- you’re gay
- can read
- support gay people
- want to hold a match between your fingers as you wander the halls of an ancient castle because it’s your only source of light amidst the ghosts of people long past
- are an antelope
- or want a chocolate bar.
Precedented Reputation || Remus Lupin x Reader SMUT
Request:
Yes:
{anon} What about a Remus smut where the reader is in a skirt and maybe has a hair pulling kink?
AN:
They’re both 18
Not Proof-read
Word Count:
3.7~k
Characters/Pairing:
Remus Lupin x reader, James Potter, Sirius Black, Lily Evans
Summary:
[marauders era] You’ve been riled up all day, and take your opportunity while under the influence of firewhisky at a Gryffindor party.
WARNINGS:
Underage drinking, public make out, unprotected sex, hair pulling, spanking, edging, slight cock warming, creampie
*not my gifs*
The loud chatter that fills the Gryffindor common room feels like it shakes your soul when combined with the thump of the music. It makes your head kind of fuzzy, but the Firewhisky in your hand can’t be helping with that either. Of course, like most Saturdays after a quidditch match, the Gryffindors would celebrate, whether they won, or even played, or not. Another excuse for the house to exude its rowdiness. Today is no exception, especially since they had won by more a good fifty points. Students are running around in every direction; every corner is filled with a group of friends or a couple. It is well past after hours for the castle, and this tower remains lit with excitement. If you pay enough attention, you would notice that there are a select few students who aren’t even a part of the Gryffindor house. Some students just can’t turn down the opportunity to get bashed by Firewhisky.
On the coffee table of the center group of couches stands Sirius Black, your boyfriend’s best friend. As Sirius rambles off some nonsense no one understands and dances around on the table, you lean your head against your boyfriend’s shoulder, taking in the scene. Admittedly, if it weren’t for the extra dose of courage your drink provides you, you wouldn’t be down here. Likely you would be off reading a book or studying. You don’t even usually drink, but your friends had coaxed you into it this time. It being your last year at Hogwarts, you don’t want to be the one to say they never attended any parties.
That aforementioned extra lot of courage has you excited in more ways than one, but you aren’t the type to just hop on your boyfriend in the middle of a crowded space, unlike many of the students filling the common room. Said excitement has also been in your gut all day, for what reason you don’t know, but the alcohol on your tongue was just gasoline to the fire. You’ve stayed by Remus’ side since supper was over and the lot of you left the Great Hall. You’ve kept your arms around him, occasionally squeezing his sides in hopes that he’ll get the intended nonverbal message. Though, as most days, he was unaware of your actions, simply playing it off as your regular affection.
You’ve been pushing your urges to the side all day, but they kept coming back. After dinner, just before the party had started, you disappeared upstairs to your dormitories with your room mates to get ready. The idea stroke you then that you should wear Remus’ favorite outfit of yours, and maybe then he’ll give you a reaction. Even with the denim skirt, the reaction he gave you when he saw you was insufficient. He merely bit his lip and wrapped his arm around you, holding you close and claiming you as his.
By now, Sirius has tripped off the coffee table and spilled his drink all down his and some poor girl’s shirt. Jading to you and many others, he has managed to play it off to is advantage as he snogs her on a near-by couch. As Remus talks to Peter about something unimportant, his arm still protectively wrapped around you, you look for the fourth marauder. You find him, sitting in a far corner practically swallowing his girlfriend, whom he had pined for since first year. Lily had rejected him so many times, and you’re still baffled by what changed her mind.
You think to yourself, if James can get his dream girl after six years of rejection, you can figure out how to get your boyfriend to take you to bed. It’s never been a problem for Sirius, and even though he has many characteristics you don’t, how hard could it be for just one person — the one person you’ve let have you before and that you’ve loved since you first spoke to him.
Even as the room is stocked with sweaty teenagers, Remus manages to still wear his usual many layers. It’s no surprise, given the tokens his ill-favored condition has left him to bare for all the years to come. You’ve never shunned him for his lycanthropy, loving him and all the baggage that comes with, as he does you.
As shrewdly as possible, you untuck Remus’ button down and sweater from his trousers. Being so preoccupied in his conversation with Peter, Remus doesn’t seem to notice, giving you the advantage. You hand you cup to some random student passing by you without a word, without even a glance, and you slide your cold hand under his button down, resting it on his flushed abs, all while turning in his arms so you’re comfortably facing him. The stark contrast in the temperature of your skin to his quickly seizes his attention as he tenses under your touch, his head whipping around as he looks down at you. The moment his eyes meet yours, he knows. He can see the need that he’s missed all day, but he decides to see how far you’ll go in such a public setting, the Firewhisky also having given him an extra ounce of courage. He lets out a breathy laugh as he relaxes under your touch, and he bends down slightly, only kissing the top of your head before turning back to talk to Peter, to your displeasure.
You huff, and before you can make a decision on how to proceed, or even if you should, you body speaks for itself as you move to stand between the two men, pushing Peter back as you face Remus. But you don’t just stand there expectingly. Your hands grab the sides of his face as you push up on your toes to get yourself closer to his height and pull his lips down onto yours in a feverish kiss. Though Remus was still playing snitch, not giving into the kiss as much as you wanted him to. You groan as your lips move across his jaw and up his neck to rest just under his ear, pulling him down by the neckline of his sweater with one hand, the other placed on his shoulder. Instinctively, his arm wraps around the small of your back, holding you close as he’s bent over to match your height. The hand one his sweater releases and slyly slides down his chest.
“Stop being an arsehole on purpose, Remus,” you breath, your breath hot as it fans over his ear. You let your hand finally reach its desired destination, gripping him over his trousers and finding him to be just as aroused as yourself. “Or neither of us will get what we want.” Your hand slides over his length, squeezing ever-so slightly.
Remus finally gives in to his act, his need to feel your lips overriding his intoxicated fantasy. His posture marginally straightens as he grabs your face with both of his hands, crashing his lips down onto yours in a hungry kiss, still full of passion. His left hand slide back from your cheek and his fingers lace into your hair. As his plan of action succeeds and he pulls your hair slightly, you gasp against his lips, and he’s able to force his tongue into your mouth to explore the familiar expanse. You moan when you feel his tongue press over your own, his other hand leaving your face and wrapping his right arm around your lower back, pulling you closer to him. His erection presses against your hip, and you can feel him throbbing behind the denim restraints. Remus feels your cold hands run up his sides from under his shirt, and he knows that if he doesn’t move you now, he may end up having to take you on the nearest open piece of furniture. His cock twitches slightly at the thought of everyone watching you, but he knows that no one gets to see you in your most vulnerable moments accept for him. He also doesn’t want that reputation to follow either of you through the last several months of school.
He pulls away from you completely, not even staying by your side but instead walking away from you. You’re left standing in the middle of the common room, eyes wide and mouth ajar as you try to process the fact of how suddenly your boyfriend left you in such an intimate moment. After the moments or two it takes to regather your composer, you spin around, searching the room to find where he could have gone. Along the perimeter of the room, against the back wall, you see him. Your eyes catch his expecting look as he motions up the stairs next to him, the stairs that lead to the boy’s dormitories. Again locked in your spot to comprehend the situation, you force your feet from their spot seemingly bolted to the rough carpet and quickly maneuver your way through the crowded room to the back wall.
You don’t stop when you reach him; you just wink at him with your lip between your teeth as you scurry up the spiral staircase. You feel him follow behind you, and once your around the first bend of the stairs, no longer able to be seen from the common room, you feel his hand fall down onto your ass roughly. You squeal and giggle as you bend over from the excitement, ascending the rest of the steps on all fours.
Behind you, Remus throbs painfully in his trousers when he sees your panties peak out from under your short skirt, when he sees the wet mark adorning them. He growls perforce as he wraps his strong arms around you, easily picking you up as you giggle and carrying you the rest of the way to his dorm. Once in his room, he puts you down, not letting go until he’s sure you’ve got your balance, and his foot kicks the door closed behind him.
“Colloportus,” he mumbles as he pulls his wand from his pocket and lazily points it at the door, locking it before throwing his wand down on his bedside table.
“Muffliato,” you cast your own spell, still giggling from the excitement as you blindly walk backwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of Remus’ bed. You sit down, breathing heavily as you watch as your boyfriend quickly removes his belt, throwing it on the floor somewhere meaningless to you both in the moment.
Remus kicks his trainers off easily, then hurriedly removes his socks as he stumbles closer to you. You follow his lead and slip your flats off your feet, discarding them behind you with a heavy thunk. Once his socks are on the floor to be forgotten, Remus strides over to where you sit on his bed, graying your face in his right hand as he reconnects your mouths in a passionate kiss. His free hand quickly tugs the hem of your sweater from your skirt so he can slide it underneath, cupping your plump breasts over your bra, squeezing roughly. You moan at the feeling, releasing his mouth as your hands stealthily remove his own sweater, quickly pulling it over his head and getting to work on undoing his button down, his last layer. He stands up straight, something he usually doesn’t do, but seeing your nimble fingers working over the buttons of his shirt as you look up at him will love-blown eyes boosts his confidence. His fingers slide through your soft hair as he watches you finish with the last several buttons, his eyes full of lust.
When you’ve released the final button on his white chemise, you don’t push it off his shoulders, instead enjoying how it hangs open, his tan chest exposed to you. Unable to resist, you begin kissing over the span of his chest, taking a moment here and there to suck your mark into his chest. As you do so, you gradually stand up, kissing up the length of his torso on the way. Once you’ve stood up straight and left one last purple bruise on his neck, just above where his collar sits, you step back, holding the intimate eye contact as you guide his hands to pull your sweater over your head, revealing your lace-clad tits to your boyfriend. You smirk as his eyes fall from yours and onto your cleavage once it’s revealed.
He grabs them in his large hands, squeezing roughly as he drives his lips back onto yours, forcing your mouth open again to accept his tongue. He only kisses you for a moment, his member painfully rubbing against the denim of his trousers, begging to be released from the confinement. “I bet you’re ready for me aren’t you?” He smirks against your lips before attaching them again. “You’re so needy and desperate for me to fuck you, huh?”
“Yes, Remus,” you moan at his words. “Please. I’m ready.”
“Good girl,” he groans as he spins you around, strenuously pushing you down face first onto his bed, you ass towards him. In one swift movement, Remus pushes your skirt up, bunching it at your waist and quickly rips your panties down your legs, leaving your slick heat bare to him. “Fuck,” he mutter as he takes a step back, admiring your swollen lips as he unzips his pants, pushing them down with his boxers just enough to get himself free. “You’re so wet, baby.”
You quickly grow impatient, needing to be touched, to be satisfied, and you slide your hand between your legs, rubbing your fingers through your wet folds and spreading your arousal around your core. All to Remus’ displeasure, as he grabs both of your wrists, easily restricting them behind your back in his right hand alone. His other hand grabs his thick cock at the base, rubbing his head through your folds to soak himself in your arousal, pressing it against your clit, smacking it against you several times.
He guides himself to your begging hole, pushing just the swollen tip into you before letting go of himself. His now free hand wraps in your hair, pulling it as he thrusts into you, bottoming out in one quick movement. He moans at the feeling of your velvet walls tight around his member, and you cry out from the contentment of being filled so perfectly in an abrupt moment. Your walls clench around him, not wanting him to leave as you feel complete, but your hips have a mind of their own as you push back against him, still needy and impatient.
Remus’ right hand releases your wrists, letting you have them back to brace yourself against the mattress. Instead his hand comes down over your ass before holding your hips still. Your yelp in surprise of the pleasurable sting quickly slides into a moan.
“You’ve gotta learn to be more patient, love,” Remus’ low voice calls from behind you just as he pulls back, almost out before ramming himself back in again, forcing against that spot inside you. You cry out his name, whining and panting with every harsh thrust he gives you, each thrust accompanied by a blow to your cheeks.
Your ass quickly glows red, leaving Remus satisfied with his visible handprint. His soft hands smooth over your plump flesh, squeezing as he relishes in the feeling of having his hands full of you. His reputation of quiet book-boy is one he’s okay with. You and him alone know this passionate side that comes out in the bedroom. And he knows how you try to bring it out of him outside of privacy, like you had tried only moments ago, successfully he might add. He doesn’t know, or really care for that matter, who saw it. You make him the most comfortable he has ever been.
He pulls your hair harder and you moan at the tension, his cock twitching inside you at the sound. “Up, baby,” he commands, and your shaky arms fight to push yourself up. His right hand leaves its hold on your ass to help you up so that your back is pressed and arching against his firm chest. His hand slides your bra strap off your shoulder, leaving him room to leave his mark on you, then slides down your stomach and between your thighs, rubbing rough circles against your clit.
You moan out, wildly pleasured by the way he knows you so well. Your hand reaches behind you, grabbing the back of his neck and holding him closer to you as the coil tightens within you. You think he’s going to let you fall apart, but he notices the way your walls are tightening and fluttering around him, and he pulls out, leaving just an inch or so in you as his finger leave your mound.
“Remus,” you whine, feeling empty, and when he takes too long, bring it upon yourself to do the work, pushing yourself pack and forth on his rock-hard cock. Your hands leave his neck, grabbing behind you to hold onto his sides, your finger nails digging into his already scarred flesh.
You feel that coil reform in your gut, knowing you only need a little more. But Remus seems to know your body better than you do, and he stops you, pulling away from you completely with a dark chuckle.
“Fuck you,” you pant as he steps away from you.
“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do?” He smirks as he sits himself on his bed, his head leaned back into his pillow.
You groan and turn to him, easily straddling his hips as he spreads his legs, giving you a wider base. “It’s what I am doing,” you try to taunt him, but you panting and breathlessness, your messy hair, it all makes you seem so desperate for him. And you are, you have been all day. Not wanting to wait any longer, you immediately sink back down on him, his length reaching a whole new level within you and your high pitched moan thrills him. His hands slide behind your back, unclipping your bra and pulling it down your arms. His hands fill with your breasts as you starts lightly sucking on your nipples, your back arching and forcing more of you into his mouth.
Though soon, as he feels himself getting ever closer, his hands drop your breasts, one sliding back into your hair and the other lay on your lower back to guide you as you rock your hips against him. His hand in your hair pulls back, exposing the column of your throat to him on which he leaves numerous bruises from the force of his mouth on you.
“Remmy,” you whine, barely able to form coherent words. “I-I’m so cl-close. Please.”
He takes your warning, falling away from you and back onto his pillow as his hands hold your hips above his over. He starts pounding up into you at a relentless speed and your hand falls to your clit, pushing yourself over that edge.
“Oh, fuck,” you moan loudly as your orgasm washes over you. Your walls create a vice on him, squeezing and gushing your hot fluid over him. Your legs shake violently as you call out his name, collapsing forward onto his chest.
The force of your orgasm makes Remus cum, bucking his hips up into you, involuntarily jerking them as he stills, buried to the hilt within you as his balls tighten. Thick ropes of his hot sum paint your insides as he holds you against his chest with his arms wrapped around you. “Fuck, princess,” he moans into your ear, his hips moving slightly to work the last of him into you, though quickly fall to the bed as he relaxes in exhaustion.
He stays inside you for a moment longer, still impossibly hard, then flips you both over before slowly pulling out of you. He groans as his swollen cock leaves the warmth of your cunt, and you quietly whine at the loss, your voice barely returning after having cum so loud.
He grabs his wand and mutters a spell, one you can’t hear over the white noise of the aftershock. You feel him remove your skirt the rest of the way, and then presumably his own pants, pulling his boxers back up and softly tucking his sensitive member back into them. He finds your panties from the floor, then decides that you need fresh ones. He stumbles over to his trunk in exhaustion and pulls out the extra pair of panties you’ve left in his room for such occasions and a plain black t-shirt for you to put on incase his roommate return unexpectedly.
He helps you into the shirt as he kneels in front of you on his bed, then carefully guides you back onto the pillow. “Are you okay, baby?” He asks, concern flooding his voice. “Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” you mutter, a lazy smile playing at your lips. “That was… oh, Merlin, I can’t even put it into words. You’ve no idea how badly I needed that, Rem.”
He smiles as he lays with his hips between your thighs, pushing the t-shirt up over your breasts. “I love you, Y/n,” he says softly before his lips wrap around your nipple. You moan softly and arch your back again.
“What’re you doing that for now, Remmy?” You whine.
“They didn’t get the attention they deserve,” he explains as if it were the most obvious explanation and you laugh. The laugh quickly subsides into a moan as his teeth graze over your nipple, releasing it with a satisfying pop before moving to leave more hicks over your chest.
“If you don’t stop that now,” you pant, still breathless from your excursion, but your breath being stolen from you again. “I’ll need to ride you again, Remus.”
He hums against your skin before pushing up onto his arms. “I have no complaints there,” he smiles as he places a soft kiss to your lips.
I just wanted to say that the feedback I got on my last Remus smut was unexpected, but wildly appreciated. I thought it wouldn’t get nearly as many notes as it has already because even considering the full moon, it felt sort of out of character for Remus. And a lot more effort and time was put into the beginning than the end. I thought the end was sloppy. Whether it was or not, the reaction I have gotten is just so heartwarming. I don’t usually have a lot of time to write, with two different levels of schooling right now, and I just got a new job that I’ll be starting next week. I am just mind-blown and thank all of my readers so much. I don’t even know how to put into words how grateful I am.
I really try to do my best, I enjoy writing, I enjoy coming up with situations or writing requests that I get. I have a busy life, and like no motivation (hints my account title). But yeah, thank you all so much. ❤️❤️❤️❤️
Hi, so... about your latest moony fic: wow. Just wow. I love the no Voldemort AU setting, it is so heartwarming to see everyone happy together and the whole story was really sweet! It must’ve taken such a long time to write it, thank you so so so much for your efforts! 💐
I’m literally crying this is so sweet thank you so much 🥰🥰🥰
it’s comments and feedback like this that makes me feel good and makes me want to write more
Request:
no.
A/N:
I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me.
Word Count:
~9k
Characters/Pairing:
Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew
Summary:
[NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t.
WARNINGS:
face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting]
*not my gifs*
A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.
“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.
“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.
“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.
The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.
“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.
You’re welcome, I read this (but if anyone asks I don’t read smut) and I saw the it took you months thing and thought you needed some recognition y’know-
Request:
no.
A/N:
I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me.
Word Count:
~9k
Characters/Pairing:
Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew
Summary:
[NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t.
WARNINGS:
face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting]
*not my gifs*
A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.
“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.
“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.
“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.
The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.
“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.
Request:
no.
A/N:
I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me.
Word Count:
~9k
Characters/Pairing:
Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew
Summary:
[NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t.
WARNINGS:
face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting]
*not my gifs*
A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.
“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.
“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.
“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.
The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.
“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.
You find him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his duffle bag which he had put down. His head leans into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. You move from the hall to stand between his legs, but he doesn’t look up at you. You carefully grab his cheeks in your hands and pull his face up so he’s looking at you, but he keeps his eyes closed with furrowed brows.
His actions confuse you. He’s usually very affectionate with you, loving any touch you give him. Slightly confused by his lack of reaction, you think of any obvious reason he could be acting this way, and your mind found the answer rather quickly: the full moon is in just two days. You turn your head back to him, not saying a word as you remove one hand from his cheek and trace your index finger down the bridge of his nose. He softens under your touch this time and quickly reaches up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your belly.
You giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. “I thought we had planned to meet at James’s, honey?” You question him.
At the mention of the small celebration that takes place in just over an hour, Remus drops his arms from your waist and leaned back on his elbows with his head lolled back, and of course, you take immediate notice to his change in demeanor.
“We don’t have to go, Rem,” you quickly counter. “We can stay home, just the two of us, in bed if you’d like.”
“No,” he shakes his head. “You want to go. I would want to go if I weren’t so… well, you know. And they’re expecting us.” He looks into your eyes as he stands from the bed, his tall frame making you stumble back a few steps as he becomes unexpectedly close, towering over you several inches. He places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you as he plants a kiss to your cheek, but his lips linger and wander back towards your ear, his breath hot against your skin making your blood boil. “I’ll be fine,” he says lowly, “but you better go finish getting ready before I change my mind.” His hand slides down and then under your arm, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his own. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” His lips trail back over your cheek and jaw until they reach your lips. He captures yours with his own in a hungry kiss, the hand not around your waist wrapping into your still wet hair and pulling it backwards so he has better access to your mouth. The tension of the pull makes you let out a whiny moan into the kiss as your skin heats up.
You pull away and look into his eyes. They’re dark with lust and hunger. “Go,” he demands, and you scurry into the bathroom, Remus clapping his hand on your butt as you walk away, closing the door behind you and finishing getting ready.
Once the door is closed behind you, Remus pushes his hand down on his semi, trying to give it some sort of relief. You don’t know yet, but he had gone to spend some time with Sirius, because they were discussing how Remus would ask you to marry him, and he had picked out the ring. You’re the only person in his life to ever make him feel normal and worthy of love. You had convinced him, after many years, that he is not a monster. He’s just Remus, with a furry-little-problem once a month. It had taken him years to believe you, and sometimes it’s still hard for him to, but you had shown him that his lycanthropy does not define who he is, and that he is, in your words, the best guy you’ve ever met and ever will meet. It wasn’t until the both of you left Hogwarts that he knew you were right. He knew you would always be by his side, no matter what condition, no matter what happens. You stood with him for the seven years of Hogwarts like you had known him all your life. You didn’t bat an eye when he told you about him, and you worked with his fellow marauders to become an animagus for him, so you could be with him for his transformations, not just to take care of him on the ends of it. He knows, and as his friends have pointed out on many occasions, you would never leave him. You love him too much. Remus would have to do something truly terrible for you to leave his side. After having convinced himself for so long that he could never have a real family, or even friends, you finally made him grow comfortable enough to the idea to believe he can, though he hadn’t told you yet. To your knowledge, he was still an insecure boy who thought he could never love. He knew you wouldn’t stop until you knew you had convinced him, and then you’d continue reinforcing the idea from then on. He’s able to imagine you with a grown baby, carrying his child, but he never mentioned it to anyone until this past holiday when he told Sirius. He had always pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get his hopes up, not wanting to pass his lycanthropy to an innocent infant. If you loved him for what he is, and you take care of him, then he knows you would do the same for your child, but the thought of passing the trait still terrifies him, but to a lesser extent.
He turns to his bag on the bed and pulls the small velvet box out of the hidden pocket inside, going to hide it in one of his drawers, one you never go in — his underwear drawer. He opens the box, admiring the ring for a moment. The ring is small, simple but elegant, and he knows you’ll love it, he knows it reflects your personality and relationship perfectly. It’s simple: besides all the crazy stuff in between, the main picture is just love — the only thing that matters in the relationship. He still has to decide how to ask you. He knows he wants it to be romantic, but he also wants it to be as soon as possible. The romantic part isn’t difficult, it’s the having to wait until they’re not so close to the full moon. He could ask you tonight, before the gathering, but he doesn’t want you to think of it as a rash decision he made because of the full moon. If it was, he would’ve asked you months ago, maybe on a night where you were scolding him for trying to drink away the post-transformation pain. Quite the contrary, really. Usually, during a full moon, he’d get more self-conscious, feel more like you deserve better, but the full moons have begun to prove to him that he will marry you. You’re always there no matter what, and you always will be. He knows that, and he wants to keep it that way.
He hears the bathroom door open, and he quickly shoves the box haphazardly into the drawer.
“What’re you doing?” You ask him suspiciously.
“Uh,” he grabs a random pair of long black socks. “Looking for these,” he excuses, turning to you as he holds up the socks for you to see. It’s then he notices you’re in your favorite matching black lace bra and thong, and he curses his blood for running hot and straight to his groin.
“Uh-huh,” you nod, still skeptical as you walk closer to him.
As you reach the closet and start to look for an outfit, he quickly closes the drawer to try to hide the box from you.
He rummages through his clothes, picking out a plain white dress shirt with a dark red cable-knit sweater that contrasts just enough to wear with the pair of jeans he already had on and his favorite sneakers, sporting his signature comfortable-but-intelligent, soft attire and just enough of his old house colors. He puts the clothes on the bed with a subtle tie and pulls his jumper over his head, leaving him bare. In the mirror, you can see his back muscles flex and tense as he pulls the dress shirt up over his shoulders and start to button it. You walk over to him, laying the skirt and top you chose next to his outfit and helping him button up his shirt.
“Let me help,” you smirk as you grab his shirt, looking up into his amber eyes innocently. You let your fingers trace over his muscles and is scars as you admire it all, never shying away from his flaws. When the shirt is buttoned, you grab the tie from the bed and toss it around his neck, grabbing the other end as it comes around and tugging his neck so he gets to a height where you can stand on your toes and kiss him passionately, biting and pulling on his lower lip as you pull away, releasing it softly as you lick your lips, looking into his pupil-blown eyes.
As casually as possible, you step back from him and grab your clothes. First your mini skirt, pulling it over your bum and purposely squeezing into it give Remus a show. You grab your semi-casual blouse and pull it on, then tucking the bottom hem into the skirt.
By this point Remus had his tie done and was pulling the sweater over his head, smoothing it down his chest. You grab your small wedges and wand before walking towards the door.
“Let’s go, Remmy,” you call to him as you walk into and down the hall, your hips naturally swaying with each step.
Behind you, when he sees your hips move like that, Remus growls under his breath, but quickly subdues it with a cough as he follows you, grabbing his own wand on the way out, failing to pretend he could get the image of your plump ass out of his head. You grab the gift-wrapped box for the party, and the two of you went into the front garden, just by the old, rickety front gate. Remus holds his arm out to you, and you take it, preparing yourself for the sickening feeling of apparation. Your feet are lifted off the ground as you swirl into a spaceless darkness, squeezing through time and space in a way that would be nauseating to anyone who didn’t do it several times a day.
It had been several hours since you and Remus had arrived at James and Lily’s house. You were in the kitchen with Lily, talking about what life is like, and how it changes once you marry and have children. You want that with Remus, and you had since before the two of you left Hogwarts. In Remus’ eyes, to your knowledge, he could never put that burden on someone for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to risk passing his lycanthropy on to his children, who did nothing wrong, did nothing to deserve the condition, no matter how often you remind Remus that he didn’t do anything wrong, that he didn’t do anything to deserve the painful monthly transition. You wish you could make him see himself through your eyes, make him see how perfect he is. You wish you could make him see himself through his friends eyes, make him see how James, Sirius, and Peter adore him. You’ve confided in Lily about this before, and every time, she tells you how James tells her the same thing, wishing his friend could see how much he’s truly worth. The conversation dies down when you don’t respond, but just think about your boyfriend and how amazing he is. It upsets you to see his self-esteem so low.
Your mind shifts back to when you were getting ready, and how Remus touched you, how he kissed you. You feel your skin heat up and your insides churn just thinking about it. You know it’s only a few nights to the full moon, and those nights, Remus gets sexually needy and rough. It’s something you love from him. He’s usually a softer lover, and you admire him for that, but sometimes you need something more stimulating. That need is rare for you and strangely correlates perfectly with his own
You squeeze your thighs together, trying to find some friction, but you are unsatisfied. You leave the kitchens and find Remus in the living room with his friends. He’s sat back in the couch, almost zoned out. You go to walk towards him with a simple innocent smile on your face, but you’re stopped when you feel a small hand grab your own.
“Aunt Y/n!” You hear Harry call from behind you. You turn to him, giving him a big smile.
“Hi, Harry!” You exclaim. “Happy birthday!”
“Thank you,” he says politely and hugs around your legs.
You chuckle and get an idea, a potentially dangerous idea. With your back towards Remus, you bend at your waist to lift Harry in your arms, but, as you hoped, your skirt rides up your hips, exposing just enough of your thong to Remus that you can feel his eyes burning into your back. You conceal your smirk with a big smile as you talk to Harry, “Where’s your mommy, huh?” Your knuckles nip around his nose playfully as you hold him in your arms, balanced on your hip as you walk into the kitchen with him still in your arms. Sweetly, he lays his head against your shoulder, and almost immediately falls asleep. Lily coos at her son when he she’s you with him.
“I don’t see how Remus isn’t dying to see you like this with his child,” she comments, kissing her sons head.
“I may bring it up to him again soon,” you comment. “I want him to know I truly want a life with him. But I’ll wait until a week or so after this full moon. I don’t want to aggravate him.”
Meanwhile, back in the living room, Remus looks over at Sirius once you’ve gone out of sight and ear-shot. “Fucking, damn-it,” he swears, unintentionally getting all of his friends attention. He blushes, trying to act like he didn’t just say that in a most aggravated tone.
“What is it?” James asks his friend, his eyebrow raised.
“I, uh —“ he starts, but is cut off.
“Can I tell them?” Sirius tries to, but fails to whisper to Remus. “Please?”
“Tell us what?”
“We’ll there’s no point hiding it now,” Remus sighs, giving Sirius at death glare. “You’ve gone and told them somethings up.”
“Great!” Sirius turns back to James and Peter. “He’s taking the jump.”
After a moment of confused silence, and Remus rolling his eyes, Peter speaks up. “The what?”
“The jump: he’s going to ask her!” Sirius explains, giddily happy.
“Finally!” James exclaims.
Remus blushes deeply, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no point not to. She’s everything to me… and she’s proved time and time again that I’m everything to her. She’s the only person to ever have made me feel normal, worthy of love.”
James and Sirius start high-fiving excitedly.
“I mean, I already knew at this point that starting a family would be a part of this, but Merlin, seeing her with Harry like that just makes my heart want to explode.” Remus pulls a pillow off the couch and into his lap. “It’s turning me on, you know?..” He says under his breath. “Plus, I think she’s teasing me.”
“I’ve got this!” James says and stands up.
Sirius and Remus both grab his wrists, making him sit back down.
“Don’t you dare—“ Remus starts, but it’s too late. James sets his plan into motion.
“Harry!” James calls from the living room, giving Remus a wink.
Harry’s head shoots up off your shoulder at the sound of his father calling his name.
“We’ll see,” you smile to Lily, ending your conversation and turning out of the kitchen with Harry still in your arms. By the time you’ve reached the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he’s wiggling so much that it’s difficult for you to keep hold of him. Again, you bend at the waist and place his little feet on the ground. Your blouse falling slightly and exposing your cleavage as you had secretly hoped. You stand up again, and watch Harry run over to his father and jump into his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Remus push a pillow down onto his lap and cross his legs. You smirk to yourself and look at him, his eyes boring you a hungry look, and you decide that you have to use the bathroom, meaning you’d walk right by him. You walk across the living room, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear as you head to the bathroom in the next hall, passing the end of the couch that Remus is seated on. When you get close enough to him, he reaches over the arm of the couch and grabs your waist, the side opposite him. He spins you and pulls you so you’re sitting in his lap, and he slyly removes the pillow, making you land right on his cock. You squeal slightly on your way down, and when you feel his hot breath against your ear for the second time tonight, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, “accidentally” creating friction between the two of you.
Remus’ hands grab your hips and hold them still, holding you down against him.
“You feel that, babygirl?” He asks in a hushed voice so only you can hear him as he pushes his hips up from the couch, his hard member pressing into you. “You got me all hot and bothered in front of all of our friends. You’re going to have to fix it for me.” He nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing hot on your neck, and you let out a whiney moan at his words. “I would take you in the bathroom now, but with what I’ll have to do to you, there won’t be enough space in the there.” His lips graze your neck, and he unexpectedly flattens his tongue against your skin, leaving it feeling like it’s boiling. He hums at the taste of your sweat. “And I want to be the only one to hear you screaming my name. You are mine, after all.” He leaves an open mouthed kiss on your shoulder, his tongue grazing the spot at he kisses it. “So, go get your purse. We’re leaving.” His teeth nip at your ear and he pinches your butt under your skirt as he pushes you off of him.
For a moment, you don’t move, too stunned to do anything, but to your dismay, and Remus’ impatience, his hand flattens against your lower back as he leans forward in his seat, pushing you in the direction of the kitchen. On your way stumbling into the kitchen to find your purse and say goodbye to your friends, you look over your shoulder back at the man you love. He leans closer still to his friends, saying something inaudible to you that makes them all smirk and chuckle. Blushing, you scurry over to your purse.
“Got her,” Remus smirks from the living room to his friends.
“I honestly didn’t know you had that in you, Moony,” James laughs.
“She does things to me.”
“Where do you think you’re going?” You hear Lily from behind you.
You turn to her, your purse in hand, and you pull her into a goodbye hug. “Remus wants us to go home,” you almost whisper.
She grabs your shoulders and pulls away from you, holding you in front of her. “Is it what I think it is?”
You smirk and look over her shoulder into the living room.
She pulls you into one more hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she tells you when she pulls away again. “Or anything James would do!”
Once Remus lays his eyes on you again after you’ve stepped back into the living room, he quickly stands, waiting for you as you walk over to him, and he takes your hand, pulling you away without any word to anyone.
“Bye, boys!” You call over your shoulder as your frustrated boyfriend pulls you out the front door. Your feet barely hit the garden when you’re lurching through space again, Remus disapperating from Godric’s Hollow with you on his arm. You feet hit the ground in the front garden of the home you and Remus share, and you’re instantly stumbling as he’s pulling you up the front step and into the house. He slams the door behind himself once you’ve both entered the house, locking it with a swish of his hand, as his other grabs your lower back and pulls you against him as he growls down at you with a matching look of hunger in his darkened irises.
You feel that he’s harder than he was just a moment ago when you were sat in his lap, and you could swear that you had long since soaked through your panties.
His hand not holding your back grabs your face as he pulls your lips to his in a harsh, passionate kiss. The hand that was on your back sliding down to just under your butt as he lifts you up. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist to help him support you, and your skirt bunches up to your waist, your thong pressing against his leather belt.
He walks forward, pushing your back against the door as his lips move from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting, effectively marking you as his own with the dark bruises he leaves behind.
You whine his name breathlessly at the feeling of his teeth, tongue, and lips all grazing and working at your neck. In hearing your name, Remus growls against your soft skin, biting down on it as he replaces your feet on the ground then pulls away, much to your displeasure. He walks backwards towards the couch, dragging you along with him by your hands. He sits down on the comfortable couch, his hands leaving yours and sliding down your sides and back towards your butt. As his hand rests on the top of your ass, he grabs the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down excruciatingly slow, but once he zipper is over the curve of your plump butt, he quickly employs the new margin of space available and shoves the skirt down your legs, letting it fall to the ground silently. Hastily, Remus’s hands grab at the back of your things, pulling them down and over to the sides of his own, making you straddle his lap. As he reconnects his lips to your own, one hand grabbing at the back of your blouse, the other cradling your face, you moan. You revel in the feeling of his plush lips for the first time this evening, being less caught up in passion where you can’t think, yet your senses are still crowded with longing. They work effortlessly against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring the area same as he would if he had never kissed you before, brushing over your lips, against your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, and the roof of your mouth before finally pressing his tongue down on yours, which had been begging his silently. As you two mix your mouths, you moan at the taste of him, the remainder of the one drink he had intoxicating you as if you were the one who had drank it.
You grind your hips down onto his jean-clad crotch, the denim rubbing perfectly through your soaked thong and against your aching core, a whine escaping your throat and into his mouth. Your hands slide under his sweater, then under his dress shirt, feeling his hard muscles under his warm, tan skin, littered with soft hills from scratches and wounds of the many previous full moons he’s had to endure.
Remus leans back, detaching his lips from yours for a moment only long enough to remove the red sweater before fervently reattaching himself. His hands hold you still against him, one keeping your hips down on his own, the other holding loosely tangled in your hair. He could leave his hand in your hair for an eternity, sexual or not. He loves playing with it, twirling it between his fingers when you lay your head in his lap on the couch while he reads; he knows you love head and back massages at night and how they put you to sleep in a mere minute. Your hair is soft and silky, easy to run his hands through without getting caught on any knots or tangles. He also know how much you love it when he grabs your hair by it’s roots, tugging enough for tension but not pain, or when he puts it into a make-shift pony tail when you’re going down on him.
Your soft lips leave the warmth of his mouth, pulling them away and down over his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your tongue brushes over his scruffy face with every kiss, tasting the salty sweat that has begun to seep from his pores the more you touch him. Trailing your lips down his neck, sucking soft marks into it, biting on his collar bone or shoulder as you pass it, your hands nimbly work at the buttons on his shirt, shaking from the excitement running through you, the continuous passion you hold for your boyfriend. Your mouth follows the buttons as the come undone down his chest, adjusting your position in his lap and on the couch to keep moving a few inches with each new free button as you kiss, lick, and suck at his supple skin.
When your tongue licks at the top of his faint happy trail, feeling his grip on you tighten, you kiss back up his chest, pushing the shirt to the sides to reveal his tones abs and pecks. Remus isn’t super muscular, he isn’t burly by any means, but he’s toned and has just enough muscles to look strong and soft at the same time. You run your fingers through the short chest hair that lightly strews across his chest as you kiss each of his scars, following them until they stop or disappear behind him. His scars are a story, they show how strong of a man he is, the man you love more than anything. His story has become your story, one you’ve loved since the beginning.
You reach back up to his neck with your lips, kiss and continue to mark up the length of it as you return your mouth to his. You lean in just enough to feel your lips brush together softly, but you pull back when Remus tries to connect them. You smirk as you place a single, hot kiss to his lips before getting off his lap completely, sitting on your heals, your body supported by your knees on the floor in front of him. You start you lips back at the top of his happy trail again, and he pushes his hips forward, leaning back farther into the couch for both of you to be more comfortable in the coming activity. Your mouth trails down to his waistline as your hands run up and down his thighs slowly. When you reach the line of his jeans against his waist, your hands slide up, slowly, towards his belt, squeezing his painfully hard erection through his clothes as you pass. Once the buckle is free, you pull back completely, sitting back and looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes as you pull the leather from the denim loops. Your hands find the button on his jeans, quickly popping it open and then carefully attaching to the zipper as you pull it down.
You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pull down, he lifts his butt from the couch cushion enough for you to slide the fabric over his butt. You only pull to to just past his upper thighs, leaning his legs covered but giving you comfortable access to his treasure. Your soft hands rub back up his legs and over the material of his boxer briefs, finding his length and giving it a firm squeeze at the base, skidding your hand back and forth just and inch or so as you kiss at the damp spot over the tip of his cock. You slowly wipe your tongue on the spot, giving him an unsatisfying amount of friction.
His hand in your hair yanks your head back with a delectable amount of force, lifting your mouth off of him and forcing you to look up at his as you moan from the tension. He leans forward in his seat, bending low enough for his lips to be by your ear, his hot breath fading over it as he speaks. “You don’t want to tease me anymore tonight, love,” he informs you. “I had already been planning on you not being able to walk for the rest of the week.” He pauses and licks a stripe up your neck before continuing. “But now you’ve got a whole other punishment coming your way.” His hand leaves your hair for just a moment as he cups your cheek softly, leaning back a bit and pulling himself from his underwear. Once his aching cock is free, his hand on your cheek slides back into your hair, forcing you down so your mouth is next to his radiating member before sitting back into the couch completely.
Obeying, your small hands wrap around his cock, and you lick a long, wet stripe up the thick, pulsing vain on the underside. The feeling of it throbbing against your tongue, and the taste of his pre-cum when you reach his tip is almost enough to make you cum there, without being touched. You moan against him, still teasing him, still driving him mad.
His hair in your hair pulls you up only slightly as his other hand grabs and slacks your jaw, forcing you to take his delicious cock into his mouth. “Stop,” he says sternly as he thrusts up into your mouth. “Teasing,” he thrusts again, making you gag as he hits the back of your throat, unprepared. His hand in your hair loosens and his other leaves your jaw, letting you recompose yourself before further coaxing you. “Come on, Princess,” he hums softly, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Let me see you take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you want to, I know your desperate for it. Take my cock in your mouth, and you’ll get it nice and rough later.”
You whine at his words, quickly wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, spitting over it before lowing your mouth onto him, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you rejoice in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth. You hum against him, pleased to be providing him with pleasure.
Remus starts grunting in time with your head and thrust up shallowly to the same rhythm. His hand drops from your hair when he thinks your ready, and they both grab the sides of your face as he fully fucks up into your mouth. Your hands flatten against his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him down your throat.
He’s grunting and groaning and praising your mouth until you feel him twitch in the back of your throat, before he roughly pulls your mouth off of him. He stands up quickly, shoving his pants the rest of the way down and taking his socks and shoes off with them, leaving them there as he pulls you up, kissing you once passionately, both of you moaning into the kiss.
His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you farther into your home and to your bedroom. He pushes you down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, straddling your legs with his knees on either side of your thighs as his hands wrap under your arms and pull you up higher on the bed so that your head rests in the pillows.
Remus’s calloused hands slide under the fabric of your top, pushing it up before grabbing the hem and forcing it over your head. He throws the shirt to the floor somewhere on the room, somewhere neither of you cared about right now. His mouth works down your neck, leaving more marks as he crosses over and down your chest, licking at the top of your breasts above your bra before biting harshly in the same spot. You moan out, loving the feeling of his teeth against you. His nibble hands slide under your arched back, making quick work of your bra as he snaps the band and releases the clasp. That is discarded in an equally irrelevant place as your shirt. As soon as your breasts are free, he leans in, sucking one of your nipples into your mouth harshly, letting his teeth graze over it and bit down ever-so slightly as his other hand cups your opposite mound, rolling and pulling that nipple through his fingers making you moan out his name.
His lips and hand switch sides for an equal moment before they continue down the valley of your chest and your soft stomach, leaving more marks still as he makes his way to your panty-line at an agonizingly slow pace. His fingers grip into the flesh on your sides as he sucks and licks his mark onto your tummy. You’re left trying to string word together to make a sentence, but it’s all incoherent as it just comes out as breathless pants.
You’re able to build your voice back when he just follows your panty-line across your tummy, avoiding the steaming apex of your legs that’s screaming for his attention. “Rem-“ you barely manage, and his lips slow against you as he looks up at you from almost between your legs. “Plea—“ but you can’t finish as you gasp out a breath when you feel his lips switch to your thighs.
“What was that?” he smirks into your leg?
“Ple—“ you try again, only for him to bite into the soft skin of your thigh.
“I need to hear the full word, babygirl,” he says, pulling away from one thigh and moving to the other.
“Please!” You force out, not letting him cut you off with his actions again.
At that, his mouth leave your thighs as he sits up, leaning over you enough to kiss you passionately, and you wrap your hands into his hair. “Good girl,” he smirks against your lips before pulling back again, positioning his face between your thighs while he sits on his knees, leaning forward. Without a warning, he presses his tongue over the wet fabric covering your mound. Me moans against you, feeling how you’ve soaked through your thong, and he can taste you. “Merlin, baby,” he hums into you, sucking you through your panties before pulling back. “You’re so wet, Y/n,” he teases as his fingers gently wrap under the waist line and begin to pull down your thong. “Who did that to you, hm?” He encourages you, throwing your thong off the bed before laying on his stomach between your legs, roughly gripping your thighs in his hands and pushing them up against your chest, giving him a beautiful view of your soaking cunt. He blows hot air over your sensitive core as he waits for you to answer.
“You, Remus! You made me that wet,” you plead for him. He happily obliges and dives in, licking his tongue up and down through your folds without warning. “Oh, fuck,” you curse out in a whine.
His tongue stills and flicks over your swollen clit several times as he rubs the tips of his fingers against your entrance, getting them ready for you. He stops licking as he begins to push his fingers into you slowly, his lips wrapping around your clit instead and sucking the bud into his mouth. His fingers only pushed in slowly until they reached a halt. He gives you zero adjustment time and starts pounding them in and out of your pussy, creating an obscene sound as the curl and twist within you.
You moan out at the sudden sensation, music to his ears as one hand finds this hair, wrapping into it and pulling. He moans into you at the tension you create and hearing your angelic voice do such sinful things. With your legs still pressed to your chest, you can barely reach the one hand into his hair, so the other reaches under your head, grabbing and pulling at the pillow.
He continues fucking his fingers into you at the fast pace, continuing to suck and lick your clit the same. You quickly become a moaning mess, and you’re almost embarrassed by the pornographic sounds you’re making. Your head turn to the side, and you bite into your arm to suppress the sounds. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Remus pulls away from your center, his face slick with your arousal. His hand leaves the warmth of your walls, smacking down over your cunt and causing you to involuntarily jerk forward.
“Don’t be quiet,” he demands. “Let me hear you, darling. Let me hear the sounds only I can get from you, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and your mouth releases your arm, but as though he doesn’t trust you to cover it again, he pulls your hand from the pillow, and interlaces his fingers with yours as he dives back in, eating you like he hasn’t eaten in months.
He returns to your cunt at the same pace, but only picks up the speed from there, his fingers digging not you deeper, rougher as he pushes you towards the rapidly approaching edge. He knows your dangerously close, and he pulls the high from you as he moans into you, sending vibrations through you that tip you over the edge. You moan loudly, legs convulsing at the intense peak rushing through your muscles. He pulls your legs down over his shoulders so you’re more comfortable as he continues to work your cunt, you thinking he’s riding out your high. Only he doesn’t stop. He removes his fingers from your hole, but continues sucking on your clit. The sensitivity from the orgasm that just ripped through you puts you right back on the edge. Your hips start to buck and both your hands lace into his hair, gripping tight. The intensity of only being on the verge of your next orgasm has you crying in pleasure, your hands pushing against him as you try to move his face off of you.
Your hands quickly give up as he holds himself onto you, and when he starts shaking his head back and forth with his tongue pressed against you, your pushed over that second edge, your back contracting as your muscles force you to sit up, using his hair as an anchor. He moans into you as you pull his hair, and he slows down, carefully lapping up your juices before kissing back up your body to your lips.
He gives you a chaste kiss before he flips you over, pushing your face down into the bed. His hands hook over your hips, grabbing around them and pulling them up so your ass is in the air on perfect display for him. His hands leave your hips once they’re where he wants them, wrapping them around your wrists and pulling them back behind your back before wrapping one of his large hands over them both to keep them there. His other hand reaches between your legs, spreading them apart so he can comfortably stand on his knees behind you. After your legs were in position, he used the hand not restraining your wrists to grip his cock, rubbing it up against your core, getting it slick and ready for you, but still not entering you.
You moan at the feeling of his throbbing length pressing against you, so close, but not close enough. Your moan, having been a subconscious technique to get him to continue, is not a suitable attempt for him. His hand leaves his cock, still pressed against you as he holds his hips against your own, then smacks down on your ass, wordlessly commanding you to beg for him.
“Remus,” you whine, pushing yourself back against him, and his hand comes down on the opposite cheek. Not good enough. “Please!” Another smack. Still not good enough. “Remus, please!” You try combining the two previous pleas, but he spanks you again, and you know he wants to hear you say it. You know he won’t give you what you both crave until he hears you say it. “Please, Remus! Please, fuck me,” you cry out as his hand comes back down on you, only this time for fun, to make sure both of your cheeks are equally reddened. As you’re whining his name again, his hand leaves your ass and grips himself at the base, pushing into you to the hilt in a quick thrust, no warning.
“Good girl,” he groans from above you as you moan out at the feeling of him so perfectly stretching you. He stills only long enough to get out the two words and move your hair over your shoulder, letting him see the side of your face and the top of your back and shoulders. You don’t have much time to adjust before he pulls out, almost completely, and starts thrusting forward into you again at an agonizingly slow pace. His palm runs over your red cheeks, soothing and kneeling the skin under his hand while still holding your arms behind your back.
The perfect friction, the prefect way he fills you up and reaches every crevice within your walls has you softly moaning for him, but you need more. You start to push your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts in his rhythm but trying to get him to speed up all the same. “Rem,” you moan. “Faster. Please.”
His one hand releases your wrists, the other holding your hips against his as he wraps the first around your throat, pulling you up against him until your back is pressed to his chest. “You want me to pound you, huh, baby?” He breaths hot on your ear, his hips thrusting roughly up into you and hitting your g-spot dead center, causing you to cry out his name. “You’re so needy for my cock?” His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he thrusts again, another cry escaping your lips.
“Yes!” You call out to him. “Please, Remus. I need you.”
You say what he wants, but his reaction if the opposite for you. He pulls away from and out of you completely, pushing you back down onto the bed forcefully, and you bounce a little once you hit the bed. He turns you over again, having you face up as he kneels between your legs again, grabbing them from behind your knee and putting them over his shoulders as he realigns himself effortlessly and continues to pound into you.
The pornographic sounds you make further strive the hungry beast inside him, and he reaches down for you, draping his hand back over your throat and squeezing once more. He continues to hit the bullseye in you repeatedly, almost as if he’s trained his whole life just to please you to such an extent. His thrusts are so precise that you barely registered the build up to your rapidly approaching third orgasm.
“Rem,” you draw out his name, warning him, and he understands.
“Do it, baby,” he commands, and you let go of the force pressing violently against your gut.
You scream his name, your voice hoarse and throat sore as you whine and gasp while you come down, Remus working you through it the whole time.
“Good girl,” he praises you, dropping your legs from his shoulders as his hand leaves your neck and slides up. He cradles your cheek as he leans over you, kissing you passionately as his thrusts slow down. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Just absolutely perfect.”
Remus’ previous aggressive lust, turns into a loving lust, just wanting to be one with you, be a whole instead of two halves. There’s just as much passion as before, it’s just more apparent now without his hunger for you clouding it.
“Remmy,” you whine, too sensitive after three orgasms. You’re still soaking, but you can feel every ridge of his cock as he slides in and out of you. Remus lifts his head from where it was folded into the crook of your neck, looking deep in your eyes. “I can’t. It’s too much.” A tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, but he’s quick to catch it, kissing the wet spot it left and then your lips so softly you barely feel it.
“Help me finish, baby. I’m close,” he encourages you to hold on just a few moments more. “You can do it, Princess. You’re being such a good girl for me.”
You nod your head as you look up into his darkened, but soft, eyes. The way his mouth hangs open and his eyebrows furrow together, you can tell he is close. You moan his name as you pull his lips into another love-filled kiss, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips and your arms over his shoulders, pulling him deeper into you. You break from the kiss panting. “Cum in me,” you plea so softly you can barely hear it.
Remus’ hearing is strong enough to pick it up, and his rhythm falters for half a moment. “Really?” He asks, how close he is painfully evident on his face. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please.”
His carnal need resurfaces, hitting into you harder, and you cry out every time. “You want me to cum in you, huh?” He growls into your ear, but he’s so close it breaks into a groan. “You want me to fill you with my cum, baby?”
You nod vigorously, not being able to form any words with the intense feeling burning in your core. He captures you lips in a kiss as he stills, buried deep inside your cunt and coating your inner walls with his hot ropes, his hips involuntarily jerking as he does. You’re sensitiveness, his words, and the feeling of him and his cum filling you to the brim push you over the fourth edge, and you crying out as your body convulses under him so much you would’ve folded in on yourself if his body weight wasn’t keeping you flat on the mattress.
He collapses on top of you as both your bodies give their last few tremors, both of you panting and sweaty, hair sticking to your faces. His arm extends towards the side table, looking for his wand. “Fuck,” he mutters, and you hum in question to his exclamation. “Our wands are still in the living room,” he kisses you softly, but with so much love. “You know, with our clothes.”
You giggle against his lips before he pushes himself off of you and goes into the ensuite to grab you a washcloth. Your affectionate urge to always be around him awakens and sends you to the bathroom, but when you stand from the bed, pain shoots down your sore legs and your knees give out. You’re left to gravity to fall to the floor with a small squeal and a soft thud.
The door to the bathroom quickly opens as he looks for the cause of the sudden noise, finding you on the floor in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckles.
“Following you,” you blush and look down at the carpet. You’ve always tried to subside your natural clinginess in fear that it will annoy Remus.
You heel hands wrapping under your arms and you’re hoisted off the floor. “You’re my lost puppy, aren’t you?” He teases, making you giggle. A sound he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life, a sound he’s never planning on losing. He puts you down so your weak legs hand off the edge of the bed. “Would you wait here just a moment please, love?” He says, adoration filling his voice. He steps back into the bathroom and comes back with two washcloths, a warm on and a cold on. He uses the cold one first, wiping the sweat and left over make up off your face. A moment later you take the rag from him so you can wipe his sweaty forehead, too, but you gasp and whine in surprise as the warm cloth rubs between your legs. “I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and kisses you sweetly. You run your hands over his head, flattening his hair down as you kiss him back, never wanting to stop, and he finished cleaning the mess he had made of the two of you. “I’m going to take these and the other clothes to the laundry real quick, love,” he tells you before kissing your head and leaving the room.
You build all of your strength to get up and go to the closet in search of clean underwear for you both, stopping dead in your tracks when a poorly hidden velvet box in his drawer peaks at you from between the socks. You pick is up carefully and open the box, a ring perfect for you sat in the fold. You cup your hand over your mouth to hide any noise you might make, but your heart is in your throat as it bursts with love, and you couldn’t make a sound if you tried.
“Shit,” Remus curses behind you, having come back into the room silently. He rushes over to you and moves to take the box from your hands, but his hands stop, resting over yours as he looks at you staring at the ring, mesmerized. “You weren’t supposed to see that, yet,” he says and laughs softly, nervous of your reaction because your face is so blank, he can’t get a clue.
“Then… I’ll just pretend I didn’t,” you give him a small smile, but one that shows him your whole heart. You pull your hands back from his, leaving him to hold the box as you slip on your fresh panties and climb back into the bed. He looks to you, surprised you’re not questioning it, but your sat in the center of the bed with your arms held out to him and a goofy pout placed on your lips as your hands grab at the air.
He sighs happily, places the velvet box unhidden in his closet, and pulls on fresh boxers before climbing into your arms. Your fingers slide into his hair and scratch at his scalp as he lays his head on your belly.
After a moment of comfortable silence and his mind not settling, he lifts his head and looks up at you, seeing your eyes are closed. He calls your name softly. You hum, informing him you’re awake. Remus climbs further up the bed, laying on his side facing you to your left. His hand grazes your cheek as he pushes hair out of your face.
“I love you. I have never felt this much of one feeling before I met you. I’m so in love with you that it terrifies me, and I don’t know what to do. But you’ve changed me, you’ve made me a better man. I can’t imagine a future without you as my wife and with our kids running around. I never knew how to bring it up before,” he pauses a moment, trying to find the right words as he asks you the big question on a sudden limb. “I’ve just been to scared. I don’t know why, because you’ve never done anything but love and support me, and I couldn’t ask for better. I was with Sirius to find you the ring, and try to plan a romantic moment to ask you to marry me, I just didn’t want it to be so close to the full moon.”
You take a moment, considering everything he’s said and your chest swells with love and pride. “What about ‘James’?” You ask, being stuck on the one thing he said. When he pulls away from you completely and sits up, you open your eyes, startled. He’s looking at you with all the confusion in the world. “Oh my god!” You gasp. “That came out so wrong. I meant as a name! Merlin, the things you do to me — beyond amazing — exhaust me. I can’t speak correctly.” You let out a breathy laugh as you look for his reaction, a smile growing onto his face.
“You mean, like, a baby name?” He asks you.
You nod at him, smiling, and his shoulders relax as he lays next to you again.
“No, no,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want the product of my love for you to constantly remind me of my idiot best friend.”
“Okay, so ‘Sirius’ is also off the table,” you giggle.
“What about our parents names?” Remus asks as he turn to you, pulling you into him as his little spoon.
“So the product reminds us of our parents?”
He laughs at your rebuttal, and you smile. “Good point.” He presses his lips to your temple. “I guess we have time to figure it out.” He sighs in contempt as he buries his face in the back of your neck.
“For now,” you agree.
“So that’s a yes?” He picks his head up quickly to ask. “You’ll marry me?”
You turn in his arms, facing him and grabbing both his cheeks in your hands, purposely squishing his face a little. “Of course, you big oaf,” you laugh and kiss the love of your life.
dorky suave bodyguards yes i love that and i’m here 100% for it. bodyguards who absolutely cannot look after themselves and should not be in charge of another living person. will they hex enemies? will they hex you? or will they hex each other and cause chaos
george accidentally hexes you and then he’s rushing over super fast being all like “omgomgogmgomg im sorry ahhh pls forgive me!!! *puppy teary eyes*” and fred’s on his ass laughing and rolling around on the ground, crying from how funny the whole scene was ksndkfnjsd
So, I write fanfics for Harry Potter/Wizarding World on this account. And I know not everyone is in the same house.
SO
For fics that involve the houses (Quidditch, common rooms, whatever), I was thinking I would split it up into two parts.
If it is not based in Hogwarts, or it is based on the grounds, and houses do not matter, this will not be done.
If I have a request for a specific house for the reader, this will not be done.
The base parts would be under no heading at first, the base parts don’t matter for houses.
And then the first section of the split will be the house that the character it is based on is in.
And the second split will be the other three houses
Example:
A fic about George (bc I’m a simp for him rn), the base info blah blah blah blah is under no header at first.
GRYFFINDOR
Since Georgie is a Gryffindor, this would be the first, “main” section. The parts of the story that would pertain to a Gryffindor reader would be under this header. Anything pertaining to common rooms or dorms.
RAVENCLAW, HUFFLEPUFF, SLYTHERIN
If the reader is not in Gryffindor, they would read from this section, and it would be more realistic when pertaining to things. You’d sneak into other common rooms or dorms with each others help.
BACK TO BASE
If the fic goes back to a part where house doesn’t matter, it will be under another section, continuing from the beginning and both of the two split sections
Would this be too complicated? Is anyone interested in this? Or do you all just wanna read shit as a Gryffindor/Slytherin (@ Draco) when you’re maybe not one.
Not My Type || George Weasley x Reader Angst/Fluff
Request: { @jxsminedrxgon asked @eleven-times-lively: “Hi! I was wondering if I could get a George Weasley x transfer student (female) Ravenclaw angst that turns to fluff?”}
Word Count: ~6K
[way too fucking long but I had originally planned more]
[not completely proofread]
Summary: you’re a transfer student, new to Hogwarts, and a particular Weasley seems to be infatuated with you, and you deny it to yourself that you’re equally as infatuated. Jealousy makes you admit it to yourself, and eventually to him.
[takes place during The Goblet of Fire/1994/George’s 6th year, but there is no tournament. There is quidditch as usual and there is a yule ball as if it is a yearly thing.]
WARNINGS: angst? Exploding potion, detention, idk
*not my gifs*
Being a transfer student is rarely easy, that’s for sure. It’s not often that someone jumps the pond, already knowing people on the other side. As you try not to scare yourself, you stare out the misty, wet window to the expansive hills flying by. Your father got a new job, which meant moving from North America to England. At your previous school, Ilvermorny, you were familiar with everything as you had gone there for the better part of the past five years. By second year, you knew the halls like the back of your hand, and you belonged to a group of friends within your house, Thunderbird. But now, as you ride the Hogwarts Express to your new school, you can’t help but feel nervous. Everything will be different, except that you’ll still be learning magic, something you were born into, and your parents were over the moon that you’d attend the same school they did — the school they met at. Until now.
Yet, now, as the train screeches to an eventual halt, everything is beyond your imagination. You aren’t quite sure what to expect, or what to do exactly, but you know you’ll keep to yourself and follow the rules. A new start isn’t necessarily so bad.
You stand on your toes, grab the handle of your new trunk, and haul it down, almost crushing yourself with its weight. You open the compartment door and check the halls for a clear spot to step out; they’re bustling with people greeting their friends and trying to get off the train first. As soon as an opening comes, you step into the corridor and struggle to drag your case and keep up with the crowd at the same time. The mild September heat engulfs you as you near the door of the train cart, and you can hear the shouts of other students as they scurry around in the rain.
As you step into the rain, you look at the world around you, finding a sign reading Hogsmead Station. You could’ve stood there all night, rain or shine, and taken in the new scenery, but the crowd jostled you along with them and towards some carriages. Many groups piled into the carriages together, still wrapped in conversation. You stood back, waiting for an empty one, and seized your moment when you saw one pulls forward, drawn by seemingly nothing.
“Leave your trunk here, miss,” you hear a raspy voice from behind you.
You turn to see an older man with many wrinkles and thin, messy grey hair standing next to a pile of hundreds of trunks. “Sorry, sir,” you apologize to him and give him your trunk. “I’m a transfer student.”
“Evidently,” he sneers at you, looking at you as though he smelled something fowl.
“Right,” you say to yourself and run back to the carriages. The one that you were about to get on before being called for your trunk was now almost full. Quickly, you nutty up to the back and muster up all your courage to speak to them. “Excuse me?” You clear your throat, and the two boys who were sat turn to look at you. “May I- uh- may I ride with you?”
The girl in the wagon lifts her head finally, her bushy hair bouncing around her. “Oh, hi! Of course,” she smiles and motions to the seat in front of her.
The two boys fall back into conversation as you sit down next to a tall red-headed boy. The girl had returned her head to be buried in the book she holds, and though you don’t want to be rude and interrupt her, you also don’t want to sit in awkward silence while the two boys talks loudly. “Uh, what’re you reading?” You ask, shyly.
She looks up at you, a big smiling growing on her face. “Oh, goodness. I like you already; these two gits never care for books.” She hands you the book, and you look over the colorful cover. “It’s called A Wrinkle in Time.” She explains. “It’s a muggle novel by Madeleine L’Engle.”
You look up at her, almost confused. “I don’t think I’ve ever met another witch who reads Muggle books,” you state.
“Oh, well,” she chuckles. “I’m muggle-born.” She almost shrinks, as if she’s scared of your reaction.
“Oh, that’s awesome!” You smile, and hers returns.
“Oi!” The red-headed boy next to you calls, and you and the bushy-haired girl look over at him. “You’re from America aren’t you?”
“Oh, uh,” you scoff to yourself, knowing you should already be expecting this question. “Yeah, I am.”
“Is this your first year at Hogwarts?” The girl asks.
“Yeah, it is.”
“Welcome! I’m Hermione Granger. This is Ronald Weasley,” she motions to the redhead next to you, “and Harry Potter.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you guys. I’m Y/n Y/l/n.”
“You can call me Ron, by the way,” says the redhead. “Hermione and my mum are the only ones who call me Ronald.”
You nod.
“And fair warning: my older brothers — they’re twins and loud so you can’t miss them — anyway, I’m pretty sure George has a thing for American girls.”
“Great.”
When the carriage rounds the next corner, a castle beyond what you could dream of glows against a lake and mountains. Your jaw drops as you look up at it.
“It’s truly beautiful,” says Hermione. “You’ll get used to it soon enough though.”
“I’m not sure I want to get used to it,” you say, still awe-struck until you realize how that may have sounded rude. “I mean — it’s so amazing I could look at it forever. I never want to feel used to something like this and not be in awe every time I see it.”
The boys look at you with blank looks on their faces.
“Sorry, that didn’t make any sense.”
“I know what you mean,” Hermione places a hand on your arm. “The first years take little boats across the lake to the castle for their sorting ceremony. And now that I think of it, I wonder if you should’ve gone with them. That’s okay though, I’ll introduce you to Professor McGonagall — she handles the ceremony every year.”
Hermione stays to her word, and once the four of you have dismounted the carriage, the boys go ahead of you two, and Hermione walks with you to the front doors of the castle. “What year are you, Y/n?” She asks you as you both walk up the stone steps.
“Uh, sixth,” you say.
“Oh, goodness,” she laughs.
“What?” You say, on the verge of panicking.
“Ron, Harry, and I are fourth,” she says simply. “But Fred and George — Ron’s brothers — they’re sixth years.” She looks up at you and raises an eyebrow suggestively.
“Oh, great,” you sigh.
“Professor!” She calls when the two of you cross the threshold.
An older woman with grey hair tucked under a large witch’s hat turns toward her, her emerald green robes falling down her tall figure.
“Welcome back, Miss Granger!” Her sharp tone intimidating but still welcoming. “Is there something you need help with, dear?”
“Oh, not me, Professor. This is Y/n Y/l/n. It’s her first year at Hogwarts — a transfer student.”
“Yes, of course,” she smiles warmly. “Welcome, Miss Y/l/n. You can stay here with me until the ceremony begins. Hermione, dear, go take your seat.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she smiles and turns on her heals, beginning to walk away.
“Hermione?” You call after her, and she turns back to you. “Could I borrow that book when you finish it?”
“Of course!” She says, her smile wide enough to tear her cheeks.
After the main herd of students had filed into the Great Hall, a much smaller group of students enters the Entrance Hall, though they may have seen like a much smaller group not only because there were fewer of them, but also because they were smaller children, especially next to the very large bushy man accompanying them. You follow them and Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall and listen to her introduction speech.
After several moments, she stands next to the old hat, which then tells a poem through the rip in the brim.
“We’ll start with our transfer student,” she smiles down at you, and you straighten your posture. “Miss Y/l/n, if you will take a seat.”
You walk to the front of the group and sit on the short stool in front of the podium. The hat lowers onto your head, and you can hear it humming as it thought.
Next to Ron, at the Gryffindor table, Fred and George look at you, and then between themselves, then back to you. “Wicked,” they say in a unison that would make it seem like they share a brain.
“RAVENCLAW!” The hat bellows through the hall.
“Damn,” the twins say together, and look down at their plates in identical movements, the trio also seeming disappointed. Though Fred and George aren’t going to give up that easily — at least George isn’t going to give up that easily that is, and he drags Fred along with him through everything, not that Fred ever minds.
Once the feast is over, and you’re following the other Ravenclaws to the common room, you almost run into two people, when they practically suddenly appear in front of you, having been running and then suddenly stopping. You look up as you stumble so as to not physically run into them. You’re met with the faces of two identical boys, both of them with shoulder-length, shaggy red hair, and you conclude to yourself that they must be Ron’s older twin brothers.
“You’re the new girl,” one twin says matter-of-factly.
You nod and plaster a painfully obvious fake smile onto your face.
“I’m Fred,” says the other twin, gesturing to himself. “And this is my less attractive brother, George.”
Despite your best efforts, as you look back and forth between the two boys in front of you, noting the subtle differences so you can tell them apart, you can’t help but think how handsome they both are, and undeniably charming. You have to remind yourself that you’re not a social person, at least not yet to those at Hogwarts, and you’d like to keep your head down and out of trouble.
“Hi,” you entertain them. “I’m Y/n.”
“Pleasure,” George cheerily bows before you.
You giggle, not being able to stop yourself. “The pleasure is mine,” you smile and give an equally cheesy curtsy.
“Say, how do you feel about Quidditch, Y/n?” Fred asks.
“I love Quidditch!” You pipe. “I was a Chaser for my house back at Ilvermorny.”
“Well, George and I play,” Fred explains, George being left quiet, almost seeming suddenly shy. “We’re Gryffindor’s Beaters. And we heard that Ravenclaw is short a Chaser.”
Your face lights up, excited by the opportunity for a familiar past time.
“You should ask Flitwick,” George finally speaks again. “He’s head of the Ravenclaw house.”
“And the Charms Professor,” Fred continues.
“Well, thank you for the heads up then, boys,” you smile, and walk off after the rest of your house without another word.
Next day, the first day of term, you end up having a Charms class with both of the Weasley twins. You notice the two of them turn and pay attention to you as you walk up to Professor Flitwick.
“Professor Flitwick?” You call, standing politely behind him.
The extremely short man turns to you. “Ah, yes,” he claps his hands together. “Miss Y/l/n, welcome to Hogwarts and to the Ravenclaw house!”
“Thank you, sir,” you smile.
“How can I help you?”
“Well,” you start. “I got a tip from someone that one of the Chaser positions for the house team is open. I was wondering if I could try out for the spot? I was a Chaser at Ilvermorny.”
“Oh no need to try out, dear. No one else seems to want it. It’s yours!”
“Wow, ok. Thank you, Professor.”
You turn and take a seat at one of the desk rows across the room from the twins, but closer to the front of the room, closer to the blackboard. You pull your reading glasses out of your bag along with your Charms book and quill. You put your wand neatly in front of you on the desk, and your ink pot in the corner of your area.
Professor Flitwick clears his throat from the front of the room as he climbs onto a stack of books to be well seen by the students. You slide you glasses up your nose, quickly glancing at the twins, subconsciously hopping that they’ll have already been looking at you, but they were huddled into a small group with another Gryffindor boy in a deep discussion.
As class begins, and Professor Flitwick explains what to expect from this term, the boys don’t break their herd until their names are called loudly by the shrill voice of the Professor.
“If both Misters Weasley and Mister Jordan would pay attention,” he called them out, quickly pulling their attention to the front. “While I know that the first day of class is usually the most boring, if you pay attention, it will save from questions you will have later.”
Fred, George and their friend turned to the front for just a moment, but as soon as Professor Flitwick had turned to find the papers he was going to hand out — well float out — the boys turned back to their huddle and continued their conversation like nothing had happened.
“Detention, Mister Fred and George Weasley, and Mister Lee Jordan,” the Professor called, without even turning to see that they were back to talking. “And 10 points from Gryffindor —“
The Gryffindor students, including the group of three that have just cost their house points, groan loudly as they start the term with negative points.
“— each,” Professor Flitwick finishes, and the groaning becomes louder.
One student on the opposite end of the class threw something across the room at the three boys, an apple that Professor Flitwick caught with a simple flick of his wand and returned to the students desk.
“Detention for you, too, Miss Johnson.”
For the remainder of class, you did your best to pay attention to the lesson, but found it increasingly difficult. While the boys kept the talking to a minimum, you could feel George’s eyes on you the whole time. The moment Professor Flitwick dismisses class, you gather all your belongings in a handful — something you never do due to the level of unorganizedness — and bolt from the room, but not quick enough.
“Oi, Y/n!” You heard the twins call after you in unison, and sigh as you politely stop and turn to them with a half smile.
The events of the last hour and a half had left you disappointed to say the least. After your encounter with the twins after the feast the night before, you had begun to think maybe befriending them wouldn’t be such a bad thing, but seeing them not pay attention in class and get disciplined on the first day of term harmed your hopes, though you weren’t going to start being rude to them.
“Hello, boys,” you greet them as they approach you.
“Say,” Fred begins, “we were wondering if you’d like to do our Charms homework?”
George remained silent once again as you gave them both a look of astonishment.
“Absolutely not!” You scoffed, changing your mind slightly on the ‘not being ride the them’.
“You’re our only Ravenclaw friend,” he continues, “and with Quidditch and planning, we hardly have time to eat and sleep, so we thought we’d at least try.”
“Fred thought,” George corrects him, and Fred subtly nudges him with his elbow.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” you say softly, “but we’re not friends. We only met twelve hours ago, and now that I’ve seen the way you two are, I’m not sure I would consider becoming friends with you.”
“What do you mean, ‘the way you two are’?” Fred laughs. “We’re two fine lads if I do say so myself.”
“Fred,” George says, almost pleading.
“Y/n!” Another voice calls behind you, and you wonder how there are already so many people who know you. You turn away from the boys and down the hall to see the trio you met on the carriage marching down the corridor. “I finished the book,” Hermione smiles at you and pulls the book out of her bag, handing it over to you.
“Thank you, Hermione!” You smile. “I’ll be sure to give it back once I’m done. Shouldn’t be too long.”
“No worries.”
“Say, George,” Ron says, looking quizzically behind you. “You’re awfully quiet; are you feeling okay?”
“It’s nothing,” George mutters and leaves to walk down the hall, almost at a jog.
Fred winks at you before following his twin, and you turn back to the trio blushing.
“Don’t let those two morons bother you, Y/n,” Hermione assures you, putting a hand on your forearm kindly.
“I’ve never seen anyone make George nervous before — much less quiet,” Ron admits. “You must be one hell of a girl in his eyes.”
“Uh, yeah,” you mutter, looking down at your black flats against the beautiful stone floors as you shyly rub the back of your neck. “I’ve got to get to my next lesson,” you smile to the three fourth years. “I’ll see you guys later.” Without waiting for a response from the group you continue down the hall, but stop at the corner before turning it and look back over your shoulder in time to see Ron shrug at something Hermione said as they enter the Charms classroom.
Fred and George end up being in several of your classes, including Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts. One fall morning, on your way down to the dungeons for Potions, you hear the two familiar and almost identical voices talking outside the hall. Before you could turn the corner and see them, you hear your name being mentioned.
“It’s obvious you like Y/n, George,” Fred says.
You stop in your tracks behind the corner, thinking about how throughout the term so far, Fred and George have been restless. You’ve witness their pranks and loud jokes. During Quidditch games, Fred forces the bludgers at you, nearly knocking you off every time. The one time he actually managed to, George quickly flew down to the ground to see if you were okay, but you rolled your eyes as you got up with Hermione’s help. “Fuck off, Weasley,” you had jeered at him as you stumbled off the pitch and towards Madame Pomfrey to be cleared to continue the game. Once you were cleared, you worked harder than you had before at Hogwarts, and though Harry caught the snitch, Ravenclaw was only two goals away from having won without the snitch. You feel a bit bad about having told him to ‘fuck off’ when he didn’t do anything wrong, but you’re also mad that Fred thinks that’s a suitable way to get your attention.
“Well, no shit, Sherlock,” George scoffs at his brother, still out of your line of sight. “How could I not? She’s the most gorgeous person I’ve ever seen. She’s smart and funny and dorky and adorable and everything I’d ever want. Her being good at Quidditch is always a plus, but because the move you pulled at the game last week, she’s bound to still be mad at me.”
“Make it up to her then!” Fred protests. “I’ve seen the way she looks at you — like you’re an idiot, but a handsome idiot, you know?”
“Thanks?”
“You just have to try, brother. You’re the George Weasley, you can do anything you want.”
“Whatever,” he sighs and you hear footsteps retreat down the corridor.
You take this as your signal to stop hiding, to stop ease-dropping, and go to class. You quickly turn the corner and hurry into the Potions room, finding everyone standing around the room instead of in seats.
“What’s going on?” You ask a fellow Ravenclaw girl.
“New partner assignment, I think,” she explains, without really even looking up at you, keeping her nose in the Potions book, turned to the page which you assume is what today’s lesson will be, though you can’t see what the title of the page is.
“Quiet!” Professor Snape’s deep nasally voice echos through the dungeon over the loud conversations of the students, effectively quieting them.”You have new partners as of today,” he said, then began to call out last names in pairs.
“Y/l/n,” he calls, then pauses to think of who to pair you with. “Weasley,” he decides, and you swallow the lump in your throat.
“Which one?” Fred pipes from across the room.
“I don’t care,” he says, then continues to pair off students.
You quickly take a seat at a desk in the second row, waiting for whichever twin to join you, but you had a feeling it would be George because of what you just heard in the hall.
“Hi, Y/n,” he says as he takes the seat next to you.
“Hi, George,” you say with a smile, but don’t look up from your Potions book to look at him.
“How’d you know I’m George and not Fred?” He says, and this time you do look up at him.
“Uh,” you hesitate, “gut feeling?”
“A Befuddlement Draught,” Snape begins as George sits down next to you and slouches back in his chair. You try not to pay attention to George and his demeanor, comparing it to your own, instead of paying attention to Professor Snape’s pre-lesson speech. “Is a potion that causes the drinker to become belligerent and reckless.” He looks between the Weasley twins. “The ingredients are scurry grass, lovage, and sneezewort.”
You wrote quickly as he spoke, taking notes to help you with studying and homework later. George looked at you, then pulled our his own piece of parchment, but he wasn’t writing notes. He wanted to seem like he was, but really he was righting a sort of journal entry about how beautiful he thinks you are, so paying attention even less than if he wasn’t “taking notes”.
“These plants are most efficacious in the inflaming of the brain,” Snape continues, and you recognize his words as a passage from the Potions book you had read to get ahead. “And are therefore much used in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts, where the wizard is desirous of producing hot-headedness and recklessness.”
You laugh to yourself slightly, just loud enough for only George to hear, and he quickly looks up at you at the beautiful sound.
“What’s so funny?” He whispers.
You hesitate a moment while you smile to yourself. “You wouldn’t need this potion to be reckless, would you, Weasley?”
His face turns beat red, and as you look over at him, he quickly folds his piece of parchment and stuffs it into his bag haphazardly.
“You will be making this today,” Professor Snape said, waving his wand at the blackboard, making the chalk write the instructions on its own. “It is nearly impossible to mess up.” He looked around the room down his long nose, examining every student. He sees your readiness and eagerness to start, and he notes the twins lack of interest as they look across the dungeon at each other mouthing in conversation. Snape rolls up the papers in his hand and walks towards you and George’s desk. He lifts the parchment and brings it down rough on George’s head and making you gasp while he looks sternly at Fred. “Get started.”
You tie your hair up effortlessly, and George can’t help but notice how beautiful and natural you look. Then as you walk off to go get the ingredients listed on the board and in the book, he looks after you longingly, following you like a lost puppy as he grabs random ingredients from the shelves.
When you come back, you slide your house robe off your shoulders and drape it over your chair, getting to work as you roll up the sleeves of your jumper.
“Are you going to let me help?” George asks.
You look at him, silent for a moment as you think. “Are you going to actually help, or blow it up like every other potion you and your brother make.”
“I’d like to actually help.”
“Okay then, would you put the sneezewort into the cauldron?” You ask him politely.
He picks up an ingredient, not paying quite enough attention to what and holds it over the cauldron as he looks over your book.
“George, no!” You yell and reach out to grab his arm. “That’s —“ but it was too late.
George had dropped what he was holding into the pot, and it immediately blew up. You screamed as you covered yourself with your arms and ducked, but George was too shocked by his own action to react, and his face was left covered in dirt.
You stand back up and look over at him. “That was an Erumpent horn!” You exclaim.
George looks down at his hands, not knowing what to say. The clicking of boots fills the dungeon as everyone had gone silent and was staring at the two of you. You look up and see Professor Snape approaching you.
“You’re quite right, Miss Y/l/n,” Snape says, and you blush deeply. “Maybe you should have been watching him more carefully.”
“I thought I was, I thought I could trust him,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone else.
“50 points from Gryffindor,” he sneers, and you jerk your head to look at George, who’s face is almost expressionless. “And Ravenclaw as well.”
“But sir —“ you begin.
“And detention, Saturday evening.”
Your jaw drops, practically hitting the floor. You had never gotten points taken from your house before, much less gotten in trouble.
“For now, there is no coming back from this mistake,” Snape looks at George intently. “You are both excused from the rest of the class.”
Without thinking much, you shove George with both your hands, and he stumbles backwards, watching after you as you grab your bag and hurry out of the room. He’s frozen in his spot a moment, until Snape clears his throat. George grabs his own belongings and hurries after you.
“Y/n!” He calls when he gets into the hall, but you’re already turning the corner without even a glance back at him.
Later that evening, at supper, you sit alone at the Ravenclaw table with a book, but you weren’t paying much attention to it, rather just staring at the page as you push the food around on your plate.
“Oi, Angelina,” you hear a familiar voice call, and look up to see the twins looking down the Gryffindor table at one of the house chasers. You see George as he reaches across the table towards her. “Will you go to the ball with me?”
You barely hear him from where you’re sitting, but you hear him enough and can read his lips enough to know he said it. Your eyes shift over to Hermione, who’s looking across the tables to you. Your mouth thins into a line as you fight back the tears, though you know they shouldn’t be there. Not knowing what else to do, and not wanting anyone else to notice your dismay, you grab your book up and leave the Great Hall.
You’re already on the grand marble staircase when you hear Hermione, Ron, and Harry all call after you. You don’t stop and pick up your pace.
“Y/n, please!” You hear Hermione call, and you can’t help but stop.
You turn around and wipe the tear off your cheek.
“Why are you crying?” She asks as she pulls you into a hug.
“Why would he do that?” You snuffle out.
“I don’t know,” Ron says. “He’s so infatuated with you, I couldn’t believe it. But I thought you despised him?”
“He got me detention, I do despise him,” you say, but continue, “did — I did despise him. At least I thought I did.” You slump down and sit on the staircase with your head in your hands. Hermione its next to you and sets hand on your back. “He’s really not my type of person. I’ve never been in trouble before! And he’s constantly in trouble! I don’t know what it is about him. He’s handsome and funny, and I’m only now realizing it, but I can’t help but like him. Merlin, I’m so stupid.”
“You are not stupid,” Harry says. “He’s stupid.”
“That’s not news, mate,” Ron says.
“Well, yeah,” Harry says, “but we didn’t know he was this stupid.”
You sniffle a laugh at his words and look up at him, only, you notice a pair of fiery red hair, just like Ron’s, standing in the corridor behind Harry.
You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly run up the rest of the stairs, sprinting to the Ravenclaw tower.
“I—“ George begins from behind Ron, but doesn’t know what to say and just closes his mouth.
“You’re fucking stupid,” Ron scoffs at his older brother and turns and walks away with Hermione and Harry.
George looks over to Fred, who’s face reflects the same disbelief as his own.
That night, for the first time, you didn’t touch your homework, but instead went straight to bed and cried yourself to sleep.
When Saturday’s detention rolled around, you arrived early as is normal for you. Snape let you start on the task he decided to assign you for detention. You were to go through one box of old discipline reports before you could leave. You sat in the corner of the room and pulled the lid off a box, beginning to sort it. It wasn’t long until George joined, but Snape gave him a rag and told him to clean all the desks. George sighed, and Snape walked out of the room.
You could feel George’s eyes on you from where he stood unmoved.
“Y/n,” he beings. “I’m sorry.”
You refuse to even look at him as you give him the silent treatment.
“I shouldn’t have been so cocky with the potion,” he continues. “I just wanted to seem like I knew what I was doing.”
You remained silent as you shifted through the box.
Throughout the unnecessary hour George was taking to wipe down the tables, he continued to try and apologize or make conversation, but you still ignored him.
When you finished the file box, you closed the lid and pulled out a bit of parchment. You put the box on Snape’s desk, along with a note offering to continue to file to earn back the points you had lost the House, and you leave the room without a word.
“Y/n!” George calls down the dungeon corridor, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
You don’t respond and keep walking, but you hear his heavy footsteps running closer to you, until you feel a hand wrap around your wrist, sending sparks through your skin. You snatch your hand back instinctively, but he holds his grip
“Don’t touch me, Weasley,” you say punctuated.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” He asks, almost yelling.
“You’re not good, George Weasley,” you shout back. “Never have I ever gotten in trouble before. But you made me get detention! You don’t study, you don’t pay attention, you probably don’t even think! Please, just leave me alone.”
You twist your wrist from his grasp and turn up the stairs, walking away from him again.
You managed to avoid him for the most part, besides Potions, where you just refused to talk to him.
One day, a few weeks after your detention, you’re sitting in the court yard wrapped in a blanket, leaning against a pillar as you read in the snow. You’re the only person in the courtyard, but you liked it that way. People had started congregating inside because of the cold, and the library and common room had become too crowded.
You hear a group of feet crushing snow as they walk towards you, but you don’t look up, too enveloped in your book.
“Hey, Y/l/n!” A cold voice jest. “What’s you doing out here all alone?”
You look up to see the school bully, Draco Malfoy laughing at you with his posse. He loved poking fun at everyone outside of the Slytherin house.
“I’m reading,” you smile. “You should try it sometime. Maybe you’ll learn how not to be such an ass.” Your voice remains steady and polite as you speak.
“How dare you!” He announces, and reaches towards you, pulling your blanket off of you, leaving you cold.
“Give it back!” You demand.
“No.”
You open your mouth to speak, but a flare of red light comes over your shoulder and hits Draco in the chest, sending him several feet backwards, your blanket still in hand. The caster walks out from behind you and over to Draco on the ground. He pulls the blanket out of Draco’s grasp with difficulty, but kicks him in the side to get him to let go. Draco cries out in pain, his friends bustling away.
The caster turns towards you, and you see the red hair poking out from under his beanie, and the familiar face. George.
“Here,” he says softly, as he hands the blanket to you.
“Thank you,” you say simply, reaching for it, but before you can touch it, George pulls it back, and you sigh in frustration.
“Actually,” he starts. “I’ll give it back if you come with me and let me talk.”
You knew you weren’t getting out of this, so you stood up. “Let’s go then.”
He leads you up the the astronomy tower, and you look over the untouched white canvas of the grounds. “I’m sorry,” he continues. “I’m sorry I got you detention. I’m sorry about the bludger. I’m just sorry, for everything.”
“Okay,” you say.
“I really like you, and I know it’s obvious. I’ve never been so nervous around someone before. I’ve never felt like I needed to actually try to make a good impression, and when I did try, I fucked up and got us in trouble. I just don’t know how to act around you.”
“You really like me?” You ask.
“Yes, of course.”
“Then why did you ask Angelina to the ball?” You murmur.
“I didn’t think you liked me. I was trying to just move on before I made anything worse, but then that made it worse. I heard you talking to Ron and them in the hall, and I heard you say it. I immediately cancelled the ball with her so I could ask you once I’ve apologized but you never let me. You’re all I can think about, Y/n.”
You look up into his soft eyes, and your heart melts. “I forgive you,” you mutter.
“Really?” He asks in disbelief.
“Yes,” you blush and look down at the grounds from the ledge as you avoid George’s eyes.
He clears his throat. “Will you, Y/n Y/l/n be my date to the Yule ball, and my date to everything else from here on. Will you please be mine?”
You couldn’t control the smile on your face as you looked back at him. “Under one condition,” you giggle.
“Anything,” George pleads.
“Kiss me,” you say, building up your confidence to straighten your posture and look directly into his eyes.
“Definitely.”
George grabs your face softly and leans down, putting his soft lips on your own as you both smile ridiculously as the fireworks blow within the both of you.
