#lily x y/n
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the 5 times you did (not) love each other and the 1 time you did.
summary. as the title suggests. this one was a request! i hope you enjoyed my version of this anon.
pairing/s. poly!marauders + lily / reader.
wc. 4.1k
tags. hurt/comfort, angst, peter pettigrew mention, not proofread, like seriously, fluff, happy ending.
cws: brief mention of violence and blood.
note: i am alive?? crazy. i began this fic, whilst sick, around august, nursing the worst headache ever. i wrote the middle of this fic, sick. and i think it's only fitting that i finished this fic. sick... honestly, i did not proofread any of this, i just know i lowkey love it. after the first one-thousand words, i just spiral and become delirious, so i don't even know what happened here. my first request finished! yippee! and thank you all for 2k :< i love you all so much.
i.Â
SIRIUS BLACK did not love youânot even close, not even a little bit. Not even at all.
After Peter Pettigrewâs slight against his family, Sirius would never hold warmth or pity for the skittish mouse ever again. He was played for a fool. And, he did not know which betrayal had hurt more. Peterâsâor yours. (Had you known all along of your adoptive brotherâs plans? Did you not think for one second that Sirius would, without a sliver of hesitation, put himself in the way of a killing curse to keep you safe? Heâd have died before ever letting the fire in your eyes wither to ashes. Clearly, you did not share the same sentiment.)Â
He wanted nothing to do with you. Ever. And if the rat-bastard dared to show his face, not even Death would know where to put Peterâs body to rest. Sirius would keep him alive until he begged for deathâuntil the idea of living frightened him more than dying. And for youâbeholder of his heart, captor of his soul, and co-possessor of his mindâhe could only hope that you stayed far away. You had wrecked himâall of them.Â
He wantedâ
He did not know what he wanted.Â
For when it came to you, Sirius Black was reduced to a man wandering the desertsâmistaking clouds for water, and the sands for grass blades. You had ravaged every fiber of his being; consumed his every thought and word. The most ironic part of all was that if you had been the one standing thereâSirius would have let you Avada him. Dumbledore could scold him in the afterlifeâSirius could care less. Heâd have snapped his wand in half and asked someone else to fight you because Sirius had vowed from the moment he met you that he would never harm a hair on your head. He would never be the reason that tears stained your pretty cheeks.Â
Well, apparently, trust and promises were not worth a damn thing nowadays.Â
No, he did not love youâeven as you stood on the steps of Grimmauld, your hair ruined by the downpour of rain. Your lips bruised and bitten from a nervous habit Sirius had yet to break out of you.Â
âI didnât know, Sirius,â you whisperedâyour voice the only sound falling on his ears amidst all the thunder and lightning. He only saw you. âY-You have to believe me. If I knewâGods, I would have told Dumbledore in a heartbeat. Fuck. I thought you knew me better than that.âÂ
He thought so, too.Â
âDid you know?â Sirius began, taking a step forward and into the storm, a demeaning sneer on his lips. âThat when Voldemort stood in our home, your portrait was right behind him? That was all I could look at. If I had diedâyou would have been the last thing I saw.âÂ
You had not replied.Â
Sirius grit his teeth. âGo,â he said, voice hoarse.Â
âGo!â he yelled, grateful for the rain as it masked his own tears as you flinched from the sound of his voice. Not the thunderclap, the lightning strikeâbut it was him who scared you.Â
(But you had done so first.)Â
When you apparated away, Sirius crumbled to the ground and pounded his fists against the asphalts where you were moments ago, screaming and cursing until he saw blood flowing with the rainwater.
It was laughable, really. The way he did not love you.Â
It was not love that drove him to madness, pummeling Gideon Prewett into a bloody pulp for mentioning your name during a meeting with the Order. He had presumed you to be a Death Eater alongside your brotherâSirius instantly saw nothing but red. (He condemned Bellatrix, his own cousin, for becoming a madwoman. Yet, here he was, unraveled by the very thought of you. The very whisper of your name.)Â
But whatever it was that had turned him into a fool and a hypocrite all at once, it was not love.Â
ii.Â
JAMES POTTER had no love for youâmake no mistake about that. He loved love, and he did so fiercely and truthfully. But you and Peter had broken his trustâdefiled his loyalty from the moment your brother had brought Voldemort to his doorstep. (Did you know that as he begged and screamed for Lily to hide with their son, Harryâhe thought of you? For a fleeting moment, he saw your face, marked by fear and tear-rimmed eyes. And James knew straight away that he would spit on Tom Riddleâs bare feet if only to keep his family safe. If only to see you once more. Alive and well. But, you must not have thought the sameâif you had conspired with Peter to sell him and Lily out to the Devil reborn.)Â
The thought of you breathing was enough to keep James alive.Â
But, that was not love. It was a mockery of it.Â
No, he did not feel so much as a twinge of emotion for you. Not even as Mad-Eye Moody brought your limp body back to Grimmauld. It was not love that threatened the magic in his beingâthat simmered in his blood until the painted walls saw an indent of his fist. (âPoor thing,â McGonagall cooed as she pressed her palm over your forehead. Despite some of the membersâ growing distrust for you, you still took an Unforgivable in their stead. âWe can only wait. . . Four Cruciatus curses. . .â)Â
What more did James need to want to rip Peter apart limb by limb?Â
It was not love that rooted his feet by your side. Sitting hunched on a chair too small for his height, bags beneath his eyes, and the pale of his lips becoming noticeable to everyone who spoke to him.Â
âIâm sorry,â he whispered to you lovelesslyâhands desperately clutching your own. Sirius stood across the room, arms crossed over his chest, dagger-like eyes waiting for so much as a twitch of your finger. âIâm sorry.â
It was a plea this time.
He only hoped you did not ask him to love you. For James could give you the world, hand-pick the stars, and burrow his body deep beneath the ground if you had asked for itâbut he could not love you.Â
Everyone had told him not to hope that you would wake up. That your pretty eyes would not flutter open, and you would no longer look at him as you had before. But James was stubborn. He was selfish as he was stubborn. He did not love youâbut he needed to hear the sound of your voice. And James would take it any way that he could. The soft cadence of a whisper, or a rough utterance of a single word. Molly Weasley told him to accept reality for what it was. (âYou need sleep, dear,â the matriarch fussed. âThereâs nothing we can do. Look at the Longbottoms. . . We can do no more for this one as we had done for them.â)Â
In the still of the night, he left his reveries on the cold of your skin. âWake up,â he demanded.Â
âWake up or else youâre the traitor everyone thinks you are,â James hissed.Â
But his words held no heatâand his heart held no love for you.Â
Make no mistake about that.
Then, when you finally woke up, disoriented and throat parchedâa hazy recollection of the weeks beforeâJames made sure that no more than four people could enter the room. He did not care if a hurricane, or if Voldemort himselfâJames had faced him once already, after allâthreatened to break the door down. You were theirs to protect.
 (But not to love.)Â
âWe need to begin the questioning, James, you know that,â said Kingsley Shacklebolt, almost exasperatedly; weary lines written across his face. James would not allow even a toe beyond the doorway. An interrogation meant you had something to do with the attempted murder of James and his family. Whether or not you were innocent, James did not careâhe just wanted you safe.Â
(And a small part of him already knew that you were not your brotherâs keeper. Just as they had absolved Sirius of his familyâs sins. It would be unfair to not show you the same grace. But before his mind knew that, Jamesâs heart and soul had known the truth all along.)Â
He found Sirius gently tending to your every need, and already James knew that was Padfootâs way of begging for forgiveness. The ebony-haired man hung onto your every word. He winced when you flinched, and pressed his apologies to your forehead, rasping for a kindness he did not deserve. Not after what he did. How he turned you away and cursed your name. How they betrayed you.Â
James did not love you.Â
But what else could he call the manacles that bound his hands and forced him to his knees when it came to you?Â
Not. Love.Â
iii.Â
REMUS LUPIN could not bring himself to love you. But, he could not love Sirius, Lily, and James either. He was undeserving of such a privilege. But he was not allowed to love you; Remus could only hope that you saw even a shred of worth in himâto wrest each word from his lips and every breath from his lungs. But, he did not love you. No.Â
Because loving you meant he was to tell you of your brotherâs crimes. And Remus could not hurt you like that.Â
âP-Peter?â you had asked, wearing the eyes of a fretful sibling. Remus lifted his hand to tuck a strand of hair gone astray behind your ear. Bellatrix had done a number on youâjust as she had done to Alice and Frank. Remus was fairly certain that Sirius was off on a hunt for his cousin, his mind toyed with by the barbarity of war. What they could not do for the Longbottoms, theyâd wring themselves dry to do for you. After the Lestrangesâ attack, you suffered damage to your throat and memories. Remus could not bear to see you in such pain.Â
He could not give you love, but Remus would offer up to you his every limb, and the weary skin upon his bones.Â
âThey. . .â Remus grimaced. How could he act as the bearer of bad news? Heâd rather dive headfirst into shark-infested waters. Be anywhere else but here. In fact, Remus would rather snatch you away from the funereal walls, and hold you in his arms in the quietude of dawn, than be the one to bring anguish to your eyes. âTheyâre looking for him at the moment, love.âÂ
One question lingered in your eyes: Why?Â
Luckily, Sirius was always the better one at sharpening a blunt knife. âHe was a traitor,â he spat like acid. âA traitor to the Order. A traitor to us. Heâs no friend of ours. Not anymore.âÂ
But Sirius knewâbetter than anyone elseâhow difficult it can be to truly hate little brothers, especially once theyâve gone.Â
âNo. . .â You trembled, almost retching as you sobbed into your palms.Â
Remus held you then, the front of his shirt soaked in your tears, eyes firmly shut as you trembled and heaved in his arms. The sound of your guttural screams bounced off the four walls, and Remus had to bury his nose in your hair. You were alive. Safe. Breathing. But you felt cold as ice; an empty husk stripped bare for grief to take over. And Remus could do nothing but hold you. (He just hoped that wherever Peter Pettigrew was, Remus would not be the first one to find him. Otherwise, they would not be able to recover even a fingernail from his remains.)
âHush, love,â Remus whispered into your ear as you cried yourself sick. Mourning the loss of your brother, reeling from the betrayal of a bond that was supposed to be stronger than blood. Remus would make him pay, he vowed as much to you. No, Remus and the wolf in him did not know how to love. But he knew how to hurt. And, that, heâd gladly do for you. His body was for you to use as a shield, his soul for you to strip bare, and his heart for you to thieve and never return.Â
âDonât cry,â said James, a shadow cast over his frames. âNot for Peter. Never. Fucking bastard will get whatâs coming to him.â He laid on the vacant space of the bed, gently untangling your hands that were pressed over your heart. âIâll make sure of it.â
They all would.
But not because they loved you.Â
It was not out of love, Remus had to remind himself in the coming days, when he stayed diligently by your side as you recovered. Daily sessions with the best healer St. Mungoâs could offerâas if James would allow anything else. There were days your eyes would glaze over, your words rough and sluggish, and Remus would try his damndest to make you smile.Â
It was the least he could do.Â
For failing to protect you.Â
But that was not love.Â
(It was hope. Wretched, disastrous hope as he fell to his knees, and your name in between his teeth.)
iv.Â
LILY EVANS was a fighter in all the ways that mattered.Â
And from the very first moment she held Harry in her arms, eyes raking over his wrinkly, bloodied skin; all ten fingers and toes, her soft cries over his loud screamingâLily knew she would trade her life for his in a heartbeat. Little, lovely eyes that would soon see the world in his own time. Lily adored him. Cherished every tear, snore, and giggle. She knew then, that a motherâs love was entirely different from any emotion sheâd ever felt before.Â
This was proven the first time Harry had gotten seriously ill. A few weeks after the attempted murder on the Potters, Harry was ceaselessly cryingâscreaming, even, every nightâred-faced as he fussed every breakfast and dinner. Lily found herself at witâs end. Her protectiveness had gone up a hundred measures; wouldnât let anyone besides family or Madam Pomfrey see Harry. Yet, even with all the draughts and silly-flavoured syrups, Harry wasnât getting better.Â
âLily dear, you cannot actually be thinking about this,â worried Molly Weasley as Lily stood in front of your door, holed away in the room where you had been recovering for the last few days. It would be the first time she saw you since the incident. More than anything she was afraid. Frightened that you would look at her differently. Whether or not that fear stemmed from love, Lily was not concerned. âWe can call for another Healer from Mungoâs to have a look at Harry. . . Who knows what might. . .âÂ
Lily held Harry closer to her, lips firmly pressed, attempting to ignore the way his temperature was unnaturally high. âMight what, Mrs. Weasley?â She knew Molly was only talking out of concern, from a motherâs perspective at least. But she knew you better than anyone else. You would never hurt her, or Harry, that much she was certain of. And if you were the traitor everyone else was afraid of accusing you of, a sentence delivered by association to Peterâthen let the guillotine fall, Lily would carry your crimes for you.Â
She remembered ever-so clearly in her sixth-year, you with dreams glistening in your eyes. (âIâm going to be a Healer, Lils! Minnie said Iâd be a great one. . . I want to protect those I love. . . I know I can do it. . . Oh, I canât wait to tell Peter that Iâve gotten recommendations already to work at Mungoâs after graduation.â)Â
And Lily recalled at that moment, she had felt a different kind of emotion that she had never experienced before. It was not love, of course. Tuney said she was too young and too stupid to know what real love was. But, at sixteen, what else could describe the way her heart fluttered and the way her lips threatened to break out into a smile whenever you lit up talking about your future? (It was just a crush, young Lily told herself.)
Only to be crushed and cast aside in the face of the war, where fighters took their place at the forefront of the lines, mothers and children hid; healers stretching themselves thin to be here, there, everywhere; where traitors walked in plain sight.Â
âThere is no one else I trust more with my life,â replied Lily.Â
And that was that.Â
Lily skirted around Molly and opened the door to your room, where Sirius, James, and Remus all stood at attention at the sight of her and Harry. She ignored them, and headed straight to your side.Â
âHello, love,â she greeted with all the gentleness she was made of, a smile creeping up to her eyes as Lily watched you turn your head at the sound of her voice. Truth be told, she did not know what her end-goal was in coming here. But being by your side had always made life a little more bearable, like all the illnesses in the world could not bring her down. And so, her magic had instinctively summoned her person to you. She, at least, was relieved to see colour returning to your cheeks, though the red in your eyes had dulled the hues she adored so much.Â
âIs that. . .?â you croaked.Â
Lily nodded. âHarry, meetââÂ
One of the loves of my life, the most loyal and pure witch anyone ever has the privilege of meeting, someone I want to stay in my life forever.Â
Lilyâs smile wilted. âA friend.âÂ
Later, she would place Harry in your armsâher little hope embraced by her dreamâand Lily would wonder if it was by pure magic that Harry calmed in your presence.Â
For if love could hurt and destroy, could it mend and heal the broken as well?
But what a shame, for not one in that room carried an ounce of love for you.
(She would die for Harry, yesâbut she would live for you.)
v.Â
YOU did not love them, either.Â
The very idea, thoughtâinsinuationâwas absurd. (Why, they deserved much better than you, after all.) With hands that failed to protect them, were you even allowed to hold them anymore? Did your heart have the right to breathe for them? You had failed as a sister and a friendâhow much more would you have failed as their lover? Well, youâd never know.Â
Because you did not love them.Â
Merely wished them happiness and for the world to extend them kindness. For the sun to look brightly down on them, and for time to heal their scars and wounds. For if they were in pain, the earth would stop spinning. But such a request was not borne from love.Â
Surely not.Â
Because, then, that would have meant that it was love that teared you apart when Sirius cursed your name, when James turned you away, when Remus could not look you in the eyes, or when Lilyâfor all your history togetherâcalled you a friend.Â
The whole of you was made by the parts of them. Each memory welded into the crevices of your soul. From the moment you had all found each other in the same train compartment, same common roomâthere was a shift in the fates that bound all five of you together. (The ties were red, but the thread was not of love.) You did not believe in Professor Trelawneyâs talks of providence and destiny.Â
Because if you did, then why was the universe so cruel?Â
Fallingânot in loveâfor four people who could very much do without you in their lives. Lacking severely as a sister to the point you had not noticed your brother fading and fading away into the shadows.Â
Was love that unkind? That merciless?Â
Then, you did not want to love at all.Â
Oh, but magic or not, every creature on this earth selfish.Â
You were no different.Â
You wanted.Â
Oh, how you yearned.Â
âI LOVE YOU.âÂ
You barely had enough time to react before Sirius pressed his lips to the side of your head, arm covertly sneaking around your waist. The sound of the train whistling as parents yelled their goodbyes filled the station. You stood in the midst of the crowd, eyes never leaving one window in particular as you waved at Harry, now eleven-years-old and now off to Hogwarts.Â
âQuite a random thing to say, husband,â you murmured, leaning into his warmth. âWhat for?âÂ
âJust because,â he replied in turn with a fiendish grin. âWell, perhaps for choosing us, for choosing me despite all my fuck-ups. For existing. For being the beautiful, wonderful, kind, precious you. I could keep on going, my darling. Shall I compare thee to a summerâs day?âÂ
You wrinkled your nose, eyes rolling from fondness. âI love you too, quite unfortunately.âÂ
He only laughed and pulled you closer to him. âLetâs go home.âÂ
â
âI love you.âÂ
In the house built by new memories, warded by stronger protection charms, and filled with warmth and loveâJames said this to you each morning before he left for the Ministry, promoted after the war as Head of Magical Law Enforcement. Not one foot out of the door until he had showered you in kisses and the symphonies of his heart. James had always been loud, even in his time at Hogwarts. The war had not taken this part of him, and you figured James was too loud to let it be taken from him. He was unapologetically and unabashedly him.Â
And you had loved him fiercely for that.Â
âIâll be home early tonight,â he said, a quiet intimacy washing over the both of you. The early birds of the cottage. âWait for me?â
âOf course,â you answered without an ounce of hesitation, delicately chasing after his lips. âI love you. Be safe.âÂ
-
âI love you.âÂ
âAre you saying that to me or are you reading from the book?â you teased from where you laid on Remusâs chest, hours after James left for work, the afternoon bringing you two together in the living room. Lily was in the gardens, and Sirius was in the shed working on his motorbike. It was perfect. You felt the rise and fall of Remusâs chest beneath you, his heartbeat close to your ear. He was perfect. It was a miracle you had not fallen asleep to the tender lull of his voice.Â
âBoth,â he responded, hand coming up to trace the bare of your skinâa miracle you did not crumble or burn instantly from his touch.Â
You hummed. âThen, I love you, too.â Then, you grinned, lifting your head to stare up at him. âYou have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you.âÂ
And, oh, how photographs could not capture the beauty in Remusâs smile as his eyes regarded you with such fire.
âMy heart, my light, my desire,â Remus began, one finger ever-so softly tracing the curve of your cheek. âIn vain I have struggled, it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.âÂ
â
âI love you.âÂ
Said Lily as she lied in your shared bed, red-nosed and her cheeks pale, sluggish. The Christmas holiday was generous enough to gift her with an unfortunate cold that had been going around the wizarding world. âBut, please, go,â she commanded weakly, gesturing for you to join Harry who was stood by the door. âItâs a lovely day outside for making snowmen with carrots as noses and snow angels. Not for taking care of poor old me.âÂ
You rolled your eyes as you sat by her side, swiftly pressing a kiss to her forehead. âAnd I love you, which is why I would rather much be here, taking care of the prettiest snow angel to ever exist,â you countered, bringing a spoonful of broth to her lips. âBesides, Harry here has something to tell you. Heâs made friends at school. One of them is Mollyâs little one.âÂ
âOh, you did?â Lily cooed, before sniffling weakly. âThatâs lovely, darling. Tell me all about them.âÂ
âThatâs not all, Lily mine,â you began mischievously as Harryâs eyes narrowed at you through his glasses. âThis friendship apparently formed after fighting a troll.âÂ
âYou what?â Lily croaked, emerald eyes shimmering with concern and near-dread.Â
âDid you really, Harry?â James popped his head in the doorway, clapping his son on the shoulder before ushering him inside the room. A spitting image side-by-side as they took the empty space by the foot of the bed. âGood boy. Father approves.âÂ
âOf course you would,â Lily shot at him weakly, melting when Sirius then entered the room and greeted her with a kiss to her cheek. âAnd where are you all coming from?â
âOutside,â announced Remus, tugging his tie from his neck. âSirius and I took a quick trip to Diagon Alley to get some things thatâll make you feel better, Lily love.âÂ
And as the snow fell outside, lazy winds against the window, your little family gathered in one room, there was one thing you knew for certain.
You loved them.Â
And they loved you.Â
a/n: i wrote all 4k words while sick. crazy. but anyway, i wanted to believe in love again so here i am. thank you all so much for being patient with me. i promise to do even better in the next fics!
#sunny's hp fics#marauders x reader#hp imagine#poly!marauders x reader#hp fluff#james potter x reader#remus lupin x reader#sirius black x reader#lily evans x reader#poly marauders#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders#marauders imagine#marauders angst#marauders fanfiction#marauders x y/n#marauders drabble#poly!marauders x you#x reader fluff#x reader angst#hp x reader#hp angst
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Too Much Like Me
Potter!Reader tells her dad she's been asked on a date.
Summary: James finds out Lily's type in men is apparently genetic.
Wc: ~1.7k
CW: Just chaotic fluffy hijinks - a jab about Americans
âDad.â You trailed James into the kitchen, fighting to keep your voice calm despite the storm brewing ahead.
But James Potter, in all his dramatic glory, had gone entirely deaf. Arms flailing like a prophet warning of doom, he roared, âFamily meeting!â
âNo! No family meeting!â you yelped, lunging for his arm. You barely stifled a laugh as he flailed harder, like a fish trying to escape the net.
James spun around, courtroom-drama style, and gasped at you with the intensity of someone catching their child red-handed with a cursed artifact. âFred Weasley? Our Fred Weasley? That Fred Weasley?â
âYes, that Fred Weasley,â you groaned, dragging your hands down your face. âMerlinâs saggy balls, I regret telling you already.â
James slammed his hand on the counter for emphasis, pivoting toward the sitting room like a man possessed. âLily!â he thundered, shaking the walls. âLily, get in here! Your daughterâs lost her mind!â
âDad, for Merlinâs sake!â You tried to grab him again, but James had started pacing now, looking like a wizard unjustly accused of crimes against decorum.
âNot in my house! Not under my roof!â He spun around, hazel eyes bulging with a level of betrayal that deserved an award. âFred Weasley doesnât know the meaning of curfew! Or- Merlin help us- a respectable bedtime! Do you think Iâm letting that chaos into my family? After all Iâve sacrificed? For you?â
âJames,â came Lilyâs voice, calm but laced with amusement. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed and eyebrows raised, her lips twitching. âWhat are you yelling about this time?â
James turned to her, a man on the brink. âFred Weasley! He asked her out! Our daughter! On a date! Alone! With no chaperone!â
Lily blinked, then turned to you with a grin brighter than a Patronus. âOh!â she gasped, her eyes lighting up. âHe finally asked?â
James froze mid-tirade, pointing an accusatory finger at his wife. âFinally? What do you mean, finally? Have you been... supporting this? Encouraging it?â
Lily shrugged, her grin widening as she pushed off the doorframe and sauntered into the kitchen. âHeâs a lovely boy, James. Polite, clever, charming. He reminds me of someone I used to know.â
âDonât you dareââ James began, his tone low and dangerous.
âYou,â Lily finished brightly, jabbing him in the chest. âFredâs just like you were. All mischief and charm. No wonder she likes him.â
James gawked at her like sheâd suggested selling their house to a pack of trolls. âThatâs exactly why she canât date him! I was Fred Weasley, Lily! Do you know what I wouldâve done if someone let me date their daughter?â
âYou married her,â Lily said sweetly, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek, winking at you as it effectively stunned the red mess that was your father.
James froze, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air, completely derailed by Lilyâs well-placed jab and affectionate kiss. He finally managed to sputter, âThatâs- Thatâs completely different!â
âHow, exactly?â Lily teased, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms again. âBecause if I recall correctly, you were a menace, Potter. A charming menace, but a menace nonetheless. Fredâs cut from the same cloth, and you turned out all right.â
James spluttered, gesturing wildly at you. âBecause this is my daughter! Sheâs not supposed to fall for charmers like Fred Weasley! I canât just let this happen! Whereâs the fatherly dignity in that?â
âOh, James,â Lily sighed, patting his shoulder with exaggerated pity. âI hate to break it to you, but you lost your âfatherly dignityâ the day you wore those matching Christmas jumpers with Sirius.â
âThat was solidarity!â James barked, his ears reddening as he straightened his posture in a futile attempt at reclaiming authority. âAnd anyway, this is different. Iâm supposed to protect her! Shield her from the heartbreakers and mischief-makers of the world.â
âFredâs not a heartbreaker, Dad,â you said, exasperated but amused. âHeâs actually- dare I say- nice? And maybe even mature? A little bit?â
James looked like he might faint. âMature?! Youâre telling me Fred Weasley- the bloke who turned all the Quidditch goalposts into giant marshmallows- is mature?! What next? Heâs taken up knitting?â
âKnitting would be a good look for him,â Lily quipped, clearly enjoying herself. âVery soothing hobby. He could knit you a jumper, James, to match that dignity youâve misplaced.â
You couldnât help but snort at the visual, and James threw his hands up, pacing the kitchen again. âI canât believe this. Iâm being outnumbered in my own home.â
âItâs called democracy- like the Americans,â Lily said, smirking as she leaned against the counter. âAnd right now, youâre the losing party.â
James stopped pacing to glare at her. âFred acts like a damned American..â He mumbled before he raised his voice. âThis is treason. Pure, unadulterated treason.â
âJames,â Lily replied patiently, though her lips twitched with amusement. âYouâll survive.â
At that moment, Harry wandered into the kitchen, his face set in curious confusion as he surveyed the scene. He held a plate of leftover treacle tart, chewing leisurely. âWhatâs with all the shouting, then?â He asked, his tone disinterested but his eyes sparkling with intrigue.
James immediately pounced, pointing an accusatory finger at you. âYour sister has decided to go on a date with Fred Weasley, Harry! Fred Weasley! What do you have to say about that?â
Harry blinked at him, clearly trying to piece together the situation. Then his gaze slid to you, and his smirk grew as he swallowed a bite of tart. âFred, huh?â he said, his tone dripping with amusement. âNice. Bold choice. Never a dull moment with a Weasley.â
âBold-? Harry!â James looked genuinely wounded. âThis is a betrayal! Your own sister-"
âIs an adult,â Harry interrupted, shrugging. âAnd youâre acting like sheâs run off to marry Voldemortâs ghost.â
âDonât give him ideas,â you muttered under your breath, earning a snort from Harry.
âNot helping, Harry!â James barked, looking thoroughly frazzled now. He pointed at you again. âFine! Go on your date! But Iâm watching him. One toe out of line, and-â
âAnd what?â you challenged, grinning now as Lily watched on, clearly entertained. âYouâll duel him? Turn him into a marshmallow like his Quidditch goalposts?â
James opened his mouth, floundering for a retort, but Lily stepped in, tugging him gently away from the center of the chaos. âCome on, love,â she cooed soothingly. âWhy donât we sit down, have a cuppa, and let the kids handle their own lives for once?â
James sighed, finally deflating. âFine,â he grumbled, shooting you one last suspicious look. âBut mark my words- an eye for an eye! Harry, date his younger sister!â
Harry froze, the bite of treacle tart halfway to his mouth as the words sunk in. His eyes darted between you, Lily, and James, clearly trying to figure out if this was his moment to fess up or quietly Disapparate.
âWhat?â James demanded, noticing Harryâs hesitation. âWhatâs with that face? Donât tell me youâve already thought about it!â
Lily covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. You, on the other hand, burst out laughing immediately, doubling over as the image of James putting two and two together hit you.
âWhy are you laughing?â James barked, looking between the two of you like he was missing the punchline to a joke everyone else got. âWhatâs so funny? Harry, explain yourself!â
Harry, clearly seeing no way out, sighed and placed his plate of treacle tart on the counter. âDad,â he started, bracing himself, âIâm already dating Ginny.â
James froze. Completely, utterly froze. His jaw hung slack, his hands hovering mid-air like a malfunctioning automaton.
âYouâre what?â He whispered, his voice teetering on the edge of shock and betrayal.
You howled with laughter, tears forming in your eyes. âOh, Merlin, this is priceless!â You gasped. âDad, your face- your face!"
âJames, breathe,â Lily advised through her own laughter, leaning against the counter for support. âYouâre going to give yourself a stroke.â
James finally snapped out of his trance, his eyes narrowing into sharp points of indignation. âGinny?! Ginny Weasley?! First her with Fred, and now you- how long has this been going on?â
Harry scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to make himself look smaller. âA while.â
âA while?" James repeated, his voice cracking. âDefine âa while.â A few days? Weeks?â
Harry hesitated. âSince... fifth year?â
âFifth year?!" James bellowed, looking like he might explode. âThatâs years! Years, Harry! And you didnât think to tell me?!â
âWhat was I supposed to say?â Harry shot back, clearly frustrated now. ââHey, Dad, by the way, Iâm snogging Ronâs little sisterâ? That wouldâve gone over well.â
âWell, itâs certainly better than me finding out like this!â James cried, gesturing wildly at nothing in particular. âMy own son! Betraying me! I raised you better than this, Harry!â
Lily wiped her eyes, still chuckling. âOh, donât be so dramatic, James. Theyâre clearly happy, and Ginnyâs a wonderful girl. You love her.â
âThatâs not the point, Lily!â James snapped, his hands flying to his hair. âItâs- this is-!Fred! Ginny! My children and their Weasleys! Whatâs next? Ronâs going to marry into the family, too?â
Harry raised an eyebrow. âWell... technically, Hermione-"
âNo! They got her too!?" James cut him off, throwing his hands in the air. âDonât even tell me! I wonât survive it! This is it- this is how I go. Betrayed by my own family and buried in a sea of Weasleys.â
You leaned against the counter, wheezing with laughter. âDad, youâre being ridiculous.â
âRidiculous?â James turned to you, his face a picture of righteous indignation. âYou donât understand. I fought a war for this family- for this! And now my legacy is going to be a house full of Weasleys!â
âSounds cozy,â Lily teased, patting his arm. âYouâll come around, James. You always do.â
James groaned, sinking into a chair as if all the fight had been drained out of him. âFine,â he muttered, waving a hand dismissively. âFine. Date your Weasleys. Marry them. Name your kids Fred and Ginny Jr. for all I care.â
You patted his shoulder, grinning. âLove you, Dad.â
He shot you a glare but muttered, âLove you, too. But donât think for one second Iâm not watching Fred like a hawk.â
âAnd Ginny?â Harry asked, daring to push his luck.
James pointed a warning finger at him. âYou, young man, are on thin bloody ice."
Lily hushed James as she patted his back, leading him out of the kitchen. He continued to blabber on, muttering something along the lines of;
âIs this my fault?â
âMerlin, does Molly know?â
âBloody redheads- OW!â
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#james potter#lily evans x you#james potter x you#dad!james potter#mom!Lily Evans#potter!reader#harry potter x reader#harry potter blurb#harry potter fanfic rec#james potter fic#lily Evans fic#jily fic#Jily daughter#ginny weasley#harry x ginny#fred weasely x y/n#fred wealsey fic#fred weasley x you#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley
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Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?
You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.
regulus black x fem!reader
warnings: smut
âIf you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/nâÂ
His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed. You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.
âPardon ?â your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.
âMy handsâ he explains, his tone as neutral as ever âYou were staringâ
Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.
âI was doing no such thingâ you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.
Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.
A defeated sigh leaves your lips.Â
It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.
âOk, fineâ you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever âI was looking at your handsâ
Regulusâ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.
âMore like ogling, I would sayâ even his tone has a playful bite to it.
You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.
But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.
âI wasn't oglingâ you grumble, rolling your eyes âI was just admiring themâÂ
His eyebrows furrow.
âWhy ?â he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.
Why, he has the courage to ask.
Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.
They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you.Â
They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.
His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.
And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-
âYouâre doing it againâ his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.
âYou have nice hands, thatâs allâ you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. âFrom an artist point of view, obviouslyâ you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.
You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.
Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.
Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.
But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesnât have you all figured out.
âSo youâre saying that your interest is purely artistic ?â he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.
Thereâs something in his voice, in his eyes, that you canât quite figure.
Your forehead scrunches in confusion.
âYes, of courseâ you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.
You are pretty sure he knows that you arenât telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesnât engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others.Â
So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isnât gonna finish itself.
This is new, unexpected.Â
Interesting.
âWould you like to draw them ?â
Your eyes go wide in surprise.
Wait.
What ?
Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you.Â
He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.
You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he wouldâve never accepted even if you did.
That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.
But why the sudden proposition ?
You arenât stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all.Â
Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.
But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.
âI can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,â he says, calm and composed as ever.
He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.
He is beautiful. Dangerously so.
âItâs just-â you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued âYou have never asked me beforeâ
âI knowâÂ
Thatâs his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic.Â
Just like him.
âSo why now ?âÂ
The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You canât help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.
âWhy not ?â he shrugs âThere is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?â
There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You donât know what it is, you donât think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and itâs strong.
âIâll get my supplies thenâÂ
You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.
When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.
âFigured we might need the spaceâ he says, like he read your mind.
âThank youâ, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.
âWhere do you need me ?âÂ
The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.
Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.
You need to get a grip, for Merlinâs sake.
âRight there is fine,â you're able to say without your voice faltering âjust angle your hands towards me, so the light is rightâ
He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins in full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.
âThatâs goodâ your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.
He is a bit far, and the light doesnât hit as perfectly as you had expected, but youâll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to pay to maintain your mental sanity, then so be it.
Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.
You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.
âYouâre straining your eyesâ he blurts out of the blue.
Observant as always.
âItâs fine,â you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper âthis distance is good for perspectiveâÂ
âBut itâs a problem for the lightingâ
Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.
How does he-
âAnd what would you know about the lighting ?â you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.
âI guess all your rambles about that muggle painter werenât in vainâ he says, and thereâs a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you âCaravaggio, right ?â
Your grin turns into a full smile.
âRight,â you nod, your eyes widening a little âI canât believe you actually rememberâ
âI remember a lot of things,â he remarks defensively.
âOnly those important enough to youâ the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.
Thereâs a beat of silence.
One second. Two. Three. And then-
âExactlyâ
Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.
Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldnât be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.
The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash.Â
He doesnât give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again.Â
âI can come closer if you need me toâ his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something heâs had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.
You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and itâs confusing the shit out of you.
You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesnât feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire.Â
The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.
So you cave.
âYou can,â you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger âif you want toâ
His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.
Itâs compelling, hypnotizing even.Â
âThis is not about what I want, Y/nâ
Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied.Â
Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows.Â
He knows.Â
âWe're not talking about art anymore, are we ?â you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.
âWere we ever talking about that in the first place ?â his question is rhetorical. He doesnât need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.
So what was the point in pretending anymore ?
âNo,â you admit âI guess we weren'tâ your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.
There is a spark in his eyes. Itâs foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.
Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.
âSo tell meâ he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.
Itâs his eyes that betray him.Â
They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth even did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.
They are hungry.
âTell you what ?â you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You canât breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.
He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.
âWhat you wantâ the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.
âYou seem to know what I wantâ you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity.Â
Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams youâve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes.Â
You are about to fucking combust.
His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.
âI won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/nâÂ
Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.
You canât take it anymore.
You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.
His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.
He is restraining himself. From touching you.Â
Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.
âDo itâ your voice is so weak and breathy itâs a miracle he hears you.
âDo what ?â he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.
Youâre needy, desperate even, but you donât care. You donât have time to think right now. You want to feel.
âTouch meâ you beg.
âWhere ?â he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.
âEverywhereâ
Itâs nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake.Â
You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.
His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.
You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.
The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.
Oh, itâs just as delicious as you imagined.
âAh- fuckâ you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy.Â
You feel like youâre dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.
But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore.Â
Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.
âSitâ It feels more like a plea than an order but-
Holy shit.
A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.
Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddle him completely.
âFucking finallyâ he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.
His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.
âI have never seen you like thisâ you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.
He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.
âIt seems you were busy looking at something elseâ
His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.
You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.
But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.
âWant me to stop ?â his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.
âDonât you even dareâ you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.
It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.
His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.
He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.
The silent âCan I ?â written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.
You nod your head.
âI need words, chĂŠrieâ he whispers sensually.
The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.
âYesâ you practically beg.
Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.
âShit-â you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.
You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.
âJesus Christâ hs hisses a groan âyouâre soakedâ
A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.
âFuck- Regâ a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.
âLook at you, all horny and needy over my handsâ his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.
âPleaseâ you breathe. You donât even know what youâre begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.
But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.
Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.
You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.
And itâs when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.
The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.
âRegulus-â itâs the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.
You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.
âIs this what you fantasized about, love ?â he pants right on your lips âAll the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?â
His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry.Â
âOhmygodyesâ you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like itâs the last thing youâll ever do.
âBut this is not the only fantasy you have, right chĂŠrie ?â he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.
His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.
âI bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?âÂ
You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.
It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.
âYesâ itâs nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.
Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.
His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.
You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.
âBloody fucking hell, Y/nâ he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.
The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.
âReg, fuck, I'm-â
You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his.Â
Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.
It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.
The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.
He is a mess.
The hottest mess you have ever seen.
You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.
âYou're loudâ he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.
âYou're filthyâ you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained.Â
âMaybe. But I donât think I'm the only oneâÂ
The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.
He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.
The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.
âSale filleâ he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)
It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.
His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.
âYou're sweetâ his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.
âWant me to find out if you're sweet, too ?â You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.
âEager, are we ?â he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear âNot today, chĂŠrieâ
The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment.Â
âWhy ?â you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.
âAs I told you, this is not about what I wantâ he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug âand I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty lateâ
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.
Your eyes widen.
âHow long have we been here for ?â your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.
âI'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right nowâ he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.
âWhich might be for the best,â he adds.
âWhy ?â you ask in genuine confusion.
âBecause Iâm the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little soundsâ he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.
Thank you for reading đ
#harry potter#marauders#the maraunders map#marauders era#marauders smut#harry potter smut#regulus black#regulus x reader#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black x y/n#regulus black smut#slytherin skittles#slytherin boys smut#james potter#remus lupin#sirius black#marauder's era#barty crouch junior#barty crouch jr#evan rosier#dorcas meadowes#pandora rosier#lily evans#marlene mckinnon#marauders map
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Where Padfoot Lays His Head
Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)
Words: 1.7k
Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater
Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with
Sirius pretended he didnât feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friendsâ worrying looks.
Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.
His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.
Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriendâs childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boyâs body.
When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didnât stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.
He was sure of that every time.
It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyoneâs lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Siriusâ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods â on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him â but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.
Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didnât say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburgaâs voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didnât show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.
Humiliating.Â
All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.
Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah?Â
He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.
Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldnât string too long sentences together in his dog brain â part of its fantastic appeal right now â but that sentiment remained steadfast.
You were sat in Regulusâ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldnât stop himself.
Padfoot couldnât help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.
Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.
In his internal chanting, he didnât notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didnât register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.
What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.
A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfootâs head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was â only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you â Whiskers â butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.
The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats â preferably Wormtail, but any would do â and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it.Â
So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldnât say it wasnât quite welcome, though.
You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.
Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.
Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didnât see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles â seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.
The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.
Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didnât truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfootâs poor body.
A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.
When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder.Â
He didnât quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburgaâs harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Siriusâ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past.Â
Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friendsâ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but thatâs why they would not, at least not before he settled.Â
Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.
Padfoot was safe â maybe even loved.
Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them.Â
Regulus bumped into Remusâ arm with his elbow and whispered, âHe doesnât like cats, he says?â with a knowing smirk.
The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. âI believe he has an exception or two to that rule.â
#regulus black#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#lily evans#marauders#marauders era#marauders era x reader#marauders era fic#marauders era reader insert#marauders era self insert#marauders x reader#marauders x you#marauders x y/n#platonic!sirius black#platonic!sirius black x reader#platonic!sirius black x you#platonic!sirius black x y/n#regulus black x reader#regulus black x you#regulus black x y/n#regulus x reader#regulus x you#regulus x y/n#platonic!sirius x reader#platonic!sirius x you#platonic!sirius x y/n#sirius black x reader#sirius black fic#platonic!remus lupin x reader
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ââ 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!
â â â â â â â â â â 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.
âLend me your ears!â Sirius announced with flair. âIt is time for the greatest, most legendary Gryffindor traditionâour annual Secret Santa! The only thing that rivals this sacred event is when James hexed Snivellusâââ
âSirius!â Lily interrupted, fixing him with a sharp glare, though the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement. âIf you could manage to keep it PG, thatâd be great.â
Sirius sighed dramatically, holding a hand to his chest. âEvans, your lack of faith wounds me. Iâm a model of propriety.â
Remus snorted softly from his seat on the arm of the couch. âSure you are.â
âCan we please get on with it before Sirius bursts into a sonnet about himself?â 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.
âYouâre just eager because youâre convinced youâll get Evans again,â Marlene teased, leaning over to flick James on the shoulder.
James shot her a mock-wounded look. âFor your information, I have no such hopes. My heart will graciously accept any giftâexcept socks. Sirius.â
Sirius gasped. âI would never.â
âYou absolutely would,â Dorcas piped up with a smirk, earning a round of laughter from the group.
âAlright, alright!â Sirius cut in, gesturing dramatically toward the bowl in his hands. âThe rules are simple: pick a name, donât tell anyone who youâve got, and if your gift sucks, prepare to be ruthlessly mocked.â
âSounds fair,â 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 couldâve drawn, it had to be James.
From the moment names were drawn, the common room became a hotbed of shenanigans.
âOi, love,â James said casually the next evening as you sat near the fire, working on your Potions essay. âYou can just tell me who youâve got, you know. Save yourself the stress.â
You didnât even look up from your parchment. âNice try, Potter. Not happening.â
He leaned back in his chair, clutching his chest dramatically. âYou wound me! After everything weâve been through?â
âIâm doing you a favour,â you said with a smirk, finally glancing up. âImagine the disappointment if I told you someone else got you and not your precious Evans.â
His grin widened, and there was a playful glint in his eyes. âWho says I want Evans?â
You raised an eyebrow. âYouâve only been after her for, what, three years?â
James shrugged, leaning forward on his elbows. âMaybe Iâve had a change of heart. Maybe thereâs someone else whoâs caught my eye.â
Your cheeks burned, and you quickly ducked your head to pretend you were reading your essay. âWell, whoever they are, Iâm sure they pity you.â
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.
âWormtail, itâs you, isnât it?â
âWhat? No!â Peter said, flustered, clutching his Charms textbook.
âItâs Moony, then,â James decided, turning to Remus.
âIâm not saying anything,â Remus said calmly, flipping a page in his book. âBut if you keep pestering me, Iâll make sure whoever has you gets you socks.â
âTraitors, all of you,â James declared, throwing himself onto the couch in defeat.
âI heard Sirius in Honeydukes the other day asking the shopkeeper if they could make a giant chocolate wolf. Like, life-sized.â Marlene whispered, her eyes wide with glee.
You clamped a hand over your mouth to stifle your laugh. âYouâre kidding.â
âI wish I were,â Marlene said, grinning. âThe poor clerk looked like they didnât know whether to laugh or run.â
âAre you two gossiping about me?â Sirius asked, turning to narrow his eyes at you and Marlene.
âAlways,â Marlene quipped, not missing a beat.
Sirius looked pleased. âAs you should.â
You spent hours agonising over Jamesâ gift. He was impossible to shop forâhe had everything he needed, and he didnât seem the type to care much about material things. But you wanted it to be special, something that would show youâd 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 somethingâQuidditch 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. - âĄ
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 Jamesâ turn, he tore into the wrapping paper with childlike enthusiasm, his grin widening as he pulled out the notebook and pin.
âThis isâŚâ 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. âThis is brilliant.â
He held up the pin, letting it catch the light, and glanced around the room. âWhoever got me this, youâve officially got better taste than Sirius.â
âOi!â Sirius protested, though he was laughing.
Jamesâ 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.
#divider by fairytopea#marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfic#marauders fanfiction#james potter#james fleamont potter#james potter fanfiction#james potter imagine#james potter fluff#james potter x reader#james potter x y/n#sirius black#remus lupin#peter pettigrew#marlene mckinnon#dorcas meadowes#lily evans
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hi, could you write a drabble with reader x remus where she rlly struggles with getting involved or going to hang out with people without explicitly being invited (just feeling really worried about being rejected) and he kind of reassures her and looks after her?
hi, thanks for this request! hope you enjoy, i generally don't write school-aged drabbles but thought this fit the best.
summary: your fear of being rejected stops you from joining your friends, but remus reassures you
remus x fem! reader (implied early stages romance)
Sitting by one of the fireplaces in the Gryffindor common room, youâre wondering how many of the people around you have exchanged glances over the top of your head. You can almost feel judgement thickening the air, raised eyebrows and confused smiles that ask why is she even here? To be honest, the only reason that you havenât moved away is that you were technically sitting here first, and the rest of them milled in and took their spots nearby- then again, was it purposeful, your taking a place on one of the sofas they often use? In hindsight itâs just embarrassing. They must be assuming that you sat down just so theyâd have no choice but to talk to you.Â
You know youâre expecting the worst of this group, none of whom particularly deserve it. The flock of seventh-years surrounding you are generally a good bunch; Lily, Sirius, Marlene, Mary, Peter, James, Remus, and Dorcas,. You want to be one of them more than you want most other things, which is somewhat pathetic and completely obvious in the way youâre always hanging around. They may all be lovely, and your friends (to some extent), but you know how irritating it can be if thereâs always someone not quite in the group hanging around.
You should leave. Get up and make some comment about homework, or whatever, and wait for absolutely nobody to stop you. Itâs kinder to everybody. Isnât it?
Lost in your thoughts, you miss what Lily says next, and then theyâre all getting to their feet. You give what you hope is a casual smile, simultaneously relieved of your spiralling and disappointed that theyâre fulfilling your expectations.
Thereâs a tap on your shoulder- Remus, your favourite, whose hair has grown out over Christmas and now curls over his ears. He seems to get taller and lovelier with every passing moment. Itâs difficult to make eye contact.
âWeâre heading to the greenhouses, did you hear?â He says quietly, hand stilling instead of pulling away. You press your lips together and nod, carefully hiding any sort of misplaced hurt. Itâs not as if youâre entitled to an invitation.
âAlright, Iâll see you later!â Too enthusiastic.
His brows pinch together. âYouâre not coming?â
You look up at the others, who are collecting scarves and bags on their way to the portrait-hole. How can you admit to Remus that you donât think they want you along? How can you tell him, anyone, that youâre far too afraid of being made fun of, or becoming a joke within their tight-knit group, to risk it?
âOh, I donât know. I have heaps of homework.â
âYou do?â He raises his eyebrows. You feel caught, despite not having been accused of any sort of lie. âI thought you finished it all yesterday.â
Youâd been studying when he and Lily joined you, and all day youâve been wondering why they chose to. You probably put a but too much value on people choosing to sit next to you in class or during study; itâs unlikely that it was more than an absence of other free tables.
â...Some, yeah. And I wouldnât want to- you know, I wouldnâtâŚâ You trail off and give an awkward laugh. Remusâ gentle expression is making the inside of your mouth hurt.
âWhat?â Youâre not used to your excuses mattering so much. Mostly, you mutter something and disappear to your dorm in time to avoid any drama. Is he feeling guilty, awkward about having made plans as a group in front of someone else? You cringe at the notion of Remus realising how friendless you probably are, of his pity.Â
You know itâs your own fault for being like this. Youâve had friends in the past- cool, funny, popular, attractive- who frequently left you out on purpose. A drunken conversation in fifth year revealed that you were tolerable at best, a joke at worst. Always pushing in and so desperate for invitations that to extend them could only be ironic.Â
You think about that more often than you should. Youâre constantly hyperaware of how tolerable you are, sure that youâll say or do something which will make everyone else realise exactly why youâre not in any particular group. You canât let that happen yet with all these people, so full of love for one another that even proximity to them feels like the experience of it. Still, theyâre teenagers. Judgement is an automatic response, and Remus is clever in the way he jokes. Heâll retell this conversation to roaring laughter if you reveal too much- not that heâs ever unkind, but you sort of invite a bad impression, you think.
âItâs really fine,â You assure him. âIâm tired. Itâs cold, too.â
âRight,â He nods, glancing downwards. You think youâve won (as much as you can win, here) until he turns to James and Peter and says, âI think weâre going to stay here. Bit chilly.â
What?
James frowns, making a sound of protest. âMoony!â His eyes fall to you next, and you look away, guilty and embarrassed. Youâd never even considered that pity would drive Remus to actually stay here, and now theyâll all hate you. Nice job, very well handled.
Marlene is next. ââCas has just finished growing the Alihotsy plant, though. Weâre all going.â
âItâs been weeks since we all had the evening off- or at least, since Potter and Black didnât have a detention each,â Lily reasons more kindly. She receives twin protests from the boys on either side of her, but remains unbothered, adding, âItâd be nice to spend a bit more time as a group.â
Youâre awfully close to tears. All youâd wanted was to relieve them of yourself, to retreat to your room and wait until somebody explicitly invited you somewhere (if ever), and now youâve gone and ruined everybodyâs evening. You turn to Remus, more urgent than is likely normal. âPlease just go with them,â You say softly, aware that your voice is all wobbly. âIâm just going to go to bed, I donât want to interrupt all of you catching up. Please, itâs really okay.â
Thereâs a brief silence that spans the entire crowd. Theyâve all heard, are all likely attempting not to laugh. Remus is giving you an awful look.Â
â...Are you okay, lovely?â Mary asks. You canât look at her, canât look at any of them, but youâve always been alright at masking emotion in your voice when you really try. You force something like a smile.
âYes! Yes, completely fine, Iâm only tired. Post-holiday blues, maybe.â You laugh and it sounds terrible. âIâve really only got to go to bed. You all have fun!â Silence again.Â
âWe might join you all in a bit,â Remus says firmly. There are a few worried noises of assent, and they all head off. Now, you do see them looking at one another, frowning and looking upset. Poor Remus, you imagine them saying on their way to the greenhouses, stuck looking after her while we all escape.
Remus asks you to sit down again three times before you agree, still rather set on going to bed so you wonât cry in front of the entire common-room.
âWhatâs making you so upset?â He asks softly, once heâs finally detained you. You blink quickly and cast a glance around at the other students in the common-room, afraid to embarrass yourself more than you already have, but heâs quick to assuage the fear. âI cast a muffliato when James began talking about the Alihotsy prank- ages ago. Nobodyâs heard anything, I promise.â
You swallow harshly. âOh. Thanks. Iâm sorry Iâm being so- so-â
âIf I could,â Remus says, firm but kind, âThis will be a lot easier if we can get to the problem, here, rather than whatever you think youâve done wrong.â
âI- right. Okay. Um,â You stammer. âTheyâre not really mutually exclusive.â âWhy donât you want to come? Did somebody say something hurtful?â You look at him, slightly startled. âWhat? Itâs not that I donât want to.â
Remus seems perplexed, looking the way he does when heâs working out a particularly difficult exam question. âNo?â
âNo.â You twist your fingers together so tightly that they hurt. âNo, it sounds fun, it just⌠itâs not as if Iâm going to demand to be brought along, am I?â The joke falls flat. You think you already knew it would, but itâs still a bit embarrassing to laugh and be met with a concerned frown.
 You take a few longer breaths. You can fix this. You have to fix this.Â
âLook, itâs kind of you to stay here, but like Lily said- you all have the night off. Itâs really not so bad not to spend it as a group. I want you to go, really.â The next smile is easier. Youâve done this before, convinced people not to feel bad for you.Â
âWhy would you need to demand to be brought along?â Remus asks. âWe made the plans while you were right here.â
âYou all made plans together,â You explain slowly. âYou know, having an evening to yourselves and that sort of thing. Thereâs no need for- you know, Iâm honestly just tired. Thatâs probably why Iâve reacted so oddly, itâs my own fault.â
Remus looks at you for a long while, so intent that your skin gets prickly and uncomfortable. Eventually, he speaks, quiet and considered. â...You havenât acted oddly if thatâs how youâve been feeling.â
âTired?â
âNo, excluded.â He says gently. âYou really didnât know you were invited?â You donât answer with more than silence, and he sighs.Â
âYou were. Youâre always invited, dove, of course you are.â
Trying not to get to hung up on impossibilities, you shake your head quickly. âItâd be a bit rude to assume that.â
âIt wouldnât.â Remus replies immediately. Then, âDove, what are we going to do with you?â Entirely too much to comprehend. Youâre glad he goes on. âWould you look at me for a moment, please?â
You want to ask him why, or refuse, or run up to your dormitory, but you do as he says. You wonder if he knows that he could ask you to do almost anything and youâd say yes, if heâll only keep looking at you with his coffee-coloured eyes.
âAll of us- we want you to come along, wherever we are. Youâre important to lots of people. Do you understand that?â âI- I just donât want to push myself in.â You say, mortified.
âYou arenât. Youâre being pulled, if anything, yeah?â His lips quirk. âWhen Lily said those things about spending time as a group, she meant you, too. If somebody said something that made you think otherwise, Iâll-â
âNobody said anything,â You tell him feebly. This is all rather a lot to take in. âI think⌠maybe itâs more that nobodyâs said I am invited, or a part of- I donât know, itâs all sort of stupid.â
âNo itâs not,â Remus disagrees. He pinches your chin quickly between thumb and forefinger, frowning again. Mary once commented that Remus would look sixty by the time you all left school, with all his worrying wrinkles. âNot stupid, but itâs not very kind to yourself, either. Why shouldnât we want you around?â
You open your mouth and close it at his raised eyebrow. âRhetorical question?âÂ
âRhetorical question.â He confirms amusedly. âThereâs no point arguing, because we do. I do. I wish you wouldnât think otherwise.â
âIâve only been friends with all of you for a little while, though. Youâve all been mates since first-year.â At that, Remus outright scoffs. âHave we, now?âÂ
You shrug.Â
âJames and Lily always liked each other, then? Dorcas didnât only just start hanging around us as well?â You look down, and he sighs. âHowever long everybodyâs known one another, the most important bit is that we all like each other, yeah? It wouldnât matter whether we became mates at eleven or two days ago- weâre friends. Or- you know.â
You definitely donât know, but youâre going red anyway. He was definitely talking about Lily and James- thatâs all he meant by âyou knowâ. Isnât it?
Remus scratches the back of his head, quiet for another second. Then, â...Why donât we go down to the greenhouses? Weâll stick together the whole time, youâll not be sat by yourself again.â
âI donât want to make you babysit.â
Remus tsks, expression becoming sterner for a moment. âDonât think that way about yourself. Iâm asking because I want you to come- itâs not worth going if you arenât there.â
The long moment it takes for you to decipher whether heâs only being nice or if thatâs the truth is enough for Remus to decide that you donât really have a choice in the matter. Tugging you to your feet, and seeming taller than ever with your proximity, he winds his own scarf around your neck and pushes some hair behind your hear. You let him, mostly because youâre too surprised to do anything about it.
âLetâs go, before they all decide to try some of the Alihotsy themselves. Gloves?â
You manage a nervous giggle, putting your mittens on when he hands them to you. âThanks.â
âThatâs alright. Come on,â He gives you a crooked sort of smile. Itâs sometimes difficult to tell if Remus is aware how good-looking he is.Â
The entire group are far too enthusiastic at yours and Remusâ arrival fifteen minutes later, given the fact that itâs hardly been half an hour since they left. Either way, youâre quickly pulled into a squabble between Lily and James about- as Remus predicted- the logic of trying some Alihotsy for themselves.Â
âThank Merlin you came, youâre the only one who wonât be completely daft about this!â Lily says, linking her arm in yours. You smile before catching Remusâ eye and looking down, feeling yourself flush. Smug bastard, you think fondly.
Itâs an entire two hours before everyone heads back up to the castle, having thoroughly violated curfew but without (to James and Siriusâ chagrin) having tested any of the plant which would induce hysterical laughter. You find yourself walking beside the tallest of the group in comfortable silence, a few steps behind the rest.
âThanks for making me come with you,â You say, perhaps a little more earnestly than you ought. âIt was really nice.â
ââCourse, dove.â You look up at Remus to find heâs already looking at you. He clears his throat, glancing over at Sirius and Marlene where theyâre pretending to push each other into the snow. Itâs likely to end in one of them following through and the other swearing eternal hatred. âWeâre all glad you came along. Could even make a habit of it.â
You exhale a laugh. âMaybe.â
He gives you a sideways look. âOh, âmaybeâ, is it?â â...Conceivably?â You grin, darting away when he grabs at you and sort of wishing youâd stayed still just to see what heâd do. Remus fixes you with a teasing glare.
âWatch it, sweetheart.â
You blink, choking on words for a minute. Sweetheart? Sweetheart!? Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheartsweetheartsweetheartsweetheart-
âYou alright?âÂ
âYeah!â You say, too quickly. Remus misreads your flusteredness as something else and softens, taking hold of your sleeve and tugging you towards him. You go easily.
âIf itâll help,â He says thoughtfully, âYou can ask me if youâre invited to things. Or Iâll just tell you. Then you wonât have to go to the trouble of assuming either way.â
You like him so, so much. âThatâs really nice of you, Remus.â
âEh,â He shrugs. âYou know me.â
Now, itâs harder not to smile than anything else. âI donât want you to go to any trouble. Itâs really my problem, I shouldnât-â
âEnough,â He interrupts gently. âJust say yes, dove, if itâll help. I wonât be unhappy either way.âThere are several places within you, the more unkind parts, that say accepting his offer would be like accepting pity. But there are also places that are warmed at the thought, that remember how people reacted when you arrived in the greenhouse, that can start imagining a reality wherein nobody hated your presence by the sofas tonight, and those bits win the argument for the first time in a very long time. You look up at Remus, his soft eyes and fluffy hair dusted with snow, and nod.
#marauders#marauders era#hurt/comfort#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#shy!reader#marauders fluff#marauders hurt/comfort#james potter#sirius black#marlene mckinnon#lily evans#remus x y/n#remus x reader#remus x you#moony x fem!reader#moony x reader#remus lupin x shy!reader#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin fluff#x reader#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fic#remus x reader drabble#remus lupin x reader drabble#marla's requests
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cindy lou who
James Potter x Slytherin!Female!Reader
summary: you and lily have been polar opposites from birth, disconnected in everything. but when the one thing she has crosses the bounds, you can't avoid it even if it destroys you.
chapter 1: i know you?
chapter 2: i suppose..
chapter 3: okay, it's quite fun.
chapter 4: fuck you
chapter 5: tis' the season
chapter 6: maybe it's worth it
chapter 7: screw it all up again
chapter 8: you & i
chapter 9: my love
warning: eventual smut! 18+, heavy angst, cursing, jealousy
"red and green everywhere but i'm so blue.."
* a christmas special *
#singmyaubade#james potter#marauders era#harry potter#marauders#hogwarts#hp#james potter x y/n#remus lupin#tw mature#james potter x reader#toxic!james#toxic!reader#james potter x you#marauders x reader#james potter smut#james potter x female!reader#harry potter marauders#the marauders#marauders imagine#marauders smut#lily evans#sirius black#y/n l/n#y/n moment#peter pettigrew#james & peter & remus & sirius#marauders fandom#dead gay wizards#marlene mckinnon
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A Christmas Special
summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you
cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ⥠11k words
Remus isnât sure entirely how heâd gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of âbaby mayhemâ to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. Heâs said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldnât push back for long, his friendâs happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his âbachelor padâ was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before heâd gotten the chance to have much of a say.Â
Heâs made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed down to him by the Potters, but itâs a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remusâ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. Itâs still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth.Â
Inside Remusâ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, heâs run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and heâs still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door.Â
Remus is surprised (heâd told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didnât think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side.Â
âHi,â you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. âSorry Iâm late, traffic was worse than I expected.âÂ
âItâs hardly quarter after six.â Remus takes your coat, tsking. âPeople do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, donât they?âÂ
âWell, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,â you allow, ever forgiving.Â
Remus smiles. âMerry Christmas, love.âÂ
Your lashes kiss as you smile back at him, unwrapping your scarf. âMerry Christmas.â Youâre merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. âWhere is everyone?âÂ
âWell,â Remus says, heading back for the couch, âSirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess Iâd wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food heâs decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then theyâll go to Siriusâ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.âÂ
You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. âI was thinking Iâd be the last one here,â you admit, âbut Iâd forgotten how they can be when it comes to these things.âÂ
Remus shrugs. âEasy to forget.â Lily is usually able to marshal James (and by extension, Sirius) most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger.Â
âOh no, did you hurt yourself?â you lean over, trying to see his hand.Â
âNo, just a scratch.â Remus has about a billion of them by now. Heâs far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous.Â
You watch him try again, and itâs really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts.Â
âRemus, your handâs not a pincushion,â you say, and you werenât yourself heâd almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. âHere, let me do that.âÂ
âI didnât mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,â Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. âYouâll never come back for New Yearâs if this is what you have to look forward to.âÂ
You smile down at your hands. âSure I will. Youâll still be there, wonât you? And I really donât mind helping, it gives me something to do.âÂ
Remus smiles back even though youâre not looking. âAlright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.â He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises.
He goes into the kitchen. A second later, you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with your string trailing all the way back to the couch.Â
âYouâre making gingerbread cookies?â you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat.Â
âMhm. You like them?âÂ
âNever had one.âÂ
Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. âSeriously?âÂ
You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, youâre not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he wouldâve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned.Â
âNo,â you answer him. âWe made ornaments out of them in school, once, but we werenât allowed to eat any. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.âÂ
âTheyâre the best,â Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. âIf you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.âÂ
âYes!â you cheer. He laughs when you start working quicker with the needle.Â
âDonât hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.âÂ
âI know,â you say, but your hands donât slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before youâre done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour.Â
Remusâ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. Itâs not a painfully difficult task, and still heâs impressed by how quickly you catch on. Youâre a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long youâve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives.Â
You havenât seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film heâd put on the day before break. (âMister Magooâs is a classic!â you protest as Remus shakes his head. âTheyâre too young to get it,â he says. âOur classics are just old to them.â) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater youâd crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her.Â
Youâve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (âTheyâre twice as good when theyâre fresh,â Remus says. âDonât let the othersâ tardiness rob you of the experience.â) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock.Â
âHello!â he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. âMerry holiday to you, Moony!âÂ
You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple of sloppily-wrapped boxes from Siriusâ arms.Â
âMerlin, it smells good in here,â James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. Jamesâ eyes fall on you. âAwe, you beat us here?â
Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. âNot very difficult, when youâre over an hour late,â he says. âYouâre lucky Y/Nâs good company, or Iâd be more cross with you.âÂ
âSorry,â says Lily as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. âWe had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harryâs seat, and then Siriusââ she shoots him a glare, and he grins like sheâs sweetly cooed his name ââwouldnât leave without his hat, even though heâd lost it.âÂ
âOne only gets to wear oneâs elf hat every so often,â Sirius justifies, unperturbed. âI wasnât going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.âÂ
âIt nearly did,â Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry.Â
âCome here, my handsome little guy.âÂ
âUsed to call me that,â Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap.Â
Remus isnât going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he canât help it.Â
âOnly on special occasions,â James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and itâs probably the most contagious sound Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again.Â
âHe never lets me hold him,â Lily complains fondly.Â
âBecause I know how much you like seeing me with him,â James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. âYouâre mad with lust right now, Evans, donât try to deny it.âÂ
âSleaze,â Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.
âI know you are, but what am I?âÂ
âI,â Remus cuts them off, âam hungry. And Iâll bet Y/N is too, since sheâs very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.âÂ
James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesnât seem to matter how long youâre friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always find you avoiding everyoneâs eyes. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry.Â
âI hope you really are hungry,â she says, âbecause James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.â
â â â
Soon even James is stuffed and youâre all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax.Â
âNo, because it was so obvious,â Sirius says. Heâs telling a story about a girl heâd seen at a coffee shop that heâs sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus arenât so sure. âShe did theâthe thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means sheâs not interested, but when she looks down, itâs because sheâs nervous, right?â
You raise your eyebrows. âI think you made that up,â you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. âAnyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?âÂ
âShe was nervous because sheâs obsessed with me,â Sirius insists.Â
âOr,â Remus says, âshe was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her home.âÂ
âAnd probably kill her,â Lily agrees.Â
Jamesâ eyebrows shoot up. âMerlin, you two are dark. Our Padfootâs not putting out murderous vibes. Heâs got too much boyish charm.âÂ
Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where heâs sleeping on her lap. âGirls have to think of those things.âÂ
âBleak.â James looks slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wifeâs head. âWell, I think she was in love with you, Pads.â
âYeah,â Remus rolls his eyes, âhe should show up at her house and find out. Itâd be romantic.â
âAnd on that note,â James goes on, ignoring him, âshall we do presents?â
You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brotherâs entitlement. âGo ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.âÂ
James, well used to this, doesnât even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you canât help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you canât stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (âHeâs got it, love,â Remus says, and Sirius adds, âHeâs got energy he needs to run off.â) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you seem to have something from every person there.Â
âSânot fair that James and Lily get to do coupleâs presents now,â Sirius complains. âIâm going to start buying gifts for you like youâre one person, see how you like it.âÂ
The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in Jamesâ expression as he tears open the first box. âThe Velveteen Rabbit,â he reads aloud. âWow, this is kinda hefty for a childrenâs book.âÂ
âWhoâs it from?â Lily prompts, as if you donât all already know.Â
âShit, I forgot to check.âÂ
âAnd thatâs why we read the box,â Lily says, and you get the sense this is a conversation thatâs happened more than once, âbefore we start ripping, love.âÂ
âIt was me,â Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile.Â
âCourse it was,â James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. âThanks, Moony.âÂ
âYou had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,â Sirius tsks, âand you just let it pass you by.âÂ
Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, âHe already has that one, itâs his favorite,â and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness.Â
He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it. Youâre glad youâre sitting too far from him to act on the urge.Â
Youâve noticed Remus over the years, of course. Itâd be impossible not to. Youâve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it canât hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. Youâre not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, youâd be the one to go.Â
âOh, is this a hat?â Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize theyâve gotten to your gift. âOh my god, it has little antlers!â
You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands.
âNo way, heâll be like our little Prongsie! Iâm going to put it on him.âÂ
âDonât wake him,â Lily warns, but James waves her off.
âHe can sleep through anything,â he says, settling the baby beanie on Harryâs head. Sure enough, he doesnât stir.Â
âThatâs so darling.â Lily presses a hand to her chest. âY/N, whereâd you get this?â
You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is hiding the bashfulness in your smile. âI made it,â you admit. âI know weâre already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.âÂ
âUm, heâs never taking it off. Like, ever.â James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. âThanks, love.âÂ
Once all the cooing over Harryâs presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (youâd complained to him a few weeks ago that theyâd stopped selling your old one, and heâd been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (âNow you can stop eating all those frozen meals,â James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (âTheyâre alpaca,â he explains. âSupposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.â). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remusâ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and youâre all starting to yawn.Â
âAlright,â Lily says after a while, âitâs well past Harryâs bedtime, and ours, and Iâm sure Remus would like his flat back.âÂ
âBooo.â Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. âDomestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.âÂ
âYeah, yeah,â James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, âI saw you yawning, Pads. Letâs go.âÂ
You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. âThanks for everything, Remus,â you say. âIt was great.âÂ
âFor a first time hosting,â James allows, jokingly prideful, âI suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.âÂ
Remus smiles, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. âAre you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like itâs really picked up.âÂ
You follow his stare out the window. Heâs not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall youâd arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remusâ flat.Â
James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. âYeah, weâll be alright,â he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and Jamesâ voice becomes more solid. âWe donât have far to drive.â
Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. âWhat about you? Are you gonna be okay?â
âYeah.â Itâs the only answer in these situations, though youâre sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. âIt doesnât look too bad out there.âÂ
Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. âAre you sure? It looks fairly bad to me.âÂ
âYeah,â James says, âdonât you live rather far?â
âItâs not that far,â you fib, at the same time as Remus says, âShe does.âÂ
You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat âItâs not. Anyway, Iâve driven in a lot worse than this.â
Lily gives you a small smile. âThatâs hardly reassuring.â
âYou can stay here,â Remus offers, but youâre shaking your head before heâs even gotten the words out.Â
âThatâs sweet of you, but I can make it home.â You give him your most competent smile. âIf I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least Iâll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.âÂ
He gives you a deadpan look. âWhile Iâm glad youâre excited to use my gift, Iâd rather if it didnât come to that.â
âYou canât get in a crash and die on Christmas,â Sirius says. âItâd be, like, a massive downer for us every year.âÂ
âIâll be fine,â you insist.Â
âBabe, I donât care if we have to lock you in here,â James says, frowning in a way that doesnât look particularly formidable when heâs swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. âThereâs no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.âÂ
You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.
âOkay, you know I would never usually say this,â Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, âbut I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.âÂ
âItâsâŚâ You look between them, your argument dying of fruitlessly on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you inside Remusâ flat, and even Lilyâs giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.
âYou really should stay here,â he says kindly. âActually, Iâd feel a lot better if you did. Okay?â
You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. âOkay.âÂ
âPhew!â Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. âGlad thatâs settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!âÂ
âHeâs so tired,â Lily says after Sirius is out the door.Â
âWiped,â James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remusâ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you.Â
âThanks for the gifts,â James says, grinning down at Harryâs knit antlers after he releases you. âHeâs never taking this off.âÂ
âHe means it.â Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. âIâll probably have to bathe Harry while James is asleep so he doesnât catch him without it.âÂ
Your face is feeling hot again. âIâm glad you like it,â you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out.Â
And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet.Â
âAre you tired?â he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but thereâs still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering.Â
âNot really,â you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. âAre you?â
âNo,â he agrees. The look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. âFancy a film?â
âMm, a Christmas film?â
âObviously.âÂ
The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lilyâs interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one youâd seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you. Your knees are curled towards him and he has one leg crossed over the other, angling him towards you.Â
The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when youâre alone together, but then Remus asks you, âWhat is it?â
You look over at him. âHm?â
âYouâre frowning.â
âOh.â You laugh. âIâm just thinking about snow.âÂ
His lips quirk. âIt is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isnât it?â
âNo.â You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. âThatâs not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesnât snow feel like itâs not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.â
âMm, I see.â Remus looks back to the screen, considering. âDoes that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?â
You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. âI guess so,â you say.
The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remusâ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon youâve drooped enough that youâre leaning nearly entirely against him. You donât notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but donât sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours.Â
âAre you crying?â he murmurs during a scene near the end.Â
Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remusâ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. âI really like this part.âÂ
âYou know how it ends. Itâs going to be okay.âÂ
âI know.â You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that youâve been caught. âI know it is. Itâs just really profound.âÂ
âSure it is.â
âItâs the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.âÂ
âOkay.â He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. âOkay, I agree with you.âÂ
A while later: âYouâre tired,â he accuses.
You hum a denial.
âSweetheartâ âyour stomach flutters, and thereâs a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore itâ âyouâre practically falling asleep right here.â
âAre you tired?âÂ
He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. âNo. But you are.âÂ
âI want to finish the movie.âÂ
He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. âAlright.âÂ
Soon the credits start. Neither of you move.Â
You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. âYour place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.â
âOf course, love.â You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. âWould you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to Jamesâ?â
You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. âIâd say youâve gone above and beyond, for sure.âÂ
Remus laughs too. âPerfect. Tell him so, would you?â
Youâre going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but thereâs no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remusâ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you.Â
âReady for bed?â He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes.Â
You shrug an admittance. âSort of. But I donât want to kick you out of your own living room if youâre not tired yet.â
âNo, Iâm pretty wiped too,â he says. âAnyway, Iâm the one kicking you out. Youâre staying in my room.âÂ
You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. âNo, Iâm not.âÂ
His laugh is disbelieving. âYeah, you are. Youâre my guest, Iâm not letting you sleep on the couch.âÂ
You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. âIâm not going to steal your bed. Youâve already done so much. Youâve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.âÂ
âWhile I appreciate all that,â he says, âno.âÂ
âRemus.â Youâre near pleading at this point. âYour back will hurt.â
âYour back will hurt.âÂ
âNot as badly as yours.â You give him a hard look. âIâm not taking your bed.âÂ
Thereâs a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down.Â
âRight,â Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where heâd set it on the coffee table. âI suppose weâd better start another movie, then.â
âRemus, come on.â You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. âYouâve just said youâre tired. Go to bed, please.â
The TV flickers back on. âIâm not leaving this couch.âÂ
âWell, neither am I,â you laugh, completely serious.Â
He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that heâs not really very cross with you.
âYouâre much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?â
You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. âI could say the same about you.âÂ
âTrue, but I know Iâll win out in the end.âÂ
âYou can think that if you like.âÂ
âWant to watch this one next?â
âSure.â
â â â
Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, heâd simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus canât say heâs entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.
Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his. Youâre warm and weighty against him.Â
He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. Youâre a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldnât have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo smell on the pillowcase. He doesnât know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing.Â
Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesnât happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb across your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. Youâre quiet for a long while.Â
âAre you trying to put me to sleep?â you murmur, words all sloshed together.Â
Itâs a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. âNo,â he says.Â
You hum.Â
âUnless you mean itâs working.âÂ
Another long silence. âItâs not,â you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder. Â
He chuckles. âCome on, sweetheart. Letâs get you to bed, hm?âÂ
âYou go to bed,â you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it heâd say there was some bitterness lining your words.Â
Remus sighs. âYouâre too nice for your own good,â he tells you.Â
âNo,â you reply, softly, plainly, like itâs a fact, âthatâs you.âÂ
He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. âYeah?âÂ
âMhm.â Your eyes are closed. You donât know heâs looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. âYouâre the best I know.âÂ
Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remusâ ribs to the soft gooey core of him.
âWell,â he tells you honestly, âyouâre the best I know.â
You seem unconcerned. âAnother impasse for us.âÂ
He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He canât regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. Youâre glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet youâre looking at him like heâs the only place your eyes want to go. Like itâs the most natural thing in the world.Â
You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. âRemus,â you murmur, and he finally does what heâs been wanting to since youâd shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you.Â
Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like youâd been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed youâd made yourself on the couch. Heâs careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back.Â
âI...â He pants into the space between you. âSorry. Iâm sorry. I didnâtââ
You make a sound thatâs half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his.Â
Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. Itâs even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. A low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.
âDo youââ you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to grant access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. âDo you want this?âÂ
The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. âYes.â
You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. âAre you sure?â
His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. âLovely girl,â he murmurs. âYouâre silly, you know that?â His mouth meanders itâs way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. âI mean, youâre smart.â The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. âYouâre really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.âÂ
You donât respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, heâs hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech.Â
âDo you want to move to my room?âÂ
You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip.Â
âIs this a ploy to get me off the couch?âÂ
âYouâre relentless.â
Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.
âFine. I promise itâs not, okay?âÂ
Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remusâ chest like it too. âOkay,â you say in that lovely voice. âOkay, letâs go.âÂ
â â â
You always thought Remus was all softness. Heâs made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth.Â
You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon thatâs sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. Heâs kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and youâre breathy and molten and useless beneath him.Â
Youâre brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identifyâyouâve felt it before, but never like this.Â
âWhat do you want to do?â Thereâs a raspy quality to Remusâ voice that would send you to your knees if he hadnât already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots heâs already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. âSweetheart?âÂ
Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesnât stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what heâd asked you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, thatâs for sure. You wantâŚyou want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating this warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you.Â
Remusâ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees.
âYou alright?â His voice is soft, gentle, saying itâs okay if youâre not without saying it.Â
You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you donât think he can tell. âYeah, Iâm good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.â Nervous-happy.Â
âDonât be,â he implores, lips brushing your cheek. âItâs only me.â
Exactly, you think. Itâs you.Â
âWhat do you want to do?â You turn his own question back on him.Â
His smile is tinged with bashfulness. âI mean, whatever youâre alright with.â Thereâs a tentative quietness to his voice. âHave youâŚâ
If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. âNo,â you say, shrinking away from him though thereâs nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no.Â
âThatâs okay,â he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. âThatâs okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you donât like something, or you want to slow downâanything at all, you let me know.â He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. âOkay?âÂ
You swallow. âOkay.âÂ
âDonât be nervous.â He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. âCan I take this off, lovely?âÂ
You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he canât see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater. He tosses it onto the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. Youâd always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what heâs doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress.
His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remusâ back before your hands go to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remusâ groan. He kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward.Â
One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. Youâre nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.Â
âIs this okay?â he murmurs.Â
Itâs all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline.Â
âWe can stop anytime you want.âÂ
You inhale raggedly. âNo,â you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. âI wantâI want to keep going.â You pause. âDo you?â
You can hear the smile in his voice. âYeah, love, that sounds good to me.âÂ
Good, youâre about to say, but Remusâ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs out further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.
Youâre writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue. He wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time.Â
Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating.Â
âIs this okay?â you ask.Â
His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. Youâre panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long youâre trembling all over, tugging feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss thatâs taking you under.Â
âRemus,â you breathe, and itâs a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound.Â
Remus looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil.Â
âCome here,â you plead.Â
He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. âDoing alright?â he asks you.
âYeah,â you promise. You cup his head in one hand and wrap your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. âJust wanted to kiss you.âÂ
You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens.Â
âDo you thinkâcan weââ
He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. âAre you sure?âÂ
âI want to. Do you?âÂ
Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. âYeah, I fucking want to. Iâve wanted to forever.âÂ
You canât think about that. Think about that and youâll fall to pieces.Â
He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. âYouâll tell me if I do anything you donât like, yeah?âÂ
âMhm,â you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They donât feel all that distinct from one another.Â
âAlright,â he says, palm slipping under your thigh. âCan I lift this up, love?âÂ
You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure youâre doing okay. Youâre already slick and worked open from his mouth, but itâs still a bit shocking.
His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. âHowâs that feel?âÂ
âGood,â you say honestly. Thereâs a note of desperation to your voice. âI canâmore, please.âÂ
Heâs quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remusâ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you.Â
âSo good,â he mumbles. âYouâre doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.â He lifts his head, kissing your temple. âThink you can handle a bit more?âÂ
Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside of you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face.Â
âGood girl,â he says hoarsely. âStill doing okay, lovely?âÂ
âYeah,â you say, somewhat dizzy. âRemus, it feels so good.âÂ
âGood,â he croons. âIt should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?â
âMhm.â
He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound.Â
Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy âFuck, sweetheart, just like that.â Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint to Remusâ touch. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth.Â
âCome, donât do that,â he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. âLet me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.âÂ
The Welsh accent thatâs grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remusâ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat.Â
âThatâs it,â he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot heâs found underneath your ear. âThere you are, lovely girl.âÂ
The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak youâve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.
âYou gonna cum, sweetheart?â You nod dazedly. âGood, good, just let it happen, Iâve got you.âÂ
âCome here,â you demand again. He wastes no time in obliging you.
He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you donât know where to put it, donât know if you can contain it. You canât remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remusâ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.
âLet go,â he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you.Â
Itâs bliss like youâve never known. You cry out, and Remusâ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders.Â
âGood girl,â he murmurs, though you really havenât done much at all.Â
âAre youââ You swallow, choking on the emotion thatâs risen unbidden in your throat. âAre you close?âÂ
Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he canât help himself. He pecks you once, twice. âSweetheart, Iâm more than close. Iâve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.âÂ
Well, heâd actually kissed you, but youâll take the compliment anyway.Â
âDo you think youâll be alright if I move again?â he asks. âItâs alright if not.âÂ
âYou can,â you say, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. âIs thereâŚanything I can do to help?â
The smile fades from Remusâ face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. âJust, keep looking at me like that?â He says it almost like heâs embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication.Â
You want to tell him youâd never needed asking to look at him, but you donât, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because heâs cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and thatâs all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds youâre sure youâll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens.Â
âWas that alright?â he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice.Â
You canât help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. âYeah, it was good,â you promise him. Understatement of the year. âReally good, Rem.âÂ
âGood,â he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You donât know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, âTired yet?â
You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek.
âA little bit, yeah.â
Actually, you hadnât realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didnât mean having to take your eyes off Remus, youâd have closed them and passed out by now.Â
âGood,â he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.
âHey,â you protest. âYouâd better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.âÂ
His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. âSo mistrustful,â he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. âWhatâve I done to arouse such suspicion?âÂ
Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. âWell, Iâm here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.âÂ
âFair enough.â He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. âAlright if I clean you up, love?âÂ
You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. âI didnât realize itâd be so messy,â you admit. âYou donât have to, though, I can do it myself.âÂ
âI donât mind,â he says, thumb soothing over your knee. âSâmy mess anyway.â He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks.Â
âSure,â you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. âSure, if youâre alright with it.âÂ
âMight be a bit sensitive,â he warns. Youâd guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee.Â
You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. Itâs all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead.Â
âThat was really great,â you tell him.Â
âI thought so too.âÂ
âYouâll stay here, right?âÂ
A low laugh. âYeah, sweetheart. Iâm staying here.âÂ
â â â
Remus hasnât known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream.Â
It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new.Â
Remus puts on the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remusâ kitchen feels more complete knowing that youâre sleeping just down the hall.Â
Until, apparently, youâre not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater youâve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remusâ sweater. And Remus had thought heâd come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you.Â
Heâd thought youâd looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but youâre almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like youâre emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim.Â
âMorning. Sorry I didnât ask,â you say, fingering the hem of Remusâ sweater. âI was cold and you were gone, I hope you donât mind.âÂ
Mind? Remus canât even think.Â
âCourse not,â he manages, but just barely. Itâs more an exhale than a statement. âDid you sleep alright?âÂ
âReally well,â you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you arenât regretting your part in it. And now that heâs had some time to think, he hopes even more that youâd truly wanted it in the first place. âDid you?âÂ
âYeah, thanks.â
You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. âWhatâre you making?âÂ
âIâm experimenting,â he says, though he wishes now he werenât. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that youâre in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. âOr, Iâm attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?âÂ
His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is heâs trying to make (maybe thatâs closer to the truth), but Remusâ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression.Â
âReally?âÂ
A laugh startles out of him, giddy. âYeah, does that sound alright?âÂ
âMore than alright,â you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. âThat sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.âÂ
âI think youâve more than made it up to me.â It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. âI mean, Iâm sorryâfuck, that sounds awfulâI only meant that Iâve had a really good time with you here. Iâm glad you stayed.âÂ
Your eyes have widened. Remus expects his face is about five shades pinker than normal.Â
âNot that Iâm only glad because ofâor, Iâm always glad to have you. As a friend, too.âÂ
Thereâs a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. âRight.â You give him a thin smile. Itâs a hearty attempt, but youâre too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. âAs a friend.âÂ
Theyâre his own words, but hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs.Â
With his track record this morning, Remus really should be taking a vow of silence, but he canât seem to stop himself. âJust friends, then?â Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face.Â
âI mean,â your tone is a match to his, âis that what you want?âÂ
A short, soft laugh escapes him. âI think I made what I want fairly clear last night.âÂ
Thereâs a short silence. âI thought I did, too.âÂ
Itâs a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, heâd brought you to his room, heâd been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And youâd been game for it all, sure, but he canât help but wonder if you were just going along with him. If maybe youâd thought it was just a fuck, something to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if itâs what you want. But heâs liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. Heâs practically teetering on the edge of it already, though youâve only been friends all this time.Â
Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. Heâs debating asking what exactly it is that you thought youâd made clear when you speak again.Â
âI understand if itâs too much for you.â Your voice is quiet. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if youâre trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. âWe can stay just friends if itâsâŚif thatâs what you want. I want whateverâs easier for you.â Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. âI really want you to stay in my life.âÂ
âWhat?â Itâs a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. âSorry.â His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. âSorry, I justâI didnât realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.âÂ
âI just mean that I donât want to make things weird for you, or for everyone elseââ
âHey.â He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isnât sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. âThere is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?âÂ
You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty.
âOkay,â you echo, sounding unsure. Heâll deal with that later, he decides.
âOkay,â he says once more, and itâd almost be firm if it werenât so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesnât sound particularly tender. Itâs not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like heâs done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. âCan you tell me what it is that you want, please?âÂ
You try to shrink again, and Remusâ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically.
âRemus, come on.â You sound almost upset, but itâs hard to tell with your voice so quiet. âI know Iâm not that good atâat covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.âÂ
Remus would give a monthâs rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if heâd been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadnât expected it. And for you to act like itâs been obviousâŚhe does his best to think back.Â
Youâve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though youâd seemed to warm to Remus first, youâd always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. Heâd chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference.Â
Youâve always been kind to him, but youâre kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours?Â
He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the creek behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?
Heâd called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when heâd been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? Heâs certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you.Â
So much for opposites attract.Â
âI think Iâm an idiot,â he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face.Â
âYou are not,â you reply, ever forgiving.Â
âDonât tell Sirius,â he warns, âbut I really think I am.â His voice drops to a more earnest register. âI had no idea, love, Iâm sorry. Maybe youâre better at hiding things than you thought. But if you donât want to be friends, I donât want to either.â Remus hesitates. âOr, I always want to be your friend, justââ
âRemus?âÂ
Finally. Someone needs to stop him. âYeah?âÂ
âYour pancakeâŚâ
He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. âOh, fuck.â He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but thereâs no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. Itâs inedible. âSorry, IâŚIâm not sure I have enough batter for much more.âÂ
âItâs fine.â Thereâs laughter in your tone, and thatâs more than enough to make up for it. âIt was a really sweet thought, thatâs what matters anyway.âÂ
Remus turns to find youâve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness.Â
âWould you come here?â he asks.Â
You comply with an eagerness he wonders how heâs never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He canât believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadnât been so thick. He supposes heâll have to make up for it now.Â
âLetâs do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?â He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your forehead. âHow about you tell me if anything comes up that you donât want, and Iâll do the same.â
âYeah.â Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, your chin moving against his chest. âYeah, that sounds good.âÂ
âGood.â He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. âOkay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.âÂ
You ease out of his arms. âI really should go home.â Thereâs an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. âSorry, but my catâs been there all night by herself, soâŚâ
âRight.â Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. Heâll see you soon, surely. âYeah, that makes sense. Think youâll be able to drive?âÂ
âI mean, I looked outside.â You shrug, backing towards where youâd hung your coat the night before. âThe roads here are cleared, which I hope means theyâve gotten to most of them already.âÂ
âThatâs good,â he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, heâs pitted completely against her now. Sheâs done nothing to deserve the resentment heâs directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. âGood, good.âÂ
Youâre both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. Itâs not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus wonât let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles.Â
âIâŚlisten, I have to go home,â you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. âI have to feed my cat. But that doesnât necessarily mean I want toâŚleave.âÂ
Remus canât see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. Youâre both so uncertain, and youâre trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor.Â
âI donât want you to leave either,â he says, âbut I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her fed.âÂ
âExactly.â You smile, relieved. âBut, I mean, if youâre not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.âÂ
Remus canât believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly.Â
âYeah, that would be fantastic.â Heâs grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. âLet me grab my coat.âÂ
âWait.â Thereâs a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns youâre already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. âThere,â you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, ânow weâre even.âÂ
Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks youâre far from even. âIâm not sure about that, sweetheart,â he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, âbut we'll get there.âÂ
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin smut#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#james potter#sirius black#lily evans#marauders#the marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom
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â Ë・â๨ŕ§Ë Close To You
⼠masterlist
⼠pairing: oscar piastri x lily zneimer x f!singer!webber!reader
⼠synopsis: as the daughter of mark webber you got to know oscar piastri pretty quick and soon enough the two of you were dating. no one had known that you both were also dating lily, leading everyone to believe the leaked pictures of her and Oscar was evidence he was cheating on you. they couldnât have been more wrong
⼠smau - fc: gracie abrams - none of the pictures are mine
⼠warnings: swearing and hate comments !!!
⼠a/n: my first poly fic! ty to bestie liz and cleo for hyping me up <3
liked by aussiegrit, oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 656,305 more
y/n.webber channel that sad energy into a song queen
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user8 hope you're doing well đ
user3 ilyy
user6 pls shes so unserious đ
user5 that's so real
user9 wait so did her and her boyfriend break up?
user2 I'm pretty sure. everyone's been speculating it and they haven't been seen together in a long time
user1 is she making a new album ???
user10 liv and tay in the likess đŤś
user7 I still can't believe she's mark's daughter omggg
user12 those family genetics đ
user2 we love you <3
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
liked by oscarpiastri, oliviarodrigo, and 583,694 more
y/n.webber cut my hair in the way that i've wanted
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user9 change my number and bury my wallet !!!
user8 augusta <3
user12 LOVE
mclarenf1 we'll see you at the GP
y/n.webber <3
user10 shut up y/n is gonna be there?
user6 I thought she had a concert that day?
user1 @/user6 she has one the night before :)
user5 no bc how is she so pretty
user13 oscar in the likes đ
user7 GORGEOUS
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
liked by y/n.webber, user7, user12 and 502,669 more
f1gossip mark, y/n, and oscar are ready for the australian grand prix
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y/n.webber @/aussiegrit I'm starting to think you like Oscar more than me :(
oscarpiastri he does â¤ď¸
yourusername đ
user8 now kiss
user14 enemies to lovers
user4 my favorite australian trio
user1 why'd he have to shave his beard đ
user9 THE CAT
user2 oscar and mark pookie off
user10 everyone pray for an oscar home race podium
user3 đŻď¸oscar home race win đŻď¸
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
liked by oscarpiastri, aussiegrit, and 703,562 more
y/n.webber date night <3
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user7 I love how she doesn't even have to tell us she's dating oscar because we all just know
user9 THEM WATCHING TANGLED đđŤś
user3 oscar getting her lilies :')
y/n.webber actually I got him lilies
oscarpiastri đ§Ą
*liked by original poster*
user4 this is the cutest shit I've ever seen
user1 mark in the likesss looks like oscar has the stamp of approval
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
liked by y/n.webber, aussiegrit, and 750,683 more
oscarpiastri lando crashed our date
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landonorris I did not "crash" your date I just happened to be there.
oscarpiastri as if you didn't follow us
y/n.webber @/landonorris you LITERALLY crashed into the back of my kart
mclarenf1 lando we talked about your internet stalking problem.
user8 PLEASE đ
user6 why'd they have to call him out like that đ
user2 the admins are my favorite part of the f1 cinematic universe
-A Few Months Later-
liked by aarondessner, taylorswift, and 984,059 more
y/n.webber The Secret Of Us is out now! The songs on this album are a collection of my life these past few months and Iâm so excited to share them with you all. Special thank you to @/aarondessner and @/taylorswift I love you both đ
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user1 I hope she rips oscar to shreds
user7 y/n better than revenge era
user9 !!!
user3 girl you can do so much better than o***r
user12 I'm so ready to scream and cry to this
user2 I cannot believe he cheated on her
user16 out of all the guys on the grid OSCAR?!?!
user11 kitten I'll be honest I'm still not over good riddance đ
user8 LMAO
user9 so true đ
user15 hyped af for the taylor collab
user16 the fact that she's the daughter of mark, the man who supported him since day one and he STILL cheated on her is CRAZYY
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
liked by taylorswift, oliviarodrigo, and 985,750 more
y/n.webber throwback to my time at last year's era's tour. I'm so glad to be back đŠˇ
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taylorswift were so glad to have you <3
*liked by original poster*
oliviarodrigo miss youuu
yourusername I miss you too babes
user9 "and you knew my last love let me down" OSCARRRRAHHH
user7 AND I BET HES AT HER PLACE RIGHT NOW
user10 I'm so excited to see you
user16 he fumbled so hard
user4 we love you <3
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
â§Ë °. Ýâ âš . ÝË . Ýâ§âË . Ýâ âš . ÝË . ÝË°â§
liked by oscarpiastri, lilyzneimer, and 1,194,203 more
y/n.webber I understand that, without my agreement, @/f1gossip put out a post a week ago that said Oscar Piastri was cheating on me. This is wrong and I am in a happy relationship with both Oscar and Lily. He did not cheat on me.Â
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lilyzneimer I love you đŠˇ
y/n.webber I love you more
user7 đ¨
user1 I'm not even sure what to say
user12 I'm so sorry oscar we weren't familiar with your game đ
user3 I-
user6 in true bi panic fashion
user4 FUCK đ
user19 everyone say sorry Oscar
user2 sorry oscar
user5 we're sorry Oscar :(
user13 WE DIDN'T KNOW WE SWEAR
user10 sorry Oscar đ
user21 đđđ
user23 the @ is such a boss bitch move
user8 saying sorry to Oscar online isn't enough I need to revoke my statements in a court of law
user7 same
liked by lilyzneimer, y/n.webber, alexandrasaintmleux and 884,472 more oscarpiastri flowers for my favs đ
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y/n.webber my loves đŠˇ
lilyzneimer đŠââ¤ď¸âđâđŠ
user7 my favorite throuple
user23 as if you weren't hating on oscar yesterday
user7 and I am deeply ashamed
user12 we said we're sorry :(
user6 yea oscar x lily x y/n are cute but wheres mark x fernando x taylor
user9 as in swift? đ
user6 yes.
alexandrasaintmleux you three are so cute
y/n.webber <3
#đđđ'đ đđđđđ ๨ŕ§#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x y/n#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri smau#op81 x you#op81 x reader#op81 x y/n#op81 fluff#op81 fic#op81 smau#oscar piastri x lily zneimer x reader#lily zneimer x reader#lily zneimer#wag x reader#f1 poly#f1 poly fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 fic#formula one fanfic#formula one fic#f1 smau#f1 social media au
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๨ৠFEATHER ๨ŕ§
masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!
SUMMARY๨ৠBeing with Carlos was magical and always made you felt as if you were on cloud 9. But him breaking everything off so suddenly and moving on oh so quick? What better way than to show him what heâs missing than with all of your success.
PAIRING ๨ৠCarlos Sainz x Fem!Reader, very slight Lando Norris x Fem!Reader
WARNINGS ๨ৠI use photos of Rebecca and she will be mentioned in it in here but no hate what-so-ever sent to her! (hate on her will be deleted.), no exact fc but i will only use photos of sabrina for music themed posts and the crying story ONLY
A/N ๨ৠstill mad about the croatia vs spain game so iâm taking my anger out on carlos đđ. HOLY SHIT I DID THIS ALL IN ONE DAY!! NEW RECORD!!
1K EVENT MASTERLIST
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y/n_l/n has posted a story 10 seconds ago!
[1: WTF JUST HAPPEND?!] [2: well this is ironic.] [3: i hate men!!]
1,307 replies to your stories!
username1 YOUâRE ASKING WHAT HAPPENED?! WEâRE ASKING WHAT HAPPENED??
username2 DID WHT I THINK HAPPEN, HAPPEN??
username3 âŚthe smooth operator songâŚ? oh godâŚ
username4 THE BOOK QUOTE TOO???
lilymunihe girl. open the groupchat rn.
franscica.cgomes do i have to kill a man???
IMESSAGES
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y/n_l/n âď¸
liked by francisca.cgomes, lilymunihe, alexandrasaintmleux, and others
y/n_l/n oh i see how it is then.
2,094 comments
francisca.cgomes âď¸ hottie mcmommy
â y/n_l/n âď¸ dump ur bf so we can date and run off to the country side đ â francisca.cgomes âď¸ @ y/n_l/n already on it đââď¸ â pierregasly âď¸ @ y/n_l/n that is my girlfriend??? â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ pierregasly not anymore!đ¤
alexandrasaintmleux pretty girl đď¸ đ¸
â y/n_l/n âď¸ so shush youâre the pretty one đĽšđŠˇ â alexandrasaintmleux @ y/n_l/n thatâs not what the camera said when i took these photos 𫶠â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ alexandrasaintmleux 𫣠â charles_leclerc âď¸ @ alexandrasaintmleux đ¤¨
lilymunihe âď¸ ate
â y/n_l/n âď¸ devoured
username5 carlos fucked up big time letting her go đ¤¤
username6 what kika said was so real
â username7 FRRR
landonorris âď¸ i can treat you better
â username9 HELLO?? â username10 lando wtf are you doing here đ â username11 GIRLIE JUST GOT SINGLE đ â y/n_l/n âď¸ LEAVE RN LANDO đđ â landonorris âď¸ @ y/n_l/n doesnât hurt to shoot my shot đ
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carlossainz55 âď¸
liked by vinijr, sergioramos, djokernole and others
carlosainz55 rest and relaxation đ đ
1,297 comments
username12 why did you dump our queen đ
username13 IT WAS BARELY EVEN 2 WEEKS AND HE ALREADY MOVED ON??
username14 who is that woman???
â username15 guys start a witch-hunt rn. â username16 @ username15 IâM ON IT!! â username17 or we can leave this woman alone??? â username18 @ username17 no â username19 @ username17 no â username20 @ username17 no â username17 oh ok â username16 @ username14 FOUND HER BECAUSE SHE WAS IN THE LIKES AND IN HIS FOLLOWING. her name is rebecca and sheâs a scottish model! here is her username: @ iamrebeccad
username17 rest and relaxation my ass.
username18 how tf do you move on from a gf that fast
â username19 a word that starts with m and ends in y
username20 i feel like carlos is about to get some karma
IMESSAGES
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carlossainz55 âď¸
liked by iamrebeccad, carlitosalcarazz, racerbia, and others
carlossainz55 Australia is in the bag, all thanks to my amazing support! đŚđş â
tagged ; iamrebeccad, scuderiaferrari
2,386 comments
username21 and y/n wasnât that amazing support??
username22 no because y/n literally stopped her music career, arranged some concerts around HIM so she can support HIM.
â username23 she never had to do that tho⌠â username24 @ username23 but she did. and she was amazing support.
username25 sheâs cute and i wish them the best⌠but i really hope that he doesnât do her dirty just like what he did with y/n.
*âĽď¸ by @ y/n_l/n!*
â username25 UHM⌠Y/N LIKED MY COMMENT?? â username29 @ username25 sheâs here to support the girls not the men that did her and others dirty. â username26 @ username25 idk⌠the whole relationship gives pr â username27 @ username26 EXACTLY??? out of all the photos we see, sheâs the only one that seems in love :( â username28 @ username27 poor girl doesnât even realize sheâs being used for carlos and ferrari pr to make carlos back in the good books đ
iamrebeccad âď¸ so proud!! â¤ď¸đĽš
â username29 itâs been a hour and he hasnât even acknowledged the comment. poor girl.
IMESSAGES
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y/n_l/n âď¸
liked by landonorris, maddiezielger, bellahadid, and others
y/n_l/n might have took everything else, but left the keys to the villa!! thanks for the free trip with my girls â¤ď¸
tagged ; alexandrasaintmleux, francisca.cgomes, lilymunihe
2,406 comments
username30 HELLO??
username31 NOT HER TAKING THE VILLA đđ
username32 deserved tbh. you take that boyâs villa!!
charles_leclerc âď¸ where is my credit for driving you all around? đĽ´
â y/n_l/n âď¸ âŚwhoopsies..? â alexandrasaintmleux credit? mon amour you volunteered to drive us around đ â charles_leclerc âď¸ @ alexandrasaintmleux sorry, i donât trust anyone else to be driving you all around⌠đ â francisca.cgomes âď¸ @ charles_leclerc what being a dog dad does to someone
username33 HOTTIE ALERT!!đŁď¸ đĽ đ¨
lilymunihe âď¸ mwah mwah, dumping alex for you rn.
â alexalbon âď¸ yâknow i can see this right?? â lilymunihe âď¸ @ alexalbon even better â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ lilymunihe tee hee
landonorris cool water (itâs not the water iâm looking at)
â y/n_l/n âď¸ ENOUGH OF THIS LANDO đđ â charles_leclerc âď¸ youâre just embarrassing yourself at this point đ â alexalbon âď¸ mate đ
username33 the way she also looks so much lighter like a feather in the wind.
â y/n_l/n âď¸ lighter..? featherâŚ? hm. i like your thinking.
y/n_l/n has posted a story 26 seconds ago!
[1: back in the studio đ¤đ¤] [2: taking a small break] [3: tee hee stay tuned]
1,049 replies to your stories!
username34 OMG???
username35 Y/N IS BACK IN HER MUSIC ERA
username36 we hate you carlos but thank you for bringing her back to us đŤś
username37 LETS FUCKING GO??
username38 LETâS GO?
TWITTER
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y/n_l/n âď¸
liked by spotify, laufy, youtubemusic and others
y/n_l/n Surprise surprise! Listen to my new song Feather, along with my album âEmails I Can't Send!â đ¤
3,059 comments
username39 WHAT
username40 THE RANDOM ALBUM DROP???
username41 POSSIBLE ALBUM OF THE YEAR??
username42 miss girl saved summer single handedly.
â username43 âfine. Iâll do it myself.â
username44 ALKSHJDFLIAKDJFH:WIOH:FKWN
â username45 me too.
lilymunihe âď¸ AAHHH IM SO HAPPY!! SO PROUD OF YOU!!
â y/n_l/n âď¸ LILY!!! IM SO HAPPY THAT YOU WERE THERE WITH ME WHILE MAKING THIS đŠˇđŠˇ
alexandrasaintmleux my girl 𩷠your songs were absolutely amazing! so honored to be one of the firsts to listen!!
â charles_leclerc âď¸ wait, you listened before me?! the one who does music?! â alexandrasaintmleux @ charles_leclerc đ
â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ charles_leclerc alex is my special girl!! dw charles i still love you, my adoptive brother đŠś
francisca.cgomes âď¸ I COULD LISTEN TO IT ALL DAY đŤśđĽš
â y/n_l/n KIKA!! SENDING KISSES ALL THE WAY TO PARIS WHILE YOUâRE WITH THE FRENCHIE!! ILYSM đĽšâ¤ď¸
landonorris âď¸ congrats you muppet đ
â username45 lando not thirsting for once?? â landonorris âď¸ @ username45 hey i can be proud of my friend đ â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ landonorris đĽšđŤś
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y/n_l/n Iâm so sorry for your loss! What a wonderful first concert!! Thank you so much to everyone that showed up! â¤ď¸â¨
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spotify âď¸ songs of the summer??
username56 I WANT THE DRESS đĽšđĽš
â usernme57 itâs a need. not a want
username58 not even joking sheâs the prettiest woman ive ever seen.
username59 NO FR BECAUSE HOW DID CARLOS DUMP HER??
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â francisca.cgomes âď¸ crying. â alexandrasaintmleux @ francisca.cgomes throwing up. â username60 i love them all being so supportive đĽš
landonorris âď¸ need help removing that dress? looks sorta heavy.
â username61 aw hell nah man â username62 HE HASNâT GIVEN UP YET â username63 @ username62 HOW??? đđ â y/n_l/n âď¸ lando. the only heavy thing youâre getting is my heavy hand against your face â landonorris âď¸ @ y/n_l/n kinky??? â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ landonorris iâm not talking to you anymore wtf đ
username64 âI FEEL SO MUCH LIGHTER LIKE A FEATHER WITH YOU OFF MY MIND!â
â username65 âFLOATING THROUGH THE MEMORIES LIKE WHATEVER, YOU'RE A WASTE OF TIME!!â â username66 @ username65 (AHHHHHH)
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y/n_l/n You want me? I'm done. You miss me? No duh.
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landonorris âď¸ âŚso⌠dinner?
â y/n_l/n âď¸ fine. only so you can shut up. â landonorris âď¸ @ y/n_l/n đđ â y/n_l/n âď¸ @ landonorris ur such a dork. â landonorris âď¸ @ y/n_l/n and you love it đ
#f1 x reader#âďž user âł theyluvkarolina â#âďž smau âł theyluvkarolina â#formula one x reader#formula one x you#f1 smau#f1 social media au#f1 fanfic#carlos sainz#carlos sainz x reader#f1 fic#f1 imagine#formula 1#alexandra saint mleux#kika gomes#lily muni he#alex albon#formula one x y/n#f1 angst#f1 x female reader#charles leclerc#formula 1 fanfic#formula one#lando norris x reader
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âlike the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.â
summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.
pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.
word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)
tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.
cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.
note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.
YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. Thereâs a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journalâa whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.
Itâs only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm.Â
You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.
No.
You canât have.
You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers.Â
There is no way you are this unlucky.
Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.
Naturally, you end up screaming in frustrationâstartling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.
Bloody hell.Â
Not again!Â
Merlin, Morgana and Arthurâyou are not going through puberty a sixth time.
âOh, fuck me,â you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside.Â
Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowesâyou werenât necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due.Â
YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alleyâit could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident, Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the âlesser-breedsâ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors.Â
(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.)Â
Then, youâd woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chestâa scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console youâyou felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head. You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction.Â
It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.
Your second life was relatively longerâyou had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungoâs, after all. For the next thirty years, youâd been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your âfirst life.â (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams.Â
(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving armsâthey could not look you in the eyes now.)Â
Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. âThe hysteric fortune teller,â they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelveâbut whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You whoâd gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else.Â
(See? It must have been all in your headâa wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)
Youâre unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.
You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once moreâthis time, youâre careful enough to smother your cries.  Â
If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcasâs name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottomâs intertwined handsâit was nobodyâs business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and examsâalthough you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you. Â
(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)
You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past livesâfor the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes.Â
(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.)Â
And so, youâd kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparatingâa skill you wished that you had learned earlier.Â
On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemortâwhich ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.)Â
Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones.Â
âWherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,â you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lilyâbut more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.
(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)
A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback.Â
As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.
When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling.Â
There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.
After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight backâso you did.Â
Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even moreâbut you would not die helplessly again.Â
As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing.Â
You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of anotherâhaving grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else.Â
After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion.Â
For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.)Â
The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemortâs clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.
But for how long could you cheat fate?Â
Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and cursesâa few of Dumbledoreâs best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus.Â
There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent.Â
âYou look like youâve seen better days,â you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel.Â
Remus chuckled tiredly. âHavenât we all?âÂ
You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scarsâso violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold maraudersâa camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.
âItâs Peter,â he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. âHeâs been missing for hours. Please. I donât know what Iâd. . . what Iâd do if. . . if. . .â
You squeezed his hand. âIâll find him, Remus. Donât worry.â
True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. Itâs only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace.Â
âMary!â you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could.Â
âWhat happened?â you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. âPeter! Look at me!â You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. âYou have to tell me what happened! I canât. . . I canât help her if I donât know what hit her.â Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Maryâs pale cheeks. âI canât. . . I needâplease. . .â
Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. âI. . . I didnât want to do it.â
âWhat?â
âIâm sorry,â he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Maryâs neck. âI was so, so scared.â
âPeter, what are you talking about?â You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gazeâbut he was not looking at you, rather behind you.
The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.
An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater thatâd come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap.Â
(Damn it!)
(Damn it all to Hell!)
You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed youâve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh.Â
You could not take it anymore.
In your fifth life, you had sought peaceâor rather, the most beautiful mockery of it.Â
You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (âBut it did not work like thatâ, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.
A family.
A happy ending.
Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two.Â
You married a Muggle, to your parentsâ dismay. He was nice and compassionateâa distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity.Â
(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)
Over the years, you would have three children with your husbandâthree beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Averyâand you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers.Â
On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate.Â
Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear.Â
Let me die surrounded by my family.
At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.
And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.
TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering oneâyou who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesnât know why heâs particularly drawn to youâbut perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castleâbut even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you.Â
âWhat is it that they have taken from you?â Sirius wants to ask.Â
(What judgment has fate placed upon you soâfor you to cry each morning?)Â
There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background?Â
His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you.Â
There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall.Â
âO-Oh, was I?â Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. âSorry, I didnât mean to. . .âÂ
âItâs alright, really,â Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks Jamesâs hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) âWe all have those days.â
âYes.â You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. âExcept, it seems the days never end for me.â Â
Lily stays silent.Â
Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.
How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?
But Sirius Black is determined and unyieldingâwhat good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face?Â
He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you donât move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you donât notice the professor observing you worriedlyâher lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.
âHullo, partner.â Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for nowâRemus can live without him for one class. In his mindâa perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind youâhe figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company.Â
You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. âPartner?â you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voiceâa deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words.Â
âPartner,â Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagallâs directions at the front of the roomâbut noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoffâfinding the pout on your lips adorable. âIâll have you know Iâm a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this classâokay, maybe he could, but thatâs not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!âÂ
From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that youâre unimpressed by himâa first, but not a total setback.Â
He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. âReady to have your mind blown? Iâve been practicing this spell since last night. Thereâs no way Iâm getting this wrong.âÂ
âOh, Iâm Sirius Black, by the wayâat your service.â He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fitâjust as Lilyâs hand feels laced with his?
He doesnât find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Siriusâs grasp.Â
âAvifors,â you recite delicatelyâsuch a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave.Â
The figurine grows feathers and a beakâSirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof.Â
Heâs stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trickârather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliffâwhat is Sirius Black to do, but fall?Â
THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtimeâa coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new lifeâbut, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that.Â
Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their fatherâs. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fairâyou who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to beâall because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved onesâeveryone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)
Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek.Â
You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve.Â
(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)
âHow did I know Iâd find you here?â A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and youâve no need to turn your headâthe sound of Lilyâs bright cadence is one youâre familiar with. But, somehow, youâve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than youâve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one youâre permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lilyâs wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. âWe didnât see you at lunch today,â she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. âI figured you didnât want a bunch of whiffy boys around.â
Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. âAlthough, I must warn youâtheir pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying theyâd give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.â She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes.Â
You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. âThank you, Lily. Itâs sweet of you to come and find me.âÂ
She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. âDonât get too used to it. Weâre only just best friends, after all.â
A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. âAre. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?â
You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. Itâs a gesture you deeply appreciateâbefriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybeâjust maybeâyou are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)
âIâm okay,â you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. âI was just missing a few friends back home.â You remember the toddlers that you used to call your ownâtheir spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. âI donât know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,â you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. âThey areâermâMuggles.âÂ
âOh.â Lily nods, mulling over your words. âTuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.â She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. âSometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.âÂ
âBut,â says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, âuntil that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.â She offers you a mellow smileâa likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. âBesides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; theyâll want you to live truly and freely.âÂ
Her words sink deep into your bones, and you canât help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. âWise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure youâre only twelve?âÂ
Lily beams. âMum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.â
(âThe ones we love never really leave us, do they?â Sirius Black will tell you one day, when youâve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has beforeâwith all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)
Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. âIâm sorry that I cannot find you as you are,â you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. âBut I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.âÂ
(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)
You carry them in your heartâletting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, youâll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than thatâto be treated like a pawn in Deathâs game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.
You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp.Â
It is the most difficult farewellâand yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.
âTHE FLAP OF a butterflyâs wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.âÂ
This is a phrase youâve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, youâre crowded with their questions and worriesâbut you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. Itâs certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?)Â
âHow did it go?â James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule breakâthe five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well.Â
Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most loveâas no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head.Â
âWell enough,â you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyesâfor how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun.Â
By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungoâs twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you donât divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressingâalbeit, begrudginglyâthe dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain daysâwhich coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then youâd do it alone.)Â
Whoâd have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?
But one thing is for certainâthis is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger.Â
For todayâs session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present moreâwhich is easier said than done.Â
âAlthough, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,â you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as wellâyou feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest.Â
âWell, someone had to tell you,â says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, youâve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wifeâand in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)
Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapadesâincluding a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forestâhe is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old.Â
Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wingâfiguratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.
Youâre more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.
(âDonât do it, Sirius Black,â you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a âprank.âÂ
You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. âLet it go, Sirius. Itâs not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your handsâand you donât want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Siriusâand even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.â
âNot true,â Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. âI have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.â
âAnd Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,â you reply with a harsh glare. âNot in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.â With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. âThe times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.â
His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those whoâve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.)Â
But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Siriusâs eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, âThey are my dearest friends.â
While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his handsâhe is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each otherâs Arithmancy homeworkâyou two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as youâve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you canât envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not livedâand will never live through, if you have anything to say about.Â
A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins wonât be so pleased about that, though.)Â
But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise youâve received this year isâshockinglyânot the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frankâs relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentineâs Dayâcourtesy of James Potter himselfâthat the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one anotherâand he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise heâd find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.
The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned.Â
An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gesturesâbecause the Marauders donât do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your wallsâwith an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)
(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voicesâif they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.)Â
Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchenâtipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each otherâs touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooksâhushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) Itâs the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the roomâas though you are a jewel to behold.Â
It is one thing to know that you are living a life after lifeâbut it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby.Â
You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks youâre asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.
You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands.Â
(âLay back down, James Fleamont Potter,â you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though itâd personally wronged you. âDonât even think about getting up,â you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doorsâwhere Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.)Â
You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on youânone misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth.Â
You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. Heâll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his faceâsitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work.Â
(âSee that lovely creature over there?â Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you whoâs quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. âThey will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding worldâso watch your tongue, mate.â)Â
They are your limbs, the blood in your veinsâthe ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly wonât like that, eitherâbut this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.)Â
That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.
âI need to tell you all something,â you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyoneâs eyes. You meet Siriusâs gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on youâand only you. You reckon he notices the way youâre fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. Itâs similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the pastâitâs only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose thereâs no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they wonât look at you differently when all is said and done.Â
Marleneâs gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. âHas the mediwitch said something?âÂ
You shake your head. âThereâs something you should know about me.â
Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenonâlike the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle thatâs somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?)Â
âWhere do I even begin?â you ask with a shuddery breath. âIt might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldnât want to overwhelm you. So itâs okay if you arenât prepared to take this all in yet. Iâd understand.âÂ
âWhat one of us goes through, we all go through together,â Dorcas vows with her head high. âItâs not the first time weâve done this, love,â she says, looking at everyone else in the room. âWeâre here for you. Always have been. Itâs what friends are for, arenât they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.âÂ
You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. âI suppose youâre right.âÂ
There is no time like the present.
And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldnât, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)
You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.
No time like the present.
âWhen I first died, I was only nineteen.â Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. Itâs both exhilarating and terrifying. âDeath Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.âÂ
Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace.Â
âBut that wasnât the end,â you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyesâfeeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. âIf it had been, maybe it all wouldâve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.âÂ
âWhat?â Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. âBut how?âÂ
âI wish I knew,â you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. âI really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.â You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. âHave you felt what itâs like to be burnt alive? Thatâs what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungoâs. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.âÂ
Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her handsâthe harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug.Â
âI-I told you it was ugly,â you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. âWe can stop here if youâd like.â
âWeâre staying,â says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red.Â
âThen, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greybackâit was Greyback who killed me.â You intertwine your fingers with Remusâs, whoâs gone ashen from the reveal. âItâs alright.â
âThe bloody hell do you mean itâs alright?â James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. âNone of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or somethingâor anyone! This shouldnât have happened to youâitâs just too cruel. . .âÂ
âI know,â you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. âI know.â
Sirius exhales jaggedly. âWas that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?â
âNo.â You stare at him with regret. âIn my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.âÂ
Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second.Â
âBut in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,â you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. âI loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .â You let the tears drip onto your skirt. âI might never find them again, but Iâll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.â
You watch as Lilyâs doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave.Â
âAnd here I am now. The end,â you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes.Â
No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes.Â
You freeze in fear.Â
(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)
The room is suffocatingly quiet and you canât bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyesâso you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels.Â
They are right behind youâof course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)
âAre you angry?â You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waistâafraid to turn around and face them. âI would not blame you if you are.âÂ
âNo, not mad. Never.â Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. âMaybe at the circumstances. Itâs all so unfair. Iâm. . . Weâre just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I canât imagine how much it must have hurt each time.âÂ
You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. âThen youâll understand why. . . why you and Iâall of usâI canât be with you.â
Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. âWhat?âÂ
âDonât make this any harder than this has to be, please,â you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling.Â
âWhat the hell are you talking about?â Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almostâguilt instantly pools in your stomach. Â
âDonât you see? Everything is changing!â You exclaim, grateful that youâve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. âI canât protect you if I donât know whatâs to happen next! Iâd rather die again than let any of you get hurt.â
âThen donât!â shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. âI would rather die than pretend none of what I feelâwhat we feelâfor you isnât real.âÂ
âYou donât know what youâre saying, James,â you retort with a sharp scoff. âIâve no need for a relationship thatâs borne from pity or charity.âÂ
âPity?â Lily echoes incredulously. âYou think Iâve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that weâve been through?â
âAre you stupid?â Sirius bites back.Â
âExcuse me?â you shriek. âMust I spell it out for you? Iâm trying to protect you! I am cursed!â
âNot anymore than I am!â Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. âIf youâre cursed, I must be damned. Why canât you allow yourself the same grace that youâve given us?âÂ
You wilt. âI canât do it, Remus. I just canât. If I die again, and everything resetsâdonât you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?âÂ
Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he canât rip apart your fears for you?) âThen we will find you in that life. And every life after that. Weâll use a pensieve, or anything at allâjust so we donât forget.â
You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. âAll these things I know. All these lives Iâve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?âÂ
âThen do it,â Lily provokes stubbornly.Â
âRuin me,â James pleads raspinglyâa falter in his steps as though heâd get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. âRuin me as much as youâd like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.âÂ
And so, you choose them.Â
For there was never any other option from the start.
YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (Youâll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you shareâand the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the roomâRemusâs jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwartsâs newest professor.Â
Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, âRest now. Weâve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormyâs wedding.âÂ
Youâll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remusâs belly. âI love you,â youâll whisper.Â
Remus will say it back without hesitationâand you know the others feel exactly the same.Â
Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyoneâs knees and stomach. Itâs a little Harry whoâs three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more.Â
When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.
(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledoreâs cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)
a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.
#sunny's hp fics#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders angst#hp fluff#hp imagine#james potter x reader#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#remus lupin x reader#lily evans x reader#hp angst#sirius black x reader#marauders x y/n#marauders fanfiction#x reader#x reader angst
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Hi I love your fics and was hoping youâd like this request:)) I was thinking a fic with James x fem!reader where sheâs a slytherin but not in the stereotypical way that James and the marauders typically see them as. Sheâs not cold hearted or prejudice, rather quite friendly and very artsy. I was thinking an enemies to lovers where James just generalizes her with the slytherin she doesnât like so heâs not the kindest to her, but maybe she gets paired up for an assignment with Remus so James ends up having to be around her a bit and realizes she doesnât suck lol. Think he would definitely have to work for her affection after fumbling the ball so hard but im a sucker for a happy ending!
I hope this sounds like something youâd enjoy writing, if not thatâs totally ok tooâ¤ď¸
Masterpiece
James Potter x Slytherin!Reader
Summary: (see above) James Potter goes a little too far with a girl everyone happens to like.
AN: I am so sorry this took so long! I hope you enjoy it <3
CW: not proof read, use of {Y/N}, Jealous and Stupid James, sexual implied ending, Protective salty Remus, self indulgent, cursing, very slight angst, fem reader, not cannon complacent, sexual innuendo,
WC: ~9k
The sky was overcast and the wind was blowing rapidly, causing your sleeves to billow as the very stool you perched on teetered from side to side. You grabbed the seat and tried to steady your perch, holding up your paint brush away from your portrait as the creamy white shade dripped down on your bare legs.Â
Dressed in casual clothes, your paint stained denim short overalls and a striped shirt that hid evidence of handprint smears from your absentminded messes. Sleeves rolled up to show your speckled skin already decorated with splotches of white and browns, fresh hazy grays that resembled the foggy ground of Hogwarts and its students.Â
â{Y/N} {L/N}?â A voice so calm and careful called out from behind you. You turned and smiled on instinct, your eyes landing on the tall figure. He was also in more casual clothes, a brown cable knit sweater vest over a simple white button down shirt. He was holding up a piece of paper to his eyes before he put it in his pocket. Smiling so kindly, where the corners of his eyes crinkled and his scarred lip curled up to reveal perfectly uneven teeth.
Ballet white.
âRemus Lupin?â You called out to him and he chuckled, taking a few long steps to stand beside you.Â
âYou were meant to wait for me, you know.â He teased and slipped his hands in his pockets.
âYeah, I know, I know. But this was the perfect time for it.â You lifted your hands to gesture to the sky and he looked around to try and find what exactly made this 'perfect.â
âHowâd you even manage to get in here?â He quizzed and took a seat on the railing. Looking around at the castle grounds from the top of RavenClawâs tower, you got the perfect view of the astronomy tower, what you were currently painting.Â
âThere wasn't much convincing involved. Barty Crouch walked me up here.â You smirked and he looked bewildered.
âYou know Crouch?âÂ
âYeah, I do.â
Remus furrowed his brow as he tried to piece together how he hadn't heard of you before. Seeing as he was meant to be escorting you two and from each Hogwarts house for your own personal study, it seemed unlikely he wouldn't of known of you, getting this particular form of special treatment from the headmaster himself.
Remus walked around you and took a peak at what you were painting. The air so familiar, and comforting, both of you had forgotten you had just met.
âWhat are you painting?â
âMagical paintings.â You hummed and he furrowed his brow further.
âDon't you usually need a subject?â
âTraditionally.â You muttered and gestured for him to sit down. He listened almost instantly, sitting down on the floor next to you, laying his crutch across his lap. After a moment of pause you shrugged and set your paint aside, shifting to sit beside him on the floor, making him chuckle.
âDo you know how they work?â
âNot a clue.â He shifted to sit and face you fully. Both of you crossed your legs, like tots ready to swap unearthing secrets in the school yard.Â
âWell. What you're thinking of is magical portraits. The art of bringing the life of the subject to the painting.â You declared almost breathless. âBut that's amature work.âÂ
He gave a delighted and startled laugh at your bold declaration, but it didn't impede you.
âThe true magic is being able to bring life that isn't visible to the naked eye, to visual art forms.â You declared and gestured to your painting. Remusâs eyes flickered up and widened a bit. You gave an excitable bright smile as you both watched the misty fog in your painting shift, the faint stars in the background twinkle against the backdrop, and even the few faint sketches of students within the distant tower moving about.Â
âWoah.â He whispered and you nodded eagerly.Â
âIsn't it inspiring?âÂ
âIt is.â He agreed instantly before he looked back at you. âBut, doesn't it typically take magic from the subject for it to work effectively? How does this work?â
âWell, don't you think Hogwarts is possibly the most magical place in the world?â You argued and he chuckled at how easily you brushed off the question.Â
Of course, no one truly knew how it worked. Not that the creator of the art method ever documented his findings. The only clear part of it was not everyone had the knack for it. You were lucky, since you were young, to be able to produce the art even before you got your magic.
You turned to Remus, who was watching with rapt attention.
âDo you want to try?â You offered, a mischievous smile taking over your features that looked startlingly familiar to Remus.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. âMe? Paint?â
âWhy not? You might find you have a hidden talent!â You encouraged, handing him a brush and a palette.Â
Reluctantly, he took the brush, glancing at the canvas as if it were a daunting task. Exaggerative hesitation to defile such a beautiful painting. You grinned, ready to guide him through it. Little did you know that in that moment, you had endeared yourself to Remus in a way not many people were able to.Â
For the next few hours, well after curfew, you and Remus stayed perched on the RavenClaw tower, as you instructed him on what colors and paints to use. He was doing his best not to âruin itâ, which quickly went out the window when, in a moment of playful determination, you covered your hands in black paint and began to stamp your canvas. Convincing him that you truly didn't care what he did to the painting as long as it was fun.
Finally, you both snuck out of the RavenClaw tower as quietly as possible, trying not to wake anyone. Leading to you two in the halls, laughing and joking as he carried your canvas for you.Â
âSo, you're self taught?â He prodded and you nodded.Â
âYup! Have been doing this since I was.. four? Likely. My mother showed me.â You hummed and he gave a delighted laugh.Â
âReally? So you're studying in your free time?â
âMhm! It's not something that can really be.. taught. So Hogwarts doesn't have classes on it quite yet.â You waved your hand vaguely and he nodded.Â
âYou're telling me this now, after all that time trying? You got my hopes up, {L/N}.â
You giggled and he put his hand over his heart in fake anguish.Â
âI was this close to changing career paths, you know.â
âOh, I'm sure you were. I could see the headline now: 'Remus Lupin, Future Auror, Turns Painter After One Magical Evening.'â You laughed, nudging him playfully with your elbow.Â
He chuckled, shaking his head. âI think Iâll stick to Defense Against the Dark Arts, thank you very much. But this-â He gestured to the covered painting with a soft look. âYou turned this mess into something amazing. You're truly talented.â
âI know.â You sang and he laughed, nudging you.Â
âI'm serious, you know.â
âSirius? I thought you were his boyfriend?â
âOh Merlin, you're as bad as they are.â
You gave a laugh of your own and shoved him back. âOh, you Marauders? Please tell me you're joking.âÂ
âNo, no, truly. I think you'd get along. Gryffindor tower is next, right?â He prodded as you both entered the hall and stopped just before the dungeonsâ entrance.
âMhm.âÂ
âI'll see you tomorrow then?â He offered and held out his hand. You took it with a firm shake and you both said your goodbyes, hurrying over to the Slytherin common room.
~~~
âShe's quite fun, showed me how to match pallets colors.â Remus rambled on to Lily who gave a delighted laugh at how excited he was to show her his new found artistic ability. They were sitting on the couch together, and he was exposing to her why his newest sweater vest was absolutely ruinedÂ
âShe sounds lovely.â Lily hummed, Sirius smirking from his spot between Remusâs knees, looking up at him. Eyes closed as one of the werewolfâs hands tangled in his loches of hair.Â
âSo lovely you should just marry her.â Sirius teased and Remus glared at him, giving a particularly rough tug at his boyfriend's hair. Sirius giving a chuckle and biting his lip. âI see no punishment here.â
âYou-â
âWhose getting hitched?â James piped up from the stairs, jogging over and hopping onto the couch. Making the cushions bounce a bit as he got comfortable. âEvans, how can you let this happen? A Hogwarts marriage that's not our own?â
Lily gave a sigh and rolled her eyes, gathering her things and saying her goodbyes to Remus and Sirius, giving James the cold shoulder with a simple âPotterâ as he put his hand over his chest and sunk further into the cushions.Â
âShe says that name like it won't be hers someday.â He sighed fondly before he turned to look at the other two. âWhere's Wormy?â
âHe's on a date with a Hufflepuff.â Sirius snickered. âSome seventh year dude.â
âHuh.â James muttered and looked at the ceiling. âDidn't think he'd be the type to date older.â
âYeah well-â Before Sirius could continue, Remusâs head peaked up from the couch when there was a knock on the portrait door.Â
âThat her?â Sirius asked as Remus slugged out of his seat to get around his clingy boyfriend.Â
âLikely!â He shouted back and James tilted his head like a confused puppy.
âWho?â He quizzed Sirius and he smirked up at James.
â{Y/N} {L/N}, the artist extraordinaire.â Sirius replied with mock seriousness, adjusting his position to climb onto the couch. ��Remus has been raving about her all evening.â
â{Y/N} {L/N}? Where have I heard of her before?â James leaned in, his curiosity piqued. âOh! That paint girl? One who has been doing those weird paint studies around school?â
âYeah, thatâs her.â Sirius replied, grinning. âApparently, she's doing some self study. Remus was practically glowing when he talked about her.â
Jamesâs eyes widened with intrigue. âThatâs brilliant! Iâve heard whispers about her- itâs supposed to be absolutely mesmerizing.â
âI wouldn't go that far.â You interjected, stepping through the portrait hole just in time to catch the end of the conversation. You were slightly out of breath, having hurried from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor tower, your paint-stained overalls still evidence of your artistic endeavors from yesterday. Looking around at the beautiful common room. A very faded almost gray-green scarf around your neck.
Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch
The room fell silent as all eyes turned toward you. âI hope Iâm not interrupting anything.â You teased with a playful grin, glancing around at the familiar faces of the infamous boys. Sirius was looking you over curiously, with his typical sleazy grin, but James seemed absolutely slack jawed. After a moment of a wait you gave a small laugh, snapping James out of whatever trance he was in. Turning to look at Remus who had his eyes locked on your paints, making you smile.
His eyes flicked up to yours and he grinned back cheekily. âWhere should I set up?â
âOver here, near the window.â He gestured over to a small nook. You hurried over and set your things down. Starting of course with a small tarp to set up your painting area without having to worry about ruining the flooring.
You set up two canvas this time and Remus helped you, confused at first before you set another pallet and paint brush down. âAlright, my student. Do you remember what I taught you?â You teased and he laughed, walking over to pick up the paint.
âYou didn't have the bring this just for me.â
âOh I know, how great am I, right?â You teased and sat down. Remus was still getting used to your deflective personality. Shrugging as he sat down and watched as you worked. Doing his best to copy your movements.
Meanwhile, Sirius and James were watching the scene curiously. Sirius couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy at the attention his boyfriend was giving this new girl, and James was unable to get over the fading color of your scarf. His jaw clenched a bit as he watched Lily walk over to introduce herself, also somehow roped in by your charm and even sitting down with you two to watch you paint.
James leaned back on the couch, arms crossed as he watched the interaction unfold before him. The sight of you, animated and joyful as you explained your artistic process to Remus and Lily, stirred something in him. It wasn't just the way you wielded your paintbrush with such confidence; it was the warmth that radiated from you. You were a Slytherin, so obviously, but you held the room like a Gryffindor. You worked with the precision of a RavenClaw. You were patient and thoughtful with Remus and his questions, like a HufflePuff.
He didn't get it.
âOi, Prongs, you look like youâve just swallowed a lemon.â Sirius whispered, nudging James with his elbow. âWhatâs got you all broody?â
âNothin.â James replied, too quickly, his eyes still fixed on you. âJust⌠watching.â
Sirius followed his eyes and slowly smirked to himself. âShe's getting under your skin too, huh?âÂ
James glanced at Sirius before his glare locked back on you as you instructed Lily to take your paintbrush and gestured to the canvas he couldn't see. âWhat's her deal? Why's she so.. smiley?âÂ
The âas a Slytherinâ part came unspoken to both of the boys.
âYou know, Remus says she knows Crouch.âÂ
âOf course she does.â He muttered, eyes locked on the way you rolled up your sleeve and cuffed them. How you loosened your collar, and leaned down, showing the upper valley to your-
And suddenly the floor was a bit more interesting. He turned to look at Sirius whoâs lip twitched as he watched Remus rub his thumb across his cheek and smudge some black paint on himself.
â... Merlin, he's bloody fit, ain't he?â Sirius muttered and James gave a loud exaggerated groan.
âI'm shocked Remus is entertaining her at all.â James finally muttered and sunk deeper into his sheet like a pouty child. Sirius nodded.
James watched with narrowed eyes as you laughed along with Remus and Lily, his annoyance bubbling up to the surface. Without really thinking it through, he pushed himself up from the couch, making his way over to where you were sitting with the paintbrushes and palettes laid out neatly.
He made it look casual, like he was just getting a better view, but as he stepped closer, his foot "accidentally" caught the jar of paint water perched near the edge of the table. It tipped, and time seemed to slow as the murky water splashed all over your leggings that just peaked form under your overalls, staining the fabric a dark, ugly color.
"Oh! Whoops, sorry 'bout that," James said, not quite managing to hide the smirk tugging at his lips. His tone was just on the edge of sincere, but the glint in his eyes gave him away.
You glanced down at the mess, then up at James, and for a moment it seemed like the whole room held its breath. James just waiting for the snake to snap its jaws at him. But instead of getting angry, instead of snapping at him like he expected, you just smiled- a bright, genuine smile that made James's stomach twist uncomfortably.
"No worries, Potter.â You mused, brushing it off as if nothing had happened. "A bit of extra color never hurt anyone."
James blinked, taken aback. He hadnât expected that. He muttered something that might have been an apology, but the way you smiled at him; completely unbothered- only made his irritation flare up more. He turned sharply on his heel, stalking back to the couch where Sirius was watching with an amused expression.
"Smooth, mate," Sirius drawled, arching an eyebrow.
"Shut it," James muttered, sinking back into his seat, his eyes flicking back to you as you continued painting like nothing had happened.
---
Over the next few days, James found himself increasingly irked by you. No matter what he did, you never seemed fazed. He "accidentally" knocked over your brushes during lunch one day, scattering them across the floor. You just laughed, picking them up without complaint. He charmed your canvas to keep sliding down whenever you set it up, but you only adjusted it each time, humming to yourself as if it were all just part of the process. He even tried to charm the colors in your palette to mix into a murky brown- but you simply shrugged, saying something about it being a "happy little accident" and turned it into a whole new painting.
Each time, you just smiled at him, that infuriatingly calm smile that made James feel like he was the one being childish. It was driving him mad, and Sirius, for one, found the whole thing endlessly entertaining.
One morning, James was sitting in the Great Hall, absently poking at his breakfast, when he heard a determined set of footsteps approaching. He looked up just in time to see you standing over him, hands on your hips, your eyes sharp. If James was a smarter boy, he would of been able to see the faint red rims around your eye sockets and the twitch of your lip.
"Potter.â You huffed, your voice carrying just enough edge to catch the attention of the surrounding students. "Give it back."
James blinked, feigning innocence. "Give what back?"
"Don't play dumb.â You snapped, leaning over the table, your face inches from his. "My paintbrush. The one with the silver handle. I know you took it."
James opened his mouth to deny it, but the look in your eyes made him hesitate. There was something different today- a fire that hadnât been there before. He was finally getting a reaction from you. He felt his resolve waver, and before he could stop himself, he found his hand reaching into his robes, to pull out the paintbrush in question. Only.. it wasn't there.
James blinked, his smirk faltering as he patted the pocket where he thought heâd stashed your paintbrush. It wasnât there. A pang of unease settled in his chest as he searched through the other pockets of his robes, the smirk fading completely as he came up empty-handed.
âAre you kidding me?â You straightened, your eyes narrowing. âPotter, donât play games right now. That brush⌠itâs important to me.â
There was a crack in your voice, something raw that caught James off guard. The confidence you always carried seemed to waver, your voice betraying a vulnerability that made James's stomach sink with guilt.
âI⌠I swear it was right here,â James muttered, now frantically checking every inch of his robes, his face growing paler with each empty pocket. The students around them had grown quiet, sensing the sudden seriousness of the situation.
Remus was glaring daggers into his very soul, even Sirius hid his face away in his hand.
You stood there, arms crossed tightly over your chest, your lips pressed together as you fought to maintain composure. You looked away from him, swallowing hard. âPotter, that was my motherâs. She gave it to me beforeâŚâ You trailed off, your voice breaking slightly before you cleared your throat, trying to regain control.
Jamesâs heart sank. He hadnât known. He hadnât thought. All heâd wanted was to rile you up, to see you react. He hadnât meant for this.
âAlright,â He said quickly, standing up from the table. His voice was more earnest now, the usual cockiness gone. âIâll help you find it. It must have fallen out somewhere. Letâs go check my dorm.â
You didnât say anything, just nodded stiffly, blinking rapidly as you turned on your heel and started walking, James trailing after you. The Great Hall was eerily quiet as they left, whispers following in their wake.
âShe's too damn nice.â Remus muttered and Sirius sighed. About to say something, before he earned a glare from Remus too.Â
Lily tutted. âAs if you weren't involved in anything he's done to her so far.â
~~~
The walk to the Gryffindor common room felt like it took forever, the silence between the two of you heavy. James kept glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, the way your jaw was clenched, the way you kept your eyes straight ahead, refusing to meet his gaze.
When they reached the boys' dormitory, James immediately began tearing through his things, searching every nook and cranny. He pulled open drawers, checked under his bed, even rummaged through the pockets of his other robes. But the paintbrush was nowhere to be found.
He turned to you, his hands dropping to his sides in defeat. âI⌠Iâm so sorry, {Y/N}, I canât find it. Maybe it fell somewhere else, maybe-â
âStop,â You cut him off, your voice barely a whisper. Your eyes were glassy, tears welling up as you looked at him. The fight youâd been trying to keep inside seemed to crumble all at once, your shoulders sagging as you sank down onto the edge of his bed. âItâs gone, isnât it?â
James stared at you, his heart aching at the sight of you like this. Heâd never imagined heâd see you cry, and knowing he was the cause of it made him feel worse than he ever thought possible. Suddenly all those weeks of trying to get under your skin seemed more of a success, if this was the result of a truly damaging prank.
âIâŚâ He didnât know what to say, how to fix this. He knelt down in front of you, his voice gentle. âIâll find it, I promise. Iâll look everywhere, IâllâŚâ
You shook your head, a tear slipping down your cheek. âItâs not just a paintbrush, Potter. It was hers. It was all I had left of her.â
Jamesâs chest tightened, and he reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on your knee. âIâm so sorry. I⌠Iâll do whatever it takes to make it up to you. Iâll find it. I swear I will.â
You looked down at his hand, then back at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of pain and exhaustion. âJust⌠donât,â You whispered, your voice breaking. âDonât make promises you canât keep, Potter.â
And with that, you stood up, wiping at your eyes as you turned and left the dormitory, leaving James there, staring after you, feeling more helpless than he ever had before.
~~~
James had never felt guilt like this. It gnawed at him, making his usual swagger feel empty. Over the next few days, he found himself constantly scanning the corridors, the classrooms, even the common rooms, hoping to catch a glimpse of you but you were always just out of reach. Each time he spotted you, you either turned and walked the other way or simply looked right through him as if he didn't exist.
It wasn't long before the whole school knew what had happened. How James Potter had lost something precious of yours, something irreplaceable. And unlike other times, where his mischief had earned him admiration or laughter, this time he received disapproving glares and whispers behind his back. How he hurt the only Slytherin everyone seemed to adore. Even Remus had given him the cold shoulder for a while, and Lily refused to talk to him outright.
One day, after Transfiguration, James caught sight of you slipping out of the classroom. He hurried to catch up, weaving through the crowd of students, his heart pounding in his chest. When he finally reached you, he touched your arm gently.
â{Y/N}, please, just give me a second.â
You turned slowly, your eyes meeting his. There was a guardedness there that hadnât been before, a wall that you had built between yourself and him. It hurt more than James could put into words.
Even then, you took time to notice; Cinnamon Brown in his eyes.
 James Potter was used to rejection, Lily Evans ran him like it was a damned sport, but something about your usually positive beaming face turning to a frown at the sight of him wrecked him.
âWhat do you want, Potter?â You asked, your voice tired, as if dealing with him was just another chore.
He swallowed, struggling to find the right words. âIâm sorry. Really. I never meant for things to go this far. Iâve been looking for your brush, I swear it. I⌠I just want to make it up to you.â
You sighed, crossing your arms over your chest. âThereâs nothing you can do, alright? Just leave it, Potter.â
âBut-â
âNo,â You said firmly. âI donât want anything to do with you. Youâve done enough. I- I thought you were funny, that you could tell a good joke. Take one too. But this- no. No, just leave me be, Potter.â
James flinched at your words, the finality of them cutting deeper than he expected. He watched as you turned and walked away, the distance between you growing with every step.
~~~
James's heart sank deeper with each day that passed without a sign of the lost paintbrush. He had scoured the castle, enlisted the help of some of his housemates, and even tried asking around discreetly in other houses, but to no avail. It was as if the brush had vanished into thin air, leaving behind a growing rift between him and you.
Sitting in the Gryffindor common room, James slumped on a couch, staring blankly at the fire crackling in the hearth. Sirius and Remus were there too, the latter still showing signs of his displeasure over the whole ordeal.
"I messed up, didn't I?" James murmured, not really expecting an answer.
"You did.â Remus deadpanned, not looking up from his book. "And you know it's not just about the brush. It's about how you've been treating her from the start."
Sirius, lounging with his back against the armrest, watched James closely. "You've been a right prat, Prongs- even I gave in after the first prank.â He remarked and avoided Remusâs slight glare. âYou didn't just step on her toes, you danced the bloody Tango on them."
James sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I just wanted to get a rise out of her, see her react. But now... I can't stop thinking about how I made her feel. It's like I'm seeing myself for the first time and it's not a pretty picture."
"Sounds like you've got it bad," Sirius said with a smirk.
Remus closed his book, finally giving James his full attention, not exactly happy with what he was hearing. "It's not just guilt, James. It's empathy. You're finally understanding the impact of your actions on others."
James looked from Sirius to Remus, the realization slowly dawning on him. "It's not like I like her. She's just.. pretty. You know, I hate to see a pretty face so upset.â He scoffed and looked back to Sirius who arched his eyebrow and smirked wider as he realized his remark wasn't as playful as he intended.
âThat right?â Sirius pushed and James huffed.Â
âThatâs right.â
âWhen was the last time you bothered poor Evans?â Sirius challenged and Remus gave a low groan. Great, James just couldn't leave his friends alone.Â
He watched in a bit of sympathy as the dumb boys jaw slowly went limp and his eyes widened. âMerlin, I think I like her.â He mumbled in absolute dread. âLike really like her. And I've gone and ruined it before it could even start."
"Well, you can't undo what you've done, but you can start making amends," Remus advised, a softer tone replacing his earlier reprimand.
"How? She doesnât even want to see me," James lamented.
"Give her time and show her you've changed.. And Merlin, don't do this just to win her over." Remus huffed.
James pondered, his gaze drifting toward the flickering fire. "What if she never forgives me?"
"Then youâll learn a valuable lesson in respect, won't you?" Remus said sternly. "You can't force forgiveness, James. All you can do is prove that you're better than your worst mistake."
âDoes Merlin speak straight through you?â James muttered to Remus who swatted him with the book across his lap, before standing.Â
âI need new friends.â He mumbled as he walked away.
Sirius laughed and James pouted, sinking back into the cushions of the couch. Pondering what would be the next best move when earning your forgiveness. He could live with never being with you, he always found the concept of lost love romantic.Â
What he couldn't do was live knowing he hurt you without even trying for your forgiveness.
~~~
For the next few weeks, Hogwarts transformed into an entirely different realm for James. Determined to right his wrongs, he threw himself into the role of a repentant suitor with the zeal of a true 70s romantic hero; one who was more often clumsy than charming.
One morning at breakfast, armed with an armful of apology notes penned in his best handwriting (which still looked suspiciously like chicken scratch), James tried to navigate the treacherous waters of your friendsâ skepticism and Bartyâs disdain. He handed out his notes, his voice tinged with hopeful earnestness that made a few of your friends stifle their giggles. âCould you- um, would you make sure {Y/N} gets these? Theyâre, well, important.â His cheeks flamed red as he stumbled over his words, but the sincerity in his eyes earned him a few nods. The stuttering and foolish boy even earning a smile from Pandora Rosier who assured him she'd âdo her best.â
He was getting desperate, at every shred of attention you spared him. During potions class, James attempted to be your knight in shining armor, which, predictably, went about as well as a troll in a ballet shop. When he noticed you struggling to reach a vial of newt eyes on a high shelf, he leapt up, nearly knocking over his own cauldron in his eagerness to assist. âAllow me!âÂ
But his overly enthusiastic grab sent the vial spinning into the air, only to crash down right next to Slughornâs feet, splattering the hem of his robes with an unsightly goo.Â
âSorry, Professor!â James winced, while you suppressed a snicker at the sheer absurdity of his gallantry. Graveling even as he was sentenced to detention.
Now, James knew that if he wanted to be truthful with you it started with his behaviors. Which, started with him being truly himself. So, much to Remusâs annoyance, James turned to grander gestures.Â
He managed to convince the house elves to let him borrow the kitchens for an evening to bake you a peace offering. Armed with sugar, flour, and an overabundance of misplaced confidence, he set about creating what he envisioned would be a culinary masterpiece. The result was a lopsided cake with icing that read, "Forgive me?" in wobbly letters. Only, half of the cake was callapsed, making it seem much more like a command of âgive meâ.Â
He presented it to you during dinner, his hands shaking slightly as he placed it on the table. The entire Great Hall watched in anticipation as you took a bite. The cake was oddly salty, but when your lips twitched into a reluctant smile, James felt a surge of pure elation. Maybe, just maybe, his efforts were thawing your icy regard.
He even tried serenading you one evening in the common room, guitar in hand- a skill he had hastily learned over the past week. His voice cracked more than once, and the guitar was slightly out of tune, but he sang with such heartfelt passion that even the portraits along the walls seemed to listen in. He crooned to you, mangling the melody as he went. You watched, half-amused and half-astonished, as this boy whoâd never shown an interest in music before butchered the song with endearing enthusiasm. Everyone in your common room appalled.
Through it all, James's exploits became the talk of Hogwarts. Whispers followed him everywhere- some mocking, others admiring. Some even amused that his attention had switched from Lily Evans, to you after years of pining. But beneath the laughter and the rumors, a thread of respect grew among his peers. Here was James Potter, chasing redemption as doggedly as heâd once chased after mischief.
Late one night, as James sat by the fire reflecting on his recent life choices, Sirius plopped down next to him, slinging an arm over his shoulders. âProngs, youâre a bleeding heart wrapped in a jesterâs cloak,â Sirius shook his head with a grin.
James laughed, running a hand through his tousled hair. âI just need to know she forgives me, Padfoot. That Iâve made things right.â
âWell, mate, at the very least, youâve given the whole school a good show,â Sirius chuckled. âAnd who knows? Maybe our little Slytherin is writing her own notes now; âHow to Tame Your Marauderâ or something more poetic.â
James smiled, gazing into the flickering flames, hopeful and a bit wiser. In his quest to win your forgiveness, heâd stumbled across something unexpected. Something worth it. Not just you, but a desire- no, need- to better himself. Every time he saw you smile, made you laugh, roll your eyes, he wanted to be someone better. Someone who deserved to find themselves feeling the magic of being in love with a girl like {Y/N} {L/N}.
And maybe he'd even find himself worthy of her affection in return.
~~~
It all came to a head one day when he was scouring the school once again for your paintbrush. He had lost track of time in his mindless routine and forgotten about potions class. He was a half hour late, dashing into the classroom in a ruffled mess.
His breathless arrival didnât go unnoticed, especially by you, who eyed him warily from your spot at the potions bench. Professor Slughorn eyed him with a mixture of irritation and curiosity.Â
âMr. Potter, so kind of you to join us,â Slughorn boomed, sarcasm heavy in his tone. âTwenty points from Gryffindor for your tardiness, it's almost as if you left to miss my instruction specifically.âÂ
James grimaced but still tried to flash his playful smile that usually meant a clap back or snark. Instead, it was his form of a hesitant apology. âSorry Professor-â
âI am not going over the instructions for Amortentia a third time today, is anyone willing to assist Mr. Potter?â Slughorn announced form the front of the class. There was a long moment of silence. Even with everyone slowly growing fond of him, no one was willing to drag down such an important project for the foolish boy.
Then, from across the room, your voice cut through the tension. "I can help him, Professor," you said, your voice calm but with an edge that didnât entirely mask your reluctance. Everyone's heads turned towards you, including a visibly surprised James.
"Very well, {Y/N}. Please ensure Mr. Potter catches up without disrupting the rest of the class," Slughorn replied with a nod, turning back to his notes.
James approached your bench, a mix of gratitude and nervousness evident on his face. As he took the seat next to you, he whispered, "Thank you, I really mean it."
As James settled beside you at the potions bench, his hands fumbled slightly with the equipment. Slughorn, having returned to the front of the class, continued with his lecture, oblivious to the dramatic love story unfolding at the back.
James cleared his throat softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "Really, {Y/N}, thanks for helping me out here. I know I've been... well, less than admirable lately."
You didn't look at him immediately, focusing instead on measuring out rose thorns with precision. "Just start by adding these to the cauldron slowly.â You instructed, handing him the thorns. "And stir- don't let it settle."
As he followed your instructions, his movements were careful, mirroring the cautious tone he was taking with you. After a moment, you finally met his gaze. "You've been trying hard, haven't you?" You muttered, not unkindly. Your eyes drifting over his focused expression and having to fight a smile.
James paused, the stirring rod in his hand still. "I have. I want to make things right, not just with you but... well, I've been thinking a lot about things I've done. I'm sorry, truly."
You watched him, the sincerity in his eyes striking a chord that made your heart ache. What had you done to the famous James Potter? His efforts over the past few weeks hadnât gone unnoticed- it was quite entertaining. From the awkwardly presented cake to his out-of-tune serenades, his actions spoke far more than his words ever did. "I've noticed.â You whispered. "It's been hard to miss, really. Hogwarts hasn't been this entertaining in years."
A small smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. "I guess I've made a bit of a spectacle of myself."
"Just a bit.â You chuckled, the tension easing between you as the familiar rhythm of your banter found its footing again.
Encouraged by that sweet sound of your laugh and the pretty way your lips curled into a smile he just adored-, James continued, "If thereâs any chance I could, you know, maybe start over? Iâd understand if not but-"
"You're really laying it on thick with the humility, Potter. Itâs a good look on you.â You teased gently, turning back to the potion, which was now bubbling contentedly. "Let's just take it one day at a time. But, yeah, we can start with being friends."
James let out a breath he seemed to have been holding, relief washing over him. "Friends, right. And if you ever want to throw more paint at me, just say when."
"Be careful, I might take you up on that.â You warned with a playful grin.
As the class progressed, you both fell into an easy rhythm, the earlier awkwardness replaced by a budding conversation. James was surprisingly adept once he focused, and you found yourself laughing more genuinely than you had in a while at his self-deprecating jokes and clumsy yet earnest attempts at potion-making.
By the end of the class, not only had you two successfully brewed a passable batch of Amortentia, which thankfully didn't smell like sweat and regret. James had shown you a different side of himself, one that was humbly trying to make amends and move forward. And as you packed up your supplies, sharing a light joke about the day's mishaps, it felt like a fresh start was truly possible.
James took the chance to smile back at Remus and Sirius. Sirius seemed delighted for him, and Remus seemed hesitant. But it was okay, because you hadn't just forgiven him. You were willing to be his friend.
~~~
James slowly realised that being your friend was likely one of the best feelings he's had in a while. He thought everyone you had met were your friends, considering how sweet and lovely you were with everyone.Â
But he was wrong.
There was a crazy side to you that only a small few saw. He learned it quickly, that you were sweet, kind, understanding- yes.
But you were an absolute gremlin when you wanted to be.
James discovered this one evening when you invited him to join you for a late-night painting session- a tradition you shared with a select few. Remus told him about them, but he never really understood just how amazing it felt to have your full attention like this. He had anticipated a serene evening, maybe learning a bit more about your magical painting techniques. Instead, he found himself in the middle of a chaotic spree of creativity that involved more prank-like antics than actual painting.
How in the bloody hell had he not known you properly?
As James entered the room, he was immediately hit by a flying glob of paint. It splattered across his face, dripping down his cheek. He stood, stunned for a moment, before hearing your laughter from behind an easel.
âOh Potter, rule one. Never let your guard down.â You taunted and quickly hurried over to your canvas. Able to notice how the bright pink paint clung to his Jet Black hair.
Wiping the paint off with a sleeve, James couldnât help but laugh, feeling a spark of challenge light up within him. "Oh, itâs on, {Y/N}." He responded, grabbing a palette loaded with vibrant colors.
What ensued was a wild mess of laughter, artistic âattacks,â and impromptu paint duels that left both of you covered in every hue imaginable. Hindsight is 20/20- he shouldn't of worn his school robes. It was during these moments, dodging your playful ambushes and crafting hasty shields out of canvas boards, that James realized how comfortable he felt around you. Your laughter became a soundtrack he looked forward to, and your approving nods at his clumsy attempts at art warmed him more than he expected.
âIt's humiliating how good you're getting at this.â You teased from your perch on a stool, James chuckled and playfully flipped you off.
âSo much sass. And if I credited this to my teacher?â
âYou should, I'm bloody good.â You laughed, wiping your nose before sneezing away some of the wet paint you forgot was on your hand.
That night became a normal accurance, it was like you two never fought. You two would find yourself laying on a tarp full of paint. You were laying on your back with your legs against the wall, and he was sitting with his back against said wall. Both of you looking off into dead space as you both talked about the most random and ridiculous things; from the controversial taste of pasties to the value and control one had over each other's fates.
âYou know, everytime I come here, I remember why I've fallen for you.â
His words came out before he could stop himself. His jaw dropped at his own broken honesty, horrified that he had ruined the moment.Â
After a moment of silence, he looked down to see you smiling at the ceiling.Â
âIs that so?â
James swallowed thick and clenched his jaw a bit.
âYeah.â
âThat's awfully sweet of you.â
Your words were light, but they carried a weight that settled over James with an unexpected warmth. He watched you, admiring the serene expression on your face, highlighted by the ambient light that filtered through the scattered paint jars around you. He welcomed the twist of his gut like an old friend.
"I mean it, though," James continued, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as he leaned his head back against the wall, his gaze still fixed on you. "You make it easy to be myself, to be better. You've turned what started as a mess into something... pretty great."
âAnd isn't that just life?â You teased softly. âSappy, messy, and yet an absolute masterpiece.â
âIs that what you truly believe?â
âMaybe. Or maybe I just say what makes sense to me in the moment.â
âYou're a pain.â He chuckled and looked down, seeing your smile had grown tenfold. Your nose scrunching up and the corners of your eyes wrinkling.
James couldn't resist the infectious energy of your smile. It pulled a laugh from deep within him, a genuine, carefree sound that filled the room- he was screwed. "You're brilliant, you know that? Absolutely infuriating, but brilliant."
You shifted to sit up, leaning against the wall next to him, paint smears marking both your faces and clothes. "I'll take that as a compliment, Potter. Coming from you, it means quite a lot."
And that was all. James hadn't even registered your soft rejection, just relieved you seemed to accept him regardless. He leaned his head on your shoulder and you flicked off some stray pain from his nose. He smiled, all teeth, before he got up and forced you to your feet. Pulling you into a dance that made you cackle like a proper witch. And that was enough. To see you so bloody happy was enough.
~~~
James learned to share you quickly. With Barty always on your heel or Pandora hovering listlessly at your side.Â
He even grew accustomed to seeing you draped in the easy camaraderie of Ravenclaws and your fellow Slytherins, your infectious laugh filling the spaces you all occupied together. It was during these times that James learned to appreciate you in a new light- not just as a friend or a fleeting crush, but as a vibrant part of his Hogwarts experience.
It wasnât always easy, of course. The sting of his previous actions lingered like a shadow at the edge of his thoughts, a reminder of the consequences of his thoughtlessness. Yet, each shared smile and each shared conversation with you wove a new thread of respect and affection into the fabric of his daily life.
As winter deepened and the snow began to blanket Hogwarts, bringing with it the festive buzz of the upcoming holiday season, James found himself more reflective. The common room was often aglow with the warm light of the fire, students gathered around in cozy clusters, and it was here that James found a new sense of belonging. Not just as a Marauder, but as a friend among a wider circle that included you.
One chilly evening, as the wind howled outside and the frost painted delicate patterns on the castle windows, James approached you with a tentative peace offering- a sketchbook. Its cover was a simple, deep blue, but inside, he had taken the time to fill the first page with a clumsy yet earnest attempt at a magical painting. It wasnât animated like yours, but the colors were vibrant, a silent testament to his efforts to understand your world.
You accepted the sketchbook with a surprised chuckle, flipping through the blank pages before pausing at his painting. âThis is for me?â You asked, a softness in your voice that hadnât been there before.
âYeah,â James nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets, looking uncharacteristically shy. âI thought⌠well, I thought you could use it to capture the winter. I know itâs not magical like yours, but-â
âItâs perfect, James,â You interrupted, a sincere smile breaking across your face. âReally. Thank you.â
That smile, that simple moment, seemed to close a chapter on the earlier tensions between you two.
âOf course, it's not free.â
âId expect nothing less.â You teased and he chuckled.Â
âQuiddich. You never go to the games. All I ask, next week, come and cheer me on?â He offered and you couldn't up but laugh. âAre you asking for a lucky charm, Potter?â
âNot any Lucky charm. Mine.âÂ
~~~
The day of the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin arrived with the usual buzz of excitement and rivalry. The stands were packed, a sea of red and green as students cheered boisterously for their respective houses. James, his nerves on edge, had been secretly looking forward to seeing you in the crowd, especially after your promise to wear Gryffindor red. It was a small victory, but for him, it meant the world.
However, as he scanned the crowd from his broom high above, his heart sank a little. There you were, indeed wrapped in a bold, red scarf, but still cheering enthusiastically for Slytherin. The sight was confusing and, if he was honest with himself, a bit disappointing. Throughout the match, James tried to focus on the game, but his eyes inevitably kept drifting back to you. Each cheer for Slytherin felt like a playful taunt, and his competitive spirit took a hit each time.
Despite his best efforts, the game didn't go well for Gryffindor. Slytherin was sharp, coordinated, and relentless. When the Slytherin seeker caught the Snitch, sealing their victory, a wave of green cheers swept the stands. James landed his broom with a tight expression, his disappointment not just in the loss, but in the mixed signals you seemed to be sending.
The teams made their way back to the locker rooms amidst mixed reactions from the crowd. While his team consoled each other and talked about what went wrong, James couldnât shake off his gloom. He avoided the usual post-game mingling, instead heading straight for the Gryffindor common room, his mood as dark as the clouds above.
As he slumped into an armchair by the fire, the common room mostly empty due to the ongoing celebrations outside, Remus and Sirius walked in. They took one look at him and exchanged a glance.
âTough game, Prongs,â Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder.
âYeah. And I guess the whole wearing-red thing didnât mean what I thought it did,â James muttered, not meeting his friends' eyes.
Remus, ever the perceptive one, added softly, âMaybe thereâs more to it, James. Did you ask her about it?â
Before James could respond, the portrait hole opened, and you stepped in, still wearing the red scarf, your expression a mix of concern and determination. Seeing you, Sirius and Remus excused themselves with knowing smiles, leaving the two of you alone.
James, as avoidant as ever and riddled with emotions he didn't want to confront, stood sharply and turned towards his dormitory. You gawked at him before furrowing your eyebrows in annoyance, a pout taking over your expression. You hurried after him.
âWhat's wrong, Jamie?â
Oh Merlin.
âI don't want to talk to you.â James hissed out and shoved his way into his room. You huffed and shoved the door open and walked in, closing the door behind yourself.
âYou're not being very fair right now. I'm sorry I couldn't win the game for you but-â
âDo not make this about the win.âÂ
âWhat is this about then, Jamie? I don't get it!âÂ
âStop calling me that.â He hissed and turned to face you, making you flinch.Â
âWhat's gotten into you?â You pushed cautiously and James scoffed.
âI can't do this! I don't get you!â He strained. âI tell you I've fallen for you and you brushed it off. I ask you to cheer for me and you show up in red, cheering for Slytherin!â
âJames, it's my house.â You muttered softly and you saw his shoulders sag.
âYeah but- I just figured-â He gave a long shaky sigh. Turning around and sitting on the bed, running his hands over his face.
You moved closer, taking a seat next to him on the bed, your own emotions swirling. Even then you were able to take notice. His teeth were strained by his jaw, yet they held the same Ballet White. His robes shimmering with Burnt Scarlet and Butterscotch. His eyes that locked onto yours so vulnerable, giving that perfect Cinnamon Brown. Then the way his hair shagged over his Jet Black lochs. You couldn't look away. Not from all your favorite colors.
âJames, I wore red because you asked me to. I thought it was a way to show you that... that I care. But I'm still a Slytherin, and my friends were down there on that field too. I was cheering for them, not against you."
James looked at you, the frustration softening in his eyes as he processed your words. "I know, I know. It's just... everything got mixed up in my head. Seeing you there, in red, but not for Gryffindor. It felt like you were there, but not really with me."
You took his hand gently, squeezing it. "I was there for you, James. Maybe not in the way you expected, but I was there because you matter to me. I cheered for Slytherin, but I wore your favorite color. Can't I support both?"
James let out a small laugh, the tension easing from his shoulders. "When you put it like that, it sounds perfectly reasonable. I just... I guess I let the game get to me more than I should have."
"You're passionate, that's not a bad thing. But sometimes, you might see competition where there's just... affection." You offered him a small smile, hoping to lighten the mood further.
He returned your smile, this time with more warmth. "Affection, huh? So, you admit thereâs something?" James teased, trying to shift back to his usual playful demeanor.
"Maybe I do.â You teased back, nudging him lightly. "But don't let it go to your head. We still have a lot to figure out, starting with how to handle house rivalries during Quidditch matches."
James chuckled, his spirits visibly lifted. "We'll figure it out. As long as it means I get to see you in Gryffindor red, maybe I can even cheer for Slytherin once in a while."
"Thatâs a deal.â You agreed, feeling the gap between you closing as the misunderstanding cleared up.
Just then, the door burst open, and Sirius poked his head in, a mischievous grin on his face. "Are we all forgiven and friendly now? Because thereâs a victory party for Slytherin, and I was hoping to steal your girl for a dance, Prongs."
James rolled his eyes, but his smile was genuine. "Only if you promise to bring her back, Padfoot."
You laughed, standing up and offering James a hand up. "Letâs go then. And maybe we can start a new tradition- dancing together, no matter who wins the match."
James took your hand, standing and pulling you into a quick, grateful hug. "Sounds like a perfect plan."
Before he could pull away fully, you stole a quick kiss against his cheek. He gave a startled huff, staring at you with wide eyes. Before he could scamper out any response, or even kiss you back, you pulled away and sent him a wink. Hurrying after a laughing Sirius as he took your arm like a gentleman would.
It took James two to three business days for his system to turn back on. âH-hey, wait!â He shouted after you, stumbling over himself and hitting his foot against the bed. Giving a small curse before he stumbled back after you, not hearing the soft clank of something falling from between his head board and the dresser.Â
Later that night, you two would find your mother's paintbrush, nestled between his bed posts and pillows.Â
What were you doing in James Potterâs bed so late?Â
Experiencing a masterpiece.
#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#james potter#sirius black#Remus Lupin#james potter x you#james fleamont potter#james potter x y/n#james potter x reader#lily Evans
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The map - Remus x Potter!Reader
Summary: In which james gets suspicious about remus and his sister. marlene, sirius and lily cover up for them. ft. jily no warnings! 0.4k+ wc :)
Remus had tried making it a point of having the marauders map with him every time he snuck away from the other marauders to meet you, afraid of James discovering how often you two met up alone. His excuse? Well, it was his map after all. Just like James had the invisibility cloak, Remus was the primary owner of the map. And if anything happened, there was always Sirius, Marlene and Lily who all knew of your relationship and could try steering James away from the truth.
Today, however, James and Sirius were planning a harmless prank on a group of Hufflepuffs who they had made a silly bet with, and were using the map to plan their route to the common room. Sirius had been vigorously scribbling down some illegible notes and James's gaze had wandered, aimlessly scanning the map to watch the little name tags move around. It was only when he spotted your and Remus's names floating around near the library that he let out a little "Huh." Sirius's head lifted up from his paper to glance at his best mate, asking "You alright?" James nodded, pointing to where your names were. "They've been in the library for ages now." Lily and Marlene, who'd been facing the two boys, glanced up curiously.
It didn't take Sirius a second to cover up for you, stating "Well they're both really nervous about acing their ancient runes exam." James hummed in agreement, leaning back against the couch behind him, eyebrows furrowing in deliberation. "Have you noticed how much time they've been spending together recently?" James's tone was completely reflective, without a hint of accusation. Sirius shrugged, panicking slightly. "Kind of, I guess."
Lily hummed, trying to conceal any revelations "Yeah, they are pretty good friends." James sighed, looking up at the ceiling, missing the alarmed looks shared between his friends. "I wonder if they like each other." Marlene's nervous laugh had James glimpsing down at Marlene dumbfoundedly. "Them? No way!" She giggled, trying to cover her slip up before hurriedly going back to her homework. James straightened up, observing his friends' behaviour. "Am I missing something?" He questioned, squinting his eyes at the three Gryffindors. Lily looked up at him with a reassuring smile, standing up to round the table before plopping back down next to James. The boy instantly wrapped his arms around her waist, looking deeply into her eyes as she began playing with the hair on the base of his neck.
"No, sweetheart. 'S far as we know, they're just friends. But even if they weren't, at least it'd be someone like Remus looking after your sister, not some idiot." James nodded at Lily's soothing words, letting her take his mind off the topic.
"Yeah, yeah you're right. Maybe I should try setting them up."
#rainydayathogwarts#harry potter#gryffindor#james potter#potter!reader#lily evans#jily#jily fic#james x lily#remus x reader#remus smut#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin smut#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x reader#mauraders#marauders x reader#marauders x y/n#marauders era#the marauders#marauders fluff
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crush | lando norris
summary: charles pr manager is always looking at lando while heâs being interviewed and fans think she has a crush on him
fc: lily-rose depp
a/n: who said fanfic about THE MIAMI GRAND PRIX WINNER
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f1gossippofficial lando norris and y/n y/l/n (charles leclercâs pr manager) were seen partying together in japan after the race and were caught kissing outside the bar
tagged landonorris, yourusername
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landonorris broke my nose, won my first grand prix, celebrated with my one and onlyâ¤ď¸ nice weekend overall
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#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando norris one shot#lando norris imagine#lando norris fluff#f1 x reader#f1#formula one#formula one x reader#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x you#lando norris fanfic#lily rose depp#ln4#smau#lando norris smau#f1 smau#formula 1 smau#social media au#ariana grande#mclaren smau
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t.w: mentions of violence. if a gifted artist would like to bless us all with fanart inspired by this drabble, just know you will have saved my life.
thinking about knight!toji fushiguro who has gone completely rogue. he does not care for oaths or honor or justice, not anymore. he takes whatever he wants from whoever has it, with determined grit and merciless steel. who wears armor blacker than the night and rides atop a midnight stallion, its hooves striking the ground like thunder so you knew who was coming for you.
he was a god, a herald of death.
so they say.
but here you are, in his clutches atop his steed, and oh, how you believe everything youâve ever heard about him.
âso pliant for me,â he hummed, his hand around your throat, bringing the back of your head to rest against his chest. âwhat a sweet little thing you are.â
you knew better than to try and fight him.
his lips ghosted over your neck, the tip of a fang lightly grazing your skin, and you felt his chest rumble. you shivered, even though his cloak was warm against your shoulders. it sounded like he was pleased, and his strong grip around you tightened. you couldnât help but glance down at the ground, at the trampled bodies of the men who had tried to corner you, and toji tutted softly. his calloused fingers tilted your chin up, guiding your gaze away from the sight, arching your back against him. his green eyes peered into your very soul, and you had never felt more alive.
âsorry for all that,â he breathed out, chuckling, and you knew he wasnât sorry at all. âi tend to get carried away.â
you donât know why you said it, but you did. âitâs okay.â
toji barked out a laugh, burying his face into your neck, messy strands of his hair tickling you. his thighs pressed into yours, like he was trying to meld himself into you. his horse snorted loudly beneath you, impatient, its powerful muscles rippling.
âyes,â he murmured, more to himself than to you. âi think iâll just have to take you with me, keep you safe.â
and with that, toji sharply spurred his stallion onward, and the both of you disappeared into the shadows of the night.
Šstoriesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.
#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x y/n#toji x you#toji x reader#jjk toji#toji drabbles#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#toji zenin#jujutsu kaisen toji#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x y/n#jjk drabbles#jjk x you#jjk x reader#đ lilyâs imagination runs wild#just a quick little thing I typed up because I was inspired after watching lotr#and now i will be thinking about this for the next two weeks#YOUR HONOR I NEED HIM SO BADLY
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Will there be any smooches in ch 4 mayhaps??
there are now
#quick someone tally up the number of times the DA have grabbed or yanked y/n out of harms way and watch me do it some more#thats their Lois your honor#fnaf#post fire au#moon x reader#sun x reader#art: copper cogs rusted through#ask lily#fanart
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