#evan peter fanfic

[outromoony]

I hate that headcanon that says Peter betrayed them all, James and Lily died, Harry became an orphan, Sirius went to prison for 12 years for a crime he didn't commit, and Remus spent more than a decade alone. Lmao, like, who thought that was a good idea?

[bethsvrse]

me, a writer, at 3am: WHAT? I CANT FIND THE SPECIFIC FANFIC THAT I MADE UP IN MY MIND WITH A WHOLE PLOT AND ORIGINAL CHARACTERS??? WHO DO THEY THINK THEY ARE??? DO THEY EXPECT ME TO WRITE THE STORY I THOUGHT UP OF???

[icedcoffeebabyy]

I fear no fancast will ever match how sexy Sirius Black actually is.

[srslyblvck]

── secret santa,, james potter [part one]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: in which you become the secret santa of none other than james potter

genre: fluff

warnings: none

author's note: ik it isn't even december, oh well, i couldn't help myself :)

word count: 1.1k

part two!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ SNOW FLUTTERED GENTLY AGAINST the tall, frosted windows of the Gryffindor common room, casting a soft glow over the cosy space. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, and the air buzzed with anticipation as the Gryffindor gang gathered in a circle on the floor, laughing and sipping on mugs of cocoa.

Sirius, always the self-appointed leader of mischief, stood atop one of the squishy armchairs like he was addressing a crowd of thousands. His dark hair flopped dramatically as he gestured toward the large bowl of folded parchment in his hands.

“Lend me your ears!” Sirius announced with flair. “It is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor tradition—our annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellus’—”

“Sirius!” Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. “If you could manage to keep it PG, that’d be great.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. “Evans, your lack of faith wounds me. I’m a model of propriety.”

Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. “Sure you are.”

“Can we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?” James chimed in, sprawled out on the floor with his hands behind his head. His untamable hair stuck out in every direction, and his glasses were slightly askew. He was grinning, the kind of grin that could light up an entire room.

“You’re just eager because you’re convinced you’ll get Evans again,” Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.

James shot her a mock-wounded look. “For your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any gift—except socks. Sirius.”

Sirius gasped. “I would never.”

“You absolutely would,” Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.

“Alright, alright!” Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. “The rules are simple: pick a name, don’t tell anyone who you’ve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.”

“Sounds fair,” Peter muttered as he scratched his nose.

One by one, the group leaned forward to pluck a slip of parchment from the bowl. You waited until your turn, your fingers brushing against the cool paper as you grabbed a folded chit. Your heart skipped a beat as you unfolded it and saw the name:

James Potter.

Your eyes instinctively darted toward him. James was mid-laugh, probably at some ridiculous quip Sirius had made, and there was a mischievous sparkle in his hazel eyes. You quickly looked away before anyone could notice the heat rising to your cheeks.

Of all the names you could’ve drawn, it had to be James.

From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.

“Oi, love,” James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. “You can just tell me who you’ve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.”

You didn’t even look up from your parchment. “Nice try, Potter. Not happening.”

He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. “You wound me! After everything we’ve been through?”

“I’m doing you a favour,” you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. “Imagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.”

His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. “Who says I want Evans?”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve only been after her for, what, three years?”

James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. “Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. Maybe there’s someone else who’s caught my eye.”

Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. “Well, whoever they are, I’m sure they pity you.”

He threw his head back with a laugh, and your stomach did an annoying little flip. Merlin, he was impossible.

The chaos only deepened as Christmas approached. James became increasingly annoying in his quest to figure out his Secret Santa, trying to weasel answers out of everyone.

“Wormtail, it’s you, isn’t it?”

“What? No!” Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.

“It’s Moony, then,” James decided, turning to Remus.

“I’m not saying anything,” Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. “But if you keep pestering me, I’ll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.”

“Traitors, all of you,” James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.

“I heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.” Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.

You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I were,” Marlene said, grinning. “The poor clerk looked like they didn’t know whether to laugh or run.”

“Are you two gossiping about me?” Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.

“Always,” Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.

Sirius looked pleased. “As you should.”

You spent hours agonising over James’ gift. He was impossible to shop for—he had everything he needed, and he didn’t seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show you’d noticed the little things about him.

Finally, inspiration struck.

You bought him a small, leather-bound notebook, the kind with a soft cover and faint golden stars embossed on the front. James was always scribbling something—Quidditch plays, spell ideas, random doodles. It seemed like the perfect fit.

Inside the front cover, you wrote:

For all your brilliant (and slightly ridiculous) ideas. - ♡

You also found a tiny enchanted Snitch pin at a shop in Hogsmeade. It was gold and delicate, and its tiny wings occasionally fluttered when touched. You figured it was subtle enough to wear but still a nod to his love for Quidditch.

The common room glowed with the warmth of fairy lights strung around the tree, and the group had gathered again, this time with a pile of wrapped gifts beneath the branches. Sirius had, naturally, donned a Santa hat and was gleefully handing out presents.

When it was James’ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.

“This is…” He trailed off, turning the notebook over in his hands. His hazel eyes softened as he read the note inside, and a small, genuine smile played on his lips. “This is brilliant.”

He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. “Whoever got me this, you’ve officially got better taste than Sirius.”

“Oi!” Sirius protested, though he was laughing.

James’ gaze flickered to you for a brief moment, and your heart stuttered. Did he know? The way his smile lingered made you wonder, but you quickly looked away, your cheeks warm.

For now, you were content with the way his smile lit up the room.

[evanchantingpeters]

All my feminism goes out the window when I lay eyes on this man... Uff😬

[moon-meteor-star-sun]

If you are a marauders fan/ you support or are in the queer community then do Not watch the upcoming Harry Potter show! Do not support it! Do not interact with posts in support of it! We do not need anymore content from jkr! Buy the books second hand! Don’t buy official merch! Stop giving your money to her! Stop being transphobic!

Edit: I have a reply in the reblogs to those mentioning to pirate the show

[soupinaboot]

I wonder how many good fanfictions I'm missing out on just because people don't know how to tag 😔

[moonyswarmsweaters]

[violet-harmon2011]

to my favorite serial killer, clown, cult leader, hairstylist, vampire, playwright, actor, hotel owner, lobster man, circus performer, zombie, frat boy, and mechanic <3

[birdieardley]

"Can I be happy?" I asked the marauders' era writers.

"Fuck you." Said the writers, who's were actually the fuck you guys.

[outromoony]

If your comfort character isn't dead, traumatized, gay, or a mass murderer... are they really your comfort character?

[evanpetersmybf]

Be mine?

Tate Langdon x female!reader

Summary: Meeting you was his destiny. He had to make you his so he could feel alive... It was meant to be.

Genre: Smut.

Word count: 3,172

Warnings: Virgin and inexperienced reader, mentions of bullying, self-harm (just once and is nothing detailed), obsessive and stalkish behavior, swearing, cunnilingus, fingering, unprotected p in v and cumshot.

A/N: English isn't my first language and this is my first time writing smut, so sorry if it sucks or if I have grammatical mistakes or something TT. Btw, also sorry if Tate's out of character. Anyways, hope you enjoy it!

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

Tate had another bad day. It was the usual. Bullying, failed tests, the teacher humiliating him after he couldn’t solve a simple equation on the chalkboard, his mother scolding him. Nothing seemed new, and it seemed that nothing wasn’t going to change at any point.

He needed something, a reason to live, something to make him feel alive. Because he was dead. Dead in life, which in his own opinion, was even worse than being a rotten corpse.

He headed to the music store after secretly stealing some of his mom’s money, just a few bucks; the enough amount to buy a vinyl or some CD’s. Tate was sort of a music elitist, always believing that the artists nowadays just created pure, hollow, and trashy songs. In fact, he didn’t believe those could even be considered music.

Walking around the nearly empty store, rummaging through the shelves filled with Nirvana vinyl’s, someone bumped into him.

“Oh, sorry.” You spoke, after accidentally taking too many steps back and bumping into Tate’s behinds.

He frowned, somewhat annoyed at you for disturbing his moment of peace. The blonde turned around to look at who it was, scanning your body from head to toe, taking note of your appearance. Then, his dark eyes drifted to the sign that was on top the shelf, which indicated the musical genre of the records that were on that rack. Alternative pop. His gaze went to the album you were hugging to yourself.

“Cry Baby? What type of crap is that?”

“Huh, excuse me?”

“Never mind, you won’t understand.” Tate talked in such a volatile and rude manner, already feeling superior because of his likes.

You arched an eyebrow. What was his problem? You did nothing to him and yet he was here, judging your amazing music taste.

“Well, people’s free to like whatever they want to, hmm?”

“Uh, yeah, but what’s the point of that if everything is so generic?”

“Have you ever listened to Melanie Martinez at least once?”

He shook his head no, still scowling, now fidgeting with a ring that was on one of his fingers.

“Have you listened to Nirvana?”

“Just like… Two songs?”

“Don’t tell me. Smells Like Teen Spirit?”

“Guilty.”

Tate rolled his eyes. What was going on with this generation? What happened to good music, to the greatest artists? Why was everyone just listening to trash?

After sharing your names and a few more words, debating about who was right and who wasn’t, you placed one of your hands over his right shoulder, as an attempt to stop his rant of how superior he was. And indeed, it worked. The teen stopped venting and stared at you, all confused and a bit uncomfortable. You noticed it and quickly stepped back, apologizing for touching him without permission. He told you it was okay, that you just surprised him. But deep down, that simple yet complex touch meant a lot to Tate, even if it was absolutely nothing to you.

For the first time he felt something more than sorrow.

“So… What do you think of this? I’ll make you listen to some songs by Melanie and other artists, and I’ll listen to your beloved beautiful grunge music.” You said those last words in a mocking way.

Tate huffed, clearly offended by the way you referred to his taste. Nevertheless, in the end he agreed with you.

After paying the stuff you two picked, both of you went to Tate’s place. As you walked next to him, your fingers brushed his, making his cheeks turn a light shade of red and his heart flutter. He felt dizzy, not sure about what was going on.

In his house, he took you to his room. The boy didn’t want his mother to see you, otherwise she’d be too nosy and probably scare you and push you away from him, and that was the last thing he wanted.

“Get comfy.” He mused, extending his hand as if inviting you to take a seat wherever you feel to.

“Thanks.” You sat on the floor, using one of the sides of the bed as a support for your back. He did the same and sat right next to you.

He was nervous. So damn nervous and excited. He brought a pretty chick to his place. The Tate Langdon, the outcast, the bullied, that Tate Langdon was in the same room with a girl? He couldn’t believe it.

“Ladies first.” Tate pointed the record-player with his thumb, and you obeyed, placing the CD in it. The music started playing.

“We could’ve used Spotify, y’know?”

“Nah, I don’t like it. I prefer the old school.”

‘Cry Baby’ was the first track that was listened to.

He squinted his eyes and rubbed his chin, analyzing the sounds, the melody, the harmony and of course the lyrics.

Although it wasn’t his style, you definitely were. The way you looked, talked, walked. How you stood up for your beliefs and didn’t allow him to step on you (even if you just discussed about music). It was new for him. He craved your independence. He craved you.

That was the very moment when he realized that you were the thing he was looking for all his life. You were the one who was meant to be his, he was meant to be yours. It was destiny. Tate truly believed it was some kind of divine prophecy, and he wasn’t going to let you go.

He was so immersed in his mind that he didn’t pay attention to the song anymore. He was solely focused on you, remembering how warm and kind your touch was, how sweet your voice was. ‘Oh, she’s mine’, he thought.

“So… That was the first track. Its name’s Cry Baby. Did you like it?”

Tate snapped out of it and bit his bottom lip. He didn’t listen to your question.

“I’m sorry, what did you?—”

“Did you like the song?”

“Ah, yeah yeah. It’s quite… Innovative. I’ve never heard something like that.”

You smiled and clapped your hands. “Of course! She’s such a genius. Let’s finish the album, hm?”

He just nodded, as a little smirk appeared on his face.

The days flew by, and Tate asked you out on many friendly dates. Or at least that’s what you thought because you were so oblivious at the fact that he had a fat crush on you.

With every hang out, you noticed that Tate was lonely. Like, really lonely. Maybe that’s why he was so clingy with you.

He told you about his family, about how annoying Constance was, about his siblings and about how his father left him behind. He also mentioned the bullying he suffered and almost talked about the self-harm but stopped himself.

Both of you grew closer, as his obsession.

Since you went to a different school, he would skip class and infiltrate your campus just to see you. He couldn’t stand being away from you. And if he did, his mind was full of you, thinking of you all day, unable to focus on his homework and tests. Tate didn’t care anymore if he failed subjects, as long as you were next to him, he was happy and alive.

The void he once felt, was now fulfilled with your mere presence. You could step on him, and he would thank you. In his twisted little mind, you were free to have everything of him.

He was willing to do anything to keep you by his side. The thought of losing was so terrifying that it would make him throw up.

Tate learned every single detail about you. Your mannerisms, your likes and dislikes, your dreams, and your fears. Everything. And that includes your schedule since you wake up, and since you go to sleep.

That was his definition of love. No one ever taught him about how to express it, and he ended up being the way he was with you.

One day he invited you over to his place. The Langdon's house was empty, and he was going to take advantage of it. No doubt.

“Your mom isn’t home?” You questioned as you followed him behind, going upstairs straight to his bedroom. Little did you know this wasn’t going to be another afternoon of playing board games while listening to some music.

“Nah, dunno where she went but she won’t be back any time soon.” He shrugged and let you inside of his private space,

You went to lay down on bed, feeling relief in your aching back after a long day at school. “Damn, I need some rest!”

Tate chuckled softly and sat on the edge, looking at you as you closed your eyes and tried to relax. He was focused on your steady and calm breathing, on how your breasts went up and down with every inhalation and exhalation. His eyes stared at your lips, at how kissable they looked. He felt a sudden desire, the intense urge to make you his. Feeling conflicted, he shook his head and tried to distract himself, pretending to ignore how aroused he was getting.

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but of course he already had some wet dreams of you. He imagined you beneath him, your precious body shivering and responding to his touch, to his kisses. Your cunt wet and ready for him, just how he wanted to.

“Y/N…” Tate cooed, unable to hold back any longer.

“Yeah?” You opened one of your eyes and spotted him, sitting on the bed with his fists clenched over his thighs, while his breathing looked kinda rapid. “You ‘kay?”

“No.”

“Uh? What’s wrong?” You reincorporated and sat straight beside his warm figure. Your right hand touched his left, rubbing it up and down with your thumb.

Tate shoved you to the bed, pinning your arms above your head and holding them tight.

His breathing pattern was no longer normal. It was a heavy one.

His dark brown eyes locked with yours. Your orbs were wide, not understanding what the hell was going on. Or maybe you did but were in denial.

“Please. I want you.” He purred, seeing you with puppy eyes, the ones he knew you couldn’t resist.

“Hahah, you funny.”

He let out a frustrated whine, almost begging on his knees for you to get the hint.

“I’m not kidding. Pretty please. I need you.”

“Do you mean…?” You raised your head a few centimeters to look at his crotch in order to confirm your suspicions. Your cheeks had a cute blush as soon as you noticed Tate’s erection restrained by his jeans. It looked painful, and it actually was.

“Yes. I want to. Please, I truly need it. Please, please, please?” His voice was shaky and low, a needy desperate whisper. “Can I?”

This wasn’t what you expected for today. You saw Tate as a best friend, but you couldn’t deny he was handsome… And that he already provoked butterflies in your stomach before.

Hesitantly, you gave a shy nod with your head, giving him consent to continue. “But Tate… I’ve never done this before, I dunno what to do, I—” You trailed off, being cut off mid-sentence when Tate placed his lips over yours. The kiss was slow and tender, not rough at all. Your bottom lip was between his, as he nibbled it with extreme care to not hurt you.

After some seconds, he pulled apart and led his hand towards the side of your face, brushing some hairs away. “Don’t ya worry, princess. Leave it all to me, hm? I’ll be gentle. Unless you don’t want me to.” With that being said, he leaned into your neck, pressing his mouth on your sensitive flesh. He left sweet kisses, making you hum as you melted under him.

His lips continued to tease your skin, leaving some little bites between every kiss, trailing down to your collarbone. Tate stopped there and helped you get rid of your blouse, tossing it aside and continued his journey, this time kissing your sternum while his right hand cupped one of your breasts, kneading it gently over the fabric of your bra. He pulled down the straps and took off the piece of lingerie, setting your tits free.

The cold air hit you and your nipples perked up, looking ravishing and making him desire you even more.

He introduced one of the hardened buds into his warm mouth, sucking it greedily and making lewd wet sounds as he did so. His left rubbed the other nipple in circles, taking it with his thumb and index, pulling it and pinching it.

“Hmph… Huh…” You let out soft whimpers, slightly arching your back meanwhile he abused your breasts.

Tate stopped after some minutes, letting go of your nipple and looking at you, grabbing your chin and tilting your head to the side. He approached your ear and whispered, “You like this?”

“Yes…” You begged. Your voice was already ragged and shaky.

Instinctively, you pressed your thighs together, rubbing them as a pathetic try to feel some relief. Tate realized it and spread your legs with one of his hands. He took his digits right to your clothed pussy, eagerly rubbing the spot where your clit was.

“Someone’s already wet? Cute.” He giggled and took off his striped sweater, throwing it away. He positioned himself between your limbs and pulled down your pants, mesmerized as he saw your damp panties. Tate continued rubbing your bundle of nerves over the fabric of your underwear, still fascinated at how humid you were.

This was the moment he had been waiting for the past weeks. He wasn’t going to need to jerk off to your photos anymore, because now he would be able to jerk off to your tits in person.

Tate removed the last barrier that was stopping him from touching your womanhood directly. He pulled them down to your ankles and you helped him to get rid of it by shaking your feet.

He got closer to your cunt and placed your legs over his shoulder, spreading your folds with two of his large digits, blowing some air at the sensitive meat. Finally, he started sucking on your swollen clitoris, enjoying the feeling of your dampness against his face.

“Mmh…” He moaned, still toying with the nub. You grabbed him by the hair, not thinking about what you were doing. You just let yourself go and pulled him closer to your pussy, wanting to feel more. Your body twitched, unconsciously bucking your hips against his mouth that was currently making slurping sounds.

His attention changed and was now on your slit, teasing just the entrance with his hot tongue, while his nose rubbed against your clit. He lapped your pretty cunt, savoring your juices as if they were a delicacy.

Looking at your adorable face contorting in pleasure, he introduced his ring finger into your wet, tight hole. It was a slow and kind movement because the last thing he wanted was to hurt you. He slipped it deeper, pumping it in and out with care, increasing speed after a few seconds once he saw you comfortable. “Tell me if it hurts…”

“Mhm… It feels nice. Huh…” Your melodic whimpers and moans were just too much for him. He could listen to you for the rest of his days and never get tired of you.

Without further ado, he introduced his middle finger, now finger-fucking you with two. Tate’s thumb was also working wonders on your lil’ bundle of nerves in circular motion.

She was clenching around Tate’s large fingers, that he curled inside of her, hitting the right spot to make you squirm and feel a new and foreign sensation in your lower belly.

“Fuck it, I can’t wait anymore.”

He undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers, quickly getting rid of them and letting them fall to the wooden floor.

You just stared in awe; it was the first time you saw one in real life.

Tate grabbed his hardened cock and stroked it a few times on top of you, finding amusing your silly reaction. The reddish tip was glistening with pre-cum, which he used as lube. He spat at your pussy and rubbed his slick saliva with two digits, before finally thrusting his dick.

He did it slowly, beginning with the head. Eventually, he pushed his entire length, hitting your cervix and stretching you out for the first time.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” Even if he was taking the lead, he was a whiny mess, vocal and loud.

He continued pounding into you, his gaze never leaving your face. Tate loved how you rolled your eyes to the back of your head and how your little mouth was letting out such nasty sounds.

The room was filled with slapping and wet sounds, created by his skin slapping against yours, his balls always hitting you with every stab. Again, he placed your legs on his wide shoulders to have a better angle and pump into you deeper than before.

His big veiny hands were roaming all over your body, specifically your breasts. Within minutes, he developed an addiction to them. Probably because of his mommy issues? He grabbed them roughly, tweaking both of your nipples as he fucked you mercilessly.

Tate lolled his head as he felt your hole gripping him tight. Very tight.

He increased the pace and moaned your name, begging you to squeeze him tighter.

“Oh, please, please, please!” The blonde kept whining. He left one of his hands taking care of your nipples, while the other went back to torture your clit. He stroked it in circles, and then up and down, applying the enough amount of pressure to make you beg for more.

“Tate, I feel like I’m—”

“It’s okay, let it go, mhm?”

You couldn’t hold yourself any longer and squirted all over him, coating his lower body with your warm fluids.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh, gonna cum!” Tate pulled out from your cunt and pumped his cock with his hand finishing with a loud moan. His hot sticky white cum coated your breasts and abdomen, creating an incredible sight that he always imagined.

All spent, Tate threw himself next to you on the bed, pulling a blanket to cover both of you as he filled your pretty face in candy pecks.

“Did it hurt? First time usually does.” He looked at you, concerned for your wellbeing. “I was too rough?”

You laughed and shook your head no, caressing his messy locks with your fingers, tenderly scratching his scalp. “Don’t worry, I’m fine, really.”

Tate smiled at you and kissed you on the lips, “You’re so pretty, Y/N.”

You hugged him from behind, him being the little spoon this time. Your mind was going wild; you were still processing what happened and was about to drift to sleep when he whispered.

“Y/N…?”

“Mh, what is it, Tate?”

“I love you… Please be mine?”

[icedcoffeebabyy]

Judge: do you swear to speak the truth and nothing but the truth.

James: I do.

Judge: what are your relations with regulus black.

James: omg dare.

[eventually27]

Me reading fanfics when i should be asleep 💀

[oregano-stars]

My favourite thing about this fandom is that the canon story has so many characters that are just bad guys - no explanation, no questions, they’re just bad. But this fandom takes those characters and loves them and adds backstory and reasons why those characters mad those “bad” decisions because no one is born a “bad guy” right? Not Reggie, not Barty, not Bella, not even Tom :) And the idolized and well-renowned characters like Dumbledore? We take them down a notch, because no one is born perfect either. I love that. It makes it all feel so much more human and approachable and accepting.

Reblog if you feel the same! I feel like this aspect of the fandom needs some love :)

[redroses07]

said what i said