bowie song. swearing. possibly ooc sirius. bit of an existential crisis ig. slughorn. sirius has jokes (bad ones). not proofread

kashaf’s note: havent posted in ages hopefully u like this

YOU LONGED FOR summer’s embrace, and the warm reprieve from the demands of school, yet you are afraid of what it might bring. the longer you try to savor the last of your sixth year, and dream of the carefree hours under never-ending sunlight soon within your grasp, the harder it becomes to ignore the continuously grim headlines of the daily prophet presented at the breakfast table every morning. even amidst your friends’ laughter, the looming shadow of anti-muggle-born propaganda pushed forward by unseen hands propels them to dissect and debate on almost molecular levels, each point characterized by a bite or a clang of a fork.

the end of your sixth year brings unshakeable exhaustion as constant vigilance weaves itself into everyday life within the ancient walls of the castle, adding to the suddenly rigorous course load attempting to prepare your year for their upcoming n.e.w.t.s. hogwarts, once a haven, now demanded a watchful eye on every staircase and dark corridor, as the hallways echoed with ghostly rumors and whispers found their homes on the staircases.

“mare, stop tryna murder slughorn with your eyes; he might catch on,” you hissed at mary under your breath, elbowing her discreetly, as you try to appear focused on slughorn’s lesson.

“maybe he’ll learn his lesson and stop splitting us up,” mary responded resolutely, never once breaking eye contact with the balding pudgy man who, in a horribly clichéd fit of inspiration, had begun assigning partners to brew amortentia in the double-potions period you had been blessed with today.

the somewhat impulsive decision of “james potter and lily evans” had you and mary turning to each other, eyebrows raised as you wondered quite how thick slughorn could be. in general, no one knew what was going on between james and lily. at this point, you surmised neither did they. they had had odd bouts of camaraderie, quickly replaced with civil hostility, resulting in a continuous loop of poorly disguised affection or hatred, like a roulette wheel deciding which lily and james to match up each day.

you prayed to merlin, hoping whatever disastrous infliction that had befallen slughorn for him to pair james with lily would not contagiously affect his decision for you, and that slughorn would come to his senses and let you spend the amortentia lesson with your sanity intact. alas, merlin had no such qualms about leaving you to fend for yourself as the anticipation you felt when slughorn called your name quickly soured to horror when he followed it up with none other than “sirius black”.

despite the number of mutual friends shared—after your friend groups warmed up to each other this year—the two of you had never gotten along. you’ve since chalked it up to his propensity for being aggravating without rhyme or reason, seemingly driven by an inherent desire to extract reactions. his words, laced with a mirth hard to ignore, are like finely crafted spells designed to unravel your patience. the rest of the school’s population are able to dismiss him, but your inability to ignore him has become something of an enigma.

feeling sirius’s presence next to you, without turning to face him, you asked, crossing your arms over your chest, “am i gonna have to remain vigil over our cauldron in case it blows up the minute my back is turned?”

“as flattering as it is to hear you admit that you’ve been watching me over the years—” here, you let out a derisive snort, causing sirius to pause, and raise his eyebrows at you in challenge, “when have you seen me jinx my own cauldron?” he continued, a smirk tugging at his lips as he loosened his tie even further.

you groaned, finally making eye contact with him, unsurprised to see that all-too-familiar glint in his grey eyes, “can we please just get this over with already?”

in your six shared years of schooling, you have always distantly conceded him to be handsome, his features falling into the realm of casual observance amidst the whirlwind of classes, and quidditch matches. yet, the way he stares down at you in this moment stirs something within you, the unfamiliar fluttering awakening a newfound awareness.

his locks of black hair fall delicately in his eyes, as if afraid to obstruct your view. the silver gleam of his piercings catch the glow of the potions bubbling around you, an intricate constellation along the curve of his ears—a bold declaration of his rebelliousness. the smile tugging at the corners of his lips is enigmatic, as if he’s aware that he’s just shifted something fundamental between you.

“aren’t you moving a little too fast?” sirius continued when you turned to him confused, “take me out to dinner first.”

you glared at him as understanding dawned on you, “i’m literally going to murder you if you don’t shut up, i swear to merlin.”

“aren’t you kinky?”

you spin around, pointing your wand at his jugular, watching his adam’s apple bob up then down as he threw his hands up in surrender, an easy-going grin gracing his features, “woah there, guess i touched a nerve, huh?”

you know he’s baiting you, you know his talent for finding weaknesses and exploiting them all too well, but you can’t help yourself when it comes to him, falling into the trap carefully set out for you, biting out a retort before you’re aware of it, “you won’t have any nerves left when i’m done with you.”

sirius grins, no—bares his teeth at you, wolfishly, and suddenly you understand all of james’s dog-related jokes over the years.

the two of you remain uncharacteristically quiet for the remainder of the potion, you’re surprised by sirius’s begrudging help, and soon enough, you’re sliding the last ingredient in.

the potion looks right to you, with the mother-of-pearl sheen slughorn gushed about for all of the class period, but you can’t tell because your senses were invaded by the distinct smell of cologne causing you to wrinkle your nose as you eyed sirius apprehensively.

he seemed to be having the same predicament as you currently, perfect brows furrowed in thought as his eyes glance over the potion.

“i can’t tell if we did it right,” you venture.

“me neither,” he shrugs, “all i can smell is your perfume—by the way, did you have to use the whole bottle?”

“i could say the same for you—the room reeks of your cologne, asshole.”

“more like your perfume—”

“i literally ran out this morning—”

“because you dumped the whole bottle on yourself?”

“literally pot calling the kettle black—”

“i am a black—”

“i literally hate you so much—”

a sharp, disapproving cough splits the two of you apart, not only had your argument grown embarrassingly loud in its procession, but it had also orchestrated a gravitational pull between the two of you. the result had been proximity that bordered on the intimate, your personal space evaporating until you were mere inches apart. the ignominy of being publicly seen at sirius black’s throat was nothing compared to the humiliation that followed after slughorn’s unexpected interruption.

slughorn’s rotund figure regards the two of you with a mixture of curiosity and mild exasperation, his mustache twitching slightly in rhythm with the exaggerated rise and fall of his breath, “my dears,” he begins, his tone a blend of genuine concern and theatrical flair, “what seems to be the problem? your potion appears to be brewed successfully, i can see the characteristic smoke spirals, and the mother-of-sheen pearl.”

flushed with embarrassment that seems to spread through you like a fever, you mumble your response lowly, “sorry, professor, but we couldn’t tell because of external factors.”

the air in the room seems to thicken as the collective gaze of your classmates turns toward the two of you, their eyes capturing the awkwardness with an unabashed curiosity that makes you wish you could use a time-turner to escape this particular moment of public humiliation.

slughorn’s hearty laughter fills the room like a boisterous charm, “oho, i see the problem now, my dear,” he addresses you, his eyes crinkling with amusement, “tell me, what do you smell in the amortentia?”

his words hang in the air, and the room's atmosphere has shifted from tense to expectant.

confused, you play with the hem of your skirt as you wonder the relevancy of his question, your gaze flickering uncertainly, tracing patterns in the stone floor as you respond, “um, cologne, leather, and brownies, professor.”

the room, for a moment, becomes a canvas of uncomfortable silence, and you're resolutely avoiding making eye contact with anyone else in the room.

satisfied with your response, slughorn pivots his attention to sirius, a gleam of intrigue dancing in his eyes, "now you, my boy," he encourages, his voice a velvet stroke, "go on, tell us what you smell."

a twist of surprise clenches within you as you expect sirius to brush off the request, to summon a sarcastic remark as his defense. yet, to your astonishment, he complies, his fingers raking through his hair, “perfume, shampoo, and petrol, professor."

slughorn nods sagely, his lips curving into a satisfied grin that crinkles the corners of his eyes. he claps his hands together once, the sound a punctuation to his assessment. the atmosphere in the room has shifted from suspenseful to charged, every student suspended in the tension of his next words.

"my dears," he addresses the class with the air of a professor on the brink of a profound lesson, "you smell each other in the amortentia, that is your problem."

the previously stifling silence is breached as the dungeon is painted with a symphony of snickers. the air seems to vibrate with laughter, and there's even a bold wolf whistle, which you're almost certain is courtesy of james. yet, amidst this collective amusement, all you can feel is disconcertment, the weight of attention heavy upon you.

as if merlin himself takes pity on your predicament, slughorn's laughter ripples through the room, warm and infectious, as he claps his hands together again, “my young scholars, it's time for practicality. bottle your amortentia, label it, and kindly leave it on my desk before making your exit."

with that, your hasty exit from the dungeon turns into a veritable escape, as you shoulder your bag against your side. every nerve in your body screams for invisibility, to become nothing more than a background figure. however, as you weave your way through the corridors, hoping to dissolve into the anonymity of the crowd, you're struck by sirius black’s unwavering dedication in trailing behind you despite each step you take further into the deepening throng of students.

just before you can approach the fat lady’s portrait, a hand closes on your elbow and a startled gasp escapes you as you are abruptly yanked into a hidden alcove, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. your eyes adjust to the sudden darkness, but before you can react, a large hand firmly pressed against your mouth, thick silver rings digging uncomfortably against your lips. glaring at your kidnapper, you folded your arms across your chest.

acutely aware of the proximity, of the scent of cologne now much fainter than in the dungeons, you wait with a mixture of frustation and curiosity. sirius leans as far back as the alcove will let him, which is not much, but at least he’s no longer lurking over you like a predator staring down its prey.

“the fuck do you want?” you could care less if you smelled him or if he smelled you in the amortentia, because as far as you’re concerned, the two of you can continue to dance around each other in the way you have perfected over the years. in your delicate ballet, he is the master of light-hearted jests flickering like fireflies in the summer dusk, and you are the recipient of his playful pranks and ceaseless banter, carrying an unspoken agreement, holding onto the game you both secretly treasured.

its predictability is comforting, the way his remarks are as reliable as the rising sun, and your laughter feels like a shared secret between only the two of you. the amortentia's revelations feel like an unnecessary intrusion, an attempt to place confusing labels on your little game.

“go out with me,” sirius levels a roguish grin at you, his grey eyes dance with the mischief you are so accustomed to seeing.

all you want is to say yes, to revel in stolen glances, the exhilaration of shared laughter, the brushing of your fingers together, and strolling carefree across the castle grounds, but your world isn’t one satisfied by teen romances. it’s one where every word and connection is scrutinized under the weight of a society where love and friendship are tainted by its fixation on blood status.

you cannot bring yourself to look into his eyes, twinkling with genuine interest, feeling a pang of bitterness as you consider the reality of your world. to say yes would be to risk both your safety and that of your friends, and who knows if the ensuing conflict would leave either of you unscathed.

“i can’t,” you still cannot bring yourself to look him in the eye as you deliver this unseen rejection with a bittersweet smile, torn between longing for normalcy and the harsh lessons you’ve learned with every picture and name added to the growing list of victims.

“why not?” sirius asks, confusion coloring his features, as he searches your gaze, attempting to make eye contact.

you don’t know how to explain without seeming as if you’re getting ahead of yourself, thinking of the distant future, but you try anyway, wringing your hands together, “we don’t know what’ll happen in a year or two, sirius. we don’t even know if we’ll be alive after we graduate.”

his hands cradle your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye, the cool press of his metal rings against your burning skin is soothing, “i’m asking for right now,” he continues, softly, gentler than you have ever known him, his gaze holding yours in quiet intensity, “for you to live for yourself—”

the uncertain future shapes into one of possibility, and so, without conscious thought, you surge forward to kiss him, clumsier than you would have liked, and messier than you have ever known, but it feels right.

“so, that’s a yes for hogsmeade this weekend?”

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rebelelegance · 2 years ago

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hiiii!!! can u do a valentine’s day angsty post where james and y/n are in a secret relationship because she’s a hufflepuff but he flirts with lily and gets her flowers on valentines so he doesn’t cause suspicion u get upset and cry and break up with him and he tries to win u back but remus gets u flowers and kinda helps u get over james??🤭🤭🤭 if u don’t wanna do this it’s totally okay!! love ur work<3

Secrecy:

A/N: This was so painful to write. But, it was also super fun.

Summary: You love James Potter and would do anything for him, including keeping your relationship an absolute secret. However, he may not feel the same.

Pairing: James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader, Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!reader

w/c: 3600+

Masterlist

Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

The room of requirements had a lot of uses.

“Jamie, stop it!” you giggled as your boyfriend peppered your face with kisses. He pulled away grinning, “What? I’ve missed you!”

You shook your head, a sad smile taking over the grin you’d had before. “You wouldn’t have to miss me, if people knew about us,” you said, your hands fixing his hair, and adjusting his glasses. “If at least your friends knew,” you added, now fixing your own robes.

James closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “We’ve talked about this n/n,” he whined, cupping your face. His eyes searched yours, “I-I’ve told you, they can’t know.”

You shook your head, “You’ve never told me why, James.” You pulled his hands away from your face, bending down to pick up your bag, the next period would start soon. You tried to ignore how your chest tightened.

When James didn’t respond, bending down to pick his own bag up, you sighed. Everytime over the past few months that you’d had this conversation, it ended the same way. Sometimes, you wondered, if he was embarrassed of you, but it made no sense, because all of his friends loved hanging out with you.

Or so you thought. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“I-I just need you to trust me,” he said softly, adjusting his bag straps. You just stared at him blankly. It was scary how used to this you were by now.

“Right,” you whispered, before stepping past him and leaving.

He didn’t follow you. He never did.

When James had first told you he liked you, he’d also mentioned a need to keep it private. You’d wholeheartedly agreed at first, maybe he just didn’t want his friends all over the two of you. However, that didn’t make sense either. Sirius had openly teased the both of you on some occasions, when James had one too many drinks, and got a little too touchy around you.

Of course, it happened only when he was drunk.

As days turned into weeks, you started wondering if he ever planned on telling at least his friends. He never got too close to you whenever you were around them. In fact, he’d barely even look at you. It was Remus who was always around you, talking and making you laugh.

If James hadn’t asked you out first, Remus might’ve been the one you were with.

He always made you feel wanted. In a way James never had.

The worst part was that Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. And James hadn’t even brought it up. Even when you’d asked him, he’d just shrugged and said “I’ll come up with something.”

You definitely didn’t miss the way his friends kept pushing him towards Lily Evans. Or how he seemed to be subtly flirting with her, every time you looked at him when you were in public.

At first you would cry in your dorm room, unable to tell anyone about how you felt, because no matter how much you hated it, you still felt obliged to keep it a secret. Over time, you learnt to shrug it off, allowing the pain to grow in your chest. You didn’t know what it was like to go through a day without that crushing sensation.

Sometimes you wished you weren’t that nice.

As you entered class, you weren’t expecting Remus to excitedly wave you over, Sirius turning away from his friend to smile at you as well.

You couldn’t even avoid them, it’d seem suspicious. You plastered on a fake smile, making your way over to the boys.

“Hey Y/N,” they both chorused.

“Hello,” you responded, settling down next to Remus. He held out a chocolate in the palm of his hand, and you gladly accepted, muttering a simple thanks.

This is what it was like to be around Remus. It wasn’t the constant fear of someone finding out. It didn’t come with the thoughts swarming in your head.

Your eyes found James walking into class, hesitating, for just a moment when he saw you, before his face returned to normal and he took a seat beside Sirius.

Of course, he didn’t give you a second glance.

Class started, causing you to shift your focus on your professor. You hated how routine it had all become.

How unaffected you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you were walking back to your dorm, you felt someone grab your hand, pulling you behind a wall.

“Y/N, don’t be mad,” James whispered. You stared at him blankly, before sighing softly. “How long?” you asked, staring directly into his eyes, hoping that you could decipher what was going on. He gulped, looking away for a minute, before his eyes landed on you again. “I-I don’t know,” he said, immediately looking down at his shoes.

You tried to blink away the gathering tears, nodding. “Look, James, I like being your girlfriend. But, I hate being your secret,” you said. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, full of panic. “You’re not my secret,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with confidence. You almost believed him.

Almost.

You scoffed. “Right because this,” you said, gesturing to your hiding spot, “doesn’t indicate that you’re hiding me.”

“No, no I-” he sighed frustratedly, a hand running through his hair.

“I’ll see you in the Gryffindor common room in the evening. I’m studying with Remus. You,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “can ignore me as usual.”

With that, you left, unable to hold the onslaught of tears any longer. As the hot tears streamed down your face, you started running, picking up more speed as the feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t care that people were staring. You didn’t care that you could get into trouble. You just needed to get away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t go to class. You didn’t go to lunch. You sat in your room all day pondering your situation. It hurt you to think about it. You’d been so happy in the beginning, an amazing boyfriend, good friends, you had it all. But slowly, your sudden disappearances had increased, and you couldn’t explain it to your friends. You’d even missed your roommate's cake cutting on her birthday because you’d run off to find James.

They barely even talked to you now.

You sniffled, hearing voices as your roommates piled in, barely acknowledging you. You watched as they walked right past you, only one of them, Rose, the one who’s birthday you missed, paused to give you a sad smile, before joining the others in their discussion.

You couldn’t handle the pain anymore. It enveloped you completely, the numbness taking over. You quietly got up, leaving the room. Anywhere was better than here.

As you got to your common room, you realized all the classes were over for the day. Your eyes scanned the room, as you tried to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be with Remus now. You didn’t want to go. James would be there.

But, you’d promised Remus yesterday.

You sighed, deciding you had to go, leaving the common room, with no one to stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second you entered the common room, Remus called you over. Unfortunately, he was sitting with his friends. Including your boyfriend.

You walked over, ignoring the way James watched you, eyes trained on Remus. “Hi Remmy,” you said softly, taking a seat next to him. “Hello love. Are you alright? You weren’t in Defense Against the Dark Arts today,” he asked, brows furrowed together in concern.

Did James even realize?

You nodded quietly, “Just needed to get away from everything for a while y’know?”

Remus nodded, understanding taking over his features.

“You don’t have your books,” Sirius pointed out.

You froze, you’d been so worked up that you hadn’t even realized.

“I - uh”

“ ‘S alright love, we can share,” Remus interrupted, passing his book over to you.

You smiled gratefully, “Thanks Moony.”

You knew James was watching you, but you didn’t look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It hurt too much.

“Oh! I heard someone’s secret relationship was found out!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed.

You couldn’t process what he’d just said. Did he - did he know?

“Who?” you heard James ask. Your eyes snapped to him, but he was looking at Sirius, face seeming amused.

Was he not worried? Or did he not care? Or…was he so sure that it wasn’t about you two?

However Sirius just shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care,” he pointed at the three of you, “however I think whoever it was is an absolute coward.”

Remus looked up from his book, “Coward?”

Sirius hummed in response. “You like someone enough to date them, why would you keep it quiet?” he asked, now looking at you, “If you’re not embarrassed or if it’s not forbidden love or something right n/n?” You were caught off guard by the question.

The way he looked at you made you feel as if he knew more than he was letting on.

“I uh-. Yeah, yeah, why would you?” you asked in response, looking at James. At this point, you didn’t care if someone suspected something. You wanted an answer.

James’s eyes widened in shock. “I-”

The three of you were looking at him now. “You shouldn’t. Not if you care about the person enough,” he muttered, looking at everyone but you.

You didn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I- I have to go,” you whispered, before running out.

Did he not care enough then? If that was just a response, framed to keep people from guessing, how far was he willing to go to keep this a secret?

You ran all the way to your dorm room, ignoring the way your roommates were looking at you with concern, before jumping on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow, and sobbing.

None of them came to ask you what was wrong. Of course they didn’t. You hadn’t been there for them, constantly putting James first.

The James that always seemed to put you last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in the morning, eyes puffy and head hurting. You hadn’t even changed into your pajamas. You groaned, sitting up slowly, eyes closed, as the events of the day before, flooded into your head.

“Hi.”

You opened your eyes, finding Rose sitting on your bed, a soft smile on her face.

“Hi?” you said, shocked that she was even talking to you.

“You came in, a mess last night,” she laughed lightly.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment . She moved closer to you, placing a hand on your knee. “What’s going on?” she asked, voice filled with concern.

You were surprised that she’d even asked. “I missed your birthday?” you asked in response, unable to form an actual sentence.

She laughed again, “I know you Y/N. You wouldn’t have done that unless something was going on.”

You felt your eyes water again. “You really want to know?” you asked, your voice shaking. She simply nodded, waiting for you to continue.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell her, but as the pain in your chest continued to grow with every second, you realized you needed to let it out.

So you did.

You told her everything. From the very beginning, to the conversation you’d had yesterday.

The second you’d finished, she engulfed you in a hug. “Oh n/n, you don’t deserve that,” she said, pulling away.

“But I mean, what I don't get is, why?” you whispered.

“I don’t know love, but you have to tell him,” she said sternly.

“Tell him what?” you asked, afraid of what she was going to say.

“That if he wants to stay with you, he should be willing to be open about it. Not PDA level but you know what I mean,” she said, taking your hands in hers.

You nodded. She was right. Absolutely right.

You had to tell him now. Why not? It was Valentine’s? It was perfect.

“I’ll tell him right now,” you said, getting off the bed.

Rose gripped your hand. “Not like this you’re not,” she told you, looking you up and down.

You laughed in embarrassment, “Right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose had helped you get ready, even helping you out with a bit of makeup.

So now, as you sped across the halls, you were feeling confident. You were sure you mattered to him, so you didn’t worry too much about the conversation you were about to have. You were feeling good.

But then you heard the name Potter coming out of a certain redhead’s mouth. You came to a halt, turning to look at the scene behind you.

Lily Evans was holding a bouquet in her hands, blushing profusely.

“I can’t believe he actually knows what flowers you like!” her friend exclaimed.

Lily nodded, “He might be a prick sometimes, but he really is good at this.”

Your heart dropped.

It can’t be.

You walked over to her clearing your throat. “Um, Lily?” you called, causing the girl to turn to you.

“Oh hey Y/N!” she smiled warmly. You returned it with a weak smile of your own, “I was just wondering,” you said shakily, pointing to the flowers, “who gave you those?”

She grinned, “James Potter. As thick headed as he is, he’s also a sweetheart.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach, the color draining from your face.

“You alright?” she asked, noticing the way your hands were shaking.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah of course. Have a nice day,” you said, quickly turning around and bolting.

You had someone to go meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, barging into the Gryffindor common room. Sirius, Peter and Remus, and James all turned to look at you. Luckily there was no one else there.

Though, to be honest, you wouldn’t have cared.

You were tired of hiding.

“You gave Lily flowers?” you said, walking up to your boyfriend.

He stood up, eyes wide.

“Of course he did! Are you oblivious to how he’s head over heels for her?” Sirius interjected, confused as to why you were so angry.

You ignored him, eyes trained on your boyfriend.

“I-”

“Well? Did you? Or is she lying to me?” you asked, your eyes watering.

“Y/N”

“I swear to god James if you try to hide this even now, I will not hesitate to slap you.”

You could see how panicked James was. But you didn’t care. You were hurt beyond repair.

He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“I did,” he whispered.

Hot tears streamed down your face.

“But I swear,” he said, opening his eyes, “ I only did it to keep people off of us.” He tried to reach for your hand, but you pushed him away.

“Why?” you sobbed. Your chest felt like it was being crushed. Your heart, breaking into tinier pieces by the minute.

James huffed. “Because,” he started throwing his hands up in the air, “Because you’re a Hufflepuff!” he yelled.

You staggered back, the shock of the revelation came like a blow.

“What?” you whispered.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Remus asked, walking over to stand next to you.

James just shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Love,” Remus turned to you, a gentle hand on your shoulder, “what’s going on?” he asked.

Sirius stepped forward, “James fucked up, that’s what’s going on,” he supplied.

You and James looked at him in shock.

“I saw you both kissing a few days back,” he explained. “It completely threw me off, because Prongs here,” he threw an arm around James’s shoulder, “has been head over heels for Evans since first year.”

First year?

“However, he did tell us about catching feelings for you last year, though we thought it subsided because he never mentioned it again. Of course, I found out only recently that he didn’t mention it, because he was too up in his head about the whole ‘Gryffindor being a superior house’ thing,” Sirius said, making air quotes. You stared at James, not knowing how to process the information being dealt out.

“Then I saw you both snogging each other before Charms one day, and decided to bring it up. James however said you were just friends. But he wouldn’t shut up about how in love he was with Evans. Meaning one of two things,” Sirius said, moving away from James, holding out both his hands.

“One,” he said, lifting his left hand up, “James was using you to get the attention he wanted because Lily wasn’t paying him regard,” James opened his mouth to say something but Sirius cut him off, “but, James isn’t a prick. He wouldn’t do that.” Sirius said, lowering his hand. “Which could only mean,” he lifted his right hand now, “that James did in fact like you, but he couldn’t give up completely on Lily, and,” he paused, pointing to James, “he feels too superior about his house, as always.”

You blinked multiple times, trying to understand what Sirius had just said.

He’d known yesterday. And he’d been trying to warn you.

“Y/N-” James started.

“Don’t. Don’t James. Don’t open your mouth and try to explain. You’ll only make it worse,” you seethed. Your hurt had completely transformed into anger.

“We’re done. Go on and snog Lily in front of everyone, yeah? She’s in Gryffindor,” you glared at him, before storming out of the common room, ignoring his protests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d spent the entire day in your room. Thinking, crying, and thinking some more. You’d told Rose, and then also told her you needed some alone time.

She’d been doing a great job at keeping everyone away.

Until now that is.

You heard a soft knock on your dorm room door.

“Please, not now,” you called out, hoping the person would go away.

“I uh- It’s me, Remus,” a soft, uncertain, voice called back.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got off the bed, opening the door to your visitor.

“Remus?” you asked, surprised.

He smiled at you warmly. “Hello love, may I come in?” he asked. You nodded, stepping aside to let him. You closed the door again, watching as he gently placed his bag on the floor before sitting on your bed.

“I had to bribe Rose with 2 weeks of free chocolates,” he laughed.

For the first time in hours, you felt a smile creep up onto your face. “Aww, you did that for me?” you teased, settling down in front of him.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, quietly.

You froze, a warmth coating your cheeks and the tips of your ears.

He sighed, “James is- He’s an idiot. To hurt you like that. It’s-” he shook his head, “It’s fucked up and not fair on you. If I was him, I’d be showing you off,” he said, reaching over to place his hand on your knee.

You felt goosebumps erupt all over you at his touch.

“Even if I’m a hufflepuff?” you smiled sadly.

“Even if you’re a Hufflepuff,” Remus nodded, before adding, “In fact, I’m happy you’re not a Gryffindor, I know too many Gryffindors,” he laughed.

You felt yourself relax at the comforting sound, a small chuckle slipping past your lips as well.

Remus bent over, searching through his bag before presenting a bouquet of (your favorite flowers).

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I- Are these for me?” you asked, reaching out slowly.

Remus nodded, “Just for you,” he said.

You pulled them close to your face, inhaling the fresh scent. “I love it, Moony, thank you,” you whispered.

Remus just stared at you, his brown eyes filled with love. For a second, he looked away, as if pondering something, before his eyes landed on his hands. You watched as played with his sweater, shrugging, before taking in a deep breath, and looking into your eyes.

“I know it might be too early, but do you think- would you maybe- I don’t know how to say it,” he sighed, looking away.

You knew what it was immediately. Did you want it? Yes, so very badly. Because you were confident that Remus would treat you right. Even Rose thought so.

He knew you better than James ever had.

“Just say it Remmy,” you said, placing the flowers next to you, before taking his hands in yours.

He looked at you, staring into your eyes. You felt your heart pick up speed, thumping loud against your ribcage.

He shook his head, looking away again, unable to keep eye contact for long.

You moved closer to him, knitting your hands together, sitting knee to knee.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend. We- We’ll have to take it slow, but I’d absolutely love to do that Remus,” you said.

He gently untangled your arms, and worry took over. Is that not what he wanted?

But then, his lips were on yours, his hands on your waist, and your head was on cloud nine.

It wasn’t rushed, he took his time, savoring every second. It wasn’t mixed with the fear of being caught. Or the pain of knowing you wouldn’t get it again for a while.

No. You couldn’t think. Your heart took over your body, as you pushed back. Every fiber of your being, lighting up with joy.

It was like your first kiss all over again.

Until, someone threw the door open, and you almost feared how Remus would react.

But he didn’t recoil, or act like nothing had happened. He just backed away, shocked, one hand still on your waist, as the other ran through his hair, eyes closed as he let out a small airy chuckle.

It was Rose. She was grinning. “I knew it!” she pumped her fist in the air.

Remus laughed, shaking his head, “Now will you leave us alone? Unless you want to watch?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

Rose’s eyes widened, and she held her hand up in defense, “No sir,” she said, before leaving, closing the door behind her, causing you to giggle.

Remus turned to you, smiling, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Promise we won’t be a secret?” You whispered.

“I promise,” he responded, pressing his lips to your forehead.

And he stuck to that promise, ‘till your heart went still.

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