#muggle's fanfiction

[mischievousmoony]

𝚍𝚘𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚣𝚎𝚛𝚘

⟢ frat boy!james potter x fem!reader ⟢ a guy makes unwanted advances on you at a frat party, and the president comes to your aid ⊹ 3.0k ⟢ warnings/tags: alcohol, unwanted advances + touching and sexist comments from another character, james gets aggressive confronting said character, american!james hehehe (not that it's explicitly stated)

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By your third visit to the crowded, beer-scented kitchen, your features have set into a deep scowl. You groan, slumping against the wall—only to immediately push yourself off, unwilling to let the exposed skin of your back come into contact with any part of the frat house you're in. Was the wall sticky, or have you started sweating from the heat of all the drunk bodies around you? Either option makes you cringe.

Tonight was supposed to be fun. Frat parties weren’t exactly your ideal night out, but your best friend had dragged you to this one with the promise of a fun time. But your night has quickly turned into a wild goose chase after she disappeared with some guy.

"Are you okay?" a voice calls from your left, barely audible over the music that's starting to make your head pound. You realize that you had started pinching the bridge of your nose. When you lower your hand and turn your head, you find a pair of kind eyes staring down at you.

He introduces himself as Todd after you explain that you've been looking for your friend for half an hour to no avail. With a sympathetic smile, he offers to help, which you gratefully accept. Anything to find your friend and put this dreadful night to an end.

"Are you, like, one of the brothers?" you ask, noticing the letters on Todd's cap as you follow him through the house, but it's a little too dark to make them out. Not to mention, you don't really remember which fraternity your friend even brought you to tonight.

"Nah," Todd shouts over his shoulder. "Not here." He doesn't provide any more information than that as he changes the subject, suggesting the two of you search the backyard.

"I thought the yard was off limits,” you shout as you speed walk to catch up with him. He’s walking so fast that you barely have time to consider why he would think your friend would be outside.

Stepping into the cold, he explains, "Apparently their neighbors complained about the noise last weekend, so they're trying to keep the party inside. But a couple of quiet people shouldn't be an issue. It's nice to be away from all the noise, eh?"

You shudder when the night air hits you, hugging your arms around yourself tightly and attempting to smooth away the goosebumps already prickling on your skin.

"Maybe if it wasn't freezing."

You look around at the back yard, finding it completely empty except for a thin layer of fallen leaves and scattered beer bottles hidden in the uncut grass. Todd is leading you straight across the lawn, farther away from the house and any source of light. You’re starting to get a weird feeling about this—and Todd—so you slow to a stop while he continues to head deeper into the darkness.

"Hey, I don't think my friend is gonna be out here. I'm gonna keep looking inside–"

"What's the rush?" Todd's demeanor changes when he notices you’re falling behind. He quickly closes the distance between the two of you again in two strides.

You release a dry laugh, realizing that you've been too trusting, and your tone turns serious. "I should really find my friend."

"You said she was with a guy, right? C'mon just let her have her fun." Todd drops his voice an octave, trying to sound seductive, but it comes across embarrassingly forced. "Maybe we can have some fun too."

When he reaches to touch the side of your face, your mood starts to change from a little let down and slightly annoyed to seriously pissed off.

"Don't," you say coldly, jerking your head away from his touch.

"Aw, c'mon," he continues to try to coax you, still somehow thinking he has a chance at convincing you. When his fingers graze your sides, you shout at him to keep his hands off, but instead, he slides them to your waist, holding you firmly.

"Let go!" you demand, planting you hands firmly on his shoulders and pushing. He chuckles at your feeble attempts, making you angrier, so you switch tactics. You wrap your hands around his wrists and pry his hands off, applying a pressure to the inside of his wrists that makes him release you with a hiss.

There's an angry voice in the distance shouting "Hey!" presumably at the two of you. You hear the steady sound of footsteps growing louder—one of the brothers probably coming to yell at you for sneaking into their backyard. You're a little too busy to care as you stomp away from Todd.

Todd doesn’t seem to notice the newcomer either. Too absorbed in the sting of your rejection, he starts getting angry too.

"Don't be such a prude," he snaps. He catches your wrist and pulls you back to him with a swift tug, spinning you around to face him. You draw your free arm back, using the extra momentum from the spin to your advantage as you punch him squarely in the jaw.

The punch throws him off balance, sending him stumbling back. His foot catches on an empty beer bottle, twisting his ankle as he loses his footing and crashes onto the grass with a heavy thud.

You stand above him, a little stunned at your actions. Todd is whining pathetically about the pain from the punch to his face, and the pain from the fall to his ass.

Someone jogs up beside you, and you can feel their gaze darting back and forth between you and Todd.

"Nice punch," he says, a little out of breath.

"Thanks," you reply flatly, only now starting to process that you—with the help of a beer bottle—sent this man tumbling to the ground.

"Alright," the mystery man says like he's about to get to work. He steps into your line of sight, looming over Todd for a moment.

He has a mop of dark curls spilling out from under a red baseball cap sitting backwards on his head. The cap matches his letterman-style jacket, which clings to his broad frame, drawing attention to his muscular body. Under different circumstances, this is a view you’d appreciate.

He bends down and grabs Todd by the collar of his shirt, roughly pulling him to his feet. Even with both of them standing, he still towers over him.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks Todd, his casual words contrasting with his abrasive tone.

"That slut just punched me!" Todd shrieks.

You roll your eyes. How pathetic.

He tightens his grip on Todd's shirt collar, using it to shake him roughly. "Watch your fucking mouth or I'll be the next," he threatens, and Todd goes quiet.

Your eyes widen at his sudden sharpness. Almost involuntary, you shift your position, angling yourself to get a clear look at the boy’s face. Black rimmed glasses sit lazily on the bridge of his nose, under his furrowed brow as he glares daggers at Todd. His eyes are big and brown, almost seeming out of place against the hard scowl carved into his features.

"Here's what's gonna happen," he continues. "First, you’re blacklisted. You’re never stepping foot in my house again. And what's this?"

He plucks Todd's hat off his head, inspecting the letters with a scoff before tossing it to the ground. "Of course. I'm sure nationals will be happy to hear about how you've conducted yourself tonight."

Todd's eye twitches at the threat. "Let's not pretend I was doing anything she didn’t want. Look at the way she’s dressed—flaunting herself, just begging for attention."

"What did you just say?" he seethes.

"James, c'mon," Todd says, revealing the name of the taller boy. He speaks with a nonchalance that makes James' nostrils flare, angered by his dismissiveness of the situation.

You begin to wonder how they know each other when James sets him straight.

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to? My friends call me James, you don't get to call me shit. The fuck do you think this is, man? I catch you in my backyard putting your hands on a girl who clearly doesn't want anything to do with you and you think you can talk to me like we're friends? I don't even know who the hell you are."

Your eyes must be bulging out of your head by now. It feels like you’ve been dropped into a scene from a movie—an expos�� on the dark side of greek life, or maybe the mafia. Not knowing much about either, it’s hard to say, but the backward hats and pounding music from the house quickly remind you of where you are.

James lowers his voice, his tone dipping into something almost menacing. "But I’ll find out from your brothers, and when I do, you’re finished here. Done. Now come on."

Todd flinches as one of James' hands clasps over the back of his neck with a sharp smack. There were some other guys you hadn't noticed before back near the house, to whom James hands Todd over.

Once James notices that you're still standing in the middle of the yard, he jogs back over. On his way, he takes off his hat, running his fingers through his hair to loosen his curls.

"Hey," he says in a soft voice, vastly different from the one he used on Todd. "Are you okay?"

The change in his demeanor catches you off guard. You exhale while you collect your thoughts, a steamy white cloud filling the space as your warm breath meets cool air.

"That was intense," you say. You don’t mean to dodge his question, but he did just switch from mafia boss levels of threatening to sunshine and rainbows.

James breathes out a laugh. "Sorry about that. Gotta be a hardass with some of these dicks, especially ones like that. Part of the job."

You raise an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, wondering what job he's talking about.

James reads your expression, and stands up a little straighter as he introduces himself. "President James, at your service." With an exaggerated wink, he tugs at the edge of his jacket, pulling it taut to show off the letters sewn over his chest.

You nod in understanding. "Well, thank you for stepping in, Mr. President," you say, a slight tease coloring your tone.

A smile like sunshine overtakes his lips. "No need to thank me, really. Anyway, you handled it pretty well before I got here. That was some punch—is your hand alright?"

You had forgotten about that. Splaying your fingers out in front of you, you inspect your knuckles. "Mhm. Fine. I don't think I can feel my limbs anyway." You wrap your arms back around yourself, the cold become almost unbearable in your tank top.

"Shit, yeah, it's cold out here, isn't it?" James holds his hat between his teeth, freeing his hands as he strips off his jacket. Your eyes linger on his toned arms for a moment too long, and suddenly his hat has made its way back onto his head and he's holding his jacket out for you.

"May I?" he asks.

As much as you want to say no, you truly are freezing, so you let yourself be draped in his warmth and the scent of his cologne. The fabric has an unexpected weight to it, almost offering a comfort similar to an embrace.

James rubs his hands up and down over newly blanketed arms to encourage some warmth into them. James studies your face with softened eyes, his tone taking on a more serious note.

"Hey, listen... I'm really sorry that happened to you. Everything he said, and did–"

"It's alright," you interrupt.

"It's not. That shouldn't be happening. Not at my house—not anywhere. I'm really sorry you had to deal with that creep. And if you wanted to take it to the school, I'd be more than willing to–"

"No, no. That's more trouble than he's worth."

James nods, respecting your decision. "For what it's worth, I'm gonna make sure he won't be allowed in any of the parties around here anymore. I doubt I can get him completely blackballed, but I'll do what I can."

You offer James a small smile in response. You're glad to hear that, really, but now that Todd's gone and that's all over, your main concern is finding your friend and getting the hell out of here.

"Why don't you let me give you a ride home?" he offers, almost like he can read your mind. His kind, brown eyes almost make you want to say yes. But after the night you've had, you owe it to yourself to be a little less trusting.

"I don't know." You bite the inside of your cheek while you decide if you should disclose your current dilemma. James does seem eager to help. Deciding to tell him, you say, "I was looking for my friend."

James is quick to offer his assistance. "Who's your friend? Maybe I can help."

You tell him your friends name and recount what she was doing when you saw her last. "She ran off with this guy. Long black hair, leather jacket, I think I heard his name but it was something... unique."

James sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Sounds like Sirius."

"Sirius, yes! That was his name." You're momentarily excited, thinking that James could actually help, but the look on his face squashes the feeling promptly.

"Yeah, uh," James scratches the back of his neck awkwardly, "Sirius left with a girl like an hour ago. About yay high," he holds his hand out to your friend's height. "Tan. Brown hair."

You sigh. Some best friend you have. Here you are, searching for her endlessly, and she's ditched you at the party she brought you to.

"She was your ride, I’m guessing?" The corner of James' lip quirks up in a sorry half-smile as you nod. "It really is no trouble for me to drive you home."

You tap your foot on the ground anxiously. You're really wanting to just accept his offer. He seems nice enough, but there's still a little voice in the back of your mind telling you to be careful.

"I just... I don't really know you."

"Understandable," James starts. "But... you kinda do. I'm pretty sure we have chem together."

"I don't think so." You think you’d remember a muscly, likely rambunctious, frat boy in your boring chem class.

"Okay, I was playing it cool,” James’ teeth graze his lower lip in a bashful manner. “I know we have Chem together—with Professor Brown? Tuesdays and Thursdays. You sit in the front row. Y/N, right?" James looks a little sheepish as he recalls your name.

You nod slowly, really looking at James for the first time, trying to place him. Then it hits you—you do remember him. He sits a few seats down from you in chem, always rigorously taking notes and asking questions you wouldn’t have thought of (but are glad to have the answers to). Seeing him like this, though, is such a contrast to the smart guy from class that you didn’t even recognize him at first.

You feel a heat creep up the back of your neck. You’ve only ever spared him a few glances, but you’ve always thought the smart guy from chem was pretty cute.

"Oh. Oh, right. I–I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. You're James Potter." You try the name on your lips, realizing the name didn't click because you had only ever heard your professor call him by his last name.

"That's me," he grins. "And don't worry about it."

You give him a nod, a bit awkwardly. He seems like a good guy, but you’re still not sure if you want to get in his car. "Well, James, I should probably just call an Uber or something anyway. I don't know if you've been drinking or anything so..."

"Oh!" James holds up a finger, stuffing his other hand into his pocket and pulling out a black rectangle. You mistake it for one of those big, clunky box vapes and almost want to roll your eyes. But then, James surprises you by blowing into it instead of breathing in.

The device beeps, and he shows you the little digital screen, previously hidden behind his hand, that reads "0.00" over a glowing green background.

"Haven't had a drop," he confirms. "I haven't smoked or anything else, either. Not my thing."

"Why do you own a breathalyzer?" you ask, a little dumbfounded.

"So I can breathalyze people," he shrugs, fiddling with the device—tossing it a few inches up in the air and catching it.

You raise your eyebrows at him, not satisfied with his non-answer.

“Sorry,” James chuckles at himself. "Uh, I have a lot of people leaving my parties trying to tell me they're sober enough to drive. I got loads of these ‘cause they can't argue with the numbers... as much as they might try to."

"Where did you even get that?" you ask. You can't imagine there's a very big market for personal breathalyzers.

"You can get almost anything with Prime delivery!" he says it like he's proud as he tucks it back into his pocket. "Hey, you want one? I've got a drawer full back in the house." He points with his thumb over his shoulder.

You laugh, shaking your head at his offer. James laughs along with you, his lips curling into a boyish grin.

Well, if you’re going to put your trust in anyone else tonight it, it might as well be the smart boy from chem who takes safety seriously enough to own multiple breathalyzers.

You start walking towards the house. When you don’t hear a set of footsteps following behind, you call over your shoulder, "Come on."

James catches up quickly, happy to be invited to join you. "Where are we going?"

"To your car so you can give me a ride home."

From the corner of your eye, you watch his face break out into a wide grin. And from there on out, there's an extra pep in his step as he leads you to his car.

When you're safe and sound, back in the comfort of your own room, you flop onto your bed with a dreamy look on your face. You hug the jacket closer to your body, thankful for the excuse to talk to him in chem on Tuesday. Little did you know, he let you keep the jacket so that you'd have one.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[ikkyfics]

What If It Was You?

dad!James Potter x f!teacher!reader

Summary: It all started innocently enough. James noticed how kind you were. But over time, he began to notice things he probably shouldn’t have. The way your hair fell over your shoulder as you wrote something on the board. The soft sound of your laughter. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at Harry. And for a moment, James let that forbidden thought take shape again: you at home with them, laughing, caring, belonging.

Warnings: muggle!au, suggestive, no use of y/n

Masterlist

The school gate was nearly empty when James finally arrived, the late afternoon sun tinting the sky with shades of orange and pink. He was late — again. The traffic, work, single father life… there were so many excuses, but none of them seemed enough when he thought of the disappointed look he might find on Harry's face.

He adjusted his glasses and took a deep breath, crossing the small stone path to the entrance. The place seemed incredibly quiet at this hour. He knew he should hurry, but his steps slowed when he saw you through the half-open door.

You were facing away from him, crouched down next to Harry, and the two of you were laughing at something he couldn’t hear. James felt a pang in his chest as he watched the scene — something he couldn’t name, but that grew with each passing day since you entered their lives.

It all started innocently enough. He noticed how kind you were, how you seemed to genuinely care for every child in the room. But over time, he began to notice things he probably shouldn’t have. The way your hair fell over your shoulder as you wrote something on the board. The soft sound of your laughter, which seemed to light up the room. The way your eyes sparkled when you looked at Harry, as if he were the center of the universe for a moment.

And then there was the damn ring question. James never knew exactly why his eyes sought your left hand, but they always did. Always. And every time he didn’t find a ring there, he felt a relief that left him ashamed of himself. But the shame was never enough to erase the relief. Today, however, a new and dangerous thought struck him. He didn’t just want your hand to stay ring-free. He wanted there to be a ring there. One that he had placed. One that told the world you were his, that you were part of the small world he and Harry shared. But then you looked up, and his eyes met yours. Reality hit like a cold splash of water. You smiled at him, that warm smile that made his stomach flip, and James felt as if all his thoughts were exposed in the air between you. “You’re just in time, Mr. Potter,” you said, your voice light and sweet, but with a teasing tone he recognized. “I thought Harry was going to demand I adopt him if you didn’t show up.” The sentence hit him hard, like an unexpected punch that left him breathless for a moment. Adopt him? The word echoed in James’s mind as he looked at you, feeling a sudden and overwhelming wave of thoughts he couldn’t contain. You adopting him. You, in their life, not just as Harry’s teacher, but as… something more. He blinked a few times, trying to process the whirlwind that had formed in his mind. A brief and intimate vision appeared, so clear he could almost feel it: you, sitting next to him at the dinner table, helping Harry with his homework. You laughing as Harry tried to explain a drawing he made at school. You holding a baby in your arms — his baby — with the same sweetness you gave to every child in that classroom. James felt the air getting trapped in his lungs, a heat rising to his face. He had never considered having another child. Life as a single father was already a minefield of challenges and surprises, and he always thought it would be enough with just him and Harry. But now… now he could picture himself looking at you with a mixture of fascination and love as you held a child with unruly hair and bright eyes — a perfect mix of him and you. Harry had already mentioned how he would like to have a sibling. And you would look beautiful. He knew that. He could see the image so clearly it made his chest tighten in a nearly painful way. You with a rounded belly, full of him, wearing one of those light dresses he thought suited you. He imagined himself placing a hand there, feeling the baby move under his fingers, and the thought hit him like an electric shock, making him avert his gaze for a moment, as if he could hide the intensity of his own desires.

“Mr. Potter?” Your voice called again, laced with a hint of concern, and James realized he had been silent for too long.

“Oh, of course,” he replied, clearing his throat and forcing a smile. He ran a hand through his hair, an automatic habit whenever he was nervous. “I hope he didn’t give you enough trouble to make you reconsider.”

“Not at all,” you said, and that gentle smile he adored returned. “Harry’s a sweetheart.”

James felt something in his chest tighten again, because he believed it. He knew how special Harry was, and knowing that you saw it too, that you treated his son with such care and affection, was more than he knew how to express.

For a moment, you two just looked at each other in silence, and the world around seemed to slow down. There was something in the way your eyes met his, as if a silent current of understanding and something more was passing between you. It was intimate. Warm. A spark he didn’t know how to extinguish.

“Dad, are you going to keep staring at her forever, or can we go home?”

Harry’s voice sliced through the silence like a blade, snapping them both back to reality. James blinked quickly, looking away and feeling the heat rise to his face. He looked at his son, who was staring at him with an impatient air, though there was a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

“Sorry, champ,” James replied, clearing his throat and letting out a nervous laugh. “I think I’m more tired than I thought.”

You laughed softly, and the sound was like music to his ears. “I think we’re all tired. Have a good night, Mr. Potter. Harry.”

“Good night!” Harry replied cheerfully, giving an enthusiastic wave while holding his father’s hand.

James looked at you one last time, struggling against the urge to prolong the interaction. But he knew he had to go, even though every part of him wished to stay just a little longer.

“Good night,” he said, his voice softer than he meant, before turning and starting to walk out with Harry.

As he left, he felt his son squeeze his hand and heard his excited voice say, “Dad, I really like her. I think she’d be a great mom.”

James stopped in his tracks, his heart leaping in his chest. He looked at Harry, who was staring at him with that disarming innocence only a child could have.

And for a moment, James let that forbidden thought take shape again: you at home with them, laughing, caring, belonging. He didn’t say anything, but squeezed Harry’s hand a little tighter, thinking that, no matter how impossible it seemed, he couldn’t agree more.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Good boy, Pads {Mini-Siris}

Disclaimer: This is a Poly!Marauders x Muggle!Reader fic concept, but it is mostly focused on Padfoot and the reader. {Divider Credit}

Summary: Long hours, late nights, and dark alleyways. Good thing you have a guardian angel looking out for you. {Aka: Padfoot protects a muggle reader on her walk home}

Main story:

🐾1🐾

🐾2🐾

🐾3🐾

Requested:

TBD

I will be taking requests with mini ideas that do or don't pertain to the main story. If I really like a request I might just make it into a main story beat, if you don't specify otherwise <3

All Taglist: @rory-cakes @sodavrr @ailoda @lalalandincraz @maraudersgirlie @maraudersgirlsposts @2dloveshp @moonjellyfishie @raevyng @hashbrownsoncrack @rentaldarling

Main Story Taglist: @lily-mylove @plk-18 @canthavetoomuchchaos @daydreamandforget @emerald-jade1 @lovelyygirl8

Just comment to be added!

[pretty-little-mind33]

Ice Hockey James Potter x fem!reader

Summary: You wait for your boyfriend after his game — In the same universe as Suburban Legends

Genre: Fluff <3

Warnings: muggle au, college au, swearing

JAMES POTTER MASTERLIST

You stand in the lobby of the rink, your arms are crossed across your chest and you're cursing yourself for only wearing his jersey instead of something warmer. Still, you smile. How can you mind when you can remember how happy James looked when saw you in the stands?

You pace around, waiting another few minutes until you start to become impatient. All his teammates have left the rink, which is something you know because you've counted each of their high-fives.

You have only been dating James Potter for a month now, but his teammates act like they've already taken you in as one of their own. 

"I didn't think you'd wait for me this long." you hear him. His voice is a little hoarse and he's rotating his shoulder around as he grimaces.

"Is your arm okay?" you ask, standing up and meeting him in the middle of the lobby. He was shoved pretty hard into the plexiglass and you look up at him, concerned. 

His lips curl into a little smirk, "Worried about me, Y/l/n?" He whispers and leans in close.

"As your girlfriend, I feel like if I wasn't worried then we'd have a problem," you chuckle and roll your eyes at his insistence to continue calling you by your last name. He says it's a habit but you're convinced he just likes to see you flustered.

"Come on I'm starving," you take his hand and try to lead him towards the door. 

"Shit," James groans, "I forgot my gloves in the locker room," 

You drop his hand and turn around, crossing your arms. "Are you seriously making me wait for you longer than I already have?" 

He shakes his head with a smile, "No. You're coming with me this time." It's his turn to take your hand and he practically pulls you to the locker rooms. 

"Jamie, slow down," you say.

Suddenly, you're pressed against the wall of the empty hallway as James's arms cage around your head. His hockey bag had fallen onto the ground and he leans his head downwards so that you can look into his eyes. His eyes shine and he's giving you the most obvious, "I wanna to kiss you," pout. 

"What are you doing?" you feign coy behind a laugh as he slides his hands down to the side of your head and cups your cheeks in his hands. He's so close it's incredibly intoxicating.

"Kissing you?"

You smile, nodding, and he leans down to kiss along your neck. His hips press into mine and you think I've finally lost all sensibility. "You drive me insane — you and my fucking jersey," he whispers as his kisses move upwards and his knuckles skim the fabric of his jersey near your breasts.

"You're the one who wanted me have it."

"Yeah, to wear around your dorm—not during my games," he says and his hands climb up the wall again as you look up at him, "If your plan is to distract me when I'm supposed to be paying attention to the game, you should know it's working more than it should…"

You grin and stare at him with wide eyes. You make sure to chew on your lower lip so that you're doing exactly what you know turns him on. "Seems like a misunderstood then," you say, "Still, I didn't think you would have a problem with everyone knowing I'm yours, James." 

Something snaps inside him and that's when he kisses you. 

It's raw and rough, but the way his strong arms wrap around you waist to pull you closer is gentle and you melt into his arms. Wantonly, you run your hand through his hair. The dark brown locks are slightly messy from being under his helmet and when James feels me pull on them, his breath jumps in his throat,

"Everyone already knows you're mine." He whispers and then continues to kiss you.

You pull him even closer and with his good arm, he wraps one of my legs around his hip. You're both so engrossed in our activity you, unfortunately, don't hear footsteps until, James's coach clears his throat,

James stops kissing you and carefully lowers your leg onto the ground. He hides you behind him as you turn around, his cheeks crimson from embarrassment, as you attempt to calm your internal panic. 

"Hey," James says, weirdly casual.

"Rink is closing, Potter. Go home." His coach says and you peek at him from behind James's shoulder. He sees me and sighs, "You too, Y/n."

"Will do, sir." James says. Quickly, he lifts his bag back onto his shoulder and holds your hand. You mumble a small, "sorry" as you walk by his coach but you don't think he hears you considering you can't even bear to look at him. 

Once you're back in the lobby, you bury your head in your hands, "I'm so embarrassed," you groan. James laughs and rubs your shoulders.

You look up at him and frown, "This really isn't funny."  

"Coach doesn't care. I promise." James reassures you.

"Why? Is this not the first time he's caught you kissing someone here?" you ask, sounding more jealous than intended.

James's expression softens and, holding your hips, he pulls you close enough to kiss your forehead, "How many times to I have to promise you I'm not, and have never been, a player?" 

You nod, smiling guiltily, "Yeah, I know. I shouldn't have asked that, I'm sorry."

"Water under the bridge, Y/l/n," James jokes and kisses your temple. He swings his arm around your shoulder, "I remember someone said they were hungry, shall we eat now?" 

"Wait, what about your gloves?"

James grins wolfishly. "Oh, those are in my bag, I just wanted to make out with you."

tags: @mischievousmoony, @sayitlikethecheese, @longlivedelusion, @fangirl-swagg (pretending like i didn't just forget this until now!!)

[cardansriddle]

Sugar - (tom riddle x fem!muggle!reader)

Summary: Perhaps it was an accident. Or perhaps the fates were mocking him. He had not meant to venture into the little coffee shop and he had most definitely not meant to return. But he kept coming back and the waitress kept putting sugar packets near his coffee every damn time.

Warnings: Tom gets possessive halfway through so it's pretty tame for him. not proofread. oh also self-indulgent crime & punishment debate (got a lil carried away).

A/N: 5.5k words but it's kinda mehh. to the person who requested this, i hope you enjoy it at least a little &lt;3

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom felt as if he was a solitary figure in a world hushed by the winter's harsh embrace. With each step he took away from the desolate building of grey against the pristine canvas of winter, he felt lighter. He did not cast a look back towards the orphanage looming behind him, instead focused on the sound of the snow crunching beneath his feet as they led him further into the dark street cloaked in a thick layer of snow.

The wizard knew if he spent another moment in that cursed place he would have lashed out and killed someone, so he had hastily thrown his coat and emerald scarf around himself before slamming the door shut behind him. 

Two more years. He thought to himself. Then he would be out and would never be obligated to return again. Perhaps he would even burn the place to the ground if his plans worked out in his favour. 

The air was crisp, and his breath materialized in front of him with each exhale. His eyes quickly scanned the narrow empty alley for a suitable quiet place where he could pass his time. There was nothing interesting, except for the tiny bookstore nestled in the corner of the street that emitted a warm, golden light through its window. Tom quickly decided it would do, and he strode towards the place with purpose. A small bell chimed as he entered the place, which he quickly realised was a bookstore with a cosy coffee shop tucked inside. 

He inhaled the pleasant aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of weathered books. Before he could lose himself entirely in the intoxicating symphony of scents, a sudden, loud thud echoed from behind the counter, jolting him from his reverie.

"Blimey!" someone cursed, their voice slicing through the tranquillity. Tom found himself rooted to the spot, curiosity piqued, as a figure suddenly emerged from underneath the counter.

It was a girl. Unabashedly, his eyes traced the lines of her features, noting the delicate curve of her jaw and the cascade of hair that framed her face. He assumed she was around his age if not younger and he stared at the girl as she rubbed her head, wincing when she hit a particularly soft spot before she realised that she was not alone in the shop. She froze like a deer caught in the headlights and he watched as her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red. 

Tom, still an observer, saw more than just the blush; he discerned the subtleties of her response, the way her eyes momentarily widened before seeking refuge elsewhere, fingers fidgeting with the edges of her knitted cardigan.

She attempted to compose herself and met his eyes. "Oh! Sorry, sir. How may I assist you?" She asked cheerfully, resisting the urge to duck her head down to avoid his intense stare.

He crossed the small distance to the counter. "I'd like a coffee. Black."

"No sugar?" she inquired, to which Tom raised a single brow. Her blush deepened as she quickly averted her eyes from his face.

"Right, of course. You may take a seat while I prepare this for you." With a nod, she hurried to fulfil his request, leaving Tom alone with the lingering scent of coffee and old books that were now intertwined with a pleasant smell of vanilla and sweet— 

It was her perfume, he realised with a start.

He hastily removed his coat and scarf before plopping down on the nearest armchair. His gaze remained fixed on the girl, absorbed in the rhythm of her practised motions as she prepared his drink, her movements seemingly both effortless and comforting. There was an almost lazy grace to her actions and he continued to watch as she sang under her breath so softly if he had not been staring so intensely, he would not have picked up on it. 

He wondered how he had never noticed this place before. He had been passing through this little street for as long as he could remember but for some reason, he had only stumbled upon it today. His sharp eyes darted around, instinctively searching for traces of magic, half-expecting the discovery of a hidden passage to the wizarding world but he quickly realised the place was undeniably, disappointingly muggle. 

Muggle.

He tore his gaze away from the girl at the mental reminder of what she was. He fished out a book from his bag and opened it to occupy his mind. 

The subtle shuffle of her approaching steps drew his attention back to the present, and he met her gaze as she placed the steaming cup of coffee before him. A sugar packet sat innocently beside it. His eyes lingered on the packet for a moment before lifting coldly to meet hers.

She, however, was undeterred by the intensity of his glare. “In case you change your mind.” She smiled at him softly before turning on her heel and walking back.

His gaze lingered on her retreating figure, and then, almost involuntarily, it dropped to the innocuous sugar packet.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom did not know why he had returned. Truthfully, he had not even noticed his feet had led him here until he was in front of the familiar wooden door that led into the coffee shop. Perhaps he had thought more than he should’ve about the disgustingly soft smile of that girl for the last five months. She was an insolent muggle, yet here he was, walking into the place as if he had never left. 

The seasons had blurred since he had last been here. Winter had long surrendered to the warmth of summer. He had to spend at least a month in the orphanage, and he was hoping Malfoy would invite him over for the rest of the summer. 

The place was just as he remembered it. The only difference was the lack of Christmas decorations. He faltered only slightly when he took notice of the girl behind the counter, already staring at him. She had not changed much. Her face was the same, less pale perhaps, but the same, nonetheless. The oversized knitted sweater that once enveloped her had been replaced by a little white sundress, and his gaze involuntarily lingered on the exposed smooth skin.

“Welcome back!” She greeted him cheerfully, and he was not surprised she remembered him. “What can I get you?”

“Black coffee,” he replied curtly

She nodded as if she was expecting it. "Coming right up." Gently shutting her book, she gracefully moved towards the coffee machine. Tom's eyes couldn't help but trail to the volume she had been reading, and to his pleasant surprise, it was Dostoyevsky. He had not pegged her as someone who would enjoy Russian literature, with its weighty and morally morbid themes. In his mind, she seemed more likely to be a Jane Austen enthusiast, with her intricately written romances and flowery prose.

“It’s 'Crime and Punishment'." He suddenly heard her soft voice declare, and he looked away from the book to give his attention to the girl. Then feeling as if she had said something silly, she blushed and looked away quickly. "Though I'm sure you figured that. I just wondered why you look so surprised." 

He replied before he could tell himself not to. "I did not imagine you as someone who would enjoy this." 

Emboldened at his words, she turned to face him, a hand casually resting on her hip as she sported a cheeky smile. "Am I to presume you imagine me often?"

His sharp inhale was audible as he absorbed the unexpected shift in her demeanour. He had not expected this shy, timid girl to tease him so boldly. She was a little vixen.

But he did not give her the satisfaction of getting a reaction out of him. A lazy raise of his brow was the extent of his acknowledgement before his gaze wandered towards the rows of bookshelves, feigning indifference. "Do you have another copy? Perhaps I shall like to reread this evening."

She frowned, walking over towards the table he had occupied last time to set his coffee down. He grimly took notice of the sugar packet placed near it. "I'm afraid not. But you can have mine." 

"No, that is quite alri—" He began to decline but she had already crossed the small distance between them and was holding out the thick book. He hesitated for a moment before his fingers closed around the object, careful to avoid touching hers. 

The girl smiled and walked away before he could even say thanks. Not like he was going to. 

Settling back into the soft armchair, he opened the book only to freeze at the sight of a name scribbled on the front page and he knew it belonged to her. The wizard rolled the name around in his mind and determined that it suited her. He stared at her name for a minute longer before turning the page and delving into the content of the book. 

He had been so immersed in the story that he had not noticed how the time had passed. The gradual hush of the coffee shop's ambient sounds finally penetrated his concentration, and he distinctly heard the girl approaching him. 

"I'm sorry to disturb you but we're closing in five minutes." She looked at the book in his hands. "You may return it once you're done." 

He hummed and looked down at where he had stopped. 

"We sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken."

He wondered if the universe was trying to tell him something. 

Tom found himself caught in the silent narrative of this stranger's presence.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day.

She looked up to see him enter, the sleeves of his button-up shirt rolled up. 

Tom placed the book on the counter. 

"You finished it in one day?"

He shrugged. "I'm a fast reader." 

She gave him a small smile, turning to make his black coffee before he could ask for it. "Every time I reread it it takes me a few days." She paused for a moment, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "The usual?"

He nodded. "The usual." He debated whether or not to voice his next question, and decided one conversation with the girl would not hurt.

"Why do you read it so often?"

"Each time I find new details that make Raskolnikov's character more complex. Each time I discover these small little things I missed the last time I read it becomes so much better. Plus I enjoy his moral dilemma."

He hummed, his curiosity piqued. He took his usual seat and watched as she brought his coffee and set it down in front of him. "Enlighten me." He gestured towards the seat in front of him. She hesitated only for a second before taking a seat. 

"Raskolnikov is obviously a complex character. His actions are driven by a desire for power and superiority, a belief that he is exempt from conventional morality. However, one could argue that his internal struggles and eventual remorse suggest a more nuanced exploration of morality." 

Tom furrowed his brows. "I see him as a product of his environment, a desperate man driven to extremes by the harsh circumstances he faced. His morality shifts to the other side of the spectrum." 

She cocked her head to the side, and he could see her getting slightly frustrated. "But morality is not just a spectrum; it's a complex interplay of values, societal norms, and personal convictions. Raskolnikov's guilt stems from the clash between his actions and the intrinsic moral compass within him. It's the consequence of recognizing the weight of one's choices."

He scoffed before he could stop himself. "Morality is subjective. What is right for one may not be right for another. Raskolnikov was weak and he was an idiot. Guilt is a useless emotion and it is for the weak."

Her expression remained unwavering. "But perhaps it's that recognition of guilt that separates the morally discerning from those who lack empathy. The fact that you can't comprehend his guilt doesn't make it foolish. It makes it human."

Tom's eyes narrowed a glint of impatience in his gaze. "Human or not, guilt is a hindrance. It's a sentiment for those too feeble to rise above their actions. If I were to make a difficult choice, I would do it without hesitation, without remorse." 

He only realised the slip of his tongue after the words left his mouth. He stilled, gauging her reaction yet her response was measured but firm. "Raskolnikov's guilt is a testament to his humanity, his ability to grapple with the consequences of his choices. It's what sets him apart from those who operate without remorse." 

"But—"

"So what you're saying is you would kill and feel no remorse?" She cut him off.

Yes.

"You do not understand." He did not intend his tone to be so harsh, yet the words left his mouth coldly. She visibly withdrew and nodded stiffly. "Right. Enjoy your coffee."

He opened his mouth to say something but realised for the first time in his life he did not know what to say. 

He was left staring at the cursed sugar packet she had left near his coffee again.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He did not return the next day. Nor the day after. Or after.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Two weeks passed with no sign of him.

And then she saw him step into the coffee shop. He walked in with determination. He walked up to the counter, meeting her gaze with an intensity that mirrored the unspoken tension between them. "I'd like a black coffee," he said, his tone even, though a hint of something lingered beneath the surface. 

She nodded, her expression composed but guarded. As she prepared the coffee, the air seemed charged with unspoken words. Her usual cheerful smile was notably absent. The absence struck him, and he realised he had enjoyed her smiles.

When she placed the coffee in front of him, there was a palpable pause. He glanced at the sugar packet, a subtle acknowledgement of the lingering disagreement. Without a word, he took it, his eyes meeting hers briefly before he poured the sugar into his coffee. 

She looked at him, her gaze unwavering, before a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of her lips. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

He returned the next day. And the day after that. And for the rest of summer.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The next time he stepped into the familiar place, winter had covered the city with a snowy blanket once again. It had been a year since he first discovered this little place. And he had not seen his little waiter since he left for Hogwarts in September. 

When he walked in, her eyes lit up visibly. "Hi!" She waved at him with a bright grin. 

"Hello." He greeted as he unwrapped his scarf and settled in his usual seat. In a matter of minutes, she was bringing him his usual order. She was back to wearing her warm knitted sweaters. "How did you enjoy the book?"

"Oscar Wilde never disappoints," he said. She hummed in agreement, pleased at his words. He watched as her hands dropped to fidget with the bottom of her sweater. "You wish to ask me something." He stated. "Ask."

"Do you study in a boarding school?"

Tom hesitated only for a moment before replying. "Yes."

"Oh. Well, that explains the months of not showing up."

"Were you expecting me?" He teased her with an amused smirk, taking delight in the way her cheeks reddened. 

"I was just wondering that is all," she admitted, a hint of curiosity peeking through. Tom observed her, noting the return of the timid, shy girl from their first encounter. It amused him how a few teasing remarks could momentarily whisk away her fiery boldness. He couldn't help but wonder what it would take to awaken it once again.

"And do you wonder about me often, little vixen?" he added, a playful glint in his eyes.

She blushed harder at the nickname but then as if a thought had struck her, she straightened and Tom watched as she visibly mustered up her courage. "I actually was wondering your name."

He bristled, but she must have not noticed because she continued. "I suppose I have not given you mine either." She mused out loud and announced her name to him. "But I thought it bizarre that considering all the time we've talked we never got around to that. Friends who do not each other's names." The girl laughed at the last notion and only then she realised that Tom had remained unnervingly quiet throughout the exchange. She raised her eyes from the frayed edges of her sweater, and the sight almost made her take a step back. His eyes had darkened, and she could have sworn she saw them flash red. There was no warmth, no familiarity in his gaze. 

"Are you alright?"

Suddenly, he rose from his seat, an ominous tension permeating the air as he advanced towards her with every word. "We are not friends. You dare to think I would be friends with the likes of you?" His words were sharper than the keenest of blades, cutting into her with merciless precision. "Foolish, little girl," He spat out before grabbing his things and storming out of the place. As the door closed behind him, the little coffee shop seemed to exhale, the echoes of his harsh words lingering in the hushed aftermath.

She stood frozen in her place, helpless against the storm of emotions and the tears that began to veil her vision. 

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

Tom fumed for months after their last encounter. How dare the ignorant muggle insinuate that they were friends? He scarcely considered his Knights of Walpurgis as his friends, and she thought she would just appoint herself the title? Who did she think she was?

"Mate, you alright? You've been unresponsive for a while." Malfoy nudged him slightly, attempting to draw his attention back to the present.

Tom made a noise of acknowledgement before mentally shaking the image of his little waiter�� no, not his, he berated himself— from his mind. 

But no matter how he tried, he could not. He could not just banish her from his thoughts. He knew a part of him, a rather embarrassingly large part of him enjoyed her company, her passion, her conversations— just her. 

And there, tucked away in the recesses of his trunk, lay her damned book— a taunting reminder of her. The temptation to burn it, to obliterate any remnants of her from his life, danced on the edge of his thoughts. He had shoved away, out of sight if only just to save himself the fury, the anger, (the longing).

He wondered if she was going through the same turmoil as him. He hoped she was. She had no right to make him feel this way and get away with it unscathed. 

But she was too enticing to give up. He did not know what it was about her. She was a muggle, an ordinary, plain girl working at a forgotten little cafe. Sure, she liked books, but so did a lot of other people. Yes, she was pretty, but so were a lot of other girls. But none could even come close to stirring his emotions as she did.

Perhaps it was the ease with which she conversed with him. Or the entirely too cheery smiles. Or her endearing knitted sweaters— though he secretly favoured the sundresses.

He, of course, knew what it was. He had tried to deny the idea to himself, but there was no escaping it. Tom had never been able to be unequivocally authentic with another individual before. From his early childhood, he refused to allow anyone close to him. He never lowered his walls and rejected anything that would yield a genuine connection. It was refreshing with her. He had no cause to uphold a curated facade.

Had she not been a muggle, he would entertain the thought of her bewitching him. He would have been convinced the girl put some spell on him or slipped a potion into his drink. 

It was maddening. 

She was maddening.

He sighed upon realising that he had spiralled again thinking of her. He needed to return the book, and maybe that would ease his mind. Perhaps once he was rid of her possession, she would not haunt him anymore. (Though he knew he was only trying to reassure himself with the last thought.)

As summer loomed around the corner, it felt both too distant and too imminent, mirroring the paradox of his tangled emotions.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

The sound of her laugh rang out before he could even close the door behind him. His head snapped up so fast it was a wonder he did not get whiplash. But there she was, his little waiter, chuckling delightfully as some boy spoke lowly from behind the counter. Chuckles escaped her lips, and she bit down on her lip in a futile attempt to stifle the laughter, her hands deftly at work preparing a drink. Despite her efforts, laughter bubbled forth once more, forcing her to set the cup down to avoid any potential spills.

An immediate surge of anger coursed through him. Who was this boy? What business did have with her? What right did he have to elicit such genuine laughter from her? (Most importantly, how dare she replace him?)

Tom swallowed the lump in his throat, attempting to gather himself into some semblance of a composed, unaffected man that he most definitely was not at that moment. With a loud, purposeful cough, he sought to catch her attention.

She spun around, the practised smile reserved for customers settling onto her face as she readied herself to serve him. However, the smile swiftly vanished the moment her doe-like eyes locked onto him. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she stared at him, wide eyes roving over his face as if to confirm that he was really standing there, in front of her, and was not a figment of her imagination. 

Because despite their last encounter, despite the anger, and the hurt she had felt, she kept hoping he would return. She kept imagining him standing there, with his ridiculously fancy scarf as he spewed out an apology. She had delved so deep into her fantasies involving him that now that he was actually there, she did not what to do or to say. Her tongue was tied, and her brain was fogged. What was she supposed to say?

It seemed he decided to grant her mercy and be the first to break the tense silence.

“Hello.” 

“Hi.”

He shuffled closer, though his steps were unsure, unlike his usual confident strides that she was used to seeing. “I wished to return your book.” He declared yet made no move to reach into his bag for the said book. He allowed his eyes to drink in the sight of her, her eyes that always seemed to glisten, her hands that were always fidgeting, her little sundress that he was afraid would drive him to insanity, (and her lips that he wished he could press against his own just so he could find out what they felt like, tasted like.) He shoved the last one into a drawer in his mind and locked it away. He could not fantasise about her. She was a muggle. He could not stoop so low as to hold affections for a muggle girl.

“Did you enjoy it?” The girl asked tentatively as if afraid one wrong word would set him off, have him spitting more harsh words that would dig deep into her skin and remain there. 

“As always.” He replied. Because every book she gave him held another meaning. She was a clever girl, choosing the ones that she knew would have him coming back with a strong debate prepared in his mind. They always seemed to stand on opposite sides of every argument that the books posed, ensuring that their discussion would get heated, exciting, and thrilling. 

While Tom vehemently disagreed with her views, he found pleasure in the way her mind worked. He admired her quick-wittedness, her ability to counter every argument he posed. No one else had engaged him in such stimulating conversations. She was a breath of fresh air, a captivating force he wanted to inhale and never release. He yearned to suffocate in the essence of her being, to be consumed and to consume in return. He wanted to own her— that irrational desire to keep her for himself was always there in the deeper parts of his mind that he was scared to venture into.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She responded but he could detect the subtle undercurrent of uncertainty in her voice.

He hesitated. “May I have one black coffee?” He was extending an olive branch, and while it was not an outright apology, coming from Tom, it was a whole declaration. 

“It’s five minutes until closing time.” 

She would not be swayed so easily then. 

Fine. Tom thought. He would make her come to her senses. 

The boy who he had forgotten was still there suddenly came to stand next to him. Tom eyed him with disdain, his features curling into an unimpressed sneer, raising a lazy brow.

“I’ll help her close up, mate. You can leave now.” 

“Daniel, that is not necessary.” She muttered, glancing between the two men nervously. Daniel? Tom clenched his jaw, enraged. In his absence, it seemed she had gotten on first-name basis with a boy. His mouth soured with the taste of betrayal at her blatant ignorance. How could she discard him so easily? Had she not suffered all these months at the mere thought of him? Had he been alone in his suffering?

“No,” Tom stated flatly. “You will leave.” He told the boy then turned to face his waiter. “We will talk.” 

“Tom, I do not think—”

He cut her off with a hiss. “It was not a request.”

Daniel seemed wholly displeased. He opened his mouth to argue, but his girl beat him to it. “It’s okay, Daniel. I will see you some other time.”

“Whatever he has to tell you, surely he can say in front of me.”

She shook her head gently, trying to dissuade him. “It’s a matter between him and I. I would rather talk privately.” 

Tom looked smug as he faced Daniel again, struggling to contain his smirk. He could see the indignation clear on the boy’s face as his eyes flickered dubiously between her and Tom. He knew the wizard was no ordinary acquaintance of her, he could feel the palpable tension in the air like a wolf. 

Tom, of course, wished to push his buttons further, just to have the last word. “You heard her. Leave.” 

Daniel scoffed. “I will see you tomorrow then.” He muttered and with one last long look, he squared his shoulders and left the café with as much dignity as his wounded pride could muster. 

As the door shut with a final thud, they were left in pregnant silence, both unsure of the dynamics at play between them. The air in the café hung heavy with unspoken tension as if the silence itself had taken on a weight, pressing down on them both. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed louder than usual, each second echoing in the quiet space.

She was the first to cave. "Well? You wished to talk." Gesturing towards him with a hand expectantly. "Talk." 

Tom inhaled sharply, and for the first time in his life, he did not quite know what to say. How to proceed. 

"Who is he?" The question tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. 

She raised a brow. "Seriously? After how you walked out of here last time I would think your choice of words would be different."

"Different? I hardly think the question was unfair."

She huffed impatiently, discarding her apron as she turned from him to put everything away for the night. "Of course. How foolish of me to assume that you have no business inquiring about my life when we are not even friends." She chuckled bitterly. "You made the notion quite appalling if memory serves me right. You wish to know who is Daniel? For all you know, he could be my fiancee. Would it matter? No. Because you and I are hardly acquaintances." 

An unfamiliar feeling began coiling in the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly felt sick. She briefly turned to fix him with a pointed glare and froze at the look on his face. The dancing flames of the candles seemed to mirror the flickering emotions in Tom's eyes—flames of irritation, discontent, and an unexpected pang of jealousy.

Tom could scarcely believe his fate. How was it that he— the most powerful wizard of his generation— had succumbed to the pathetic disease of— what was it? Desire? Lust? Infatuation? Such mundane urges were beneath him, he had no wish to pursue anyone or anything that was not remotely related to his quest for power. Yet there she was. In her infuriating fucking dress and those innocent eyes. Did she even know what sort of turmoil she had caused him?

All of a sudden he felt exhausted, defeated. His shoulders sunk visibly as he ran a hand through his hair. He would use a hundred of her sugar packets in his coffee if it meant she would just grace him with her bubbly smile again and just— just what? Leave him be? He did not want that. Treat him as if nothing had happened? Maybe. Release him from whatever enchantment she put him under? Yes.

"What do you want from me?" He asked at last, frustration clear in his voice.

She regarded him with disbelief as she rounded the counter to stand directly in front of him. "What do I want from you?" She repeated incredulously. "I want an apology! I want an explanation! I want—" she sighed, cutting herself off before she could finish the thought. "You cannot just show up here demanding things and ordering people around after how you treated me last time. If you wish to continue this conversation, you will apologise to me."

"You want me to say sorry?" He took a step towards her.

"Yes!"

"Fuck your apology." 

Before she could register what was happening, Tom closed the minute distance between them and caved into his desire. He grabbed her face, fingers threading through her hair, and pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was not gentle; it was a collision of pent-up tension and bottled-up desires.

Tom's lips moved fervently against hers, pouring his frustration into the act. It was a silent declaration that transcended the boundaries of his complicated inner turmoil. Tom knew that. But he could not pull away from her— not after having tasted how her lips feel like. 

Her hands, which had hovered hesitantly in the space between them, found their way to his shoulders, fingers gripping the fabric of his coat, pulling him closer. 

She felt—tasted like God's favourite nectar, sweet and addictive and he knew he would never get enough of it. She might not have been a witch, but he was bewitched by her. 

As they broke apart, breathless, the air between them hung heavy with the residue of their shared kiss. He dared not to ease his hold on her, only stared at her with darkened eyes, taking delight in the way her lips were bruised, and puffy, all because of him. But it was not enough. He needed to mark her for all to see. 

He dove into the tender skin of her throat like a man starved, teeth sinking into her flesh with no warning, and a sick sort of satisfaction washed over him at the muffled moan that escaped her mouth. He sucked on the skin until he was sure there would be a purple mark blooming on the spot before running his tongue over the flesh to soothe the sting. He did not waste any second before moving to mark another spot.

"I do not even know your name." She managed to choke out in between her whimpers, hands moving of their own accord to tangle in his hair, and a particular tug had him growling deep in his throat. 

"Tom." He whispered, pulling away from her neck only to return his lips to hers. "Say it. Say my name." He murmured in between the kisses, pushing her back until her back was pressed against the counter. He easily picked her up to place her on the surface, his fingers trailing along her thighs to her knees to nudge them apart so he could stand in between them. 

"Tom." She breathed out in a daze, and he smirked in delight. 

She was his. He had already branded her, and he would do much more to ensure she knew it was him she belonged to. 

He leaned to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. "I hope you know there is no going back from this. From me." He whispered, fingers slipping under the strap of her dress and dragging it down her shoulder slowly. "You are my dirty little secret now. Mine."

She shuddered under the weight of his words but he was already snaking his hand around her throat as his lips found home on her own once again.

No going back.

⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ 

taglist: @faerienotfound   @orangepact77  @on-ya  @a-mj-a  @darkmoviesquotespizza  @444s0ul  @amarisout  @daechgustinad  @lillywise-the-dancingclown69  @eceamaizmirbosislermuduru  @narwhal-swimmingintheocean  @turnip-milk @kammsinn @ratsys @linosluna @lizzieolseniskinda @mypurplewinee @riya12044 @multiplefandomstan @thicbucchi @daisydark @an222shka @pennyllanne (let me know if i forgot to add you)

let me know if you wish to be added/removed from my taglist!

[uhhlifeig]

First Pet - Jan. 24th - word count: 215 - @wolfstarmicrofic

“I was out for a week on a business trip and you got us a dog?” Remus asked incredulously. 

“Remus,” Sirius pleaded, looking at him with his best puppy-dog eyes. “Please let me keep him?” He jostled the black puppy in his arms. “I found him on the streets, and…”

“I mean, we’ve been considering a dog for a while,” Remus sighed. “Sure, why not. We can keep him. Do you have a name?”

“I’ve been calling him Snuffles, ‘cause he snoofs at everything,” Sirius grinned, petting the squirming puppy. “You’re such a little snoof, aren’t you?” he cooed.

“Snuffles it is, then,” Remus decided. “I suppose you know what to do with him training-wise?”

“Yep,” Sirius grinned, looking back up at his husband. “I can learn how to train him from some books, don’t worry, Rem.”

“Great. I’m not sure that I want piss-covered books.”

“You won’t have any, I promise,” Sirius grinned, setting the puppy down. Snuffles wobbled over to Remus on unsteady legs and started sniffing his pant leg.

“Aw, aren’t you a cute one?” Remus asked, bending down to pet Snuffles’s head.

Snuffles did his best bark, which came out as more of a whumph instead of a true bark.

"Awww," both Remus and Sirius cooed.

Maybe he'd like this dog.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Karaoke Night | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Words: ~9,000

Tags: Modern AU, Post Hogwarts, Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Drama, Romance, Jealousy and Longing, Confessions, Mutual Pining, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, Muggle Born MC

Sebastian Sallow usually liked Muggle London. The chaos of it—the noise, the lights, the odd little shops tucked between tall, mismatched buildings—he found it exhilarating. But more than that, he liked it because you were always the one to bring him here. Whether it was to visit your parents, browse the little Muggle bookstores you loved, or grab takeaway from that noodle place near King’s Cross, London had become a kind of shared escape for the two of you.

But not tonight.

Tonight, he hated Muggle London. And it wasn’t because of the cold drizzle soaking through his jacket, or the fact that the group hadn’t had enough time to properly pregame at Imelda’s flat before you all headed out. No, it was because of Ethan.

Ethan, with his perfectly styled blond hair and easy smile, who walked beside you like he belonged there, like he belonged with you. His hand rested on the small of your back, guiding you through the crowd, and you didn’t seem to mind one bit. You’d been laughing at his jokes all night, the sound light and warm in a way that made Sebastian’s chest ache.

“Sebastian, keep up,” Ominis said beside him, tapping his cane lightly against the pavement. His wand, charmed into the cane for moments like this, was concealed, allowing him to navigate the bustling streets with ease.

Sebastian shoved his hands deeper into his jacket pockets and quickened his pace. “I’m coming.”

“You’re sulking,” Ominis said matter-of-factly.

“I’m not.”

“You are. You’ve been glaring daggers at the back of Ethan’s head since we left Imelda's.”

Sebastian gritted his teeth and said nothing. Ominis didn’t press further, though Sebastian could feel his knowing silence like a weight on his shoulders. Ominis knew him too well, had always been able to read him like a book—one he’d long since memorized. He probably knew exactly what Sebastian was thinking: that he’d been in love with you for nearly ten years and hadn’t said a damn thing about it.

It had started back at Hogwarts, back when you were all stupid teenagers and he was still arrogant enough to think he had all the time in the world to tell you. There had been moments—so many moments—when he could have said something, when he’d wanted to say something. But there had always been an excuse, a reason to hold back.

And now? Now he was 25, standing on a Muggle street corner, watching you laugh at some joke your new boyfriend had made, and wondering how the hell he’d let things get to this point.

“This is it!” you announced, stopping in front of a neon-lit doorway. The sign above it blinked in garish, colorful letters: STARLIGHT KARAOKE.

Sebastian stared at it, unimpressed. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the idea of karaoke—he was buzzed enough to find it amusing—but he’d find it far more exciting had your boyfriend not been invited.

“This looks like a disaster waiting to happen,” Imelda muttered, crossing her arms.

“Oh, come on,” you said with a grin, tugging lightly at her sleeve. “It’ll be fun!”

“Fun for you, maybe,” she replied. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

“Yet,” Garreth chimed in, practically vibrating with excitement as he scanned the doorway. “You’re not drunk enough yet. I’ll fix that.”

Sebastian rolled his eyes, hanging back as the group filed inside. Ethan leaned down to murmur something to you, and you laughed, your smile softening in a way that made Sebastian’s jaw tighten.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Ominis said under his breath, brushing past him toward the entrance.

Sebastian huffed out a humorless laugh. “When do I ever do anything stupid?”

Ominis turned his head just enough to aim a smirk in Sebastian’s direction. “Shall I list the times chronologically or alphabetically?”

Before Sebastian could respond, you turned back to him, holding the door open with an expectant look. “Coming, Sebastian?”

He forced a smile and nodded, stepping inside. The bar was just as loud and chaotic as he’d expected, with bright lights, thumping music, and a stage at the far end of the room.

“Brilliant!” Garreth exclaimed, practically bouncing on his heels. “I’m definitely getting up there.”

Imelda groaned as she slid into a booth near the back. “You would.”

Sebastian lingered by the door, his gaze drifting back to you and Ethan. The two of you were already making your way to the bar, his hand still resting on your back like he had every right to touch you. Sebastian clenched his fists in his pockets, his irritation bubbling just beneath the surface.

This was going to be a very, very long night.

Sebastian trudged toward the booth, reluctantly sliding into the seat beside Ominis and across from Imelda, who had already flagged down a server to order appetizers for the group.

Ominis tapped his fingers against the table, his cane resting neatly by his side. “For fuck's sake, stop brooding,” he said quietly, just loud enough for Sebastian to hear over the music.

“I'm not,” Sebastian muttered, though the way he slouched against the booth’s backrest betrayed him.

“Look, I’m all for theatrics, but if you don’t at least try to enjoy yourself, she’ll notice. And you know she hates that.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Ominis was right, of course. You would notice, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel guilty for dragging him out. He could practically hear you apologizing now, your brows furrowed with concern as you said something like, “I didn't realize you were so against karaoke! We could have done something else, Seb. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

It wasn’t your fault—not really. You weren’t the one ruining his night. Ethan was.

The guy was just so… perfect. Too perfect. He didn’t stumble over his words or let his temper get the better of him. He didn’t carry the weight of a shattered family, or the guilt of decisions made long ago that still haunted Sebastian when the nights grew too quiet. Ethan wasn’t rough around the edges, didn’t have cracks threatening to split him open. He didn’t carry around ten years of unresolved feelings and countless missed chances.

Ethan was easy. Exactly the kind of guy you deserved.

Sebastian hated him for it.

The sound of Garreth’s laughter drew Sebastian’s attention to the bar, where you and Ethan were chatting with the bartender. Garreth had joined you, and from the way he was gesturing animatedly, he'd already launched into some story that had the bartender rolling their eyes. You stood beside him, leaning slightly against the counter, your body turned just enough for Sebastian to take in the full effect of what you were wearing. And Merlin, you weren’t making this night any easier for him.

Your outfit was nothing like what you used to wear back at Hogwarts—the plain uniforms, the cozy sweaters, the casual, practical clothes you’d thrown on for lazy weekends in Hogsmeade. No, this was something else entirely. The deep green satin of your dress clung to you, hugging the curves he’d tried not to notice for years but failed miserably at ignoring. The hem barely brushed mid-thigh, showing off your smooth legs, and the neckline dipped just low enough to tease him with a view of soft skin that practically begged to be touched.

Far too low, Sebastian thought bitterly, though he didn’t miss the way his mouth went dry.

You looked nothing like the teenage girl he’d grown up with. You were a woman now, and you looked like it. Confident, gorgeous, utterly captivating—and, worst of all, completely unattainable.

Sebastian’s hands itched with the memory of his fantasies, the ones that haunted him more often than he cared to admit. He’d imagined, countless times, what it would feel like to touch you. To rest his hands on your waist and feel the warmth of your skin through thin fabric. To let his palms skim the curve of your hips, his fingers pressing into soft flesh, guiding you closer to him. He’d thought about the weight of your thighs in his hands, imagined them wrapped around him, imagined how easily he could lose himself in the way you felt.

And your face—Merlin help him, your face. You were laughing at something Ethan said, your lips pulling into that smile that had always made him feel like the ground wasn’t quite steady beneath his feet. He didn’t think he’d ever get over how effortlessly beautiful you were, the way your lashes framed your eyes, how your cheeks dimpled slightly when you laughed.

Long gone was the girl who used to sit cross-legged on the Undercroft floor, teasing him mercilessly about his hair or arguing with him over duelling strategies. And as much as he missed those simpler days, a darker, more selfish part of him didn’t want to go back. Not when this was the woman you’d grown into.

“Stop staring, you’re going to set her on fire,” Ominis drawled beside him, pulling.

“I’m not staring,” Sebastian muttered, dragging his gaze away with a scowl. He wrapped his fingers tightly around his drink, the glass cool against his flushed skin. “I’m… people-watching.”

Ominis snorted softly. “If by ‘people-watching,’ you mean devouring her with your eyes, then yes, you’re doing a fine job of it.”

For a fleeting moment, Sebastian considered reaching over, grabbing Ominis’s cane, and snapping it clean in half. He wouldn’t, of course—Ominis could hex him into oblivion without it—but the thought was tempting. Maybe if Ominis couldn’t use his bloody wand to analyze Sebastian’s every move, he wouldn’t feel so exposed.

But before he could dwell on it, Garreth appeared, weaving through the crowded bar with a tray stacked precariously high with pints and cocktails. His grin was wide, and his balance was questionable at best.

"Guess who just got free drinks!” he announced proudly. “Your girl is magic, Sebastian,” he added with a wink, nodding toward you at the bar.

Sebastian’s stomach twisted at the word your. You weren't his. Not really.

Sebastian reached for one of the drinks Garreth set down—something dark and fizzy that looked like rum and coke. He didn’t care what it was as long as it did the job. Without hesitation, he lifted the glass to his lips and took a long, greedy sip. The burn of the rum was sharp and immediate, but it was better than the heat already clawing at his chest.

Garreth let out a laugh as he slid into the booth beside Imelda. “Alright, Sallow’s setting the pace! Guess that means we’re all drinking fast tonight.”

Imelda rolled her eyes but reached for her own drink anyway. “If I’m getting through this ridiculous evening, I’m going to need it.”

Poppy and Natty followed suit, each grabbing a glass from the tray. Ominis, however, sat perfectly still beside Sebastian, his lips curling into a faint, knowing smirk.

“Pacing yourself, are you?” Ominis asked dryly, raising an unimpressed eyebrow in his direction.

Sebastian ignored him. This drink, whatever it was, wasn’t strong enough—not nearly—but it would have to do. He drained the rest of the glass in one go, slamming it back onto the table with more force than necessary.

Before Ominis could needle him further, you returned to the booth, folder in hand, your heels clicking softly against the floor. His gaze flickered to you automatically, his chest tightening at the sight of you so close.

“I’ve got the song list!” you announced brightly, holding it up like some kind of trophy. The folder was thick, filled to the brim with laminated pages, and your excitement was palpable. You slid into the booth beside Ethan, spreading it out on the table for everyone to see.

“Blimey,” Garreth said, peering over your shoulder. “This place has everything. Oh—there’s Queen! I’m doing Queen.”

“You’re going to butcher Queen,” Imelda said flatly, taking another sip of her drink.

“Oi, have a little faith,” Garreth shot back with a grin.

Sebastian’s eyes flicked to the folder, then back to you. Your enthusiasm was infectious—you always had a way of lighting up a room, of pulling people into your orbit without even trying. He wanted to lean in closer, to let himself get lost in the way your voice lifted with excitement as you pointed out song choices to the others. But the weight of Ethan’s arm draped casually over your shoulder was a bitter reminder that he couldn’t.

“What about you, Seb?” you asked suddenly, your voice breaking through his thoughts. You were looking at him now, your hazel eyes warm and inviting, completely unaware of the storm raging inside him.

“What about me?” he replied.

“What are you going to sing?” you asked, tilting your head slightly as you smiled at him.

Sebastian blinked, caught off guard by your question. He hadn’t even considered getting up to sing, much less what he would sing.

On a regular night, Sebastian would have been all over this. He lived for the spotlight, and he wasn’t shy about it. Sebastian enjoyed attention—the rush of it, the way people’s eyes followed him, the laughter and cheers his antics often earned. He’d have already grabbed the song list, picked something bold and ridiculous, and made sure he was the first one on stage.

But tonight? Tonight, he was in no mood for it.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, shrugging as he reached for another drink from the tray.

You laughed softly, the sound cutting through the tension in his chest. “You? Think about it? Since when are you not impulsive?”

He smirked faintly, lifting the glass to his lips. “Maybe I’ve changed.”

You gave him a curious glance at his comment, your brow furrowing slightly as if you didn’t quite believe him. But after a moment, you let it go, smiling politely before turning your attention back to the song list. You leaned into Ethan’s side, your shoulder brushing his as you chatted animatedly with the girls about potential song choices.

Sebastian tried not to watch, but it was impossible. The way you laughed, your lips parting just enough to reveal the glint of your teeth; the way your eyes sparkled when you teased Poppy for her love of ‘80s Muggle pop music; the way you absentmindedly brushed your fingers against Ethan’s arm.

The bitter knot in Sebastian’s stomach tightened. He took another long drink—something golden and sweet this time—and let the burn settle in his chest.

And the drinks kept coming.

Within thirty minutes, Garreth, ever the opportunist when it came to alcohol, had gone up to the bar twice already, returning with rounds of drinks that no one had asked for but everyone ended up drinking. Sebastian couldn’t even remember what his last drink was—something fruity? All he knew was that his current drink, a half-finished tankard of beer, sat sweating on the table as his head swam pleasantly in the growing haze of alcohol.

The lights in the bar dimmed suddenly, and a spotlight flickered to life on the small stage at the far end of the room. The karaoke host, a chipper man in a sequined blazer, stepped into the spotlight, microphone in hand.

“Alright, everyone, welcome to Starlight Karaoke!” he announced, his voice echoing over the speakers. “We’ve got an exciting night ahead, so I hope you’re all ready to sing your hearts out. First up tonight, let’s give a big round of applause for… Garreth!”

The group erupted into cheers and laughter as Garreth shot up from his seat, knocking over an empty pint glass in his enthusiasm. He threw his arms into the air like he’d just won a Quidditch match, grinning ear to ear as he made his way to the stage.

Sebastian smirked, shaking his head at Garreth’s antics. The bloke could barely hold a tune, but he made up for it with sheer enthusiasm.

“Ten Galleons says he butchers it,” Imelda muttered, taking another sip of her drink.

“No bet,” Sebastian replied.

As Garreth took the mic and the opening notes of a Queen song filled the room, Sebastian leaned back in the booth, his gaze drifting back to you. You were clapping along to the beat, laughing as he missed the first note completely but powered through anyway. Your laughter lit up your whole face, and for a moment, Sebastian could almost pretend it was directed at him.

But then Ethan leaned over, whispering something in your ear that made you laugh even harder, and the illusion shattered.

Sebastian drowned his annoyance in another long swig, and barely registered who went up after Garreth, some Muggle woman whose name he didn’t catch. Her voice wasn’t bad—better than Garreth’s, certainly—but he didn’t care enough to pay attention.

He only really came back into focus, if you could call his drunken haze 'focus', when the host returned to the stage multiple singers later, a wide grin on his face as he scanned his clipboard. “Alright, let’s keep the energy going! Up next, we have… Natty!”

The table erupted into cheers as Natty rose from her seat, flashing a brilliant smile as she made her way to the stage.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Poppy said, bouncing excitedly in her seat.

“She'll nail it,” Imelda added, a rare note of enthusiasm in her voice.

The opening notes of an Adele song began to play, and Natty took the mic with effortless poise. From the very first note, her voice was stunning—clear, powerful, and full of emotion. The entire table went wild, clapping and cheering as if they were at a concert instead of a small karaoke bar.

Sebastian applauded along half-heartedly, his head still swimming from the drinks and the knot of frustration that had been sitting in his chest all night. But even he couldn’t deny that Natty was incredible.

When she finished, you were practically glowing with excitement, clapping so hard Sebastian wondered if your hands might bruise. You leaned toward Poppy, saying something he couldn’t hear over the applause, and the two of you laughed, your faces lit up with delight.

“Let’s hear it for Natty, everyone!” the host called, clapping along with the crowd. “What a voice, huh?”

She returned to the table, her cheeks slightly flushed from the attention but her smile as bright as ever.

“That was amazing!” you said, pulling her into a hug as she sat down.

Natty laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s just a bit of fun.”

“A bit of fun? You could win awards with that voice,” Garreth said, raising his glass in a toast.

Sebastian muttered something vaguely supportive, but the alcohol was really starting to hit him hard now, leaving his head fuzzy and his thoughts jumbled.

The host returned to the stage, scanning his clipboard again. “Alright, who’s feeling brave? I'm out of volunteers and I know there’s some talent in this room just waiting to shine.”

Without fully thinking it through, Sebastian stood, the sudden motion making the room tilt slightly.

“Seb, what are you doing?” Ominis asked, arching a brow.

Sebastian ignored him, striding toward the stage with a confidence that was only half his own—the rest belonged to the drinks coursing through his veins. He approached the stage, wobbling slightly, and the host beamed at him. “Alright, we’ve got a volunteer! What’s your name, mate?”

“Sebastian,” he slurred.

The host’s grin widened, clearly amused by Sebastian’s slightly unsteady footing and the determined glint in his eyes. “Alright, Sebastian! What are you singing for us tonight?”

Sebastian stepped closer, glancing at the clipboard the host was holding out. The words on the page blurred slightly as he squinted, his finger stabbing down on one at random. “This one."

The host looked down, his smile growing even brighter. “Oh, excellent choice! Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for Sebastian as he sings Mr. Brightside!”

The room erupted into cheers and scattered applause, though Sebastian’s focus wasn’t on the crowd. His gaze flickered back to your table, where everyone was watching him with varying degrees of amusement and surprise.

You looked a little stunned, your lips parted in a small, disbelieving smile. It was the first time all night that Sebastian felt like he really had your attention, and the knot in his stomach loosened just slightly.

The opening chords of the song began to play, and Sebastian took a deep breath, gripping the mic tightly as he stepped fully into the spotlight. The alcohol coursing through his veins gave him a heady sense of confidence, and he felt his usual self rise to the surface—the version of him that lived for attention, for putting on a show.

He knew he wasn’t a good singer—Merlin, he was awful, really—but that wasn’t the point. It had never been the point. What mattered was committing to the act, selling it with everything he had.

And maybe, just maybe, making you laugh.

The first verse started, and Sebastian threw himself into it with reckless abandon. His voice was off-key from the very first word, but he didn’t care. He strutted across the stage, mic in hand, pointing dramatically at the crowd as he sang, his free hand gesturing wildly to emphasize every line.

The group at your table was losing it. Garreth was practically falling out of his seat with laughter, slapping the table and hollering in encouragement. Imelda was smirking, shaking her head in amused disbelief. Poppy and Natty were clapping along, their smiles wide. Even Ominis, who rarely indulged in public displays of hilarity, was chuckling.

But Sebastian didn’t care about any of that. His eyes flicked back to you, zeroing in on the way you were laughing—your head tilted back, your hand covering your mouth as if you couldn’t quite believe what you were seeing. You were beaming, your eyes sparkling under the dim lights, and for a fleeting moment, Sebastian felt like he’d won.

The chorus hit, and Sebastian went all in. He dropped to one knee, his arm outstretched toward your table as he belted out the lyrics, his voice cracking on the high notes. It was ridiculous and over-the-top, but the crowd ate it up, cheering louder as he poured every ounce of his energy into the performance.

By the time the second verse rolled around, Sebastian had abandoned any semblance of shame. He hopped off the stage, weaving through the tables as he sang, pointing at random patrons like he was the lead singer of a sold-out concert. When he reached your table, he paused dramatically, leaning onto the edge of it and locking eyes with you as he sang the next line.

You were laughing so hard now that tears were forming at the corners of your eyes, your shoulders shaking as you tried to catch your breath. Ethan was laughing too, but Sebastian barely noticed him. For this one, fleeting moment, he had you—all of you.

As the song built toward its final chorus, Sebastian turned and ran back to the stage, sliding to his knees just in time for the big finish. His voice cracked gloriously on the last line, but it didn’t matter. The entire bar erupted into applause and cheers as the final notes played, and Sebastian rose unsteadily to his feet, throwing his arms into the air like he’d just won the Triwizard Tournament.

“Give it up for Sebastian, everyone!” the host called, clapping along with the crowd.

The applause roared in Sebastian’s ears, a mix of cheers and laughter that, for a brief moment, felt like triumph. He stood there on the stage, breathing heavily, grinning like an idiot as the adrenaline coursed through him. For a second, he allowed himself to bask in it—the lights, the applause, your laughter ringing in his head.

But then it hit him.

The drinks, all of them—too many to count—rose in his stomach like a tide, the nauseating swirl of alcohol and exertion catching up with him all at once. His grin faltered, replaced by a sharp twist of discomfort in his gut.

He took a shaky step back, gripping the mic stand for support as the room tilted dangerously. The crowd was still cheering, but the sound felt distant now, muffled beneath the rising roar of nausea.

“Alright, let’s give one last round of applause for Sebastian!” the host called, his voice booming over the speakers.

Sebastian managed a half-hearted wave before staggering off the stage, his legs barely cooperating as he darted clumsily between tables. His shoulder clipped the edge of someone’s chair, but he didn’t stop to apologize. He couldn’t. The only thing on his mind was getting outside before he made an even bigger fool of himself.

The cold night air hit him like a slap when he burst through the bar’s doors and into the street. He barely made it a few feet before doubling over, bracing his hands on his knees as he heaved onto the pavement.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the bar, the laughter, the ache in his chest. All he could focus on was the sharp sting in his throat and the cold bite of the drizzle on his overheated skin.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, the sober part of his brain registered how humiliating this was, but thankfully, the alcohol dulled any real sense of shame.

“Sebastian?”

The sound of your voice cut through the haze, soft and concerned, and Sebastian groaned inwardly.

He didn’t turn to look at you, didn’t even straighten up, just waved a hand vaguely in your direction. “Don’t,” he muttered hoarsely.

You ignored him, your heels clicking softly against the pavement as you approached. He heard the faint rustle of fabric as you crouched down beside him, your hand brushing lightly against his back.

“Are you okay?” you asked, your tone gentle but laced with worry.

He let out a laugh, though it came out more like a wheeze. “Do I look okay?”

You let out a small laugh—not mocking, but soft, almost amused.

“Well,” you said lightly, “you did just sing Mr. Brightside like your life depended on it, so I’d say you’re doing better than most.”

Sebastian groaned, letting his head hang lower. “I’m never drinking again.”

“You say that every time,” you teased, your hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on his back.

The touch made his breath hitch slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to stay out here,” he mumbled after a moment. “Go back inside. Enjoy your night.”

You didn’t move, your hand still steady against him. “I’m not leaving you out here like this,” you said simply. “Besides, you’d do the same for me.”

The sincerity in your voice caught him off guard, and for a moment, he didn’t know what to say. He stayed silent, the cool drizzle calming the nausea as he slowly straightened up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

When he finally turned to look at you, his chest tightened. Your makeup was slightly smudged around your eyes, likely from laughing too hard earlier, and your face had a faint shine from the heat and sweat of the crowded bar. But Merlin, you’d never looked better.

You were watching him with an expression he couldn’t quite place.

“You’re a mess,” you said gently, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

He laughed weakly "Yeah, well, nothing new there.”

“Come on,” you said, looping your arm through his to steady him. “Let’s get you some water and sit you down before you pass out.”

Sebastian shook his head, resisting the gentle pull of your arm. “I’m not going back in there,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. He wobbled slightly as he straightened, leaning back against the cold brick wall of the bar. “Still nauseous. Don’t want to risk it.”

That wasn’t entirely a lie—his stomach was still a volatile mess—but the thought of returning to that table, to him, was what truly made his chest tighten and his head spin. The way Ethan had leaned into you all night, the way you’d laughed at his every word, every touch, was enough to make Sebastian want to turn around and walk straight into traffic.

You frowned slightly, studying him, but you didn’t press. You never did. That was one of the things about you that always made his chest ache—that quiet patience, that unshakable understanding that gave him space without making him feel abandoned.

“Okay,” you said softly, stepping back but keeping your hand lightly on his arm. “We don’t have to go back in. Let’s find somewhere quieter.”

He blinked at you, caught off guard. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted gently, your tone leaving no room for argument. “Come on. There’s a bench just around the corner. You can sit, catch your breath, and I’ll find you some water.”

Sebastian hesitated, searching your face as though you might be joking, but there was only sincerity in your eyes. Even after he’d emptied his stomach on the pavement right in front of you, his breath sour with alcohol and probably vomit, you didn’t flinch.

“Fine,” he mumbled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Lead the way.”

You smiled faintly, slipping your arm through his again to steady him as you started walking. The rain had eased to a faint drizzle, the cool mist brushing against his flushed skin as the two of you made your way down the street.

When you reached the bench, tucked under the glow of a streetlamp, you guided him to sit down. He sank onto the wooden slats with a heavy sigh, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You stood for a moment, watching him, before crouching down in front of him, your hands resting lightly on his knees.

“Stay here,” you said softly. “I’ll grab some water. You’ll feel better once you drink something that isn't alcoholic.”

He nodded wordlessly, his eyes flicking to yours. The way you crouched there, so close, your expression calm and steady, made his stomach twist.

He wanted to say something—to thank you, to apologize, to tell you how much it meant to him that you hadn’t just left him there. But the words tangled in his throat, too heavy to form.

You seemed to understand anyway, your lips curling into the faintest of smiles. You gave his knee a small squeeze before straightening up, your heels clicking softly against the pavement as you turned back toward the bar.

Sebastian watched you go, the sound of the door swinging shut behind you leaving him alone with his thoughts. He tilted his head back, letting the drizzle cool his flushed face, and exhaled a slow, shuddering breath.

Even now, as the alcohol dulled the sharper edges of his feelings, one truth remained painfully clear: he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you. And he didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise.

The sound of the door opening pulled Sebastian back out of his spiral. You emerged a moment later, a takeout cup of water in one hand and a few paper napkins clutched in the other. Even through his drunken haze, Sebastian could see how the drizzle had soaked through your dress. Your hair clung damply to the sides of your face, and the smudged remnants of your makeup had smeared further down your cheeks, dark streaks underlining your tired but still warm eyes.

You crossed the street toward him, shivering slightly as the night air bit at your damp skin, but your steps didn’t falter.

“You’re soaked,” he said, his voice low and rough, tinged with guilt.

You shrugged, brushing it off like it didn’t matter. “It’s just water,” you said lightly, holding the cup out to him. “Here. Drink.”

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering between your face and the cup in your hand. Then, finally, he reached out, his fingers brushing against yours as he took it from you.

“Thanks,” he murmured, looking down at the cup as though it might offer some kind of answer to the mess in his head.

“You’re welcome.” You sank down onto the bench beside him, shivering slightly but making no move to go back inside. “I told the others you weren’t feeling well. Garreth offered to come check on you, but…” You trailed off, glancing at him with a knowing smile. “I figured you wouldn’t want that.”

Sebastian snorted softly, taking a cautious sip of the water. It was cold and crisp, settling uneasily in his stomach, but he forced himself to take another sip. “Yeah, thanks for sparing me that particular nightmare.”

You laughed quietly, the sound soft and warm despite the chill in the air. “It’s the least I could do.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, the rain falling softly around you, the distant hum of the city filling the gaps. Sebastian kept his gaze fixed on the water in his hands, but he was acutely aware of your presence beside him—the faint warmth radiating from your body, the way your damp dress clung to your skin, the quiet steadiness in your breathing.

Sebastian glanced sideways at you. “Why didn’t you sing tonight?” he asked.

You turned your head toward him, blinking in mild surprise at the question. “Oh,” you said, smiling faintly. “I actually put my name in while you were up there.”

Sebastian’s brows furrowed. “You did?”

You nodded, pushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah, but I missed my turn. They called me while I was out here with you.”

Your tone was light, matter-of-fact, and there wasn’t even a hint of annoyance in your voice. You said it like it didn’t bother you at all, like it wasn’t a big deal that you’d given up your moment in the spotlight to sit outside in the rain with him.

But it made Sebastian’s stomach twist.

“Shit,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Seb,” you interrupted gently, your voice steady. “It’s fine. Really.”

“It’s not fine,” he said, shaking his head. He couldn’t meet your eyes, his gaze dropping back to the cup in his hands. “You were looking forward to it, weren’t you? And I—

“Stop,” you said firmly, your hand brushing lightly against his arm. “There’s always next time.”

Sebastian swallowed the tight knot of affection that rose in his chest and forced a smirk onto his face. “Wise words," he said, his eyes narrowing. "So wise, in fact... are you sure you're drunk?” he said, trying to shift the tone to something lighter.

You laughed. “I'm completely sober, Seb,” you replied, your voice light but matter-of-fact.

Sebastian blinked, his brows furrowing as the words sank in. He hazily tried to piece together the night’s events, though the drinks had turned everything into a fuzzy blur. He couldn’t recall seeing you with a drink, but he’d been too caught up in his own misery to notice much of anything.

“You are?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion. “Why?”

Your expression faltered, the easy smile you’d worn slipping into something more guarded. You shifted slightly on the bench, turning your gaze away from him to focus on a crack in the pavement. “Just… didn’t feel like drinking tonight,” you said softly, your tone deliberately casual.

But it wasn’t casual—not to Sebastian. He knew you well enough to recognize when you were deflecting, and the way your shoulders tensed told him there was more to it than you were letting on.

He tilted his head, his gaze narrowing as he studied you. “Did something happen?” he asked, his voice quieter now, the teasing edge gone.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Nothing happened.”

Sebastian hesitated for a moment, the rational part of his brain—the one that knew you’d been patient with him—telling him to let it go. You’d come out into the rain for him, stayed with him, got water for him. He owed you the same patience in return. But the alcohol coursing through his veins was making his tongue loose, his thoughts bolder, and his emotions louder than they should have been.

“Then why?” he pressed, his voice softer this time, but still insistent. “That's not like you. You're usually trying to compete with me."

You tensed beside him, your shoulders stiffening just enough for him to notice. You didn’t look at him, your gaze fixed firmly on the pavement.

“It’s not a big deal,” you murmured, but the casual tone you were aiming for fell flat.

“It’s a big deal if you’re lying about it,” he countered, and even as the words left his mouth, he knew he should’ve bitten them back.

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes sharp now, guarded in a way that felt like a knife twisting in his chest. “I’m not lying,” you said, and though your voice was calm, there was a clear edge to it.

Sebastian cursed under his breath, raking a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just… I want to make sure you're okay."

You let out a heavy sigh, your gaze still fixed on the crack in the pavement. It was the kind of sigh that made his chest tighten, like he’d hit on something you’d been trying to bury all night.

“It’s Ethan,” you said quietly, almost too quietly for him to hear.

Sebastian froze, his jaw tightening. That name was like a lit match against dry tinder, and he could already feel the heat rising in his chest.

“What about him?” he asked, trying—and failing—to keep his voice steady.

You hesitated, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your damp dress. “It wasn’t a big deal. Last time we went out, he made a… comment.”

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “What kind of comment?”

You let out another sigh, this one more frustrated than anything else, and finally turned to look at him. “He said I… I didn’t realize how many calories were in the drinks I was ordering. That I might want to be more mindful about it next time.”

Sebastian stared at you, the words hitting him like a physical blow. “He what?” he said, his voice sharp enough to make you flinch.

“Seb—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice rising. “No, don’t ‘Seb’ me. What exactly did he say?"

You sighed again, still not looking at him. “It wasn’t a big deal. He just said that maybe I should slow down if I didn’t want to—” You cut yourself off, your voice catching slightly, and shook your head. “It wasn’t meant to be mean. He was trying to be kind about it, I think. And he wasn’t wrong. I’ve put on some weight. Relationship weight or whatever.”

Sebastian froze, his stomach flipping at your words. For a moment, he wasn’t sure if the heat rising in his chest was from the alcohol or the sheer, unfiltered rage he felt boiling beneath the surface.

“Kind?” his laugh was sharp and humorless, his hand running through his hair as he tried to process what he was hearing. “That’s not kind, that’s insulting. That’s manipulative. That’s—”

“Sebastian,” you cut in, your voice firm but quiet. “It’s not that big a deal. Honestly. Maybe he has a point. I mean…” You hesitated, looking away again. “I have gotten a bit, um. Squishy.”

Sebastian stared at you, the shock of your words rooting him to the bench. For a moment, he couldn’t even breathe, let alone speak.

“You’re joking,” he said finally, his voice low and disbelieving.

"...what do you mean? Obviously I have, none of my jeans—”

"No, not that," Sebastian cut you off sharply, his voice firm now, almost trembling with the sheer intensity of his frustration. “I mean you thinking he has a point. I mean you letting him make you feel like there’s anything wrong with you.”

You blinked at him, startled, the guarded tension in your expression faltering. “Seb—”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, the cup of water forgotten in his hands. The alcohol in his system buzzed like static in his head, loosening the leash he usually kept on himself. Every ounce of frustration, every unspoken feeling, and every burning thought about you—and him—rose to the surface all at once.

“I hated him the second I met him, you know,” Sebastian started, sitting back up and staring straight ahead. His hands were shaking, and his voice was louder now, frustration bleeding through. “I hated his perfect little smile, his smooth charm, the way he always had something clever to say. But now? Now I have a real reason to hate him. Because he’s clearly delusional.”

Your eyes widened, your mouth opening slightly in shock, but Sebastian didn’t stop. He couldn’t. It was like he’d opened Pandora’s box, and everything he’d ever wanted to say was spilling out in a flood he couldn’t control.

“Do you even hear yourself?” he demanded, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re sitting here, trying to convince me that he has a point—as if there’s anything about you that needs fixing. Relationship weight? Fuck, if that’s what relationship weight looks like, then you should wear it proudly. Because Merlin help me, you—” He gestured to you vaguely, almost wildly. “You look damn good, and I don’t know what’s wrong with him that he can’t see that.”

You froze, staring at him as though you hadn’t heard him correctly. But Sebastian wasn’t done. Not even close.

“You know what? No, screw that. You’re more than that,” he continued, his voice rising. “You’re fucking gorgeous. Do you have any idea what you do to people? What you do to me?" His voice cracked slightly, and he let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Everything about you—everything—is perfect. And he… he’s too blind to see it. Too blind to see how lucky he is to have you.”

Your mouth fell open, your eyes wide as you stared at him in stunned silence. The streetlamp above cast a soft glow on your damp skin, your hair still clinging to your face, but to Sebastian, you’d never looked more radiant—or more surprised.

He exhaled sharply, his heart pounding in his chest as the words kept coming. "Do you know how many times I’ve imagined what it would feel like? To touch you?” he leaned back, his voice lowering, raw and trembling with emotion. “Do you even know what it’s like to ache for someone the way I ache for you? To imagine every curve, every inch, every soft part of you like it’s a map I’ve been dying to trace? You have no idea what you’ve done to me. No idea how much I’ve wanted—needed you.”

His breathing was uneven now, his chest rising and falling as he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “And it’s not just the way you look, either,” he continued, his voice rising again, his frustration spilling over. “It’s you. The way you laugh, the way you smile, the way you always know exactly what to say to make everything feel okay, even when it’s not. Everything about you was designed to dismantle me, and it has been. For ten. Fucking. Years.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” he muttered, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “He never did. Because if he can look at you—you—and make you feel like you’re anything less than perfect, then he’s a fucking idiot. And if I were him... If I were him, you'd never question how much I love you—” Sebastian’s voice caught, suddenly painfully and acutely aware of how much he’d just said.

Fuck.

You were still staring at him, your chest rising and falling as though you couldn’t catch your breath, your expression completely frozen in shock.

Sebastian looked away, his gaze fixed on the pavement. “Shit,” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “I shouldn’t have said all that. I shouldn’t—” He broke off, his hands gripping the edge of the bench so tightly his knuckles turned white.

You hadn’t moved, hadn’t even blinked, your lips parted slightly, your breath coming in shallow, uneven waves. The streetlamp’s light cast a soft glow over you, illuminating every detail of your stunned expression.

Sebastian's heart was pounded so hard it felt like it might burst, each second of your silence a knife twisting deeper into his chest. He had ruined it—he knew he had. He had taken the fragile balance of your friendship and shattered it with his drunken, reckless confession.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered under his breath, raking a shaky hand through his damp hair. “I’ve ruined everything, haven’t I?”

Still, you didn’t say anything, your gaze locked on his, your expression unreadable. The dread pooled in his stomach, hot and acidic, as he stumbled over his next words. “Just—forget I said anything, okay? Chalk it up to the drinks or—”

But then you moved, cutting him off mid-sentence.

Your hand shot out, cupping his face. His eyes widened, his mind reeling as your thumb brushed lightly against his cheek, wiping away the drizzle that clung to his skin.

“Wha—” he started, but the words never made it out.

Because the next thing he knew, your lips were on his.

It wasn’t tentative or hesitant—it was deliberate, firm, and warm in a way that stole every coherent thought from his mind. The faint taste of cherry chapstick hit him first, followed by the soft press of your mouth against his, and Sebastian froze, his brain short-circuiting.

You were kissing him. You were kissing him.

Holy shit.

It was better than anything he’d ever imagined.

His initial shock melted away, and he responded instinctively, his hands moving on their own as they found your waist. His fingers curled against the damp fabric of your dress, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened, as his body surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensation of you.

It was messy and uncoordinated—his head was still spinning from the drinks, and he was sure he tasted like regret and bad decisions—but none of it seemed to matter. Not when you were holding his face like he was the only thing that existed, not when your lips were so soft and sweet and utterly addictive, not when you leaned into him like this was exactly where you wanted to be. In fact, Sebastian thought he might actually die from how perfect this moment was.

When you finally pulled back, just slightly, he let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes fluttered open, and he found you staring at him, your cheeks flushed, your lips still parted like you couldn’t quite believe what had just happened either.

“Did that—” he started, his voice hoarse, but he swallowed hard and tried again. “Did that just happen, or am I drunker than I thought?”

You let out a breathy laugh, your thumb brushing against his jaw. “It happened,” you murmured.

Sebastian blinked, his mind still struggling to catch up. “You kissed me,” he said dumbly.

You smiled faintly, your hand still cradling his face. “I did.”

“And you…” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re not… regretting it?”

Your smile widened just slightly, your gaze warm as you leaned in again, your lips brushing softly against his in a way that made his chest tighten. “Not even a little,” you murmured.

Sebastian exhaled shakily, his hands tightening on your waist. "...You know I just puked my guts out right?"

You laughed, the sound warm and bright, breaking through the tension like sunlight through storm clouds. “I’m painfully aware,” you teased. “But for some reason, I don’t really care.”

Sebastian stared at you, his chest tightening at the way your eyes sparkled, even in the dim light. “You don’t care,” he repeated, his voice still tinged with disbelief.

You shrugged, your smile softening into something more tender. “I figured if you could pour your heart out to me, the least I could do was give you an honest answer.”

“By kissing me,” he said, still dazed, though a crooked grin was slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“By kissing you,” you confirmed, your voice quieter now, almost shy.

Sebastian’s grin widened despite himself, his heart pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol in his system. “I didn’t know that was an option,” he murmured, his voice low and warm. “Because if I’d known, I might’ve poured my heart out a lot sooner.”

You laughed again, the sound soft and light. Your hand was still cradling his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek in a way that made his pulse race. “Well,” you teased gently, “better late than never, right?”

His chest tightened at the way you were looking at him, your eyes so open, so full of something he’d dared to hope for but never believed he’d see. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Better late than never.”

For a moment, you both just stayed there, the soft rain misting around you, your foreheads resting together as your breaths mingled. It felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you, the city noise fading into a distant hum, and Sebastian let himself get lost in the moment—in you.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “Even like this. Especially like this.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you tilted your head slightly, your smile turning a little shy. “You’re just saying that because you’re drunk.”

“I’m saying that because it’s true,” Sebastian countered, his voice firm but soft.

The sincerity in his voice seemed to catch you off guard, your lips parting slightly as you stared at him. He could see the faint tremble of your bottom lip, the way your eyes flickered like you were trying to process everything at once.

“I love you too,” you admitted suddenly.

Sebastian froze.

The rain pattered softly around you, the city’s distant hum faded to nothing, and those three words echoed in his head like a bomb going off. He blinked, staring at you as if he’d misheard, as if he couldn’t possibly have understood what you’d just said.

“What?” he croaked.

You smiled at him, small and unsure but real, your eyes shining with a vulnerability that made his chest ache. “I said I love you too,” you repeated, your voice steadier this time. “I always have."

The words broke something loose in him—something fragile and aching that had been buried for far too long. A soft, shaky laugh escaped his lips, and before he could stop himself, he kissed you again.

“Ten years,” he murmured against your lips. “I can’t believe I’ve wasted ten fucking years.”

You laughed, the sound light and warm, and it felt like a balm against all the years of longing and regret. “Well,” you teased, your fingers carding through his hair, “you’ll just have to make up for lost time.”

He let out a shaky laugh. “So… does this mean you’ll dump Ethan?”

You laughed, the sound muffled as you buried your face in his shoulder, your breath warm against his neck. “Yes, Sebastian,” you said, your voice laced with amusement. “This means I’ll dump Ethan.”

“Good,” he said, a satisfied grin spreading across his face.

You laughed, the sound filling the cool night air, and Sebastian swore he’d never heard anything more beautiful. In that moment, soaked to the skin and still buzzing from the night’s chaos, he realized something with startling clarity.

He was hopelessly, irreversibly, entirely yours—and for the first time, he wasn’t scared of what that meant.

[sophie-hatter-jenkins]

Can u pls recommend ur favorite hinny muggle AUs?

I most certainly can! I am an absolute sucker for a Muggle AU, here are some of the ones I love the most:

Your first stop should absolutely be everything written by the fabulous @ginnyw-potter. She has so many fantastic Hinny Muggle AUs. My absolute favourite is Spilt Blood, but you really can't go wrong!

@starlingflight also has so many wonderful Hinny stories, amongst them the recent and excellent I heart ?, plus her ongoing WIP Bewitched, which might not technically entirely meet your brief, but is just so good I couldn't not mention it.

BrightlyBound should be on the must-read list for any Hinny stan, and for Muggle AUs, my favourites are everything i am is yours and About That Night

I absolutely adore text fics, and if you do too, you will love Heliophile by @seriouslysam8.

Sticking with text fics, try Come Stay for the Summer by @ashotofogdensoldfirewhiskey, which is one that I come back to again and again.

Scoring extra marks for bonus Jily Lives content is the fantastic sports AU ecchymosis by @gryffindormischief, who also co-authored the truly epic Kindle along with fightfortherightsofhouseelves.

One I discovered fairly recently is blind-date-with-a-twist fic Altered by betterthanfirewhisky

And finally - no Hinny rec list, Muggle or Magical, is complete without persist and resist the temptation to ask you by @nuatthebeach, which I have recced before, and I will rec again. It's just fabulous.

Fellow Hinny lovers! What have a missed? Please reblog with your Muggle AU recs!

[justagirlwholikesadam]

Best Friend's Little Sister

Remus Lupin x Muggle! Evans! Reader

Summary: Lily Evans takes the Marauders to her muggle sister's football game where she is captain of the cheerleading squad.

Warning: The Marauders and Lily not understanding football. Sirius and James want lockers in Hogwarts. SFW, drinking, smoking, OC

A/N: I know nothing of sports or cheering so please be warn if there's a mistake. In HS, I was the one smoking pot under the bleachers lol. please like or comment below. Enjoy - L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Word Count: 7.4K

Unlike Petunia, you were proud of Lily. Never making her feel bad for being different. Lily had lost count on how many times you have told her that she is special to be a witch and she should be proud of it. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of letters have been exchanged between Lily and you when she started Hogwarts. You would ask her about her time in Hogwarts, asking her about how her classes were and her friends. Lily did the same, asking you how life is back home and about your wellbeing. Today Lily received a letter and she was so excited to read it since you told her last week about trying out for a new position in the cheer team at your school. Quickly, opening it she had drawn the attention of the boys around her who were talking and laughing about a prank they recently did. James looks over at Lily when she lets out a gasp and covers her mouth. Lily felt James’ place a hand on her back. He asked her if she's alright.

The boys stopped talking and looked at Lily who gave James a bright smile and nodded. “Yes, it’s my sister. She told me she was made captain and is so excited. She wanted me to go to the last game of the term. She wrote here that I can invite you guys. If you are up for it.”

Lily gave James a picture you had sent along with the letter. Sirius and Peter quickly went over to James and looked over his shoulders. Sirius let out a whistle while Peter's eyes grew wide. The photo was a regular muggle photo of you.

“Evans, where have you been hiding this lovely girl!?” Lily rolled her eyes at Sirius then took the photo from James.

“Don't even think about it!” Lily said before handling it to Remus who remained in his seat in front of Lily.

He grabbed the photo and noticed why Sirius whistled. Remus had met you before, Lily had introduced you to him. He always visited Lily whenever they were on break. Remus knew you were very different from Lily’s older sister. Petunia always gave him a harsh look and would shut the door on his face whenever he came over.

“Don’t be a daft cow.” He hears you behind the door before opening it.

“Rem Rem.” You shouted as you hugged him. Remus always smiles at the nickname and hugs you back.

“She’s captain of what?” Peter asked walking back to his seat to continue on with his breakfast.

“She’s captain of the cheerleading team at her school. She has been wanting that spot for so long.” Lily said with a proud smile.

Remus continued to stare at the photo. His eyes looking at every detail, oh how he wished the photo could move. You had a red and gold uniform with black lining on the hem. Your hair was in a ponytail and he saw the glitter around your eyes, making them pop out even more. You looked beautiful, he says to himself. You had two big red pom-poms in each hand. The smile on your face was big and it reminded him of the smiles you always gave him.

“That’s exciting.” James commented as Lily took out the tickets from the envelope.

“If you guys are up for it.” Lily said, waving the tickets in her hands. Sirius and James looked at each other with a grin, any chance they got to see the muggle world, they took it. Peter nodded before letting them know he would have to ask his parents first.

“Moony?” Sirius said, placing an arm over his friend’s shoulder. Remus looks away from the picture and nods at Lily.

The Marauders stood in front of the school as Lily thanked her dad for giving them a ride.

“It’s a bit small.” Peter commented. “Well, it’s not a castle.” Sirius said, looking at the school. They jumped when a group of guys came walking beside them. James’ eyes widened when he saw they were shirtless with red and gold paint over their chest including their faces.

“Are we safe here?” Peter asked them and Lily came behind them. “Of course, it’s a high school football game.”

“Think of how fans are for quidditch. They are the same for football.” Remus told Peter and gave him a pat on his shoulder.

“What’s football?” Sirius asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Lily glanced over at Remus who shrugged his shoulders.

“Like quidditch but running.” Lily said not really knowing how to explain it better. Walking up to the front of the school Lily soon realized she didn't know where she was going. She hasn't been to a public school in years.

“Are you Lily?” The Marauders looked over at a tall boy with blonde hair and he wore a red and gold cheer uniform just like the one you wore in the picture.

“Who’s asking?” James said, stepping in front of Lily. James puffed his chest out trying to intimidate the boy who was taller than him. Lily rolled her eyes at James and pushed him behind her before greeting the boy. The boy gave them a smile and shook her hand, ignoring the small dramatic gasp from James and Sirius.

“I’m Chris, I'm in the squad. Your sister wanted to make sure you guys won’t get lost. Follow me.” Chris told them as he opened the front door of the school for them. He explained to them, it's easier to go this way so they wouldn't have to wait in line. Remus thanked him as Peter and Sirius looked at Chris with a shady look but soon it went away when they noticed the inside of the school. As they walked they looked inside the classrooms and looked at the papers stapled in the bulletin board.

“Wow.” Sirius said as they walked down the hallway.

“James! Sirius!” Lily called out when she noticed they were not following her. Remus looked over his shoulder and frowned when he saw James and Sirius in front of a wall of lockers.

“What's this contraception?” Sirius said, knocking on the red locker. James twisted the lock and pointed at the numbers.

“It’s a locker.” Remus told them and Peter walked over to look at it. James and Sirius look over at Remus with a curious look. “What is it for?”

Remus fought the urge to laugh. James, Sirius and Peter were pureblood, they had no idea what this was. Pushing James and Sirius back to follow Lily, he answered them. “It’s where students put their coats, books and bags while they attend classes. They use the lock to put their code to open it and lock it so nobody steals their belongings.”

“We should ask Dumbledore for lockers!” Sirius said with a nod thinking how cool it will be to have one. He always forgets his books in his room.

“Where do you guys go to school, again?” They froze when Chris asked them. Lily looks over at them with a stern face before dropping it to answer Chris.

“I’m sure, my sister told you. We go to a boarding school.” Lily said. Remus nods at the tall boy.

“We have dorms so we don't use lockers.” He added convincing Chris who looked over at Peter who was twisting the lock of a nearby locker.

“She probably did.” Chris said, shaking his head. “You guys want to see mine?” Chris asked, pointing over his shoulder at the lockers.

“Yes!” James and Sirius shouted and quickly followed Chris with Peter behind them. After 10 minutes of Chris showing them how to open a locker, they finally made it to the football field after providing the tickets to Chris. Remus stayed in the back making sure all the guys were following Lily. The stands were filled with people and students already. Chris waved bye at them and told them he’ll let you know they are here.

“It’s like a quidditch field.” James said as he looked around excited. Remus sat next to Lily as James sat on the other side with Peter. Sirius sat next to Remus in the middle of the stand getting a good view at the field.

“I haven't seen her in so long.” Lily said as she got comfortable on the metal bleachers. “Has your older sister seen her cheer before?” James asked and Lily shook her. “Petunia says cheering is for sluts.”

“I swear, Evans, your older sister hates everything.” Peter said, making her nod.

“She does but at least Y/n doesn't hate me.” Lily said with a soft tone as she stared at the field. Remus hooks Lily’s arm around with his and James snuggles close to her grabbing a hold of her hand. They knew about Lily's family and how her oldest sister always made her out to be a freak. The Marauders were happy she had you for a sister.

The game started and The Marauders jumped at the sound of the horn playing through the intercom. The people around them stood up and shouted, waving and pumping their arms in the air.

“They look so huge.” Peter shouted as the football team came running out of the field pumping their arms in the air, exciting the crowd even more.

“Oh my! She’s there.” Lily shouted standing up as the crowd hollered at the sight of cheerleaders running out. Remus stood up as well and watched a few girls do a flip as they ran in front of the bleachers.

Sirius smirks to see his tall lanky friend staring at the cheerleaders knowing who he was trying to find. Remus told Sirius on their way to Lily’s town after they left Hogwarts for break. Sirius found Remus shaving his face in the bathroom of the train.

“Oi! Who are you trying to impress, mate?” Sirius asked as he went inside the bathroom and shut the door. Sirius couldn't help but laugh at Remus who was trying to come up with a lie. Remus couldn't lie to Sirius for shit. That’s when Remus told Sirius he had a crush on you and wanted to look good for you.

“Is this why you never go out with the girls at school? And is this why, every time Lily gets a letter you get so happy when you find out it’s from her? Have you tried anything with her yet?” Remus turns red in the face and looks away from his friend. He gets nervous and Sirius can see his hand holding the razor shakes.

Sirius lets out a sigh when Remus didn’t say anything. He tells Remus to sit his ass down on the toilet seat so he can help him shave. Pushing his legs apart, Sirius gets to work and shaves the other side of Remus’ face.

“I’m just gonna say this once mate because you’re my best friend and I love you so much but you can be thick sometimes.” Remus tenses up as Sirius wipes the excess shaving cream off his cheekbone with a paper towel.

Sirius continues, “You should tell her how you feel. I’m hoping you’re not letting Moony get in between her and you because I’m pretty sure she will understand just like Lily did and if her sister is anything like her, she would love you and Moony just like we do."

“She is like Lily. Kind and smart. Dare I say more beautiful than her.” Remus said without a second thought to Sirius.

“Don’t say that in front of James.” Sirius warned jokily before heading back to his seat.

Sirius grabbed Remus by the hand when he noticed everyone sat down when the cheerleaders started to get in their position in front of the bleachers. Remus was pulled down forcibly and was about to snap at Sirius when he leaned against him and pointed ahead. Remus followed his hand and saw you walking in the front of the group. Remus hears Lily squeal beside him at the sight of you. His cheeks grew pink at the sight of you. You had a red skirt showing your legs off, Remus felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your bare thighs and legs. The sleeveless top you had on had the school logo printed on it and you wore a red long sleeve shirt it. It was tight and short showing just a bit of the skin of your stomach. Your hair is in a ponytail tied in a red scrunchie.

“I think I'm in love.” Peter said as the cheerleaders started to dance, his eyes stared at a blonde who stood next to you. James laughed, bumping his shoulder at his friend as they watched the show.

Remus saw you raising your hands in the air above your head and shouting the school name before clapping three times. It wasn't the sound of the music playing or the people around him cheering that had him mesmerized but it was the way you move your hips along with the rest of the girls to the beat of the song.

“LETS GO BABY!!” Remus hears a guy scream from the top of the bleacher as they continue to cheer.

Remus watched as Chris came behind you as the girls walked towards the rest of the guys. You came in front of Chris and he turned you around and lifted you in the air. The crowd went wild as the rest of the girls did the same. They began to clap when you turned to the side and grab your leg with both hands pulling the foot behind your head holding the position all while Chris held you up in the air. Remus grew worry when he saw you were going to come down but Chris caught you with ease, it was part of the show.

“How did they do that without magic?” Sirius asked, looking at Lily when the game began to start. Remus was too busy looking at you to listen to Lily's answer. He noticed you were talking and laughing with the team as the players started the game. Peter and James were watching in awe as the players tackled the other team pushing them to the ground with a harsh force. Lily and Remus were looking at the players running back and forth not understanding anything, they wince when one of the players tackled one while holding the ball. Half way through the game Sirius had his head against Remus’ shoulder as he took a nap with a half empty bucket of popcorn on his lap, he begged Lily to buy it for him since they don’t accept galleons.

The horn rang out loud again making Sirius yelp as he woke up spilling his popcorn on the floor.

“Did she win?” He asked in a sleepy tone to Remus, making him chuckle. “She is not the one playing, Padfoot.” James answered as the game went into halftime.

“Who’s winning?” Lily looked at the giant screen showing the count. “This school is.”

“Yay! It means she is winning.” Sirius said, picking up the bucket from the ground with Remus’ help. James and Peter were dancing around when a catchy song started to play through the intercom. Remus watched ahead at you as the girls started to shout out phrases making the crowd cheer.

“LET’S GO! LET’S GO! WE ARE THE BEST! WE CAN'T BE BEAT!”

Remus saw your eyes widen when you saw Lily. You waved at her as you continued to shout. Lily let out a squeal as she waved back at you. You were doing the usual routine, clapping your hands and turning around to shake your hips when you saw your sister. Your heart grew at the sight of your sister, she came to see you. You missed her so much. Looking to her left, your mouth dropped when you saw him. It was Remus Lupin, your sister’s best friend who you had a crush on since you were little. Quickly closing your mouth you continued with the routine but didn’t look away from him. Remus gave you a smile and you gave him one as well. You met Remus when Lily got back home after her first year in Hogwarts. He was tall for his age and nervous. He had scars on his face and you noticed he had it on his arms as well. You didn't ask him about it, you just told him if he wanted to play in the backyard. As the years passed the three of you would play around and walk around town. He always came to visit every year. Remus has always been kind and treated you respectfully. Giving you his cozy sweater or cardigan whenever you were cold or he would grab something from the top shelf for you when you couldn’t. He would let you grab a hold of his arm when walking around town knowing he walked faster since he had long legs.

You didn't know when the feelings for Remus began. You think you always liked him and the moment you realize when you really did was when Remus noticed one of your shoes had become untied while taking him to the bookstore as Lily stayed home with her parents helping them get started with dinner. He told you to lean against the nearest building and you obey. He knelt down in front of you on one leg and helped you place your foot on his knee. You couldn't help but tense up when you felt his hand on your leg. His long fingers work on your shoe laces; he looks up at you when he's done. He gives you a smile making your cheeks flare up.

“Thanks Rem Rem.” You said removing your foot from his knee. Remus doesn't move from his spot when you get closer to him. He’s too busy looking at you to notice your hand coming up to his face. He feels your fingers run through his sandy curls, something you were dying to do when he began to grow his hair out.

Before both of you could say anything, someone had cleared their throat and stood in front of them. “Excuse me.”

The older woman with a cart passed by , walking down the side walk ignoring Remus and your apologies.

That was two summers ago. You couldn't see Remus' last break since you went to cheer camp. You had written to Lily asking about him and how he was doing. You wanted to write to him. You really did but you were nervous he wouldn’t reply back. You wonder if he had a girlfriend. You didn't ask Lily about it, you were far too embarrassed. You didn't think he would ever want to be with a “Muggle.” Lily told you the term when she told you about Hogwarts and her magic. You continued to hold your stare at Remus. You couldn't look away, he looked so handsome. Lily notices your smile and your blushing face, she looks over at Remus who had a smile on his face.

“You were so eye fucking him.” One of your friends said after the routine was done and the football players started to head back to the field.

“No, I wasn’t.” You said turning around looking seriously at the field. The rest of the girls giggled before one spoke. “He got a lot of scars on his face.”

“He was in an accident.” You lied to them before looking over at your shoulder at your sister and her friends. You have only met Remus but you've heard of the rest and known their names. Your sister had told you about Remus and his wolf problem. You didn't believe it at first but you knew Lily wasn’t the type to make shit up. You were okay with it, Remus never changed, he was still the nice guy you knew and you came to term that the guy you liked became a werewolf once in a full moon. You were glad, Remus had his friends helping him during those times. You never told Remus you knew, not even that day when he so kindly knelt down to tie your shoe or when he gifted you a book.

“The guy next to him with long dark hair is pretty cute.” You just smiled at the girls gushed at your sister's friend. Lily and the Marauders stood by the parking lot of the school waiting for you to come out. James noticed how nervous Lily was as she kept looking for you over the mass of people.

“She’ll be here, dear.” James said, rubbing Lily’s back as they waited for you.

“Yeah, Lils.” Sirius said getting near her. He looks over at Remus who was looking for you as well.

“Oi! There she is.” Peter shouted out and pointed at the exit of the school. Remus watched as you walked out with a duffel bag, hanging on your shoulder as you spoke with someone. Remus smile dropped when he saw it was one of the football players. He wore a jersey with the number 6 and had his own bag over his broad shoulder. Remus can't help but notice how the player looked. The guy was taller then him, had muscles and another thing that made Remus' heart sink was the guy had no scars on his face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that he was your boyfriend. Cheerleaders go out with football players, that's the normal thing, Remus thought.

Lily yells your name as she waved her hands in the air. Remus saw you quickly look at them and placed a hand on the guy’s arm before running towards Lily. Remus couldn't help but smile as you threw your bag at the ground and hugged Lily. Shoving his hands in the pocket of his cardigan, he looks over at the sisters embracing each other.

“I missed you so much.” You cried in Lily’s neck. “Me too.” Lily said, pulling away to kiss your cheek.

“I brought the boys.” Lily said, looking over at her shoulder. Remus saw you smile bright at the sight of him.

“REM REM.” You called out, speed walking to Remus. Sirius and James shared a look when you wrapped your arms around Remus’ body. Remus did the same hugging you by the shoulders with both arms. Remus couldn't help but run his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him. You had taken the scrunchie out, he noticed you wore it on your wrist.

You gave Sirius and Peter a hug, greeting them. Lily introduced you to James and you immediately frowned.

“Should I kick your ass now or later?” James' mouth dropped out and was about to say something when Lily and you started to burst out in laughter.

“She told me you were a little shit.” Sirius and Peter laughed.

“How can you say that about me, Lils?” James said with a gasp not understanding it was a joke. You knew about James Potter and knew your sister liked him before she even realized it herself. You have read pages of Lily, telling you about James Potter. She wrote how ridiculous and rude he was but at the end of the letters Lily always wrote that James' hair looked cute.

“She was joking, dear.” You nodded at him as Lily gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“That's right. I'm just joking. She said far worse things.” You said making Lily shout your name. “I’m joking.” You told him before looking over at Sirius, Peter and Remus shaking your head making them laugh.

“My brother in law isn’t a little shit.” You said as you hugged James who grew red like Lily’s hair when you called him brother in law.

“Keep messing with him, Y/n. He’ll turn you into a toad.” Lily said, making you gasp then looked at James.

“Can you really do that?! Can you make me into a tiger instead?” You asked frantically as you looked at James who laughed at your enthusiasm.

“Oh my god, can you turn this guy’s hair red for me?” You asked James. “Remember, we have rules. We can’t use magic outside of the school grounds.” You sighed at her.

“That’s so dumb.” You said as Sirius walked towards you. He placed an arm over your shoulder and agreed with you.

“Wait for next year. We got you. What color tiger do you want to be?” Sirius asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Remus watched as you smiled at Sirius before tapping your chin as you thought of an answer. You were about to answer when he heard your name being called out.

Remus watched as the same football player came running towards you. Sirius noticed Remus’ face and tugged you closer to him. He wasn’t going to let some beefy guy with a helmet who runs over people for fun get a hold of his best friend’s girl.

“Lincoln is throwing a house party to celebrate our win. Are you coming?” You looked over at Lily and looked back at him.

“Can my sisters and her friends come too?” He quickly nodded as a green jeep drove up by them.

“Yo! Evans! Are you coming to the party?!” The driver asks you. “Yeah! She is going to bring some people.” The football player told the driver.

“You guys want to come?” You turned to them. James looks over at Lily.

“You haven’t been to a house party before, Lily. This can be a good experience for you.” Peter and Sirius agreed while James waited for Lily to answer.

“Rem Rem?” You asked as you walked towards Remus.

“I guess we can stop by for a few hours.” Remus said as you grabbed a hold of his hand. Remus looks over at Lily and tilts his head at her.

“Let's go.” You let out a squeal and kiss her cheek. “Mike, can we hitch a ride with you?” You asked the driver.

“Sure thing, love. Seb, I’ll follow you.” Mike said, looking out the window at the football player.

“Alright, I’ll be back.” Seb said as Mike parked his car in front of them.

“What about dad?” Lily asked as James and Peter got inside the car. Sirius grabs your bag from the ground, throwing it in the back of the car.

“Don’t worry. I’ll call dad when we are there.” Sirius helped Lily up in the jeep car.

“One of you guys can come in the front.” Mike said as he waiting for them to get in. Sirius looks at Remus and you, both of you are still holding hands.

“Moony! Go to the back with Little Evans.” Sirius said as he walked to the passenger seat. Mike looks at Sirius who sat beside him and shut the door.

“Moony?” Mike asked as he looked over at Sirius who sat down and shut the car door. “It’s just a nickname. Name is Sirius but you can call me, Padfoot.” Sirius said as Lily told him to put on his seatbelt but Sirius was too in enthrall looking at Mike to even listen to her.

“Nice to meet you, Padfoot. I’m Mike.” Sirius leaned back in his seat when Mike got close to him. Sirius blushes when Mike got close to him. Mike had short black hair showing his pierced ears and his eyes were light brown.

“Seat belts are important.” Mike said in a soft tone as he grabbed it for Sirius. Mike gives him a smile when he clicks it, making sure it was correctly in place and leans back in his seat.

“Rem Rem, would you mind if I sit on your lap?” Remus looks over to see Lily sitting on James lap as Peter sat in the middle.

When Remus didn’t answer, you whispered to him. “It’s alright, if you mind. I can catch a ride with someone else.”

Remus still didn’t answer and with a heavy heart you were about to shut the door when he grabbed a hold of your arm.

“Yes, you can sit down. Please do.” James snorts a laugh behind Lily’s hair as Remus practically tugs you inside the car. Remus shuts the door as you settle down in his lab. He spreads his legs to make room for your legs. Remus can smell the light scent of your body spray, he’s so close to you. The car started to move and there was a bump in the road. You were about to fall forward when he wrapped his arms around your stomach, pulling you to his chest.

“You okay?” Remus asked behind you. Your cheeks grew hot when you felt his breath behind your ear.

“Yeah.” You whispered as you grabbed his arm. Your fingers began to play with the fabric of his cardigan. He feels so warm behind you. So comfortable, you feel the roughness of his jeans against your bare legs. You hear Lily and James talking to Mike about their “boarding school.”

Remus was thinking hard as he shut his eyes. He thought of vomit, James vomiting, Peter vomiting, Sirius vomiting on Peter and James. He thought of it as he felt your ass against his crotch.

“Gross thoughts. Gross thoughts.” He tells himself.

He felt you lean back and look at him. “I did miss you, Remus.” You whispered as the window of the car rolled down.

Remus looks at you and holds you close as Mike makes a left.

“I missed you too.” Remus admits. He always waited for Lily to receive your letter so he could find out how you were. He was devastated when Lily told him you were going to cheer camp last summer. He didn’t see you that summer and he felt bad for lying to Lily whenever she asked him why he had a long face.

“You know maybe next time, I can write-.” Peter's wow cuts them off when Mike parked in front of a large house.

Remus stood behind you as everyone made their way into the house. Sirius and Peter stood close as they walked inside looking at the other students on the couch, or dancing in the living room. Some where in the corner smoking while others were in the back yard playing something Remus told them was called Beer Pong.

“Holy shit! If it isn’t the captain in the flesh.” A girl came at you, hugging you. She was a bit taller and wore the same cheerleading uniform as you.

“When Seb told me you were coming. I couldn’t believe it. He went out to get more beer for you.” You tsk at her before shaking her head.

“Christina, he didn’t have too. I’m not planning on drinking. I just wanted to show my sister and her friends who just came to visit me the party.” You said looking over Lily and the guys. Peter's eyes were wide as he saw it was the blonde he was fawning over earlier. Peter thought he was going to have a stroke when the blonde introduced herself to everyone and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek.

“Please tell your sister to relax.” Christina said, looking over at Lily.

“She never comes to our house party. Our captain is a good girl but finally she is at her first party. She needs to have a drink.”

“Peter, why don’t you help her get some drinks for us.” Peter looks over at you with a face. You gave him a wink and signaled your head to Christina. It was painfully obvious that he liked her.

“Oh yes, come with me.” Christina said, holding out her hand for Peter. Everyone smiled as Peter without a single thought, grabbed a hold of her hand and let Christina drag him to the kitchen.

“She’s harmless. I swear.” You said looking over at the kitchen again.

“Is it true then?” Sirius asked with a smirk. “You’re a good girl? You never drink?”

“Of course, she is. She’s just like me.” Lily said, walking over to you making you chuckle.

You tried your best to not look Remus. A bit embarrassed that your friends had outed you and told your sister and her friends that you were a prude and a good girl who doesn’t do anything bad.

“Yo!” Remus watched the same football player you were talking come behind you.

“Christina said you’re drinking.” Lily's eyes widened at the sight of the football player towering over them. He had a case of beer over his shoulder, showing his muscles.

“Only one, Seb. By the way, this is my sister and these are her friends.” Remus felt like he needed to drink something before lashing out when he saw Seb placing a hand on your shoulder after handing them the cans of beer.

“I want you guys to meet my boyfriend. BABY!” Remus looks up from his beer at the guy. Wait boyfriend, Remus and Sirius glance at each other as Chris from earlier comes towards them with a smile.

James saw Chris come over and give a kiss to Chris before looking over at them. “You met my boyfriend, Seb.”

Remus chuckles to himself. Seb wasn't your boyfriend. Remus liked how you interacted with them. He liked seeing you smiling and talking. He didn’t know you were quite popular. He felt childish whenever he got a little bit jealous when a guy came over to talk to you. He couldn’t help it though you were so beautiful. Of course, guys are going to come up to you. He was glad that you didn’t leave them to talk to someone else. You had introduced them to practically everyone.

Lily and James were dancing while Peter and Christina were in the kitchen, getting their seventh drink of the night. Remus can’t help but smirk when he sees Sirius and Mike leaning close together against the wall. Sirius was showing Mike, his silver rings on his fingers. Remus looks away when he sees you walking back to him with two more beers. He made room for you on the couch and thanked you when you handed him one.

“Are you having a good time?” Remus looks over at you. Your cheeks were a bit flushed and your eyes were glossy, you had more than one beer. You had a smile on your face as you played with the tab of the can. Remus bumps his knee with yours.

“I am. You?” You nod at him as he takes a sip. Remus notices as a couple walking in front of you and sat across from him and you. The girl recognized you as well as the guy she was with. The girl had bright red hair while the guy had his hair neon green. The couple were from your art class, you told him. You were talking with them when you accidently placed your hand on top of his. Remus blushed when you grabbed a hold of his hand as you laughed at them.

"Did you hear them?" Remus smiles and nods at you. He haven't heard a thing, he was freaking out on inside that you were holding his hand. He didn’t let go, he didn’t want you to let go

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re here. You’re usually reading or in the library. Always reading that weird brown book.” Remus looks up at the girl's words.

“What?” He asked and looked over at you who was blushing really hard.

“She always has this brown book. A fairytale about these four people. They are witches or something.” She said before looking over at her boyfriend.

“Yeah, what is it again? Dude is a lion and one is a snake.” Remus frowns as they continue to speak. “You looked inside of it?” Remus felt you sit up straight.

“Only for a second, we just wanted to know what it was. You're always reading it.”

“Oh shit! I remember! They were wizards and they made this school or something.” Remus' heart dropped when she said that.

You still had the book he gifted you a while back. It was a gift he had given you for your birthday. He remembered he had bought it in Hogsmeade and wrapped it in a paper bag. He remembers the face you make when he sat beside you as you open the book. It was filled with colorful photos and all information about Hogwarts and the four founding members. You had given him a kiss on the cheek when you turned a page and saw the photos were moving.

“They have an orgy at the end?” The guy asks you with a laugh and Remus notices the awkward look on your face.

“They all die.” Remus answered a bit harshly.

“I’m going out for some air.” You said quickly getting up from the couch, letting go of his hand and walking out the back door.

You didn’t realize Remus was following you. He excuses himself to your friends and follows you. He placed his beer on the kitchen counter as he went through the back door where you went. Making your way further to the backyard, you threw your beer on the ground. You sighed to yourself, you felt embarrassed and worry. You were sure that Remus was angry at you for letting someone look in the book that he had gifted you. It would be best if no one got a hold of it, he had told you and made you promise to never show it to anyone. That book was the only thing from Remus and you had carried it everywhere with you. You had read countless times front to back. You read all the stories about the houses and the professors in it. You had daydreamed about going to Hogwarts to see your sister and Remus.

Remus calls your name out when he sees you leaning against a tree. Looking over your shoulder, he saw you were going to cry. He quickly goes to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he wrapped an arm around you.

“I’m sorry. They saw the book. I know I promise you no one would look at it. Please don’t be mad at me.” Remus shakes his head as he drops his arm around you.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” You look up at a Remus with tears welled up in your eyes. Remus quickly wipe the single tear that managed to escape your eye.

“You kept the book.” Remus said as his hand cupped your cheek then slowly dropped down at your neck. His fingers touched the neckline of your uniform. You lean against him before looking down at the ground all shy.

“Of course, you gave it to me as a gift. I love it.” You didn’t say anything else when Remus brought his hand under your chin.

“It’s been years and you still read it?” You nod at him when he made you look up at him.

“Why?” He asked, looking down at your face.

“It reminds me of Lily.” Remus was going to pull away at your answer. Perhaps he thought wrong, he thinks to himself. Maybe you didn’t feel anything for him.

“I think of you too, Remus.” He comes to a halt. "I imagine what it would be like to go to school with you."

"I imagine that too." Remus admitted. "I would walk you to your classes. I'll take you to the Black Lake and to the Astronomy Tower. Then at the weekends, I'll take you out to Hogsmeade."

"I would have love that." You tell him. "Lily told me that the Astronomy Tower is usually where people go to.." You don't finish your sentence, there was no need because Remus knew. People go up there when feeling frisky.

He chuckles and rub the back of his neck avoid eye contact with you. You knew it was now or never when Remus began to stutter, trying to come up with something.

“I want to tell you something. It might seem dumb to you because I'm your best friend's little sister. I like you and before you say anything. I’m sure there are pretty witches at your school and you might have someone already but I like you, Remus. I like you a lot.” Remus felt you about to back away when he didn’t say anything.

He quickly leans down to kiss your lips, give you a peck. Sirius’ words echoed in his mind about telling you the truth.

“Remus..” You said his name softly.

“I like you too.” Remus shyly said as he pulled you into his chest.

“I like you so much that I don’t even look at the witches in school. I don’t care that you’re a muggle.” Remus said easing your insecurities.

When it was time to leave, Remus didn’t want to go. There was one last week until starting a new school year. He had begged his parents to let him stay for a few more weeks after the house party. Your relationship with him blossomed after that night. When he stayed over at the Evans, he slept on the couch. Every night he stayed, he waited up for you to quietly go down the stairs. He would bite his bottom lip to not make a noise when you straddle him to kiss him. Making out until dawn and talking in hushed whispers about his interests and yours, talking about books and movies.

When it was time to go, Lily’s father was nice enough to take me to the train station. Remus and you were behind the house away from everyone, he towered over you as he kissed you.

“Write to me. Promise me you’ll write to me.” He begs as he nuzzles into your neck.

“I will. I promise it. Once a week.” Remus shakes his head. “Everyday.” You looked at him with wide eyes and repeated it in a shocking tone.

“Your owl will get tired.” Remus shakes his head once more.

“I’ll give him treats and feed him more.” Remus said with a smile before sighing.

“I’m going to miss you.” Remus told you sadly.

“One more year and you’re out.” You whispered to him as you kissed him. You pulled away at the sound of Lily calling for him and you.

Remus wants to tell you about Moony. He really did it every time he was going to bring it out, something or someone will get in the way. He was sure that you were going to break up with him once you found out. It was crazy enough that he was a wizard but he’s a werewolf as well. Remus was deep in thought as he gave Mr. Evans his luggage so he could put it in the trunk of his car.

“Bye, Moony!” Remus' head shot up and saw you waving at him by the front door. Lily comes out behind you and waves bye at Remus.

It was a week back in school and Remus was eating breakfast when the mail started to fly in. One by one owls came flying though and dropped letters and mail to the students. Remus knew you wouldn’t write back. You knew his nickname. Moony, he was pretty sure you were smart enough to figure it out. He didn’t mention it to Lily about it. Afraid to ruin his friendship with her but he told Sirius it.

“Oh! Moony!” Sirius shouted as he watched the white envelope slowly falling down in front of Remus.

Remus looks up from his plate and stands up, reaching to grab the letter. Sirius looks over as Remus quickly opens it. Sirius can’t help but smile at the sight of his best mate looking happy as he read the letter from you.

"She knows." Remus said looking at Sirius. "And?" Sirius asked worry as Remus went back to read the letter.

"If you think being one will make me like you less. You are wrong, Remus Lupin." They shared a smile and Remus pulls out a red scrunchie from inside the envelope. Remus pulls his sleeves up so he can put it around his wrist.

Sirius turns back to his plate and raises a brow when he notices a letter next to him. Opening it up, he can’t fight the urge to smile wide when he sees it was from Mike.

[corrodedcoffins-blog]

Meetings On Window Sills

masterlist

note: I fucking love 60s-70s music so there's a lot of it mentioned, and also remus is a full blown music nerd so why would i not make them bond over music?? also this was inspired by 2007s Jump In! starring my first crush: corbin bleu lol

warnings: didn't edit (don't care), little tiny bit of angst between remus and his dad, smoking, remus having back problems since 11 and a city boy, reader has hair long enough to put in a claw clip

word count: 3.8 k

♡ summary: Many don't know that during summer, Remus goes home to a muggle girl, and he spends more time on his fire escape than in his room some days

♡ Remus Lupin x fem!muggle!reader

request ✗

1971

He’d known her his whole life, well since he was 6 months old. Their mums had both gone to the same ‘mommy and me’ class and hit it off when they both took a smoke break. Since then their mums had noticed they didn’t have much in common and grew apart, not after buying apartments in the same building.

Remus stretched his back, hands on his waist while leaning back, just having done all his folding, getting ready to organize in his trunk. As he stood from the small single bed in the corner he heard the soft hum of music coming from outside, the young boy lifted his widow, needing much more force than when it was made. 

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” 

Remus looks to her widow, seeing the record player playing on her desk while she reads, not seeming to be doing a whole lot of that though. From his view it looks to be Little Women, which he had read and which he would never tell her, but he had been bored on a visit to his grandparents before they died and that was the only book in his moms childhood room, so he read it and enjoyed it enough to finish and not have much of a critic.

“You always sing that song much louder than the rest.” 

His sudden voice caused the girl to jump in her seat, putting the book down and turning down the record she looked at to him, slightly embarrassed at him catching her. 

“It’s my favourite.” She said moving to sit on her window seat. Remus of course noticed this as a sign that she wanted to continue the conversation, he also noticed the way she played with the bottom button of her cardigan. The boy exited his window onto the fire escape to sit on the window sill.

“It’s The Beatles?” “Yeah, my mum got it for me for Christmas last year. Along with George Harrison’s solo album, ‘cause he’s my favourite Beatle- he actually wrote the song I was singing.” She knew she went on a little too long but Remus wouldn’t stop her, that was the type of person he was, kind hearted. When he listened to her, he really listened, he heard every word and took it in.

“Because he wrote your favourite song?” “Not just that, but I guess that’s where it started then I looked through all my albums and all my favourite songs he wrote.” She briefly pointed behind her and he saw the self of records behind her.

“What ones?” He asked, getting more comfortable by leaning his back on one side of the window frame.

“Umm, I’m happy just to dance with you, and of course here comes the sun.” “That’s me mum's favourite, tells me every time it’s on the radio.” 

The conversation stalls, to avoid awkward stares Remus looks down to the street and watches a man with a yellow jacket cross the street, it glowing in the yellow street lights. His stare only breaks when he hears her voice ask, “What’re you packing for?”

“Oh- That..” Her brows furrow at the nervous tone, he wasn’t sure how to tell her, it wasn’t like they were best friends, they talked once in a while like how they are now and would see eachother at school, “I wasn’t sure how to tell people, I’m going to a different school next year.” “Where?” “It’s a boarding school up in Scotland.” “Why are they making you go?” 

Remus would be lying to say that didn’t surprise him, she sounded like she would miss him a little more than he thought she would, and that deeply confused him.

“My father went so-” It’s interesting how much truth he could say while withholding the biggest piece of information from her.

“That sucks. Aren’t you going to miss your friends.” “I never had many friends.” Overstatement. He had no friends, never really did, kids at school made fun of his scars, or for being a nerd, or for having second hand clothes that his mother still had to sew to be wearable; take your pick really. 

“Not many people like me.” “I like you.” Remus’s head lifted from its stare at his swinging legs, “As- as a friend of course.” “Of course, I like you as a friend too.” 

-

1973 

As soon as he walked through the door, Remus set on the way to his window, leaving his trunk at the door. 

“Hun! Where’re you going so fast?” His mum asked, placing the keys in the bowl by the door, and putting her hands on her hips. His father made his way past her to the kitchen.

“I missed my room!” He yelled, never slowing down the hall. Once they believed he was out of ear shot, he heard his father say, “He wants to see Jen’s girl.” 

As he got closer to her window he saw the girls laying on her back legs up resting on the wall while she read. Her head snapped to the window after the first knock, a large grin making its way to her face. She rolled off her bed and opened the window for him and he heard the tune of Bowie flowing through the room.

She crawled half out the window to hug him, her arms going around his neck and he held her back, his hands felt warm, his embrace felt safe. He wore a thin jumper that felt soft on her skin.

“I’m so happy you’re back.” “Me too.” They say, pulling back and getting comfortable on the window sill. She was still smiling at him, and him at her, before Remus felt he had to look away or he would explode. He took the moment to look at her room and it had changed quite a bit since last summer; bed against a new wall, something she did when she felt she needed a change. He noticed her vinyl collection had grown.

“You finally got Ziggy Stardust!” “Oh yeah!” She jumped off the ledge they sat on and made her way to put it on. 

“I went with some friends to London and we got to go to a huge record shop. Remus you wouldn’t believe the stuff they had there- they had Bob Dylan’s first album so my collection of his is complete.” “Brilliant.��� Remus sat down on her window seat bench and grabbed the album from her shelf to get a closer look. With the Bowie record set up, she nudged the volume dial up before returning next to the boy. She hit his leg to get his attention, “Listen to this first one it’s my favourite.” 

He put the Bob Dylan album down to give his full attention to the music. 

Many hours later, the two were still perfectly content listening to album after album, pausing their conversation when a particularly good verse came. They were now on the floor of her room, the girl laid out on her carpet flooring, looking just as carefree and stunning as ever. 

“Joni next?” She said as the album playing came to a close, before he could respond they heard a knock on the window, it was his dad.

“Bit late, innit? ‘S past one, Remus.” “Sorry, Mr. Lupin, we lost track of time.” “‘S alright, dear, but come to bed Remus.” “Okay.” 

His father went back through the window and waited. Remus stood the floor and stretched his back, the girl stood as well, “Tomorrow?” “Yeah.” “G’night, Rem.” “G’night.” 

He joined his dad out on the fire escape as they made their way back to his room, once they got inside and closed the window his father broke the silence. “I know you like that girl, but you’ve ‘ot to keep her out of this world, especially with what you are.” 

And just like, an otherwise perfect night, ruined by one comment by his father. 

“I know.” “Alright. G’night, son.” The door shut behind him, and when he heard that click he let the tear drop.

He knew from his friends that  some people don’t care, they found out this past school year and he still hasn’t told his parents that fact. But for all his life he’s heard otherwise, and he can’t help but think one day the boy’s will come to their senses and leave him all alone again. Y/n though, a muggle, if he ever told her he can imagine that  best case scenario is him having to use obliviate.

-

1975 

Remus retreated to his room after dinner, wanting to sleep or read or something that didn’t involve more people, it had been a long day even before he got on the train home for the summer. As he grabbed the book on his desk he saw a trail of smoke leading to a certain girl’s bedroom, he leaned forward to see her with her glasses on, smoking a cigarette, and wearing mismatching pajamas.

He lifted the window with ease, causing the girl to flick her eyes back to him, “You're back.” “Same time every year.” Both shared a look with smiles on their faces, the girl broke eye contact to grab her pack of cigarettes, and overing him with one.

“Yeah.” He climbs out the window and comes to now sit on her window sill and takes his own cigarette, she grabs the light from behind her and he lets her light his. Her fingertips brushing against his check as she blocks the blooming flame from the soft summer breeze.

He takes the chance to gaze at her lips, wrapped around the cigarette, residue of lipstick left behind, a soft red. She never needed the makeup, but sometimes if he woke up early he could watch her put it on. A moment that he found she looked the most beautiful, practiced movements, mouthing the words to whatever song she was listening to, and the funny faces she made made him smile. 

“I missed you.” “Yeah?” A smile creeped on his face as he looked into her eyes. “Yeah.” “I missed you too. I always do.”

The girl looks away, a smile on her face, unaware that Remus continues his stare looking from her eyes to her smile and the way her hair falls in its clip. She wore a thin olive green tank top, he could tell she wasn’t wearing a bra so he moved his eyes to the clouds she was looking at. 

“How’re your friends?” Sometimes she felt as though she knew the boys, with how much Remus talked about them, her mind began to wonder if they knew as much about her as she knew about them.

“They’re just the same pricks they’ve always been.” “James got any farther with Lily?” She muttered, flicking off her cigarette and taking another puff, she looked so beautiful and natural. She had glasses that fell down her nose, messy hair that she liked that way, and a laugh like no other.

“Lils would like me to say ‘no’, but I think she likes him a lot more than she cares to share.” “That’s the way it always goes.” She trailed off, to look at him and he was already looking at her.

It was second year Remus became friends with Lily, they were paired up for a project together and became close. At first she was jealous of the girl, she felt that Lily was going to take her spot in Remus’ life, it weirdly enough was when she heard of James’ fondness for the ginger girl that she no longer worried. Well that and the fact that Remus never did anything to insinuate that he was any less friends with her because of Lily. 

And what she didn’t know was that half of the time he was with Lily, he ended up bringing up her.

-

1977 

Y/n was waiting all day for Remus to come home, she never left her room the whole day in waiting. Looking to his window every ten minutes in hope she would see her lanky boy crawling out his window.

It was late in the evening when she came back from the bathroom and immediately went to check, she almost didn’t believe her eyes when she saw the lamp beside his bed on. The girl shrugged on her cardigan that was lying across her desk chair, and crawled out the window.

Remus had just gotten back from a nice dinner with his parents, this was his last summer as a kid and they wanted to make it special from the beginning, especially since next week he was going to spend a month at the Potter’s. 

He was interrupted from changing by a knock on his window, he turned on his heels to see the girl he’s been waiting all year to see. Her smile lights up his face, she looks away and it takes him a moment to realize it’s because he isn’t wearing a shirt, clad in nothing but pajama pants gifted to him by Peter. He quickly slips on a jumper before he opens the window and she stumbles into his room. 

“Hey.” “Hi.” They each silently take this moment to get a look at eachother, the girl noticed that she could see that scar on his chest end just where his jumper begins, it’s surprising that she could know him since they were babies yet doesn’t know when he got that scar. To be honest she never asked about them, she could tell he was insecure about the way he looked, though in her mind there was no need to be.

During this Remus is having his own thoughts about her looks, she was wearing that cardigan she’s had since she was ten, underneath was a tank top like she commonly wore. Her hair was up in a clip, the same ones Mary always wore, small pieces of hair falling out. She was beautiful.

“Urm.. How have you been?” The boy asked justering for her to sit as he took a seat on his bed. She joined him, leaning against the wall and pulled a carton of cigarettes out of her cardigan pocket. 

“Good, yeah I’m good. You?” She replied, feeling around her pockets, “No lighter.” He stood from the bed and went to his dresser drawer, retrieving the pink lighter and throwing it to the girl, she caught it with ease yet didn’t begin to light.

“Is this the lighter I gave you?” 

When they were fifteen, they first smoked weed together, at a nearby park in order to not get caught by their parents. And Y/n, high, had given Remus her lighter when they had climbed back up the fire escape to their windows and told him, “This is my favourite lighter. I don’t know why? I think ‘cause it’s pink, so that means it’s lucky- ‘cause the lighter is lucky it’s pink and not some boring lighter like yours- No, you know what Remus? You should take this one, ‘cause it’s luckier and prettier than yours. But keep it safe, it’s my favourite.” 

That night Remus put it in his sock drawer to keep safe, he never wanted to use it or worse lose it, so he kept it safe just as she asked.

“Um, yeah.” He mumbled, a little embarrassed at the amount of sentiment he put into that cheap lighter. 

“You kept it?” “Yeah, you told me to.” 

He becomes even more embarrassed when she chuckles. She looks down at it in her hands, her chuckle dying down and smile slips. There's a moment of silence as Remus doesn’t know what to say so he just returns to his spot on the bed next to her. She doesn’t look up at him still as she asks, “Why did you keep it?” 

Truthfully Remus does know why he kept it, it was just because she gave it to him, but if that sounds lame in his head it will most definitely sound lame if he says it to the girl he likes, no love, he’s always known he loved her. So once again he’ll chicken out and doesn’t respond.

She waits for his answer, and when it never comes, “Is it.. For the reason I think?” She boldly asks, looking at the side of his face as he has not looked away from the spot on the wall in front of them. 

Another moment, and the beautiful girl tries to get his attention by leaning her face in his line of vision. His gaze is unnerved, he’s too consumed by the thoughts running in his mind, until they all go silent.

She presses a kiss to the side of his mouth and says, “I like you too.”

Head snaps to look at her, eye to eye, nose to nose, and finally lips to lips as Remus presses a hard kiss right on her lips. She immediately begins kissing back, and trying to take control but to her surprise Remus is a lot more comfortable in his actions now and is the one leading the kiss and pushing his tongue between her soft lips, which she gladly accepts.

The girl trails her hand up the inside of his thigh before skipping up to hold his jaw, Remus at the same time grabs her hips and squeezes, causing Y/n to swing one leg over his and straddle the boy’s lap. Her hands fall from his jaw, to his neck, to his chest and pushes him away lightly.

Both slowly allow their eyes to open and look at eachother, smiles mirroring each other. 

“So-” “Boyfriend girlfriend?” “Yeah, that’s cool.”

-

1977

“I’ll get the Bowie album, then we can listen to it when you get back.” “When’s it coming out?” “October.”

The girl replied, her head lying on his bicep as she played with his hand, drawing shapes and tracing his veins. In his other hand, resting on her stomach, Remus held the book he and Lily decided to read over the break for their informal book club. 

Y/n thought about asking what she’s been wanting to ask since they’ve gotten together, “Are you going to come home for Christmas?” The last time he did was fifth year, last year he had gone to his friend James’ house. And from what he told her, he had the best time, so you can see she was a little worried he would do that again and she wouldn’t get to see her boyfriend till next summer.

What she didn’t know was that Remus was hoping to avoid this at any cost, it was a full moon this christmas. So even if he did come home, he wouldn’t even get to see her much.

“I haven’t thought about it.” “Oh.” Damn, wrong thing to say. She thought about it. She asked him. She wanted him there.

“I mean- I would love to come home and see you! I just- I don’t know if-” “What?” 

She saw the hurt in his face, she knew whatever he was thinking about he was trying to push down and resist it, she sat up and sat crisscrossed facing him. She leaned down and grabbed his hands, gently taking the book out of his hands and marking the page by folding the corner.

“What’s wrong, Remus?... You can tell me.” “That’s just it- I can’t, or rather I shouldn’t.” “Okay, now I’m confused.” She scoffed, shaking her head and standing up to get some space, “What can you not tell me. I tell you everything.” 

Remus sat up, leaning against the wall on his bed, head in his hands, thinking about everything. Everything he ‘couldn’t’ tell her, if he couldn’t trust her he believed he couldn’t trust anyone ever again.

“Okay, you have to believe me though, and it’s going to sound like I’ve gone mad. So just remember that I know how absolutely insane I sound, and that I’m still telling you because I trust you. More than anyone.” Met with slight hesitance, Y/n replies, “Okay.”

“I’m a wizard.” He waits for the big reaction that never comes, he stares at the confused face of his girlfriend before he stands and goes to his bottom desk drawer and grabs his wand.

“Levioso.” The boy says, pointing at his record player and directing it as it levitates, before ultimately placing it back in the same spot on his dresser. When he looked back at the girl, her jaw opened in shock. 

“Holy fucking SHIT!... That just- in air! You are!” “A wizard? Yes.” “How? I mean- you- what?” 

Remus came to her side, guiding her to sit with him on his bed, “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve got more.” “MORE?” She looked towards him, concerned for what was to come.

“Yes. Okay, I’m also a werewolf.” “If I didn’t know you, or see that pissing record player float- God, I’d think you were too far gone.” Her words were a relief, causing Remus to chuckle, but truthfully a weight lifted off his chest, to have the most important person in his life to not judge him, “You have no idea how much that means to me- I’m the same Remus you knew, you just know everything now.” 

-

1977

“So I werewolves are real, what about vampires?” “Yes.” “What?! Am I going to have to worry about them?” “Don’t visit Romania.” “That’s not funny.”

They laid together, well Remus laid done while his girl moved every few moments, very excited about the new world she was learning about, at this moment she sat on the boy’s thighs with her legs straddling them on either side.

“What’s your favourite subject in school? For real, now that I know you don’t actually take English.” “Defence against the dark arts.” “That’s a class?” “Yes, a very important one.” He replied, moving his hands up the girl's thighs, from her knees to grasping her hips. He keeps his hands there, squeezing when he feels like it.

“What’s your least favourite?” “Flying. But I haven’t taken that since first year.” “WHY would you hate flying? That’s the dream.” “I don’t like heights.” “But you’re FLYING! Through the air!” “Really? Well, now I’ve got to rethink things.” “Oh, shut up.” 

Remus was laughing now, and he could tell she was trying hard not to. He pulled her down to him, keeping her there with his hands on her back as he attacked her cheek with kisses, “Ah!” 

The small scream falls on deaf ears as Remus continues kissing her cheeks to her jaw and burrows his head to the crook of her neck. He mumbles something she can’t quite hear, but she can just barely make out the word ‘love’. But still continues to fight him off, “Ah! Rem- tickles!” “Don’t care.”

[mischievousmoony]

𝚠𝚛𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚊𝚙𝚎𝚛

⟢ james potter x reader (who is skilled at gift wrapping) ⟢ you and james wrap christmas gifts for your kids last minute ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: no warnings? lmk if i missed anything

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The crisp rustle of wrapping paper tears through the air as you unravel a sheet long enough for a rather larger box. 

You and your husband, decked in matching holiday pajamas, are sitting on the dark hardwood floor of your bedroom. Surrounding you are various presents that you’re working tirelessly to wrap late this Christmas Eve. 

“Why do we do this every year? Scratch that— why do I let you convince me to do this every year?” you suddenly ask when you get a glimpse of the clock on your nightstand. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” James asks on an exhale of airy laughter. 

“Oh, nothing,” you hum as you measure out how much paper you’ll need. “Just trying to figure out how I let myself marry a chronic procrastinator. And how I let him be such a bad influence on me.”

James falters, dropping the flaps of snowflake-decorated paper he was about to tape down. 

“A chronic procrastinator? A bad influence!?”

You press your lips together to hold back a smile. “Keep wrapping. It’s almost three in the morning,” you say as your scissors satisfyingly glide through the wrapping paper. 

“No,” James protests, pushing the gift away from him and crossing his arms petulantly. “Not until we address your little comment.”

“See, you’re procrastinating right now by trying to start a debate about whether or not you have a problem,” you tease, your lips involuntarily turning up at the corners.

“It sounds like you want to finish the wrapping by yourself,” he jokes, but you both know he’d never leave you hanging. 

“Oh, come on,” you laugh. “If we had it my way the presents would have been wrapped ages ago. They would’ve been wrapped the moment we brought them home.”

“Why would we wrap one present at a time when we could wait and wrap them all at once?” 

“Only a chronic procrastinator would ask why we should get ahead on our tasks.”

James knows you’ve got him there, so all he can do is huff. “Stop saying procrastinate it doesn’t sound like a word anymore.”

“Alright, slacker,” you say through a grin.

James rolls his eyes dramatically as he repositions himself from sitting up to lying on his side. “I’m not a slacker,” he says, propping his head up on his elbow, “I just want to be efficient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up as James denies his tendency for putting off his tasks as he gets comfortable in front of a half-wrapped present. 

“Yeah, real efficient,” you say as you carefully fold the paper at the corners, creating perfect trapezoids on the sides of the box, which you tape down with a small square of sellotape. 

He takes notice of the look you gave him, and provides an excuse. “I’m just taking a break.” 

“This is the definition of slacking, by the way. C’mon we’re going to be dead tired tomorrow.”

“We’ll be fine, it’s only 3 a.m.,” James says as if it’s barely midnight. Regardless, he pushes himself back into a seated position and finishes taping down the paper over the box that holds a new toy truck for you son.

“Last Christmas the kids were jumping in our beds by seven,” you say, very matter-of-factly. 

“If they’re awake that early I’ll corral them to the kitchen and make a big breakfast with them to give you an extra hour,” he promises as he reaches for a new roll of wrapping paper— a dark green one with cartoon reindeers printed all over.

“You need sleep too.”

James shrugs. “Well, it was my fault we procrastinated wrapping these anyway.”

“Oh? So you admit it now?”

“What can I say? Is it so bad that after we put the kids down and I was all alone with my beautiful wife I’d rather cuddle or catch up on our shows or… other things.” A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. 

“Other things?” you snort. 

“Yeah. Wanna do them right now?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows at you. 

“James!” you scold him as a blush heats your face. 

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll focus.” He reaches for the slowly dwindling pile of presents and picks one that looks easy to wrap. You both prefer to leave the more complicated ones to you, as you always seem to have some unique way to wrap the strangest shapes. 

“Not that one!” you stop him. “That one’s from Santa, you have to use the shiny red paper and the golden bows.” 

“What? I picked this one,” he says, turning over the box of a new doll for your daughter. “I don’t want to give Santa all the credit!” James pouts. 

“And you’ll get it. In about ten years, give or take, when we tell them it was all a lie in the name of Christmas spirit.” 

James laughs and takes a look at the clock that reads 3:16 a.m. Santa can have this one, James decides. Even if he did continue to protest, you would probably convince him in the end. 

For the next twenty minutes, you two get lost in the rhythm of wrapping. With James handling the simple boxes, and you expertly finishing the oddly shaped ones, folding the paper in ways that obscure the gift’s silhouette while adding an elegant touch. 

You know your kids won’t give the wrapping a second thought, and it will all end up torn into bits on the floor, but you just love the way they all look under the tree. So perfectly arranged and beautifully wrapped, it makes Christmas feel all the more special.

As you straighten out a bow made from hand curled ribbons on the top of a dollhouse, pre-assembled for play tomorrow morning, James hisses and drops the paper he’s working with. You look up at him as he brings his finger up to his lips.

“Ow, ow!” 

“Y’alright?” you ask. 

“I’ve been injured! Wounded! No one told me how hazardous gift wrapping would be!” he wails dramatically, cradling his right hand with his left. 

You laugh at the sight of him, gathering that he has probably gotten a paper cut. Shuffling over to him on your knees, you outstretch your hand. “Let me see.”

He puts his hand in yours and you turn it over to inspect his pointer finger. It takes you half a minute to find the small slice in the top layer of skin. It’s nearly impossible to see, and you’re sure the pain has subsided now. Still, you bring his hand to your lips and press a soft kiss over the small cut. 

“Better?” you mumble against his skin. 

“Almost. I think I have another injury right here.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes to find him tapping his lips, puckered and awaiting a kiss. 

You shake your head at his antics but oblige him anyway and connect your lips in a gentle kiss. James’ right hand snakes out of your grip so he can wrap it around your waist to hold you into the kiss for a little longer. 

“Come on,” you say as you begin to pull away, “we only have a few more presents between us and those fresh homemade cookies laying out for Santa.”

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[ikkyfics]

Strawberry Kisses

James Potter x f!reader

Summary: "Strawberries as sweet as a first kiss," James read aloud, his tone slightly playful. You smiled, leaning slightly against the table as if you were waiting for the comment that would follow. "Is that true?" he asked. His eyes, shining behind the lenses, were fixed on yours but quickly drifted to your lips. "You’ll have to try to find out," you replied, your voice carrying a soft challenge.

Warnings: muggle!au, fluffy, first kiss, cute flirts

Masterlist

The muffled sound of James’s footsteps on the soft grass was the only thing breaking the tranquility of that golden afternoon. The sun was already beginning to dip on the horizon, casting orange hues over the fields surrounding the village, a place so calm it seemed almost untouched by time. The brick houses, with moss-covered roofs and well-kept gardens, formed a kind of living postcard. It was the kind of place where the seasons dictated the rhythm of life, and now, at the peak of summer, the fresh fruit baskets at the gates of the houses signaled the sweetest time of the year.

James pushed his glasses up on his nose, his gaze fixed on the small table set up near the gate of the house next to his. He knew exactly who would be there even before getting closer, and the thought made a smile appear before he even realized it. You were crouched down, rearranging the baskets of strawberries with a care that seemed almost exaggerated, your quick fingers selecting the most beautiful fruits to place on top. He always noticed these small details about you—how your movements looked graceful even in the simplest tasks, or how you furrowed your brow slightly when you were focused.

James had always had a soft spot for you. An obvious crush, if anyone had asked, but one he pretended to hide behind an easy smile and casual remarks. Your relationship had never gone beyond stolen glances that lasted longer than necessary or playful flirtations that came across as innocent banter. You never backed away—in fact, it seemed you enjoyed the game—but until now, neither of you had taken a step further.

He stopped a few meters from the table, his hands in the pockets of his worn jeans.

"Hi," he said, and you looked up, surprised, but quickly regained your composure. The sunlight illuminated your features in a way that almost made him lose track of the conversation, but he managed to keep his smile intact.

"Hi, James," you replied, your voice carrying that familiar warmth he adored. "Came to buy strawberries?"

"Something like that," he replied, walking over to the table. "Thought I’d support the local business."

You laughed, tilting your head slightly as you stood up. "Really? Because the last time I checked, you weren’t much of a fruit fan."

He shrugged, pretending indifference. "I can change my mind."

You narrowed your eyes, as if trying to figure him out. "Well, strawberries aren’t for everyone. You have to like the sweet and the tangy, you know? Not everyone can handle it."

He smiled, one eyebrow raised. "I can handle more than it seems."

Your smile grew, and James felt his heart race a little. You pointed to one of the baskets. "These are the best. Picked them this morning. Nice and fresh."

He carefully picked one of the fruits, admiring its red hue and natural shine, but it was the small sign next to the baskets that really caught his attention. "Strawberries as sweet as a first kiss," he read aloud, his tone slightly playful.

You smiled, leaning slightly against the table as if you were waiting for the comment that would follow.

"Is that true?" he asked, turning his face toward you. The light tone from before had shifted, taking on something deeper, more serious. His eyes, shining behind the lenses, were fixed on yours but quickly drifted to your lips. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but you noticed.

"You’ll have to try to find out," you replied, your voice carrying a soft challenge.

He took a step closer, putting the strawberry back in the basket as if the fruit was no longer the most interesting thing there. There was something electric in the space between you now, something that seemed to pulse with its own energy. The golden sun reflected off his glasses, but not enough to hide the way he was looking at you. That gaze held something new, something that wasn’t just playful, and your stomach gave a small leap.

"Is that how it works?" he asked, his voice low, almost husky. "I buy a strawberry and find out?"

You laughed, crossing your arms and tilting your head, but he noticed the slight flush creeping up your cheeks. "Depends. Maybe you’ll need more than one."

He raised an eyebrow, the smile returning to his face, but this time it was softer, more intentional. "And if I don’t just want the strawberry?"

The question hung in the air, and you felt your heart race in a way you couldn’t control. James took another step, and now the space between you was minimal. He lowered his gaze to your lips for a moment, noting how soft they looked, before raising his eyes back to your face.

"Maybe," he said, his voice even lower now, "I just want to know if the comparison is fair."

You couldn’t help but smile. "Well, James, I think that’s a question only you can answer."

Before he could respond, you picked a strawberry from the basket, turning it between your fingers as if considering your next move. James's gaze stayed fixed on yours, attentive to every gesture, but the corner of his lips still carried that smile – half amusement, half something more intense. Without breaking eye contact, you extended the strawberry toward him, holding it gently by the green tip.

"Taste it," you said, the simple word carrying an unspoken subtext that didn’t need any explanation.

James chuckled softly, a sound that seemed to warm the air between you. He tilted his head slightly, as if analyzing the offer, before stepping closer until his fingers were almost touching yours. He didn’t take the strawberry from your hand; instead, he lowered his head, biting into the fruit directly. His lips brushed lightly against your fingers, and the warmth of that unexpected touch made your breath falter.

He chewed slowly, his eyes locked on yours as if he wanted to prolong the moment just to watch your reaction. When he swallowed, he smirked, his voice husky with a playful note that couldn’t completely mask the intensity behind it.

"Sweet," he admitted, nodding with exaggerated approval, as if evaluating something serious. "But..." He let the word hang in the air, a glint of mischief dancing in his blue eyes behind his glasses.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms and slightly tilting your hip to the side. "But what?"

James stepped closer, closing the gap between you even more. The world seemed to stop spinning around you; there was only the muffled sound of crickets in the distance and the warmth of the afternoon wrapping around you like a blanket. His gaze dropped to your mouth, so openly and deliberately that you felt your cheeks burn.

"But I think something's still missing," he murmured, his voice lower now, almost a whisper. "I need a better reference. Only then will I know if that sign’s claim makes sense."

You tried to think of something to reply, but the words seemed to have disappeared entirely. There was something about the way he was so close now, how the golden sunlight reflected off the messy strands of his black hair and made his eyes seem even brighter, that simply took the air from your lungs.

"Oh, really?" you managed to say, your voice softer than you intended.

He nodded slowly, the smile on his face becoming gentler, more genuine. "Only a kiss can tell me if these strawberries are as sweet as they say."

The statement was so simple, so absurdly direct, but said with such sincerity that your heart skipped a beat. You didn’t respond, but you didn’t pull away either. Your eyes met his, and there was something in that look – a mix of expectation, confidence, and an unexpected vulnerability – that made everything around you disappear.

James leaned in, closing the final inches between you. When his lips touched yours, it felt like the entire world took a deep breath and held its air. The kiss was soft, almost hesitant at first, as if he wanted to savor every second, every detail.

His lips had the faint sweet and tangy taste of the strawberry, and the warmth of his touch made your heart race so fast it seemed to echo throughout your body. At first, you hesitated, but soon let yourself be carried away, as if something deep and instinctive was responding to the moment. Your hands, almost without you realizing it, slid to his chest, finding the soft fabric of his shirt as your fingers curled slightly, as if wanting to anchor themselves there.

Your heart felt like a storm – a mix of nervousness and a desire you didn’t know you could feel so intensely. You noticed how he held you so carefully, but at the same time firmly, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t leave. The pressure of his lips, the way he adjusted his movements to match yours, everything seemed absolutely perfect, as if that moment had been written before you even met.

When James pulled away slightly, his face still so close to yours, you couldn’t help it – his name slipped from your lips, soft, almost a whisper. "Jamie..."

He stopped, the smile on his lips growing even brighter, but with something more – something that spoke of surprise and genuine pleasure. The blue of his eyes seemed even brighter now, as if reflecting the sunlight in a way that made you lose yourself for a moment. "Say it again," he murmured, his voice husky but full of tenderness.

You smiled, still breathless, feeling the warmth spread across your face and chest. "Jamie," you repeated, the name coming out almost like a confession.

He laughed softly, that warm sound wrapping around you like a blanket on a cold night. "I could get used to hearing you say my name like that," he teased, his smile taking on a mischievous edge as his eyes dropped to your mouth again.

You shook your head, trying to ignore how much that declaration made your heart tighten in a way so sweet it almost hurt. "You're impossible," you replied, but your voice was full of affection that betrayed any attempt to sound indifferent.

"Impossible?" He raised an eyebrow, his smile widening. "Well, in that case, I think it's my duty to say something equally impossible."

You blinked, confused. "What?"

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes sparkling with a hint of provocation. "That kiss," he began, his voice deliberately slow, "was even sweeter than the strawberries."

Your face immediately flushed, and you tried to protest, your hand lightly swatting his arm. "James!"

"It’s true!" he insisted, laughing as he raised his hands, as if defending himself. But before you could say anything, he lowered one of his hands to hold you by the waist again, pulling you closer.

The second kiss came before you could even finish breathing. He didn’t ask for permission, but the gesture was so natural that you didn’t mind – in fact, you loved it. Your fingers found their way back to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, which seemed to be racing as fast as yours. This kiss was deeper, more assured, as if it were a silent declaration of everything he felt and everything you wanted to feel.

When he pulled away this time, both of you were even more breathless. He looked at you with a smile that mixed satisfaction and tenderness. "Now I’m sure," he said, his eyes dancing in a way that made your legs feel a little weak. "You’re officially sweeter than any strawberry I’ve ever tasted."

You opened your mouth to retort, but you just laughed, shaking your head as your face grew even warmer. "You really can’t stop, can you?"

"Stop?" he repeated, as if the idea were absurdly ridiculous. "When it comes to you? No chance."

He brought one of his hands to your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek, and the gesture was so gentle, so full of affection, that you felt your eyes well up with the intensity of the moment.

"How about we make a deal?" he asked, his playful tone softening slightly.

"What kind of deal?"

"You agree to go out with me," he started, leaning in just enough so that your noses almost touched, "and I promise that, at least once, I’ll try to behave."

You laughed, a light and sincere sound, before nodding slowly, your eyes fixed on his. "I agree."

The smile he gave in response was so dazzling that you had to bite your lip to contain the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

"Great," he said, stepping back just enough to grab a strawberry from the basket and bite into it with a satisfied smile. "After all," he murmured, winking at you, "we need energy for all the adventures ahead."

And with that, he extended his hand to you, his eyes still shining with that mixture of confidence and sweetness that made you wonder how you’d resisted for so long. When you took his hand, you knew you would never again doubt how sweet life by his side could be.

[unconventional-lawnchair]

Stray {Blurb}

Postwar!Remus Lupin x Muggle!Reader

Summery: After drifting aimlessly and struggling with the aftermath of war, Remus finds an unexpected ally in a compassionate woman who sees beyond his scars. Through her unwavering kindness and the simple life, Remus maybe he deserves the similar things in life.

Wc:3860

Cw: Use of {Y/N}, fem reader, self doubt, mentions of major character death, financial insecurity, drifting, self indulgent.

Remus Lupin never really believed in rock bottom. Everytime he thought he'd hit it he would fall harder and deeper than he ever thought possible.

After the war there was a long period of time he was drifting. Not necessarily liking the idea of staying in one place too long, not that he could if he tried. Most of the highlands were packed with nosey wizards and witches, his paranoia getting the best of him every time someone asked a bit too many questions, and then it was on to the next town.

It didn't help that no one was enthusiastic about hiring him after learning of his special requirements. He couldn't hold down a job let alone a stable place to stay, staying in the rougher bits of London and Scotland, too busy wallowing in grief to truly feel sorry for his situation.

His full moons were the worst of it. Without James, Peter, and Sirius, Moony reverted back to its most volatile form. His mental state didn't help much either. He had grown comfortable, complacent, with the nurture his friends provided him those nights. So much so he forgot what it was like to have battered and bruised skin. What the scars on his body felt like.

Everything was back to his normal.

Well, not everything. This was the first time he's woken up to the sight of a gun barrel in his face. His body throbbing and his leg caught in a snare. If he looked just past the barrel, he could see glimmering eyes. Fear. He was used to that look.

Though, he could argue he should be the fearful one, considering his lack of dress and immobile position. Bleeding and scared, with a women he's never seen before saying something his ringing ears couldn't quite comprehend.

Soon, his blood loss and blurry eyes made him unable to stay awake. The last thing he saw was a large white dog coming up to sniff his face.

~~~

It was soft, everywhere he turned. Like he was being held in a cloud, he was sure she must have shot him.

When his eyes opened he was greeted with a dim room. It was small, a cream off white with floral designs, it looked like his mother’s, truthfully. He tried to shift his leg only to notice a sizable weight, looking down to see a large white cattle dog, he couldn't quite place the breed immediately, but the moment he shifted it seemed to wake up. Staring at him in his very soul.

The large beast gave a low and steady grumble before he gave a few barks, something he didn't quite know how to place. He just sunk back into the soft plush bedding, giving a low sigh. “Bloody hell..” He mumbled and closed his eyes.

He was still in pain, a lot of it, and he could feel the throb of his injuries pulsing through his body. But there was also a strange sense of comfort in the softness of the bed and the warmth of the room. Even the soft smell of Shea butter and thick wool. It had been so long since he had felt anything remotely close to comfort that it almost seemed foreign to him. He almost convinced himself to fall right back asleep, screw the consequences.

The dog continued to bark, and soon after, Remus heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching. His instincts kicked in, and he tried to sit up, but his body protested vehemently. Leaving him to prop pathetically on his elbows.

As the door creaked open, he came to the conclusion that he was most certainly dead. And he guessed the muggles were right about God. Why else in Merlin’s name would an angel be stepping into this room? With a tray of food, no less.

Like that, the barking stopped. The dog satisfied he notified his master in time.

The woman who had been holding the gun stood in the doorway, looking significantly less threatening now. She had a cautious yet gentle expression, her eyes scanning Remus with a mix of curiosity and concern. Retracing his now bandaged chest and bruised skin, clicking her tongue before she walked over. Setting the tray down and picking up two pill bottles from the side of the bed.

"You're awake.” She assessed softly, her voice carrying a lilting accent that Remus recognized to be Scottish. "I wasn't sure if you'd make it through the night.”

Remus tried to respond, but his throat was dry and his voice came out as a weak croak. She poured a glass of water from the tray and handed it to him, with three pills in her palm.

He didn't think twice before he took them, his concern for his life had far since left his mind. He just felt.. safe.

As the cool water soothed his parched throat, Remus couldn't help but wonder who this woman was and why she was helping him. He hadn't known genuine kindness from anyone since he entered the war- everyone was a suspect until proven otherwise. He glanced around the room, taking in the subtle details- the worn but clean furniture, the soft light filtering through the curtains, and the faint smell of herbs mingling with the scent of the shea butter that he could now conclude came from you.

"Thank you.” He managed to say, his voice still weak but sincere. "For... everything."

The woman gave a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You're welcome. My name is {Y/N}." She hesitated for a moment before adding, "You're lucky I found you when I did. The Highlands aren't exactly the safest place for someone to be..” She gestured vaguely. “What were you up to? Naked forest dancing?”

Remus let out a weak, humorless chuckle at your comment. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood. His muscles protested every small movement, but he managed to shift slightly, trying to get more comfortable.

"Something like that. I'm Remus.” He muttered, his voice still hoarse. He didn't dare dream of expressing the full length of his woes; the full moon, the transformation, the uncontrollable rage and pain. It was too much to burden you with, not to mention the rapid fire excuses he'd have to come up with. Still, he still felt horrid for lying, especially to someone as kind as you.

You seemed to sense his reluctance and didn't press further. Instead, you busied herself with adjusting the pillows behind his back, making sure he was as comfortable as possible. "Well, whatever it was, you're safe now.” You muttered gently. "You need rest and time to heal. Those pills should help with the pain and prevent any infection."

Remus nodded, grateful for your understanding. "Thank you, {Y/N}.” He repeated, feeling a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the cozy room or the medication. "I don't know how to repay you for this."

You waved off his gratitude with a dismissive huff before walking over to set up the simple bowl of oatmeal and apple slices you had managed in the kitchen.

“Seriously, I don't have much but-”

“Your money's no good here, I fear.” You remarked calmly and turned to face him as you handed him the bowl carefully, wrapped in an oven mitt so he wouldn't burn himself. “But your body is.”

Remus blinked, taken aback by the statement. He opened his mouth to respond, but you quickly clarified, sensing his alarm.

"Not in that way.” You quickly corrected with a soft laugh, the first sign of genuine amusement he'd seen from you. "I meant, it's coming up on winter. Once you get better, if you'd like to repay me, there are holes in the barn that need to be patched. There is wood to be collected, there is always work.”

Relief washed over him, and he nodded slowly, understanding the exchange you were offering. That was something he could do. Easily. "I can do that.” His voice was still weak but filled with sincerity. "I'm more than willing to help out."

You smiled, this time a bit more genuinely. "Good. We'll worry about that when you're back on your feet. For now, just focus on getting better." You placed the bowl of oatmeal and apple slices on his lap. "Eat up, you'll need your strength."

Remus took the bowl, feeling a deep sense of,, peace. It had been so long since anyone had shown him patience and kindness this real. He spooned some of the oatmeal into his mouth, savoring the warmth and simple flavor. It was raw. Something unfiltered and unprocessed. You had made these from scratch, while it wasn't impressive, it made the gesture all the more real to him.

As he ate, you busied yourself around the room, tidying up and making sure everything was in order. The large white dog, now lying by the foot of the bed, watched him with curious eyes.

"What’s his name?" Remus asked, nodding towards the dog.

"That's Hugo.” You hummed, a fond smile tugging at your lips. "He's a good boy. A fine worker, too. Found him as a pup wandering near the woods. Much like you, I suppose."

Remus chuckled softly, though it hurt his chest a bit. "Well, I'm glad he found his way to you. And I'm glad I did too."

You paused for a moment, looking at him with a studying looking in your eyes. "We all need a bit of help sometimes.” You said quietly. "No shame in that."

Remus nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. For the first time in a long while, he felt a glimmer of hope. The care you had shown him was a balm to his weary soul, and he couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just maybe, things could get better from here.

As he finished his meal, he felt a wave of exhaustion washing over him again. The combination of the medication and the warm food was making it difficult to keep his eyes open. You seemed to notice and gently took the empty bowl from his hands.

"You should rest.” You said softly, but stern, placing the bowl back on the tray. "Sleep will help you heal faster."

Remus nodded, unable to argue with common sense. As he settled back into the pillows, he felt the soft weight of Hugo shifting in a commando crawl up to his side, offering him a sense of security and companionship. His heavy head resting on his chest.

"Thank you, {Y/N}, Hugo.” He murmured one last time, his voice trailing off as sleep began to claim him.

You watched as his eyes closed, a small smile playing on your lips. "You're welcome, Remus," you whispered, turning to leave the room. "Rest well."

As Remus drifted off into a deep, healing sleep, he couldn't help but feel that maybe, just maybe, he had found a place where he could finally stop destroying himself and start rebuilding.

~~~

The days turned into weeks, and Remus slowly but surely regained his strength. Each day, he marveled at the patience and empathy you and Hugo showed him. It was a simple life, far removed from the chaos and pain of his past, but it was exactly what he needed.

You never pried into his past, never asked questions, never pushed past what you needed to know in the moment. You hardly even acknowledged the night he showed up on your property. Instead, you offered gentle conversation, warm meals, and a quiet companionship that Remus found deeply comforting. In return, he began to help around the property as he had promised. Fixing the holes in the barn, chopping wood for the winter, and tending to any task you needed of him.

It was symbiotic. You got the help you needed, and he felt like he was contributing to something meaningful without the threat of being chased away.

As the weeks turned into a month, the next full moon loomed. Even as his irritation grew and his stomach sank with dread, you never said a word. You filled his plate, kept him busy with work on your land, and didn't question him when he took a stroll into the woods on the night of the full moon. Though you were a bit baffled when Hugo went with him.

That morning, you were on the porch waiting for him. You said nothing about his tattered clothes and suitcase, just welcomed him home with a warm smile.

It was more than he ever thought he'd deserve. You reminded him of nectar in the mornings and like fine wine most nights. As sweet as honey but as deep and rich as the most ancient oak, your presence grounded him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Each day with you was a melody, a harmony that soothed the tempest within him. He found himself looking forward to your soft laughter, the way your eyes sparkled with unspoken thoughts, and the gentle touch of your hand as you handed him a steaming cup of tea.

Your kindness wasn't just a balm for his physical wounds; it seeped into the deepest recesses of his heart, mending the fractures that years of pain and loss had wrought. He couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but somewhere between your shared meals and quiet evenings by the fireplace, he realized he was falling in love with you.

It wasn't a whirlwind or a blaze; it was a slow, steady burn that warmed him from the inside out. He cherished the simplicity of your life together, the unspoken understanding that passed between you, and the way Hugo seemed to understand it all, lying at your feet as if guarding this fragile, precious thing you were building together.

In those quiet moments, when the world outside seemed a distant memory, Remus realized he had found something he never thought possible: a home, a sanctuary, and he didn't dare hope for more.

Even as you sat on the small couch, in the simple living room. Knees tucked to your chest as you continued to fight with yourself.

“Writer's block?” He prodded as he walked over, sitting down in front of you. Your eyes flickered up to his, your expression still holding slight irritation. “You've been looking at that page for ages.”

“I have ideas.” You argued, looking back down at your pages with a huff. “Just not sure.. how to work them together.”

“Isn't that supposed to be the fun part?” He teased softly and that earned a playful glare form you. He flicked his hands up in defense, slowly smirking.

You managed a soft laugh, your irritation melting away under his gentle look. "Easy for you to say, you're not the one staring at a blank page.” You challenged, but there was no real bite to your words.

Remus leaned closer, peering at your notes with genuine curiosity. "Maybe you should write something else. Just for today. Heard it's supposed to help, yeah?”

You sighed, but there was a hint of a smile on your lips. "Alright, Mr. Lupin, what do you suggest I write about?"

“Maybe your affinity for strays?” He teased and that earned a belly laugh from you.

“Do you hear him, Hugo? He just called you a stray.” You smirked and Hugo gave a huff and a long sigh from were he laid on the floor by Remus’s feet.

“I meant the both of us, really.” He muttered, eyes drifting away. But he knew you knew that already. You would do anything to make him think he wasn't burdening you, but self doubt was his biggest flaw.

Your eyes softened that way that made him feel his stomach turn. Then, your lips turned upward, eyes sparking with amusement. “You make it sound like a talent.” You hummed before you leaned in a bit. “But I wouldn't call you a stray, Remus. You're no more a stray then Hugo.”

Remus felt his mouth go dry as he stared down at you, his heart pounding with an intensity that made his ribs feel bruised. The way your eyes seemed to look straight through him, seeing every hidden part of his soul, left him feeling exposed, yet desperate for the intimacy of it all. The air between you crackled with a palpable tension, each second stretching out as his expression turned thoughtful.

He watched as you slowly reached out, your fingers trembling slightly as they brushed against his arm. The contact sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn't help but lean into your touch, his breath hitching.

“I mean it, Remus.” You whispered, your voice barely audible but the loudest thing he's ever heard.

He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving yours as he nodded, inching closer. The space between you seemed to shrink and expand all at once, his movements hesitant yet driven by an undeniable force he couldn't fully understand.

“Yeah?” He whispered, his voice raw and almost pleading, his vulnerability never felt more purposeful.

“Yeah.” You affirmed without a moment's hesitation, your grip on his arm tightening as if to anchor him to your reality. A reality he wanted to understand more then anything. Your gentle loving reality, one that fooled him again and again into safeties he didn't think he deserved. “You're home, Remus.”

The words hung in the air, a lifeline he desperately needed. The tension between you reached a breaking point as you tilted your head. Every so slightly, your eyes lingering on his lips.

It wasn't long before his lips were on yours, not giving himself time to second guess it all. It was patient. It was sweet. It was ancient and timeless and yet as new as the flowers that were blooming just outside the door. Winter had come and gone and yet here he was, still demanding more of you. As he moved in closer, you felt the book fall against the ground. Not that you minded, it freed up your hands to slide along his chest.

He continued to test the waters, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and deepen the kiss. Affection you reciprocated easily. Just as hungry for it as he was. He couldn't find himself wondering if he should think it through. He didn't have much of a choice, the way your hands traveled up to his hair, the way you shifted your legs to make room for him.

“You're home, Remus.” You whispered again, much softer, in between the ever heating kisses. He pushed you fully on your back, his lips traveling the bare skin of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, each kiss igniting a fire that spread through your veins. The words you had spoken echoed in his mind, grounding him in the moment, making everything feel more real and more impossible to resist. He whispered your name, a reverent prayer, as his hands explored the contours of your body, committing every inch to memory.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if afraid he might disappear if you let go. The urgency of your kisses matched his own, a silent agreement that this was right were you both belonged.

~~~

The next morning, you woke up in your bed. Remus was hugging you from behind, his nose buried in your neck and still sound asleep.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. You felt the warmth of Remus's body against yours, his steady breathing a comforting rhythm that lulled you into a delightful peace. For a moment, you simply lay there, savoring the feeling of being so intimately connected to someone who had come to mean so much to you. Your heart ached with affection, selfishly hoping he'd wake up so you could stare into his lovely eyes again.

You shifted slightly, careful not to wake him despite yourself, and turned to gaze at his sleeping face. There was a peaceful calm there that you hadn't seen before, a loveliness that spoke of a man who had finally found a measure of peace. It made your heart swell with a mixture of love and protectiveness.

As if sensing your gaze, Remus stirred, his eyes slowly fluttering open. When he saw you looking at him, a soft smile curved his lips, and he tightened his hold on you, pulling you closer. Your eyes indulged in his own like it was sin.

"Good morning.” He murmured, his voice still thick with sleep.

"Good morning.” You whispered, your own smile mirroring his. "Did you sleep well?"

"Better than I have in years.” He admitted, his eyes searching yours for any sign of regret or hesitation. Finding none, he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Thank you, {Y/N}."

"For what?" You asked, absolutely melting as he continued to trail kisses from your temple to your neck.

"For everything.” He sighed, his eyes filled with a depth of emotion that took your breath away. "For giving me a place to heal, for your patience, and for... well, for last night." He cheeked.

Your cheeks flushed at the memory of the previous night, but you couldn't help but smile, playfully glaring at him. "I should be the one thanking you, Remus. You've brought something into my life that I didn't even realize I was missing."

He looked at you with a mixture of surprise and gratitude, his fingers gently tracing the contours of your face. "I'm not easy.” He whispered.

“I've always been one for a challenge, Remus.” You whispered as he leaned down to bury his face into your neck. “Unfortunately, I find falling for you quite easy.”

He chuckled, the base in his voice bringing a shiver to your spine. “... I'm a lot of work.”

“You earn your keep, Remus.” You whispered softly and he slowly began to let his hands slip up to your waist, lowering himself to draw lazy kisses along your chest.

“You'll tire of me. When you know me.” He urged and you closed your eyes blissfully.

“Wouldn't dream of it.”

“You'll-” Before he could finish and fall deeper into his own self doubt, you covered his mouth. Cupping his jaw to pull him into another kiss. One he returned with full earnestness.

You broke the kiss and stared up at him with your doe eyes he almost caved.

“I'll love you, Remus. I do. I will. I'm not going to give up that easily,” You huffed. “No matter how much convincing you try to do.”

He stared at you a moment longer, leaning in and running his lips along yours. “It's rotten work.”

“I've never shied away from work.” You whispered and pulled him close. Letting him hide away from the world in your room. “I'm never going to shy away from you.”

Remus sighed deeply, the weight of his doubts lifting as he whispered, "Then I'll never let you go."

And in that shared promise, they found a peace that neither had ever dared to hope for.

[meelusinee]

A LITTLE LOAF | R.B X READER

word count \ 2.8k | fluffy angst | slash / regulus black x reader

in which regulus wanders upon your bakery after finding voldemort's locket author's note at the end! | thanks to @ikkyfics for the idea!

A LITTLE LOAF SERIES MASTERLIST

THE LITTLE LOAF | REGULUS BLACK X READER

Regulus had dealt with a lot of things in his life.

He had dealt with his mother and father, which was an accomplishment in itself of itself. He survived Hogwarts and the Marauders, along with any of the other Slytherins in his year. Punishments one after another, either watching or suffering through them himself. Pain that he could never really describe, pain he doubted anyone could.

He’d heard screams that haunted even his easiest of nightmares. His cousin, Bellatrix, went absolutely insane. Narcissa had married a Pureblood maniac, birthing a baby that he doubted would be raised to be a decent person. Sirius and Andromeda ran away, neither of them willing to listen to him regardless of how good or bad of a person he really was.

Which left him all alone, nobody but his thoughts and a mark permanently inked on his skin.

He was younger when he believed in whatever he was told by his parents. When he believed that becoming a Death Eater could make his life easier, that it could make it nicer. That things would become better, and that he’d find a community for him.

He grew up once he got that Dark Mark.

It burnt. It burnt like hell, like lava burning into his skin and mind. The Dark Lord’s magic was no joke, he found, feeling like he was being stamped with the core of a spacial star. His mind felt even worse, like it had been carved hollow with windows attached to every crevice and inch.

Regulus ended up crying in his bathroom that night. The tears felt like a balm of ice when they landed on the Dark Mark, though they burnt more than it too.

He didn’t do much about it. He told his friends once, though shut his mouth up no more than two moments after. Barty was insane already, his mark flaunted loud and proud in defiance of his father. Evan wasn’t far behind him, following in his footsteps like a damaged puppy viewing its new master as its salvation.

Pandora listened once. Pandora died soon after.

So he focused on his missions. He did what he could to survive, and he did what he could to help others survive. Paperwork was his specialty, though he was often sent off for other matters. Cloning bodies to pretend like he’d killed them, ridding them of memories and sending them off to the Muggle world. Either that, or he’d go off and kill someone else. A hungry politician or a serial killer, pretending they were someone else.

He wanted to defeat the Dark Lord, though he had no way to know how. As far as he knew, there was no way.

That was until he summoned Kreacher tonight.

“Kill me!” Kreacher had wailed. There was a crack in his voice he had never heard before, not even when he had been punished by Walaburga.

“Kreacher?” he whispered quietly, slowly falling down to his knees as Kreacher ran up to him.

“Master Regulus?” Kreacher wailed once more, banging his head against a rock he had been teleported with. His head was bleeding already, a small bump growing on his head.

Regulus pulled the rock out of his hand quickly, pulling him in a hug tight enough to stop Kreacher from harming himself further. He never got used to comforting people in the slightest, no matter how close he was to them, though he felt as though he owed it to Kreacher. Especially after every time Kreacher comforted him, it was the least he could do.

“Master Regulus,” he said again, voice a lot calmer than when he was originally summoned. His hands reached towards his head, covering the bloody bump as best as he could. “Kreacher has found a way to defeat the Dark Lord.”

“You did?” Regulus said incredulously. “How?”

Kreacher’s breathing became heavy, face green as if he had been poisoned. As far as Regulus knew, he might’ve been figuring it out. “We may need another.”

“Another person?” Regulus whispered, looking around his room as he thought about who he could tell.

His parents were out of the question, as were Sirius and anyone in his stupid Order. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t ask them for help. Pandora was his first thought, though he quickly remembered. Barty most likely would’ve tattled as soon as he heard, Evan right behind him. Dorcas had passed too, having been killed by the Dark Lord personally. He still wasn’t sure why.

Narcissa might help though. She didn’t ask questions often, and he knew she didn’t know enough to connect any dots about the Death Eaters.

“Cissa?” Regulus whispered, trying to keep quiet. He never knew was wandering the halls.

“Kreacher thinks that Master Regulus’ idea is a good one.” Kreacher said, nodding slowly. “Though Kreacher is unsure if he will need to be summoned in order for this to work. The Dark Lord casted an anti-Apparation charm on the cave.”

“The cave?” Regulus asked. “What cave, Kreacher?”

Kreacher sighed as he finally caught his breath. He seemed to look better than before. He wasn’t begging to be killed, at the very least.

Kreacher began to explain what he had found. A cave made by the Dark Lord, with an inability to be Apparated into or Disapparated out of. A door opened by blood, and a potion he would have to drink after passing through a lake of Inferni. Kreacher was not sure if he could Apparate both him and Regulus back out, though Regulus was fairly certain that he could. Even still, he planned on asking Cissa for discreet help just in case.

And after a little bit more discussion, he had a plan.

He planned to leave early in the morning. He planned for this to be easy.

It didn’t turn out easy.

He smeared his blood against the wall. He crossed the lake with Inferni, the boat rocking back and forth as he paddled it forward through the cold water. He had gotten to the poison, with Kreacher holding a small bracelet in his hand. It would vibrate whenever he pressed it. Once for help, and two for an okay.

But now he was in front of the poison. Regulus could already feel his body aching as he walked closer and closer to the pedestal full of water, pain running through his body though it was mild.

“Master Regulus,” Kreacher said to him, hands clasped together. “Remember that I am not allowed to give you relief,”

“No matter how much I beg.” Regulus finished, looking down at the poisoned water. “There is something under this though, right? A Horcrux?”

Kreacher nodded. “Yes, a Horcrux.”

“I didn’t get much material on what it was,” he muttered, looking at Kreacher with furrowed eyebrows as he tried to remember what he had learned. It wasn’t much though, having stayed up most of the night worrying about it. “But I learned that it helps to keep one alive, no?”

“Yes, Master Regulus.” Kreacher said, nodding. “That’s what I found yesterday. They need to be destroyed with the highest form of magic, they can only be formed by committing murder before.”

“Okay.” he whispered, looking down at the poisoned water once more. “Kreacher?”

“Yes, Master Regulus?” he asked, looking up at Regulus.

“Don’t let me go in the water.” Regulus muttered under his breath, grabbing a goblet he had brought himself. He didn’t know how much poison would be in the basin, though it seemed enough to fit.

“Yes, Master Regulus.” he said, nodding.

Regulus sighed before collecting the poison in the goblet, drinking it all in one go. It went down his throat with a burning sensation, like his father and mother casting a Crucio on him at the same time. It hurt, to say the very least.

He felt thirsty.

Extremely thirsty.

There was water down below him. A pool of water surrounding him. It looked so cold, and his throat felt so hot inside of his neck.

He still felt thirsty. Too thirsty to resist.

He felt something dragging away from the water. There was something in there, though he didn’t care. He needed to feel relief in his throat from whatever he had drunken, his throat burning hotter than a neutron star’s heart running down his throat.

“Water,” he rasped out, bile coming up from his throat as he kneeled down near the water. There were hands all around him. On his arms dragging him down and two hands dragging him up, his hair and hands being dragged in different directions. “I need water,”

“Master Regulus!” he heard a voice call out. He wasn’t sure who it was, though he felt his body shifting. It swirled around in the air, vomit and bile coming out of his throat as he felt his body landing somewhere else.

“You’re okay, Master Regulus!” the voice said. He wasn’t sure why it was calling him its master.

Regulus’ vision faded in and out, body aching as he laid down on the ground. He felt his body heating up hot, unable to stop it. His throat and face burned, his body shaking violently. He wanted a release.

His eyes fell closed as he slumped down to the ground completely. His head felt like it was full of water, eyes pounding behind his skull.

“Kreacher,” he rasped out. “Make it stop.”

The house elf looked around, tapping the bracelet to signal that they were fine. He didn’t know what to do.

“Kreacher.” he rasped. “Please.”

Regulus woke up to a blank ceiling, a cold towel on his forehead. He had scratch marks on his arms, and his scalp was burning horridly. Other than that though, he seemed generally fine.

“Kreacher?” he called out. His voice was hoarser than he expected, still burning from whatever he did last night. He didn’t remember it fully.

“Master Regulus!” he called out, a small plate of sandwiches in his hands. “You’re awake.”

“What happened?” he asked confusedly, looking around the room. It definitely wasn’t a place he was used to, rather barren and bland for his taste.

“You fainted from the poison.” he said.

“Ah.” Regulus said, before sighing. “Is there a bakery or something near here? I’m starving.”

“Kreacher cannot go get you food, Master Regulus.” he said, almost disappointed in a sense. “This is a Muggle town, sir. Though Kreacher did find one on the outer corner of this street.”

“Thank you, Kreacher.” Regulus said, a small smile on his face. “For everything. I’ll bring you back something, if you’d like.”

“Kreacher cannot ask that of you.” he said, shaking his head no. “No he cannot.”

“It’s not asking if I offer.” Regukus said, patting Kreacher on the head before standing up. He was a bit wobbly, sure. But he could probably play it off as a hangover more than anything else. Especially if this town was full of Muggles.

“I’ll be back, Kreacher.” he called out, grabbing a coat and walking out to the bakery.

You were currently rolling bread on the counter, visible from the cash register for design. Customers watching you was something you had to get used to for a long time, though now it’s something you take pride in. Especially when people walk up asking questions for their own use, either on tips or just the general process in general.

The bell to the door rung loud as someone walked in. Nobody had come in yet for the day, you didn’t get much business on Tuesdays.

“Welcome to The Little Loaf!” you called out, a wide smile growing on your face as you stood up. Your feet carried you to the register easily, heels clicking on the ground. “What can I get for ya?”

“Uhm,” the man mumbled. He looked at you for a moment or two in what you assumed to be wonder before blinking out of it, shaking his head as he looked at the menu. “A coffee?”

“Coffee sounds really good right about now,” you agreed with a playful chuckle, putting that in the register before looking at him. “Anything else?”

“Uh,” he mumbled, looking over at the display case. “Maybe a breakfast croissant. I’ve never been here.”

You chuckled softly and waved the comment off, offering to detail to him the different items. He ended up with a coffee and two croissants, along with a small breakfast biscuit in a to go bag.

During that time talking you realized that he seemed rather nice. Awkward, sure, but that was probably because he seemed rather new. He had a rather distinct accent that you could easily tell was French, though he didn’t seem to notice it.

You also learned his name was Regulus.

“Thank you for shopping here!” you smiled brightly at him, waving as he walked out. The store seemed to get just a little colder once he did, though you figured that you wouldn’t question that right this moment.

All you had to do now was divide the bread and bake it.

Regulus stood there in shock by the time he walked out the store, face flushed completely red as he found a secluded alleyway to hide himself in.

You were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. He was sure that he made a blubbering fool of himself back there, that you would never go for him under any circumstances. He most definitely was not used to your culture one bit either.

But Merlin, were you beautiful.

He figured that he would need an excuse for something about himself. How would he describe that he communicated through letters sent by owls? Did Muggles even use letters for communication? What would they use to communicate?

What about their courting system? Would you use formalities like he was used to? Would you jump into it like his heart seemed to want?

His face flushed brighter and harder the more he thought about it. He was always one to fantasize about things, though he had never done it to this extent. He felt his heart pounding in his chest as question after question ran through his mind, trying to steady his breath as he took a sip of his coffee.

He learned that you owned the bakery. That you ran it all by yourself for the most part, with the exception of your sister on extremely busy days.

He also learned about what the words ‘love at first sight’ really meant.

Regulus found his feet walking back to the bakery before he could even register it. He tried to stop himself, unsure how asking you for anything would really go. Would you say yes? Would you find him creepy? Would he even be able to communicate with you?

He was a Death Eater still. He had to focus on killing the Dark Lord. Would you being a Muggle complicate or conflict his interests? Would he be putting you in harm’s way if he asked you out?

Regulus found himself not caring as much as his thoughts wanted to though. His face was still red when he walked in, a small smile on his face. “Hi again.”

“Hey there!” you smiled. That smile seemed so perfect, it disarmed him instantly. “Did you miss anything?”

“Not quite, no,” he mumbled, clearing his throat. His accent was rather thick right now, he found, which usually happened when he was nervous. He felt extremely nervous right about now. “How would one reach out to you?”

“Pardon?” you asked, a small chuckle escaping you.

“I mean,” he said before pausing. “Should one want to contact you. How would you suggest they do it?”

“Oh!” you said, before chuckling softly. “My phone number, usually.”

He blinked once. Twice.

“Your,” he mumbled in confusion. “Phone?”

“Yes, a phone.” you chuckled, a bit louder than before. “What, have you never heard of that before?”

He shook his head, clearing his throat again. “No, I have not.” he mumbled. “I usually sent letters where I grew up. Sophistication and all that.”

“That sounds absolutely dreadful.” you mumbled, your face forming a pout. “Maybe you can buy one!”

Regulus nodded, eyebrows furrowing once more. “How does one buy a phone?”

You smiled at him, nudging him from over the counter as you looked him in the eyes. Your eyes were so beautiful, he found himself drowning in them for a moment or two. He wanted to stay there forever.

“How about we meet here tomorrow? Imll take you on a walk to the phone store, we can go shopping!” you smiled, drumming your fingers against the desk.

He blushed even brighter at that, so hard that he was sure he was transfiguring into a tomato. “Okay.”

“Okay!” you smiled, clapping excitedly. “I close shop about 2 in the afternoon, you can stop by after. I’ll make a small treat for us both.”

“Okay.” he nodded, this time with a bit more confidence.

Merlin, he was so done for.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

i'm making this a small little series to work on, since the idea i had when i got the prompt was just too good to put into a oneshot! THANK YOU AGAINNN to @ikkyfics for recommending me the idea (i loaf u sm bestie ur one of the bestest frfr)

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment and reblog!! it helps out much more than you guys might realize, so u should totes do it!

[everythingisromant1c]

Take Me Out (to the Ball Game)

james potter x reader

summary - in which you take your very platonic friend James out to his first baseball game to enjoy its many festivities, including but not limited to: the kiss cam.

type - one shot

wc [2.5k]

tags: James Potter x reader, friends to lovers, muggle!reader, fluff, baseball game date, kiss cam, and one very unexpected first kiss.

a/n: i am not an avid baseball enthusiast so if there's any terminology mistakes i apologize <33 happy reading! (check this out on my ao3!)

Your first order of business that summer was getting a very sheltered James into your world, or, the muggle world, as he liked to call it. You'd had the honor of taking him to his first muggle movie, bringing him on his first muggle shopping spree, and having him try a Slurpee for the first time—you'd discovered he liked Coca-Cola and Cherry the best.

The last thing on your list of activities was to take him to his first baseball game. By the time the afternoon had come, you'd done just that.

You settled into one of the upper-level infield seats after James so graciously offered to pay for the tickets and practically everything else the entire day, even with all your resisting. He hadn't held back with his spending, both of your hands tucked underneath foam fingers, with a baseball helmet full of buttery popcorn sitting on your lap.

James looked so in his element from beside you, wearing the baseball jersey you'd pointed out in the merchandise section on your way into the stadium, his hair lightly shifting in the warm summer breeze. He looked roguishly handsome in what he classified as 'muggle clothing' to you with a harmless roll of his eyes, but you selfishly loved the sight. Though, more than anything, he seemed like he was enjoying himself, and that was what mattered most to you.

"What's that?" You watched as James pointed a foam finger up diagonally towards what looked like just the blue afternoon sky, until you followed his line of vision to the large screen in the distance. You let a thin smile overtake your features at his curiosity.

"That's the Jumbotron." You picked up a piece of popcorn and threw it into your mouth, James shaking off his foam finger and stealing a handful from the bowl on your lap with a lopsided grin.

"The jumbo what?"

You held back your laugh. "The jumbotron. It's a big screen they put at sports stadiums. Like a TV, only a lot bigger."

James squinted from beside you. "Who wants to watch a 'TV' when they're at a baseball game?"

The corners of your eyes crinkled at the way the word 'TV' sounded so foreign from his lips, and you shook your head. "It's not actually a TV. They show what's going on in the game on a big screen so everyone can see it. But they use it for other stuff too. Sometimes they'll have interactive games or use it as a kiss cam."

"A kiss cam?" James only sounded more confused then, his brows pulling together, but that time around the corners of his lips were quirking up with amusement.

You couldn't help your laugh at his intrigue. You shook your head to yourself. "It's kind of a dumb tradition, really." He nodded at you to continue, eyes sweet. "Basically, when the kiss cam comes on, the cameramen find random people in the audience and put them on the screen. Whoever comes up on the screen is meant to kiss."

 You watched James's features curl into both amusement and horror. He blinked his warm eyes at you. "So they just go around making strangers kiss each other?"

You giggled. "Not strangers," you chided. "It usually only lands on couples."

"How are they supposed to know who's a couple and who's not?"

You shrugged. "I suppose you can always just kind of tell." Looking away from him and his incredulous stare and down at your lap, you set your bowl of popcorn in James's lap instead. "I'm gonna use the bathroom."

James took a light hold of your wrist as you stood up, sitting up straighter in his seat to look up at you. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, that's alright," you told him. "You should watch our seats." You turned around towards the stairs to your left but paused to turn around one last time. "And tell me what I missed once I get back."

James tipped his head at you, saluting you playfully, and you smiled before leaving. You were more than satisfied with how the day was going and let your smile creep up on your lips the entire way to the restroom and back. You returned after a few minutes, having to scan the sea of baseball fans for the head of unruly brown curls you were so familiar with. You found him after a quick beat when he turned around, waving you over as his features lit warmly. You made your way down the concrete steps, scooting your way past a few people before finding your seat again.

"What'd I miss?" you asked, settling into the plastic chair underneath you as James held up the almost empty bowl of popcorn for you to take some. You did, and you didn't miss the way he placed his arm around the back of your seat carefully, his body heat emitting even underneath the summer sun.

"Nothing much," James answered casually. "But one of the guys hit the ball all the way into the stands."

Your eyes widened comically as you sat up to face him. "You mean he hit a home run?"

James paused momentarily at your reaction, and it was like you could visibly see him tracing through all the baseball vocabulary you'd gone over with him at the start of the game. "I think so."

"What team was it?"

He blinked at you and your probably anxious tone, panicking as he shrugged. "You think I know the names?"

You tipped your head at him amusedly as you took a breath in. "What color was the guy wearing?"

"Uh, maybe blue?" At that, you nodded happily, facing forward again. "Or maybe it was black. I don't have my glasses on."

You looked over at him exasperatedly but still felt the urge to laugh. You nudged him in the shoulder when you could see he felt badly for his scorekeeping skills, or lack of them. "It's alright. We can just check the scoreboard."

He seemed to calm at that, following your line of vision out into the field, when he paused. "Hey, isn't that the kiss cam you were talking about?"

You shifted your gaze to his nodding head, and then over the Jumbotron, and saw with familiarity that it was, in fact, time for the kiss cam. Lighthearted music played in the background as the larger-than-life screen lit up, pink hearts surrounding it and serving as a border to the people the screen displayed.

"Oh my God, it is," you breathed, lightly hitting James on the knee a few times in excitement. He chuckled from beside you, both of your eyes locking on the screen with interest as it pointed itself to different couples around the stadium. A few older couples were displayed, one pair of teenagers probably on a date, and a mother and father whose kids were cringing from beside them, but all of them turned to kiss the other without a word in protest, the stands applauding each time.

You smiled fondly, turning to the man beside you. "See James, it's not creepy. It's sweet, isn't it?"

"Yeah yeah," he placated with a playful roll of his eyes. "You're such a romantic."

You dropped your jaw for a moment before pointing a finger at his chest accusatorially. "As if you're not one, Potter."

The sides of his mouth lifted up into a charming grin and he pulled you into his side, ruffling your hair. You scrunched up your features, pushing away from him as you shot him a glare without any real annoyance, feeling your cheeks ache from your smile.

Shaking your head, you turned away from James and back towards the field, but stopped moving almost right away. Your heart stilled in your chest.

"Oh my God."

At your words, James turned worriedly from you to look where you were. When his gaze landed on the Jumbotron, his face lit up.

Stating the obvious, you swallowed. "It's showing us."

James looked between you and the ginormous screen across the field that was showing both you and him from where you sat, and beamed as the crowd began to clap and whoop. He waved out at the screen like the extrovert he was, looking like he was enjoying himself way too much as you stayed frozen in your seat.

When the camera didn't pan away and the crowd became louder, he turned to you, speaking out of the side of his mouth. "They don't seem very happy."

You shook your head, tone strained. "They want us to kiss, James."

You looked up at the screen that showed the two of you, watching your shocked and quite frankly mortified expression reflected back to you, almost funny in comparison to James's glowing smile.

"Well, let's give the people what they want."

Your head snapped over to a calm James as your brows tugged. "Wh-" you sputtered. "We can't do that."

"Why not?" James questioned, and when he looked back out at the crowd with his bright expression they began roaring excitedly. "It's the kiss cam!"

"The kiss cam is for couples." You emphasized the word, looking around at the people seated around you who couldn't only see you but hear you. You lowered your voice insecurely. "We're not a couple."

"It doesn't seem like they care." James gestured back to the screen, pink hearts now outlining the image of both of you from afar, an almost satirical sight that left you reeling.

You looked back down at your lap, and then at James pointedly. "That's because they think we're a couple."

Though, when you looked up at the screen, you couldn't ignore the fact that the two of you sort of did look like a couple. With James's arm thrown over the back of your seat, and the way you were both subconsciously sitting on the insides of your seats and leaning into each other, the mistake wasn't totally non-understandable. The fact only made heat rise to your cheeks.

James shook his head as his smile stayed plastered on his face, and you sighed. The Jumbotron was somehow still displaying the two of you, and the stands were still loud in anticipation. Like the supervillain you were, you shook your head back and forth. When they began to boo, you gestured between you and James, mouthing repeatedly "We're friends!", though the crowd didn't seem to care. You could hear James snorting from next to you.

Finally, even with the stands still roaring, the camera panned away to display the next couple—not that you and James were one—and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

"Jesus," you huffed, feeling like you'd just run some sort of marathon, and James shook his head at you fondly. For some reason you found it much too difficult to look him in the eyes, so you kept your eyes trained on the field.

When you felt the shifting of his shoulders from next to you followed by uneven breathing, you snapped your head to look at James. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No!" he swore, innocently putting his hands up, though the amused smirk on his lips didn't try to hide itself.

You sighed, ignoring the man to your right and turning back to face the field again, but you regretted that choice right away when you saw your reflection staring back at you through the Jumbotron once again.

"Oh my God," you swore again as the stands rumbled with encouraging shouts. This time around, you were quick to hide your face in James's chest. You didn't need to look up at him to know that he was still unbothered by the whole situation, feeling the way his chest lifted softly up and down with laughter from beneath you.

"Who the hell is controlling this thing?" Your panicked words came out muffled into James's baseball jersey. Whether he understood them or not, he put his hand around your shoulder, rubbing at it soothingly.

"I thought you said they were sweet," he challenged, and when you pulled away from him again he had a shit-eating grin on his face.

You pursed your lips, turning to look up at the Jumbotron and the pink hearts surrounding you and James, and the crowd went somehow even louder. At the absurdity of it all, you let a laugh escape you, looking down at your lap.

"Come on," James cooed, his arm still on your shoulder comfortingly. "What's the harm?"

You glanced up at him and his eyes, warm like honey, and stopped to think to yourself. Really, what was the harm?

When you didn't say anything, James looked between the stands and you. Then he leaned forward until he was level with your nervous face, voice going soft. "Alright," he gave in. "We don't have to if you're uncomfortable."

You chewed at the inside of your cheek as James turned away again towards the crowd, waving his hand at the camera as if to say 'Move on.' They only booed and kept on shouting.

You couldn't identify the feeling growing in your chest, but you knew it was a new feeling. You looked up at the Jumbotron and at your and James's reflections in it—truly looking the part of a 'couple'—and at the people in the stands that seemed to beckon to you, and then at James. He looked good—too good. His jawline was sharp and stern as he looked out at the crowd, lashes fanning against his face effortlessly, and his unruly hair shined perfectly in underneath the sun. Worst of all, you recognized just how much you missed the grin that'd been on his face all day, and wanted to see it nothing more than to see it again.

You didn't know what had come over you, when you said, "Screw it," but the words came out low enough that it came as a surprise to James when you reached out a hand to his cheek.

He turned to look at you with little effort on your part, surprise taking over his features before it shifted into amused interest, pink lips curling up as he looked down at you.

You were nervous under his gaze, and surely the thousands of others that were observing all of this through the jumbo screen, but his seemed like the only one that mattered in that moment. Before you could grow too nervous and chicken out, you closed the distance between you with a hand on the back of his neck.

Sparks flittered through you right away, starting from your lips and rushing through the rest of you. The way the entire stadium roared in the background, the sound meeting your ears like the crash of a symbol, had your cheeks heating and your lips curving up in a smile.

You felt James's boyish grin pressing against your lips, growing as you tugged at the hair by the nape of his neck, and you loved the feeling.

When you finally pulled away, you felt out of breath. You knew it didn't help that the kiss cam was still pinned on you, but the way James was looking down at you certainly wasn't helping either. His eyes raked over your face with wonder, cheeks flushed, his lips a deepened pink color from the pressure of the kiss, but he didn't look like he minded.

"Wow," he said, and you fought the urge to hide your face in his neck at his breathlessness. "You should take me to baseball games more often."

Your own face flushed at his words, his voice husky as he said them. You tipped your head at him and shrugged happily, feeling braver than you had all morning. "Maybe I should."

[lulublack90]

Prompt 26 - First song

@wolfstarmicrofic January 26, word count 414

“Merlin, Remus, this is amazing,” Sirius gushed as he let Remus lead him into muggle London. There were so many people. Sirius couldn’t believe it. He swore that in just this small area, there were more muggles than there were students at Hogwarts. No wonder the wizarding world kept itself hidden. 

They wandered down a few streets until a Sirius ground to a halt outside a small crowded shop and the hauntingly beautiful voice drifted out of the door. 

“There's a starman waiting in the sky.

He'd like to come and meet us.

But he thinks he'd blow our minds.

There's a starman waiting in the sky.

He's told us not to blow it.

'Cause he knows it's all worthwhile

He told me

Let the children lose it

Let the children use it.

Let all the children boogie”

 “What’s that?” Sirius asked, walking towards the voice as though under a spell. 

“That’s David Bowie,” Remus explained, following Sirius into the record shop. Sirius stood beside the record player where the thin black disk spun around and around, the song somehow coming out of the machine. Sirius bent low, trying to figure it out. Remus came back over and handed him a flat square package. David Bowie, The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders From Mars, the front read. 

“What do I do with it?” Sirius asked, turning it around in his hands. 

“You play it on one of those,” Remus said, pointing at the muggle contraption beside him. 

“And how do I get one of those?” He asked. Remus pointed behind him.

Twenty minutes later, they walked out of the record shop with their arms full of records Remus thought Sirius would enjoy and a brand-new record player that Remus had promised to show Sirius how to use. 

Sirius had to admit to himself as they pushed through the throngs of muggles milling about that while he didn’t think he’d ever understand muggles. After listening to his first muggle song, he thought their music was far superior to the wizarding world. 

He clutched his record player tighter as they headed back to the leaky cauldron. He couldn’t wait to listen to Starman again and bugged Remus until he agreed to go up to their room and set it up for him. They spent the next few hours lying in bed together, listening to the music, only getting up to flip the records over or change them and start them up again.