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☆ ( 🪷˚. ⊹🧸₊ ☁︎ ۪ ࣪⠀ ) is it romantic how all my elegies eulogise me?

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𓍯𓂃last edited 06.06.2025

@fear-less , tumblr 2024 ★彡 est 01.03.2024 !

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HARRY STYLES IS FUCKING BACK.

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↳ ᝰ.ᐟ clark kent

☀︎- angst ♥︎- fluff ☆- smut

— HEADCANNONS

nothing yet

— IMAGINES

you are the best thing thats ever been mine ♥︎

— MULTI-PART FICS

nothing yet

— BLURBS

nothing yet

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

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[fear-less]

🎐 ࣪ ˖ you are the best thing that’s ever been mine. I ⌗ pairing: clark kent x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: clark and reader have been friends for a while now, both so painfully in love but just can’t see it. it takes an innocent intern for clark to finally make his move. 

⤑ warnings: pure fluff 🐈‍⬛, clark and r are both in their 20s, jelly clark, confident clark appears then leaves then comes back again, pizza date yass :3, idk why but i made y/n bubbly, protective lois 👅, two mentions of y/n, and both are so obviously in love but can’t see it!!!!! if there were any errors lmk, i wrote this all at 3-6 am --- 4.8k words

Clark’s making his way through the main lobby of the Daily Planet, with a pile of papers in one hand and his bag in the other. His glasses are askew, and that’s all thanks to the huge crowd. 

He looks around the office, smiling once he spots you, giving you the infamous smile and a wave. 

“Good morning,” he says, with a dorky smile on his face.

“Wow! What an entrance!” you mock, laughing at him. “Good morning to you, too, Clark.” 

He chuckles, fixing his glasses, then putting his attention back on you. “Yeah, yeah, laugh about it. Just wait till it happens to you, and I'll be the one laughing at you instead!” he playfully responds.

But deep down, he knew he wouldn’t laugh at you. He would be too worried if you came to work a little late and a little disheveled.

“I doubt that that will ever happen. I'm never late to work!” 

Clark grins, fixing the papers in his hand and leaning a bit more forward to be at your level, his glasses coming forward by a bit. “Well, good for you. Meanwhile, I was a few blocks away helping a cat from a house fire."He quickly pushes his glasses back up, “turns out cats don’t really like flying,” as he points to the scratch on his cheek that’s now fading away. 

At the mention of a cat, your demeanour switches, “aww, well I’m glad you saved it, I guess cats can always be an excuse for being late to work.”

Clark snorts, shaking his head and glancing down at the papers in his hands. 

You speak again, “Well, you’re just in time for the new intern to get here! I was assigned to one! I'm excited but also nervous at the same time.”

“New intern, huh? That's great, and you’re also great—don’t sweat it. You're amazing at everything, there’s no reason to be nervous.” Clark says, trying to lift your mood.

You smile at him, but before you could answer him, he cuts you off. “If you do end up needing help, I'm right here, just let me know.”

You nod, your smile contagious, which now has him smiling. “Okay! Now don’t take your offer back if I actually need you!” you reply, jokingly teasing him. 

He playfully pouts, pretending to be offended. “Hey now, you think so lowly of me? I would never go back on my word. Besides, I’ve been told I give excellent advice.” He grins and winks at you, enjoying the banter that has formed between the two of you.

You laugh, “hmm…Well, I guess I’ll find out if I do end up needing you.” Clark chuckles, about to respond when Perry calls your name, you turn to look at him, and he tells you the new intern arrived. You quickly get up from your chair, give Clark a goodbye, and go to the new intern. 

He watches as you walk away, a soft smile lingering on his lips. Now focusing on his paper, writing about the interview with Superman, he can’t help but notice how you’re acting with the new intern. He didn’t know why, but he expected the new intern to be a woman, not a man. He frowns a little, a bit jealous that the new intern is getting all your attention. 

He watches as you walk away, a soft smile lingering on his lips. Now focusing on his paper, writing about the interview with Superman. He can’t help but notice how you’re acting with the new intern. Clark can’t help but feel a pang of something as he observes you interacting with the new intern. He can't quite pinpoint what the feeling is, but he finds himself stealing glances in your direction. He tells himself it's just that... he's curious about the new intern. That's all. He tries to concentrate on his work, but his eyes keep drifting away to you and the way the new intern is getting your attention.

He clenches his jaw slightly and shakes his head in frustration, silently scolding himself for feeling this way.

After chatting to the new intern for a few minutes, you realise how funny he is and how much you two have in common. Before you showed him anything to do with journalism, you wanted to give him a tour of the Daily Planet and introduce him to everyone. You quickly walk to the clerk, wanting to introduce him to Harry first.

“Clark, this is Harry, the new intern!” you say, smiling. 

Clark straightens up quickly, trying to discard the pang of jealousy he just had, forcing his usual smile. He extends his hand for a handshake, subconsciously trying to “size” the new intern up. 

Not noticing the tension between the two men, you turn to Harry. “Harry, this is Clark! He's one of my best friends and also one of the best writers here; he’s the one who gets all the interviews with Superman.” 

Clark lets out a light laugh, “Yeah, I do get interviews with Superman here and there.”

Harry just stands there nodding at what Clark says awkwardly; it’s clear Clark doesn’t really like him, for some reason. 

You let out one last laugh, “Well, I’ve got to go now, I’m going to introduce him to Lois now, bye, Clark!” 

“Uh, right. Have fun with the tour,” he replies and gives you a small wave.

He watches as you walk away, his gaze lingering on your retreating figure for a moment longer than necessary.

After nearly 2 hours of you and Harry being gone, you two finally come back. Clark quickly notices your presence, or rather your voice; he could hear how passionately you were speaking about journalism as a whole. He wanted to come by your desk to talk to you badly, like he always did, but opposed the idea, not wanting to disturb you even if he wanted your attention on him instead of Harry. 

As he was battling the voices in his head. He didn't notice how Harry got a few inches closer to you, not until Jimmy knocked him out of a trance.

“Looks like the new intern is trying to make a move on your girl,” Jimmy says, with a smirk on his lips and subtly pointing at you and Harry. He knew about Clark's crush on you; everyone knew, but Clark thought he was subtle about it, and you have yet to find out.

Clark stiffens, his pen snapping in his fingers with a quiet crack, but he doesn’t seem to notice. His eyes narrow as he follows Jimmy's gaze, watching how Harry got closer to you and laughed at an unfunny joke you said (he does the same, but it's different when it comes to him), and how his hand brushes your arm for a second too long. 

Trying to play dumb and unbothered, “she’s not my girl.” he clears his throat and forces a casual shrug, adjusting his glasses.

“and Harry's just being… be friendly, that’s all!” 

Jimmy just smirks wider, “uh-huh. Nothing says friendly like laughing at unfunny jokes and fixing her already fine shirt.” 

Clark rips his attention off of Jimmy to you and Harry. He sees Harry trying to fix the color of your dress shirt, and you are just letting it happen.

Clark's face shows no emotion, but he’s going crazy in his head. He can tell Jimmy is staring at him, waiting for him to reply, but he doesn't. Instead, he stares at his desk, grabs his empty mug, and stands up and walks past Jimmy, mourning something about getting coffee from the machine that so happens to be by your desk.

Even when talking to Harry, you notice Clark making his way to you—or rather, the coffee machine.

You turn your head to find Clark’s eyes, “Hi, Clark! I feel like I've barely spoken to you today. Are we still on for lunch today? Or are you busy with the paper you’re working on? You look very concentrated.”

Clark swears his heart did a flip when he realised you were probably taking glances at him here and there. 

“Oh, uh-yeah!” he stammers, then quickly clears his throat and straightens up. “I mean, yes, we are absolutely still getting lunch together, wouldn’t dare to miss it!” 

He risks a glance at Harry—a polite but firm one. 

“I promised her a slice from my favorite pizza place she’s never been to.” He was trying to hide his smirk, but was also only saying this as a way to brag.

“Yay! can’t wait,” now turning from Clark to Harry. “Clark says it’s the best pizza in all of Metropolis. I told him no way, so now we are going together to see if it's actually worth all the hype! You are welcome to come-“

“Actually, uh—they’re always busy on Wednesdays, especially during these times, you know, lunch rush, it’s crazy. So, it would take forever for us to find a seat if it’s three of us; two just seems easier.” Clark quickly rushes out, not letting you finish your sentence.

“But hey! Maybe next time? " You’ve got plenty of days to try it,” he says with his gaze locked on Harry, trying his hardest not to smirk.

“Oh well, sorry, Harry. " You can come next time, when it’s not crazy because of the lunch rush,” you say, not noticing the tension between Harry and Clark. 

“Yeah, sorry, Harry. If there’s a slice left, I’ll definitely give it to you.” 

“See, Harry, I told you how sweet Clark is! He’s the best, I swear, but now I'm so excited for lunch!” 

Clark's cheeks warm slightly at your words, but he just looks down at his wrist, pretending to look at the time on his watch. 

“Yeah, same. Only a while left before we can go, I'll come back here when it’s time to go, okay?” 

“Got it! Go work on your paper, I can’t wait to read it once it’s done!” 

“Yeah, okay, you’ll be the first one to read it—like always,” he winks, now leaving with his empty mug. 

The wink catches you a bit off guard; it leaves you feeling hot in the face. Your gaze locked on Clark walking back to his desk, only snapping out of it when Harry taps your shoulder. 

Clark doesn’t look back, but he can feel your gaze on him and how your heart is beating faster than usual. 

There are still two minutes before you go on your lunch break, but that doesn’t matter to you. Not as you make your way towards Clark.

“Hey, Clark, are you ready to go?”

Clark quickly looks at the time, wondering if he got too caught up and didn’t come to get you once your guys' lunch break started. He tried his hardest not to let out a huge smile when he saw that there were just two minutes left till lunch break.

“Am I ready? pfft… I've been ready for the past twenty minutes.” 

He says, slightly hiding his excitement, but the smile he tried to hide had made its way to his face. 

“Shall we go?”

“We shall!” 

Clark chuckles at your amusement, finding your excitement for pizza, he definitely over hyped cute. 

After a bit of walking in the busy metropolis streets, you two finally make it. 

You take in the atmosphere of the place, which is cozy and smells wonderful. “Whoa, it looks so cool and smells so good! How dare you not tell me about this place sooner!" Your excitement is very clear. 

Clark grins, shoving his hands into his pockets as he watches you take the place, all in your eyes wide, the bright energy humming around you like sunlight. He can’t help but smile at your smile.

“I was keeping it to myself, like a limited edition comic,” he leans down to whisper to you, “can’t give up my places so easily, gotta make sure the person I tell them to is worth it.”

You just smile at him, “Well, I’m glad you think I'm worth enough to take me here, it seems so nice, can’t wait to try the pizza.”

After much consideration, you two finally landed on a pizza you both were okay with eating, and are now ready to order you to make your way to the elderly woman at the cashier. 

The older lady smiles warmly at you two, before Clark can tell her the order, she speaks, “Aren’t you two so adorable, reminding me of when my husband and I were both in our twenties and just full of love, we were so crazy in love, we even opened up this restaurant.” 

You felt your face go hot, not knowing what to say to the older woman. You had always liked Clark, in more than a friend way, but never bothered to make a move because you doubted that he would ever like you back.

Clark is in the same situation, his entire face going a shade of pink and his ears basically glowing beneath his glasses. Noticing you’re too shocked to say anything, he stammers out a quick thank you.

“We’re just—uh—I mean, thank you, I hope you and your husband are happy forever,” he cringes at his stumbling of words.

The lady thanked him before taking his order. 

He takes your hand in his as he notices your out-of-state mind, only knocking you out of trance when he moves you to a semi-secluded place in the restaurant.

“So..what do you think of the place so far?” he asks, trying to take you out of your shock, which seems to work. 

“Oh, I love everything so far!” 

Clark just nods, happy you’re enjoying everything. 

Fifteen minutes of just casual talking takes you two over, so engrossed in your conversation, you don’t notice your guy's order making its way to the table. 

“Here you two go, and the milkshake is on the house, hope you lovebirds enjoy it!” the older woman says, a caring smile on her face. 

“Oh! Thank you,” you say, giving her a soft smile back.

She quickly leaves, leaving you and Clark alone with a medium-sized pizza and one milkshake with a singular straw, but neither of you seems to notice it—yet.

He grins, placing the pizza gingerly on the table between you with a flourish, as if it's a precious gift.

You quickly grab a slice of pizza, “Okay, Clark, I’m about to take a bite. I really hope this is as good as you said it is.”

"You won't be disappointed. Metropolis's finest, I promise it will exceed all your expectations and more."

Before he can stop himself, he reaches over to adjust your hair, tucking a stray piece behind your ear, his fingertips grazing your cheek for just a second.

"Besides, I've got impeccable taste."

You freeze when Clark pushes your hair back, taken aback by it. Once it registers in my head, you blush, your face getting hot. You try to ignore the feeling, but it's impossible.

“w-well! Let’s see if that’s true then!” you say, trying not to make it seem like you’re not flustered.

Clark grins at how flustered he made you, feeling a spark of satisfaction (and surprise) at the way you blush and how fast your heart is pounding. He definitely noticed how you tensed for a second when he touched you, but he's just as surprised at how much he likes making you flustered.

He leans forward—closer than he usually does and gives you his cockiest smile yet.

"It's true. I've got an eye for the good stuff. You included."

Clark swears your heart is somehow beating faster than it already was. You also feel like your entire body is on fire. All you can do is continue eating the pizza, not say anything, and wonder where in the hell did Clark all of a sudden gain this confidence?

Clark watches you with quiet amusement, one eyebrow slightly raised as he takes in your flustered silence. He didn’t know he had it in him, but there’s something about today, about the way you’re smiling at him, that makes him feel bolder than usual. Like maybe Superman isn’t the only identity he’s ready to reveal.

“You know,” he says softly, picking up his own slice and leaning in just a little, “for someone who talks so much at work… you’re awfully quiet right now.” 

He takes a slow bite—cheese stretching dramatically—and keeps his eyes on yours over the rim of his glasses.

You stare at Clark, still chewing on the pizza. “It’s because you’re being so… I don’t know, different?” you say, still clearly flustered. Now looking anywhere but at him. Moving the milkshake closer to you, your eyes widen when you realise there’s only one straw instead of two. 

Clark tries not to smirk, even as he keeps his eyes locked on yours, watching the way you try to avoid his gaze. He could swear he hears his own heart thumping, even among the ambient noise of the restaurant and your own heartbeat. He takes another slow bite, letting the moment (and your flustered state) sink in, before swallowing and lowering his voice just a little.

“Different? Me? I’m not the one blushing right now.”

With the sudden change in Clark, you try your best to change the subject, “uh-well, I’ve got to say, your pizza tastes very good! Best pizza I’ve had, ever!”

Clark gives you a small smile, a soft chuckle at your sudden change of subject. He could press a little bit more, tease you a little more, but he decides to let you have your victory—for now. Instead, he glances down at the pizza (which, admittedly, looks and smells amazing).

"Told you so. Nothing better than this restaurant's pizza."

You simply smile at him, nodding to what he said.

The warmth in your smile settles something deep inside him, quiet, steady, like sunlight breaking through clouds. He lets out a slow breath, his foot still lightly brushing yours under the table, neither of you pulling away.

“You know," he says softly, “I used to think the best part of my day was seeing my byline in print."  

He leans in just slightly, close enough for only you to hear.

"Turns out it's this. Sitting here. With you.”

Once again, shocked by the sudden confidence of Clark, you don’t say anything; you just smile and look down at the pizza. 

Clark grins at your flushed cheeks, that feeling of satisfaction welling up again. He never thought something as easy as being a little open and honest could have such a big effect on you, and he knows he’s not imagining it. Your foot is still up against his, and neither of you has moved it away.

“You're adorable when you blush." His voice is a warm murmur, barely above a whisper, just for you to hear.

He picks up the milkshake, also now noticing the one straw in it.

Finally getting the confidence to speak, Clark's phone on the table rang, Lois' name appearing on it. 

Clark curses silently to himself when he sees Lois’ name pop up on the screen. He was hoping to have a few more minutes of this alone with you, but of course, she was asking where they were; they were over fifteen minutes late by now.

“Gosh," he murmurs, picking up the call. “Yes, hello Lois?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. His annoyance is clearly at the situation, not directed at you, though he's a little grumpy at having their moment interrupted now that he was getting the hang of this whole flirting thing. 

He sighs again. “Yeah, yeah, we're just finishing up. We lost track of time. We'll be back soon."

He hangs up before Lois can say anything else.

“Lois called, said we need to come back because we went fifteen minutes past our lunch break. I swear it’s only been like ten minutes.”

You frown and have your head leaning on your hand, “Aww man, I feel like time went too fast! I didn't even realise we went past our lunch time.”

Clark gives you a small smile and a sympathetic look, shaking his head. Part of him wants to ignore Lois’ message altogether, but he knows he can't. He doesn’t want to get into any trouble for skipping work, and doesn't want you to get into trouble because of him.

“I know… but duty calls." 

He tries to sound nonchalant, but he can’t help but let a small tinge of annoyance sneak through. He didn’t really want to go back just yet…

You let out a huff, “I guess so, well cmon let’s go, we don’t want to be any later than we already are! Plus, I have to be with Harry, oh shoot! I totally forgot, he’s probably wondering where I'm at, this is so unprofessional of me!”

Clark stiffens as you mention Harry, that familiar feeling of jealousy and irritation sparking back to life. He tries to push it down, not wanting to ruin the mood. You were having such a nice time together. But the thought of Harry keeps popping back up like a bad memory, and it takes all his self-control to keep his voice neutral.

"Harry can handle himself for a few more minutes," he says a little too quickly.

“Hmm? What did you say?” 

He clears his throat, meeting your gaze for a second before glancing away, the sight of your tilted head and wide-eyed expression too much for his heart to handle without giving in and pulling you into his arms. How were you so cute, dammit? He tries to keep a level voice.

“Nothing, sorry.” 

You shrug, believing him because why would Clark lie? He had no reason to. You look down at the table, staring at the milkshake, which is still halfway full. You grab it, drinking some of it before giving the rest to Clark.

“Drink the rest of it, I don’t want to leave it halfway full when they gave it to us for free!” 

Clark's face flushes, taking a second before grabbing it from your hand and drinking the rest. 

You two were now back at the office, where you had been for the past thirty minutes. Clark now had to deal with Harry being in your presence.

He lets out what feels like the hundredth sigh he’s let out since Harry's arrival.

Lois had seen the pair walk in together; she still had to finish something up before she could go on and disturb you two with her questions. 

She went to Clark first, “Hey, where were you two at?” she asked casually, like she didn’t already have certain ideas of what the pair was doing.

“We just went out to eat…why?” 

“Oh yeah, sure, you two didn't know... anything else?”

“No?”

“I find it hard to believe you two just went out for lunch, I mean cmon, y/n came back looking very flustered, and you came back with this huge smile on your face. You're telling me you just went out for lunch?”

“Just lunch, why is it so hard to believe?”

“Because y/n always answers my phone calls! The only time she didn’t, she was with you doing god knows what, I don’t even want to imagine it.” 

“We weren’t using our phones! I only answered you because my phone wasn’t as silent as hers!” 

“Whether you actually had lunch together or not, don’t you dare break her heart, Smallville. She really likes you, somehow.” 

Clark doesn’t know what to say. Was Lois lying to him or not? Did you really like him…that would explain why you were so flustered throughout lunch when he got this random burst of confidence. 

“Does she actually like me, or are you just lying?”

“Why would I lie about that? Plus, literally everyone here knows that you two are basically in love; everyone expects you two.”

Clark furrows his eyebrows. Was it that obvious? Jimmy and Lois both told him how his crush on you was painfully obvious, but he didn’t know you also felt the same way. 

“You're also very horrible at hiding the fact that you’re jealous. Don’t worry about the internet; he won't steal your girl. She's crazy about you. The number of times she’s talked about you is insane.”

Clark just nods; all of this new information coming to him quickly is making his head spin. 

“So…what do I do?” 

“Do what..?”

“You know…how do I ask her out? What has she said about me? Was it all good? Do I need to fix some things about me?” 

Lois snorts, “If it was up to me, you’ll need to do a whole big change, but she likes you just the way you are. Since you claim you two just went out for lunch, take her out to the same place again this weekend. Then, I just don’t know, ask her out officially.” 

“Okay, yes—thank you. I will do that. Gosh, thank you, Lois, I owe you!” Clark says, trying to find his notebook, he knows he left it somewhere on his desk, wanting to write down his official plan on how to ask you out. 

“No problem, Smallville. Just don't ever think about breaking her heart. I will personally come and find you.”

Lois says it in a teasing voice, but he knows deep down she is not kidding, and he should take it as a real threat. 

“Got it, and that will never happen, ever.” 

“It better not.”

You had not stopped thinking about your purely friendly lunch date with Clark; it's all replayed in your mind since you left the restaurant. So it was no surprise that your teaching skills had gone from wonderful to forgetting how to use a computer. You had lost count of how many times you’ve said sorry to Harry.

Luckily, interns had to leave an hour earlier than the usual staff, so you could have some time to yourself.

But the solo time you were planning to have was cut short by Clark, not that you minded. 

Clark had been staring at the clock tick for what felt like forever. He knew interns left an hour earlier, so once Harry had left, he quickly made his way to you, eager to ask you out.

“Hey,” Clark said, trying his absolute best not to sound enthusiastic.

“Hi,” you give him a tired smile.

Clark swears he can melt right there, “Did teaching the intern tire you out?” he teases, but a soft smile appears on his face.

You let out a small laugh, “Yeah, surprisingly. Who knew interns could be such hard work?”

“Right,” Clark agrees, mostly because he didn’t like Harry, “well, uh, are you free this weekend?”

You blink, “Um, yes, why?”

“Perfect! Let’s go back-if you want to, do you want to go back to the pizza place on Saturday?" Clark tries his best to seem as collected.

“Oh! Sure, yeah, I would love to!” 

“I was afraid you’d say no, it’s a date then. An official date. Just you and me.” 

You feel yourself getting giddy, “Oh wow, okay! What time?”

“Oh, uh, I haven’t thought of that yet. Whenever you want, you pick.” 

“Okay, is 2 okay with you?” 

“Yeah, that’s work.”

“Perfect.”

Just as you were packing up and putting papers in your bag, Lois came up to you.

“So… what were you and Clark talking about?

You jump, Lois unknowingly scaring you, “Oh, Lois, you scared me,” you then smile at her. “Clark, he asked me out! I have been waiting for this moment since the day I saw him! I'm so excited!”

Lois smirked, happy that Clark had taken her advice. “Wow, seems like he finally got the balls to ask you out, huh?”

You just hum, your smile not leaving your face. “You're going to come with me either tomorrow after work or early on Saturday to pick me a cute but casual outfit, please.”

Lois would have sighed and argued back if you had been anyone else, “Okay, fine, we can go tomorrow after work.”

Your smile widened, and you quickly turned and hugged Lois, “Thank you, you’re the best.”

Lois didn’t hug back but didn’t pull away, “Oh, I know.” 

yayy, im finally posting after not doing so for 5 months 🙏 lmk if u guys want a part 2 bc i lowkey ended it before it got juicy cause i got lazy, i wrote all of us at 3 till 6 am😓 also my first non harry potter related fic, who else cheered 🗣️

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: “also curious if you'd do another part maybe were James ends up drunk/tipsy or Sirius finally seeing that the break affected him sm and being a bit of a bloke going on about how mc didn't technically break up with james just yet so technically they're still together or something, no pressure just really into the angst you wrote !!”

⤑ warnings: angst, drinking, cheating mentions, james thinks reader moved on, sirius making james delusional, james gets heart broken AGAIN WOOOOOO  – 1.1k words

It had been days since yours and James' conversation. Days since you two had last talked. Days since the unofficial breakup.

Everyone around James could tell something was off. He tried to act like nothing had changed, but he was failing miserably. The spark that usually followed him everywhere, the grin, the cocky walk, the teasing charm, it was all dimmed now, like someone had hit a switch and never turned it back on.

He wasn’t pulling pranks. He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t even arguing with Snape anymore.

Remus was the first to notice. Quietly asked James what was going on during Herbology. James waved it off, saying he was just tired. Then Peter tried. And when he didn’t get a response, Sirius finally caved and asked. James shrugged. Said he was fine.

The only time James Potter felt like James Potter anymore was when there was Firewhisky in his blood and loud music filling the Gryffindor common room. When he could pretend for a bit. Just long enough for the ache in his chest to quiet down.

So, to no one’s surprise, he was drinking again.

Tonight’s excuse? Gryffindor had won a Quidditch match three days ago.

The bottle was halfway done by the time Sirius joined him on the worn couch near the fireplace. The room was still buzzing, but Sirius had already turned down two girls, both of whom kept glancing toward James, clearly wondering what happened to the bloke who used to flirt back like second nature.

James didn’t even notice.

He was slouched, hair messier than usual, eyes bloodshot and glazed. He let out a dry laugh, staring into his drink like it held answers. “She didn’t even bloody cry.”

Sirius blinked, unsure if he was meant to respond.

James leaned back. “You should’ve seen her face, Pads. She looked at me like she was bored. Like I wasn’t even worth yelling at.”

“Sounds like she’s mental,” Sirius offered lamely, but James didn’t even flinch at that.

“She said she never wanted to see my face again.”

Sirius frowned. “Bit harsh.”

James snorted. “I deserved it.”

The words caught Sirius off guard.

Because James never said that. Not even when he clearly deserved it.

The silence stretched.

Sirius picked at a loose thread on his jumper. “She didn’t technically break up with you though, did she?”

James turned his head slowly, bloodshot eyes narrowing. “What?”

“I’m just saying,” Sirius went on, voice light, too light, like he was trying not to admit how weird all this felt, “you two were always dramatic. Maybe this is just another spat. She didn’t actually say the words, did she? No ‘we’re done,’ no ‘it’s over.’ So technically... you’re still together.”

James turned his head slowly, staring at him. “You think that matters now?”

Sirius blinked. “I mean... doesn’t it?”

James scoffed, dry and bitter. “You think I’d still be sleeping with other girls if I thought I had a chance with her?”

Sirius opened his mouth — then shut it. He didn’t have a good answer for that.

James laughed again, but there was no humour in it. Just something cracked. “God, I’m such a prick.”

“Oi—”

“No, seriously.” James cut him off, voice hoarse and cracking at the edges. “I had everything. She put up with me, even when I was a shit boyfriend. Even when I forgot dates, or flirted with girls, or didn’t say it back—”

“Say what back?” Sirius asked, but he already knew.

James didn’t answer. Just took another sip, the liquid burning down his throat.

“I think she meant it this time,” he muttered after a while. “She’s not coming back.”

Sirius shifted uncomfortably. “Maybe you should talk to her when you’re sober.”

“I was sober,” James said bitterly. “And I still fucked it up.”

Sirius didn’t get it. Not really. But he was trying. Sort of.

He watched James down another swig of Firewhisky, his jaw clenched, eyes dull. The party buzzed around them, music echoing off the stone walls, but James wasn’t present, not fully. He hadn’t been for days. Not since you walked away from him in that clearing and never looked back.

Sirius leaned against the arm of the sofa, swirling the drink in his hand. “Mate… you’re really letting this ruin you.”

James didn’t respond.

Sirius kept going. “She didn’t even say the words. Think about it. She didn’t say it was over. She was angry, sure — but when is she not angry with you?” He smirked, nudging James’s knee. “You lot always argue. You fight, then snog, then argue again. It’s your thing.”

James didn’t smile.

“She still cares,” Sirius said, more seriously now. “If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have said all that shit. You don’t get that angry over someone you’re done with.”

James’s lips twitched, just slightly. Hope. Sirius could see it flicker, desperate and fragile.

“Go talk to her,” Sirius urged. “Right now. Lay it on thick, Potter-style. She’ll cave. You always know how to get her back.”

James stood. Just like that.

Half-drunk and shaky, he brushed past a group of third-years and made his way out of the common room, the corridors emptying with the party still echoing behind him. He didn’t even think about what he’d say, he’d figure it out. He always did. You’d look at him, soften, and everything would fall back into place.

He turned a corner near the library stairwell, heading towards your dorm, when he heard your laugh echo off the stone.

It stopped him in his tracks.

There you were, standing near one of the tall arched windows, candlelight casting gold against your features. You looked warm. Calm. Smiling.

And then James saw him.

A boy. Standing close, leaning just slightly as he spoke to you, his back to James. His posture was casual, confident. Familiar. And you weren’t flinching away. You weren’t arguing. You weren’t crying.

You were… fine.

James felt something sour rise in his throat.

He didn’t stay long enough to hear what either of you were saying. He turned on his heel and stormed back the way he came, footsteps uneven, the Firewhisky and heartbreak swirling in his chest like acid.

By the time he got back to the common room, he looked a bit unhinged. Sirius sat up as soon as he saw him.

“Well? What happened?”

James didn’t answer right away. He just shook his head, jaw tight. “She was with someone.”

Sirius frowned. “What d’you mean ‘with someone’?”

“There was some bloke.” James ran a hand through his hair, agitated. “Tall. Black hair. I didn’t see his face. But they were talking. Smiling.”

Sirius blinked. “Talking? You’re spiralling over her talking to someone?”

James snapped his head toward him. “She’s never smiled at me like that. Not in weeks. And now she’s all soft with some random—”

He cut himself off, pacing. “She looked happy.”

Sirius hesitated. “…Maybe it was nothing. Probably just some Ravenclaw she’s stuck with for a project or something. You’re jumping to conclusions.”

James laughed bitterly. “Yeah? Then why do I feel like I’ve already lost?”

toxic till the end masterlist I i intended for this to be much more shorter but..... the end where reader is talking to another dude is also like foreshadowing for part 3 of this series 😈 also go stream jump by blackpink

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

ᝰ.ᐟ you can find any fics with this au here ^_^

: ̗̀➛ fics:

— toxic till the end | ⌗ reader pov

⤑ ᝰ.ᐟ summary: After spending a year in the most toxic relationship youve ever been in, you finally have a change of mind on a random day.

— toxic till the end | ⌗ james pov

⤑ ᝰ.ᐟ summary: same thing but it’s james pov

— toxic till the end | ⌗ ft. regulus black

⤑ ᝰ.ᐟ summary: coming soon!!!

: ̗̀➛ blurbs:

— james tells sirius how much he regrets everything

— ✩°｡🧸𓏲⋆.🧺𖦹 ₊˚ 𖦹ׂ ₊˚⊹-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-⋆𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧🫧 —

feel free to request more things !! ^_^

also ignore how ugly this is, i edited this on my phone😭😭 i’ll re edit this later on my laptop

[fear-less]

obsessed with the toxic james oneshot you did it was just the perfect amount of angst for me and ughhh the james pov was so good i need that boy miserable!!!! but i was curious about the ring from part one and how it wasn't mentioned in james pov, did he actually gave the girl the ring himself or did she take it from mc (and if thats the case did james even notice the girl took it??) i was just curious about it and also curious if you'd do another part maybe were James ends up drunk/tipsy or Sirius finally seeing that the break affected him sm and being a bit of a bloke going on about how mc didn't technically break up with james just yet so technically they're still together or something, no pressure just really into the angst you wrote !!

YEAH I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THE RING PART FOR JAMES😭😭😭😭😭😭 i wrote his pov at 1 am and finished it at like 3 am💀💀 THAT WAS MY FAV SCENE TO WRITE AND I SOMEHOW FORGOT IT BYE… & i will definitely write that!! be on the lookout for it 😋

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: part 2 (? idk the same thing but in james pov) of this!!

⤑ warnings: angst, literally no fluff, James blaming everyone and anything but himself, and cheating – 2.5k words

James knew you weren’t exactly happy with him at the moment. Just a few hours ago, you'd caught him talking to some girl near the courtyard. He wouldn't call it flirting — not really. He was just being friendly, charming maybe, but that was just how he talked. You got mad, and he figured you’d get over it by dinner. You always did.

But even in the shared classes you had today, you hadn’t once looked his way. Not even a glance. Usually, when you were upset, you’d sneak glances when you thought he wasn’t looking, eyes darting, stubborn but still soft. But today? Nothing.

James brushed it off. Told himself you were just being petty. You'd come around.

Still, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, and it hadn’t left him since.

After classes ended, he told himself he’d wait, give you space, let you cool off but that ache in his chest only got worse. Eventually, he caved and went searching. He checked all your usual spots: the hidden corner in the library, the tree near the Black Lake. Nothing.

He almost gave up until one final place came to mind. The old clearing just past the gates. He told himself that if you weren’t there, he’d leave it alone. Let you come to your senses.

But then he saw you.

A single figure sitting in the tall grass, still and familiar. He sighed quietly in relief, the tension in his shoulders easing. Of course you'd be here. Of course.

You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him, but James noticed the slight shift in your posture. the way your back stiffened ever so slightly when he stepped on a dry leaf. You heard him. You always did.

He slowed as he approached, letting out a quiet exhale. He thought about walking away, letting you cool down more, avoiding a scene but he stayed. You could be dramatic sometimes, but he wouldn’t let your little meltdown win over him trying to fix things.

“Hey,” he said gently, carefully.

You didn’t respond. Your silence tightened something in his chest. It pissed him off a little. The way you ignored him like he had done something awful. Still, he kept it buried. No use pushing your buttons.

While you stared blankly at the trees ahead, James stared at you.

The curve of your shoulders. The tired way you held yourself. There was something different in the way you sat, like you were exhausted. Not angry. Not emotional. Just... done.

Regret started to crawl in then. Slow and quiet.

He wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew that. But he tried, didn’t he?

Or at least, he thought he did.

That’s when he finally sat beside you.

“You’re not gonna curse me or throw something?” he said, trying to sound light, casual.  Like things weren’t already falling apart.

Still, you didn’t look at him. “I thought about it.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would’ve deserved it.”

“You do,” you replied, your voice sharper than he expected. Sharper than you probably meant it.

Silence dropped between you again. But it wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t comforting. It was heavy. Final.

“I messed up,” he said eventually, voice low.

And for the first time, you looked at him.

His heart kicked in his chest some small, stupid part of him still hoping. But the flutter died the second he saw your face.

Your eyes were tired. Not puffy from crying, not blazing with rage, just tired. Empty. Done.

James frowned, confused. You looked... worn down. Hollowed out. But he hadn’t done that to you. Had he?

“You always mess up,” you said, quiet but steady. “That’s the only consistent thing about you.”

He winced. Not because it wasn’t true, but because you said it like a fact. Like you’d rehearsed it. Like you’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

He wasn’t used to this. You standing up for yourself. You not softening, not folding.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You scoffed. “But you still did. Over and over. And I let you.”

There was a long beat. Just wind in the trees and your voice in his head, over and over.

Then came the final blow.

“James, I never want to see your face ever again.”

He froze. The words sliced through him with a precision he hadn’t expected. No screaming. No drama. Just a clean break. And for once, you actually meant it.

James stared down at his hands, frowning, a crease forming between his brows.

You didn’t say the words  ‘we’re done’ but he knew. You didn’t have to.

And maybe, maybe this should’ve felt like relief. Like freedom.

No more worrying about his “crazy” girlfriend getting jealous when he talked to other girls. No more Sirius bitching in his ear about how you were always nagging or how “you’d tamed the mighty James Potter.”

He was free now.

But the word tasted bitter in his mouth.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to be free. Not from you.

He loved you. And maybe he was too much of a coward to say it — maybe that’s why your face always fell just a little when you said it first and he never said it back.

James felt like a bloody idiot.

His mind started racing, flooded with memories. The late-night walks. Your sleepy laugh. The way your fingers curled when you were anxious. The way you looked at him like he was good, even when he wasn’t.

And he was so caught up in those memories, all the things he should’ve said, should’ve done, that he didn’t even notice you’d stood up.

Didn’t notice until it was too late.

You were already yards away, your figure retreating into the trees, back turned, your pace steady. You didn’t look back.

If he’d noticed sooner, maybe he would’ve stopped you.

But he didn’t.

And this time, he knew...

You weren’t coming back.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James made it back to the common room about thirty minutes before dinner. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were already lounging on the worn couches, the fire crackling lazily behind them.

The moment James stepped in, Sirius glanced up and raised an eyebrow, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth, the same look he always wore whenever James disappeared for too long. He didn’t have to say anything. James knew what he was thinking.

He thought James had been off shagging someone again.

And why wouldn’t he? Sirius was the only one James had ever told about the cheating. He couldn’t tell Remus or Peter, they’d get pissed. They’d judge him. Probably even tell you. But Sirius? Sirius encouraged it. Said it was normal. Said that “blokes need variety” and that you were too much work anyway.

So of course he thought James had just been off with another girl.

But he hadn’t.

No, this time he’d just gotten his heart broken by the same girl he swore to everyone, especially Sirius, was the worst girlfriend on the planet.

He dropped into the open seat next to Remus, letting out a slow sigh as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling like it might have answers.

Remus glanced at him, confused, then looked to the other two for an explanation. Sirius only shrugged, still smirking faintly. Peter blinked and kept quiet.

James didn’t say anything.

He just stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, heart pounding too loud in his ears.

He hadn’t cried. He wasn’t going to cry. But he felt weird. Off. Like the world had tilted a little to the left and no one else noticed but him.

And somehow, Sirius’s smirk only made it worse.

James was still deep in thought when the other boys stood up, ready to head down to the Great Hall for dinner. The only thing stopping them was James.

“Mate?” Remus asked, hovering near the back of the couch. “You coming?”

James blinked, like he’d only just realised where he was. His hands were still clasped in his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s fine. Probably just tired from all the studying he was doing.”

Peter snorted.

James didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at them.

Remus frowned. “Seriously, you alright?”

James finally sat up, running a hand through his hair, the same way he always did when he was stressed but trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Just... thinking.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Thinking too much’ll kill you, mate. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

The other boys filed out ahead, their voices trailing down the corridor. James followed a few steps behind, quieter than usual.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, his thoughts stayed tangled, all sharp edges and old memories. The clearing. Your voice. That look in your eyes. How cold your words had been. How final.

He kept his head low as they entered the hall. It was already buzzing with noise, laughter, clinking silverware, first years whining about the meatloaf.

James’s eyes instinctively searched for you.

But a frown tugged at his lips when he spotted your friends, Isla and Lydia, seated at your usual spot without you. They were talking quietly, heads close together, but you were nowhere in sight.

It was strange, suddenly looking for you again. He hadn’t done that in weeks. Maybe months. Not since the second month of your relationship, when things were still soft and new and he actually tried. Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped checking the crowd for your face. You’d always been there. Always come to him.

But now, with your absence so loud in the room, he felt off-balance. Like trying to find someone in a crowd and realising you don’t even know what you’re looking for anymore.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

Sirius.

James blinked, pulled out of the fog. “You alright, mate?” Sirius asked, his voice low, not out of concern, more curiosity.

James just nodded, jaw tight, and followed him to the Gryffindor table. But even as he sat, even as food appeared in front of him, his thoughts stayed somewhere else.

With you.

Where were you? Were you avoiding him? Still angry?

No. Not angry. You hadn’t looked angry the last time he saw you.

You’d looked done.

And that, somehow, was worse.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James woke up that morning looking like a whole new person — and not in a good way.

He felt like shit.

His head ached, his chest felt heavy, and all he wanted was to stay curled under the covers and rot for the rest of the week. But of course, that wasn’t an option. It was Thursday. Classes still existed. Life, unfortunately, went on.

He let out a long sigh and glanced around the dorm. Remus was already up and dressed, predictably organised. Sirius had just woken up, stretching with a dramatic groan. Peter was still snoring softly, completely unaware of the storm brewing in James’s chest.

Eventually, all four boys found themselves at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Food appeared on golden plates, the chatter of students swelled around them, but James wasn’t listening. He was too busy scanning the hall, eyes darting across the tables, searching for you.

You weren’t there.

Neither were your friends.

And weirdly, that made it okay. If they were gone too, maybe it meant you weren’t avoiding just him. Maybe you’d all slept in. Maybe you were in the library. Maybe—he didn’t know.

He didn’t realise how obvious he was being until Sirius spoke, casually, like he was talking about the weather.

“By the way,” Sirius said, loud enough for the group to hear, “James and his girl aren’t speaking. Might be a full-on breakup, finally.”

James’s head snapped toward him, jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough: Shut up.

But it was too late.

A few seats down, a girl perked up. Her name was Arabella — a pretty Gryffindor with a sharp voice and a habit of inserting herself into things that didn’t concern her. James had fooled around with her once, months before you and him had ever become official. He didn’t even remember much of it. But she remembered everything.

She was next to him in seconds, sliding into the open seat at his side like she’d been invited.

“You and her are done?” she asked sweetly, already reaching for his arm, curling her fingers around it like it belonged to her.

James stiffened.

He didn’t pull away. Not yet.

But he didn’t look at her either.

His eyes stayed locked on the doors, willing you to walk through them.

“We aren’t speaking right now. We’re still together,” he muttered.

It was a lie. A pathetic one. And anyone listening could hear it in his voice.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Ugh, she keeps holding you hostage. You cheat on her all the time, but never with me. Let’s fix that, yeah?”

James’s stomach turned. The little food he’d managed to eat suddenly sat like stone.

He hated hearing it out loud, and hated how casual she made it sound. Like what he did to you was some open secret. Like it wasn’t supposed to matter.

He finally looked at her, his expression cold.

“No thanks.”

She blinked, clearly confused. Rejection wasn’t something James Potter usually handed out, especially not to girls like her.

But she didn’t budge. She stayed pressed up beside him, far too close, closer than you had been in weeks. Closer than you’d ever be again.

And maybe that was the part that really stung.

James was too distracted trying to subtly push her away, all while shooting Sirius a venomous glare for opening his mouth in the first place. Sirius, of course, just shrugged like it wasn’t his fault.

Because of all that, James didn’t notice when you walked into the Great Hall.

Not at first.

It wasn’t until he was about to leave, deciding he’d had enough of Arabella’s clinging and empty flirtation, that his eyes wandered toward your house’s table, the way they always used to, back when you still smiled at him.

You weren’t in your usual spot. He almost sighed and looked away.

But then he saw you.

You were at the far end of the table, flanked by your two friends.

Smiling.

And it wasn’t the polite kind you gave when someone asked if you were okay.

It was real.

And James felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Because for the first time in a long time, you looked light, like a weight had been lifted off you.

And he was just now realising he had been that weight.

lets go finally finished this, what do we think👅🙏🗣️

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: part 2 (? idk the same thing but in james pov) of this!!

⤑ warnings: angst, literally no fluff, James blaming everyone and anything but himself, and cheating – 2.5k words

James knew you weren’t exactly happy with him at the moment. Just a few hours ago, you'd caught him talking to some girl near the courtyard. He wouldn't call it flirting — not really. He was just being friendly, charming maybe, but that was just how he talked. You got mad, and he figured you’d get over it by dinner. You always did.

But even in the shared classes you had today, you hadn’t once looked his way. Not even a glance. Usually, when you were upset, you’d sneak glances when you thought he wasn’t looking, eyes darting, stubborn but still soft. But today? Nothing.

James brushed it off. Told himself you were just being petty. You'd come around.

Still, something in his chest twisted uncomfortably, and it hadn’t left him since.

After classes ended, he told himself he’d wait, give you space, let you cool off but that ache in his chest only got worse. Eventually, he caved and went searching. He checked all your usual spots: the hidden corner in the library, the tree near the Black Lake. Nothing.

He almost gave up until one final place came to mind. The old clearing just past the gates. He told himself that if you weren’t there, he’d leave it alone. Let you come to your senses.

But then he saw you.

A single figure sitting in the tall grass, still and familiar. He sighed quietly in relief, the tension in his shoulders easing. Of course you'd be here. Of course.

You didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge him, but James noticed the slight shift in your posture. the way your back stiffened ever so slightly when he stepped on a dry leaf. You heard him. You always did.

He slowed as he approached, letting out a quiet exhale. He thought about walking away, letting you cool down more, avoiding a scene but he stayed. You could be dramatic sometimes, but he wouldn’t let your little meltdown win over him trying to fix things.

“Hey,” he said gently, carefully.

You didn’t respond. Your silence tightened something in his chest. It pissed him off a little. The way you ignored him like he had done something awful. Still, he kept it buried. No use pushing your buttons.

While you stared blankly at the trees ahead, James stared at you.

The curve of your shoulders. The tired way you held yourself. There was something different in the way you sat, like you were exhausted. Not angry. Not emotional. Just... done.

Regret started to crawl in then. Slow and quiet.

He wasn’t the best boyfriend. He knew that. But he tried, didn’t he?

Or at least, he thought he did.

That’s when he finally sat beside you.

“You’re not gonna curse me or throw something?” he said, trying to sound light, casual.  Like things weren’t already falling apart.

Still, you didn’t look at him. “I thought about it.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would’ve deserved it.”

“You do,” you replied, your voice sharper than he expected. Sharper than you probably meant it.

Silence dropped between you again. But it wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t comforting. It was heavy. Final.

“I messed up,” he said eventually, voice low.

And for the first time, you looked at him.

His heart kicked in his chest some small, stupid part of him still hoping. But the flutter died the second he saw your face.

Your eyes were tired. Not puffy from crying, not blazing with rage, just tired. Empty. Done.

James frowned, confused. You looked... worn down. Hollowed out. But he hadn’t done that to you. Had he?

“You always mess up,” you said, quiet but steady. “That’s the only consistent thing about you.”

He winced. Not because it wasn’t true, but because you said it like a fact. Like you’d rehearsed it. Like you’d been holding it in for a long, long time.

He wasn’t used to this. You standing up for yourself. You not softening, not folding.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You scoffed. “But you still did. Over and over. And I let you.”

There was a long beat. Just wind in the trees and your voice in his head, over and over.

Then came the final blow.

“James, I never want to see your face ever again.”

He froze. The words sliced through him with a precision he hadn’t expected. No screaming. No drama. Just a clean break. And for once, you actually meant it.

James stared down at his hands, frowning, a crease forming between his brows.

You didn’t say the words  ‘we’re done’ but he knew. You didn’t have to.

And maybe, maybe this should’ve felt like relief. Like freedom.

No more worrying about his “crazy” girlfriend getting jealous when he talked to other girls. No more Sirius bitching in his ear about how you were always nagging or how “you’d tamed the mighty James Potter.”

He was free now.

But the word tasted bitter in his mouth.

Because the truth was, he didn’t want to be free. Not from you.

He loved you. And maybe he was too much of a coward to say it — maybe that’s why your face always fell just a little when you said it first and he never said it back.

James felt like a bloody idiot.

His mind started racing, flooded with memories. The late-night walks. Your sleepy laugh. The way your fingers curled when you were anxious. The way you looked at him like he was good, even when he wasn’t.

And he was so caught up in those memories, all the things he should’ve said, should’ve done, that he didn’t even notice you’d stood up.

Didn’t notice until it was too late.

You were already yards away, your figure retreating into the trees, back turned, your pace steady. You didn’t look back.

If he’d noticed sooner, maybe he would’ve stopped you.

But he didn’t.

And this time, he knew...

You weren’t coming back.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James made it back to the common room about thirty minutes before dinner. Sirius, Remus, and Peter were already lounging on the worn couches, the fire crackling lazily behind them.

The moment James stepped in, Sirius glanced up and raised an eyebrow, that smug little smirk tugging at his mouth, the same look he always wore whenever James disappeared for too long. He didn’t have to say anything. James knew what he was thinking.

He thought James had been off shagging someone again.

And why wouldn’t he? Sirius was the only one James had ever told about the cheating. He couldn’t tell Remus or Peter, they’d get pissed. They’d judge him. Probably even tell you. But Sirius? Sirius encouraged it. Said it was normal. Said that “blokes need variety” and that you were too much work anyway.

So of course he thought James had just been off with another girl.

But he hadn’t.

No, this time he’d just gotten his heart broken by the same girl he swore to everyone, especially Sirius, was the worst girlfriend on the planet.

He dropped into the open seat next to Remus, letting out a slow sigh as he leaned back and stared up at the ceiling like it might have answers.

Remus glanced at him, confused, then looked to the other two for an explanation. Sirius only shrugged, still smirking faintly. Peter blinked and kept quiet.

James didn’t say anything.

He just stared at the ceiling, jaw tight, heart pounding too loud in his ears.

He hadn’t cried. He wasn’t going to cry. But he felt weird. Off. Like the world had tilted a little to the left and no one else noticed but him.

And somehow, Sirius’s smirk only made it worse.

James was still deep in thought when the other boys stood up, ready to head down to the Great Hall for dinner. The only thing stopping them was James.

“Mate?” Remus asked, hovering near the back of the couch. “You coming?”

James blinked, like he’d only just realised where he was. His hands were still clasped in his lap, fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on his sleeve.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “He’s fine. Probably just tired from all the studying he was doing.”

Peter snorted.

James didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at them.

Remus frowned. “Seriously, you alright?”

James finally sat up, running a hand through his hair, the same way he always did when he was stressed but trying to pretend otherwise. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Just... thinking.”

Sirius clapped him on the shoulder. “Thinking too much’ll kill you, mate. C’mon. Let’s eat.”

The other boys filed out ahead, their voices trailing down the corridor. James followed a few steps behind, quieter than usual.

As they made their way to the Great Hall, his thoughts stayed tangled, all sharp edges and old memories. The clearing. Your voice. That look in your eyes. How cold your words had been. How final.

He kept his head low as they entered the hall. It was already buzzing with noise, laughter, clinking silverware, first years whining about the meatloaf.

James’s eyes instinctively searched for you.

But a frown tugged at his lips when he spotted your friends, Isla and Lydia, seated at your usual spot without you. They were talking quietly, heads close together, but you were nowhere in sight.

It was strange, suddenly looking for you again. He hadn’t done that in weeks. Maybe months. Not since the second month of your relationship, when things were still soft and new and he actually tried. Somewhere along the line, he’d stopped checking the crowd for your face. You’d always been there. Always come to him.

But now, with your absence so loud in the room, he felt off-balance. Like trying to find someone in a crowd and realising you don’t even know what you’re looking for anymore.

Then a hand landed on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

Sirius.

James blinked, pulled out of the fog. “You alright, mate?” Sirius asked, his voice low, not out of concern, more curiosity.

James just nodded, jaw tight, and followed him to the Gryffindor table. But even as he sat, even as food appeared in front of him, his thoughts stayed somewhere else.

With you.

Where were you? Were you avoiding him? Still angry?

No. Not angry. You hadn’t looked angry the last time he saw you.

You’d looked done.

And that, somehow, was worse.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

James woke up that morning looking like a whole new person — and not in a good way.

He felt like shit.

His head ached, his chest felt heavy, and all he wanted was to stay curled under the covers and rot for the rest of the week. But of course, that wasn’t an option. It was Thursday. Classes still existed. Life, unfortunately, went on.

He let out a long sigh and glanced around the dorm. Remus was already up and dressed, predictably organised. Sirius had just woken up, stretching with a dramatic groan. Peter was still snoring softly, completely unaware of the storm brewing in James’s chest.

Eventually, all four boys found themselves at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. Food appeared on golden plates, the chatter of students swelled around them, but James wasn’t listening. He was too busy scanning the hall, eyes darting across the tables, searching for you.

You weren’t there.

Neither were your friends.

And weirdly, that made it okay. If they were gone too, maybe it meant you weren’t avoiding just him. Maybe you’d all slept in. Maybe you were in the library. Maybe—he didn’t know.

He didn’t realise how obvious he was being until Sirius spoke, casually, like he was talking about the weather.

“By the way,” Sirius said, loud enough for the group to hear, “James and his girl aren’t speaking. Might be a full-on breakup, finally.”

James’s head snapped toward him, jaw clenched. He didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said enough: Shut up.

But it was too late.

A few seats down, a girl perked up. Her name was Arabella — a pretty Gryffindor with a sharp voice and a habit of inserting herself into things that didn’t concern her. James had fooled around with her once, months before you and him had ever become official. He didn’t even remember much of it. But she remembered everything.

She was next to him in seconds, sliding into the open seat at his side like she’d been invited.

“You and her are done?” she asked sweetly, already reaching for his arm, curling her fingers around it like it belonged to her.

James stiffened.

He didn’t pull away. Not yet.

But he didn’t look at her either.

His eyes stayed locked on the doors, willing you to walk through them.

“We aren’t speaking right now. We’re still together,” he muttered.

It was a lie. A pathetic one. And anyone listening could hear it in his voice.

Arabella rolled her eyes. “Ugh, she keeps holding you hostage. You cheat on her all the time, but never with me. Let’s fix that, yeah?”

James’s stomach turned. The little food he’d managed to eat suddenly sat like stone.

He hated hearing it out loud, and hated how casual she made it sound. Like what he did to you was some open secret. Like it wasn’t supposed to matter.

He finally looked at her, his expression cold.

“No thanks.”

She blinked, clearly confused. Rejection wasn’t something James Potter usually handed out, especially not to girls like her.

But she didn’t budge. She stayed pressed up beside him, far too close, closer than you had been in weeks. Closer than you’d ever be again.

And maybe that was the part that really stung.

James was too distracted trying to subtly push her away, all while shooting Sirius a venomous glare for opening his mouth in the first place. Sirius, of course, just shrugged like it wasn’t his fault.

Because of all that, James didn’t notice when you walked into the Great Hall.

Not at first.

It wasn’t until he was about to leave, deciding he’d had enough of Arabella’s clinging and empty flirtation, that his eyes wandered toward your house’s table, the way they always used to, back when you still smiled at him.

You weren’t in your usual spot. He almost sighed and looked away.

But then he saw you.

You were at the far end of the table, flanked by your two friends.

Smiling.

And it wasn’t the polite kind you gave when someone asked if you were okay.

It was real.

And James felt it like a punch to the ribs.

Because for the first time in a long time, you looked light, like a weight had been lifted off you.

And he was just now realising he had been that weight.

lets go finally finished this, what do we think👅🙏🗣️

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ toxic till the end I ⌗ pairing: james potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: After spending a year in the most toxic relationship youve ever been in, you finally have a change of mind on a random day.

⤑ warnings: angst, literally no fluff, and cheating -- 2.1k words

James knew exactly where to find you. A tucked-away clearing just beyond the Hogwarts gates, quiet and hidden, where the grass grew wild and the stars felt closer. It was your spot, or at least, it used to be. Yours and his. And maybe a few other girls’, too.

As soon as you heard footsteps behind you, you knew who it was. No one else knew about this place. Not really. Just you and James.

You and James had a long history, too long. Your friends had told you again and again to cut him off, to end it, for good this time. And you’d tried. Maybe twice. But it never worked. You always came back.

Funny, really. Back when you two were barely even friends, when the only reason you spoke was because you were seated together in History of Magic, he’d been nicer. Softer. Sweeter. He was a better stranger than he ever was a boyfriend.

You remembered the day you’d introduced him to your closest friends. You’d been glowing with excitement, heart beating fast, convinced that maybe—just maybe—this meant it was becoming real. You’d wanted him to see the people who shaped you. You wanted them to like him.

But the moment passed like smoke. James had been distracted, distant, like he had somewhere better to be. He hadn’t even pretended to care about making a good impression. And you’d laughed it off. Smiled through it. Made excuses. But deep down, something inside you had dimmed.

Looking back, you should’ve known then.

You didn’t bother to look up when he finally stepped into the clearing. You heard the soft crunch of grass beneath his shoes, the quiet exhale he always gave when he found you.

“Hey,” he said gently.

You didn’t respond. Not right away. You kept your eyes fixed on the trees ahead, arms wrapped tightly around your knees like they might hold you together better than he ever had.

He sat beside you, not too close, but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him. That stupid, familiar warmth that always made it harder to stay angry.

“You’re not gonna curse me or throw something?” he asked, trying for lightness.

Still, you didn’t look at him. “I thought about it.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Would’ve deserved it.”

“You do,” you said, the edge in your voice sharper than you meant it to be.

Silence fell again. Not peaceful. Not comforting. Just heavy. Just unfinished.

“I messed up,” he said eventually.

You turned to face him, slowly. Same messy hair. Same tired eyes. Same Gryffindor charm that somehow survived every mistake he made. But there was something else this time. He looked... worn. Not just tired. Hollow. Like even he was starting to realise the damage he’d caused.

“You always mess up,” you said quietly. “That’s the only consistent thing about you.”

He winced. Good. He needed to.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You scoffed. “But you still did. Over and over. And I let you.”

There was a long beat before you added, “James, I never want to see your face ever again.” But even as the words left your mouth, a sick, aching truth curled inside you. What you really meant was: I can’t wait to see your face again.

James stared down at his hands, silent. No excuse. No clever line. No promise to change.

You stood up slowly, your legs stiff from sitting so long. The air felt colder now. Or maybe you were just done.

You didn’t say anything else. Didn’t give him the satisfaction of a dramatic goodbye.

You just walked.

And James didn’t stop you.

Didn’t chase after you.

He stayed behind in the clearing, hands in his hair, breathing shallow, watching you disappear into the darkness, again.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Now you’re lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. You didn’t bother going to dinner. James had ruined any appetite you had. While he was trying to find you in the crowded Great Hall, weaving through your house’s table, your mind kept replaying the conversation you’d just had with him—or whatever that had been. It was all so familiar, like a game you knew the rules to but hated playing.

If you had to guess James Potter’s favorite board game, you’d say chess without hesitation. Not because he gave off some quietly brilliant, strategic vibe. Honestly, you weren’t even sure he knew all the rules. But it had to be chess, because it was far too easy for him to play with the pieces in your chest.

Every move he made felt calculated. Push, pull, stay just long enough to make you think it mattered, then leave before it really did. He always kept you close, but never close enough. Just within reach. Just enough to make sure no one else got to you first.

You remembered the night everything started to unravel, the exact moment you should have walked away but didn’t.

You had chased him down the stairs near the library. It was late, close to curfew, and the corridor was empty except for your hurried footsteps and the sound of your own heart pounding. He hadn’t spoken to you in two days. No note, no message, not even a glance in the corridors. Just silence, like nothing between you had ever existed.

“James, can we just talk?” you had asked, trying not to let your voice crack. He kept walking. One hand in his pocket, the other raking through his hair like he couldn’t be bothered.

He didn’t turn around. “I just need space,” he said, like that was supposed to make everything okay. Like space didn’t mean distance. Like distance didn’t mean you were being left behind.

You stood frozen in the middle of the corridor, staring at his back like it might change its mind. And then you said it.

“Don’t leave.”

It was barely more than a whisper, small, cracked, and quiet enough to get lost in the shadows. But he heard it. You knew he did. His shoulders tensed. He paused. But he didn’t look back.

He never looked back.

And still, you stayed. Let him drift in and out of your life like a tide you were helpless against.

But weeks later, it happened again. A different fight, another hollow apology. You were the one walking away this time, trying to mean it, trying to finally let go. And that’s when he said it.

“Don’t leave.”

Same words. Same softness. Same timing. Right when he was about to lose.

You stopped, barely able to believe it. Not because he said it, but because he said it like it was his. Like he didn’t remember where he’d heard it first.

You turned to face him, heart in your throat. “You stole that line from me.”

He didn’t argue. He just stood there, like he thought sounding sorry would be enough.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Now you're on your way to the Great Hall for breakfast, barely awake and flanked by your two friends, Isla and Lydia, one on each side. Lydia’s in the middle of telling yet another story about her family dog, something about it eating a whole shoe, when Isla suddenly pauses, and Lydia trails off mid-sentence.

You blink, still half-asleep, until you notice they’ve both stopped walking. Isla’s gaze is locked on a group of Gryffindor girls nearby, and Lydia's mouth is slightly open in quiet disbelief.

Then you heard it.

A girl’s voice, light and casual, cutting through the morning haze. “She said James gave it to her. A ring. Isn’t that sweet? Apparently, they’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks now.”

Your heart dropped.

You hadn’t specifically said the seven words—“We’re done. I'm breaking up with you.”—but last night, in the clearing, you were sure you’d made it clear enough. Whatever you and James had... it was done.

But a few weeks ago?

A few weeks ago, you and James were good. Or at least, you thought you were. Laughing in the common room. Holding hands beneath the table in Potions. It was the closest thing to healthy the two of you had ever managed. You thought things were finally different.

Now, maybe he was only sweet because someone else had already taken your place.

Your confrontation yesterday had been about another girl entirely, some nameless face you’d seen him with in the courtyard. You hadn’t known about this one. Not the girl with your ring.

Isla gave your hand a quiet squeeze. You looked over at her and found the same soft, sad expression she always wore when you talked about James. The one that said you deserve better, even if she didn’t say it out loud.

“Are you okay?” she asked gently.

You nodded. Lying.

You didn’t want to cause a scene. You weren’t even sure you had the energy to fight. Especially not with another girl. Especially not over him.

They nodded, quietly accepting your answer even though they didn’t believe it.

You all kept walking. Or tried to.

Because as you passed the girls, Lydia didn’t look away. Her eyes locked onto something, a flash of silver on the girl’s hand and she let out a soft gasp.

She spun back toward you, grabbed your wrist with one hand and Isla’s with the other, and tugged you both into a fast walk, nearly a run, straight into the Great Hall. You stopped at the end of your house table, near the doors, heart pounding even though you weren’t sure why yet.

Lydia turned to you, her voice sharp with realisation. “The ring that girl had—it’s the one you lost. Remember? Three months ago? After that date with James. You thought you just misplaced it.”

Your mouth went dry.

You remembered that ring. The one he’d twirled on your finger all evening, smiling like he actually adored you. The one you swore you left on your nightstand.

And now it was on someone else’s hand.

You took a deep breath, your chest tight but steady.

“She can keep it,” you said softly. “It’s just a ring.”

Isla and Lydia exchanged a glance, unsure if they should push. You didn’t blame them. There was a time when something like this would’ve shattered you—when you would’ve cornered James in the hallway, demanded answers, let the hurt eat you alive.

But not now. Not anymore.

You weren’t angry. You were tired. Tired of waiting for him to grow up. Tired of giving pieces of yourself away just to feel close to someone who never really saw you.

You could forgive him for the ring. It was a small thing, really, compared to all the other ways he had chipped away at your heart. You could forgive him for being careless, for being selfish, even for being unfaithful.

But you wouldn’t forget what he took from you.

He had wasted your prettiest years without even blinking. Months you spent begging him to be better, to see you, to love you the way you deserved. You had poured the softest parts of yourself into someone who never once tried to hold them gently.

And in the end, he didn’t just break your heart. He ruined you for a while.

Left you hollow, second-guessing, quieter than you used to be.

And you wouldn’t go back.

You turned to your friends, forcing a small smile. “Let’s eat.”

What you didn’t notice was a certain raven-haired boy watching you from across the hall.

James wasn’t listening to the girl beside him—the one currently wearing your ring, laughing softly, leaning in like she thought she had his full attention. His eyes weren’t on her.

They were on you.

He didn’t understand it. How you could look so calm. So distant. Like everything that happened between you had already been buried. Like he hadn’t been your whole world just yesterday.

He was confused.

How could you change so quickly in just a day?

He didn’t know that it hadn’t just been a day. It had been building for weeks. Maybe months. The ache. The exhaustion. The slow, quiet unraveling of all the love you kept trying to give him.

He only noticed the ending because you finally stopped begging him to see it.

And now, as you laughed at something Isla whispered to you, without even glancing his way, James felt something strange settle in his chest.

It wasn’t guilt.

It was loss.

Real, suffocating loss.

Because for the first time, he knew he couldn’t win you back.

Not this time.

You weren’t angry anymore.

You were done.

hope u enjoyed it👅 im thinking of making a part 2 but its not a part 2, just the same thing but in James pov....lmk if u wanna read that

[fear-less]

hiiii! i love your writing!

i was wondering if i could request a harry potter x reader, where they remind everyone of james and lily. just times where they're together and maybe the professors see them and start talking about how they're just like james and lily.

thank you!

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ we would have been timeless I ⌗ pairing: harry potter x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: everyone at Hogwarts saw it coming when you and Harry started dating. To most, you were just another sweet couple. but to the professors, you were a reminder of two people they had lost. In your smiles, your arguments, and the way you looked at each other, they saw echoes of James and Lily. not a repeat of the past, but a new beginning filled with hope.

⤑ warnings: super fluffy, mention of death (james and lily), tiny tiny bit of angst, and  snape being mean

It was no secret that you and Harry had been close since first year. From the moment you met on the train, there was a quiet, effortless understanding between the two of you. Something unspoken, but deeply rooted. So when word spread through Hogwarts that the two of you were officially dating, no one was surprised. If anything, most people just rolled their eyes and said, “Finally.”

To your classmates, you and Harry were just another lovey-dovey couple. Always sitting together in the common room, walking side by side to lessons, sharing inside jokes during meals. You laughed at each other’s bad moods, argued over homework, and looked at one another like there was nowhere else you’d rather be. To them, it was sweet. Predictable, even.

But to the professors, it was something different.

They saw ghosts.

It wasn’t that you and Harry were exactly like James and Lily. You weren’t. But there were echoes. Little moments that tugged at the past. Familiar smiles. The way Harry’s eyes lit up when you entered a room. The way you challenged him without hesitation, unafraid to meet his stubbornness with your own. You had Lily’s sharp wit, and Harry carried James’s quiet mischief, the kind that never quite faded, no matter how much war had aged him.

Once, during Transfiguration, when you leaned in to whisper something to Harry, McGonagall paused mid-lecture. Her eyes flicked to the two of you before she turned back to the board. Her expression had softened, just for a moment.

“They remind me so much of them,” she murmured to Professor Flitwick over tea in the staffroom. “It’s strange. Like watching history breathe.”

Flitwick nodded, his voice quiet and warm. “Only this time, they have a fighting chance.”

Sometimes it was the way you defended Harry without hesitation, stepping between him and Malfoy in the corridor, wand already raised, your voice sharp with fury. Other times, it was the way Harry looked at you after a Quidditch match, hair plastered to his forehead, cheeks flushed with adrenaline, grinning like you were the only person in the world who mattered.

And then there were the times Sirius watched you both from the shadows of Grimmauld Place, arms folded, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He would not say much at first. He would simply take another sip of firewhisky and stare into the fireplace. But if he was in a talkative mood, or if Remus happened to be there to coax it out of him, he would let the words slip.

“He looks at her the way James looked at Lily, near the end. When he finally figured it out. That it wasn’t about impressing her or chasing her or showing off. He just loved her. All of her. Even when she was furious with him.”

Sirius would pause then, running a hand through his tangled hair.

“And she’s got Lily’s spine too. Merlin help anyone who crosses Harry with her around.”

Once, when you and Harry were finally back at Grimmauld Place after a few weeks apart, Sirius caught you alone in the kitchen. You were making tea, humming a Muggle tune under your breath as the kettle whistled softly.

“He’s different with you,” Sirius said casually, though his voice carried something heavier beneath it. “Happier. Lighter.”

You turned to look at him, tilting your head.

“I try to make him laugh,” you replied.

Sirius smiled faintly, eyes shadowed with memory. “So did Lily.”

Not everyone found the resemblance endearing.

Snape, for example, did not find it charming.

In fact, he despised it.

He never said so directly, but there was a bitterness in the way he looked at the two of you, like he was watching something unfold all over again. Something that still made his stomach twist after all these years. He would cut Harry off mid-sentence in class, ignore your raised hand even when you were the only one who knew the answer, and dock points for reasons that barely made sense.

Once, in a particularly tense Potions lesson, Snape stopped behind your cauldron and sneered.

“Impressive work, Miss Y/L/N. Though I suppose when one’s only ambition is to follow Potter around like a lovesick puppy, one must find ways to stay relevant.”

Harry’s chair scraped back before he could stop himself.

“Don’t talk to her like that.”

Snape turned slowly, robes sweeping behind him, his gaze sharp and cold.

“Ten points from Gryffindor for backtalk. And another five for your delusion that the rules apply differently to you because of who your father was.”

You reached for Harry’s hand under the desk. He didn’t look away from Snape, but he calmed slightly when your fingers laced through his.

You didn’t know most of this, not really. You didn’t see the way McGonagall lingered at the window when you and Harry laughed on the lawn between classes. Or how Remus sometimes smiled sadly to himself when he saw the two of you curled up on the Gryffindor common room couch, your head resting on Harry’s shoulder while he gently played with your fingers.

But maybe, deep down, you felt it.

Because sometimes, when Harry looked at you, there was something in his eyes. Something soft and stunned and grateful, like he still couldn’t believe you were real.

Once, late at night in the common room, when the fire had burned low and the castle had gone quiet, he asked you softly, “Do you think they’d like you?”

You looked up at him, brushing the hair from his forehead.

“I think they’d love me,” you whispered. “Especially your mum.”

He let out a quiet laugh, tired and fond, and pulled you closer.

Maybe, in that moment, the past didn’t hurt so much.

It was still there, lingering in quiet glances and old wounds that had never quite healed. It clung to the edges of the story, in the professors who had seen too much, in Sirius and Lupin, and even in Snape, buried deep within the coldest corners of his heart.

But there was something else now.

You. Him. A future.

And for the first time in a long time, that future looked like hope.

[fear-less]

Would you by any chance do the fandom IT?

yes!! i was obsessed with it for the longest time😭😭 send any requests!!

[fear-less]

is there any other fandoms you plan to write for now

yes!! honestly, send requests for any fandom, i’ve been in every fandom i fear so i’ll probably know the character you’re requesting 😭

some of my fav non hp characters: rafe, armin, eren, megumi, gojo, peter parker, neteyam, and a few more :3

i also don’t mind writing for celebs, like harry styles & footballers (soccer players) ! ntm on male artists cause i only listen to 1d + their solos 😭😭

[fear-less]

oh my God you're back!!

yuppp!! its been four months😭 anyways, be on the lookout for more fics, i plan to go back to posting normally, yay!

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ apple cider I ⌗ pairing: sirius black x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: Sirius doesnt even like you that much, wait–he does, fuck!

⤑ warnings: fluff, light angst, mutual pining, Sirius is mean but emotionally repressed, accidental insults, eavesdropping, awkward feelings, slow burn (kinda), happy ending

Sirius never meant to be rude to you. It just… happened.

Instead of speaking to you like a normal person, he’d hand you a backhanded compliment, or make a remark so blunt it came out more like an insult. Sometimes you hadn’t even said a word, just happened to be nearby,  and he’d still find something to comment on.

At first, he genuinely thought he couldn’t stand you.

You were quiet, but not shy, never fawning over him like others did. You didn’t play his games, didn’t laugh at his jokes unless they were actually funny, and never seemed particularly bothered by his presence.

That annoyed him. Or… that’s what he told himself.

He told himself it was your indifference that got under his skin. The way you never rose to his bait. The way you’d just glance at him when he said something snarky, not angry, not hurt, just unimpressed, and carry on with whatever you were doing.

But then he started noticing things. Stupid things.

Like the way you twirled your quill when you were thinking. The way you always remembered to feed the owls that hung around the windowsill in the common room, even when no one else did. The way you tucked your sleeve over your hand when the castle got too cold.

And how his eyes always seemed to find you, even when he didn’t mean them to.

He hated that.

He hated it because it made no sense. You didn’t flirt with him. You didn’t want anything from him. And yet, somehow, you were in his head more than anyone else. Worse than James. Worse than bloody Remus’s reading habits. You’d made a home in his brain without even trying.

So the next time you looked at him, he panicked.

“Nice ink smudge,” he said, nodding to the side of your hand. “Very chic.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Just saying,” he added, shrugging, eyes already darting away. “Didn’t realise messiness was a new trend.”

You looked down at your hand, wiped the smudge away with a frown, and muttered something under your breath as you walked off.

Sirius sat there, watching you go, heart hammering, and thought:

What the hell is wrong with me?

Sirius sat there for a long moment after you left, dragging a hand down his face.

Nice ink smudge. Very chic. What in Merlin’s name was wrong with him?

He’d meant to say something normal. Maybe even a little bit nice. Something like, “You look focused,” or “That essay killing you too?” But no, his brain had taken a perfectly good opportunity to be decent and twisted it into another bloody insult.

He didn’t mean to do it. Honestly, he didn’t. But every time you looked at him, really looked at him, something prickled under his skin. Like you saw more than you were meant to. Like you knew he wasn’t half as clever or charming or effortless as he pretended to be.

And it scared the shit out of him.

So he did what he always did: he deflected. He pushed. He said something biting before you could say something true.

He was starting to realise that maybe he didn’t hate you at all.

In fact, he might’ve liked you a little too much.

And that — that was a problem. Because Sirius Black didn’t do feelings. He flirted, he joked, he snogged girls he’d forget the names of by next week. He didn’t lie awake thinking about the way someone bit the inside of their cheek when they were concentrating. He didn’t notice things like that.

He didn’t get quiet around people he fancied.

Except he did. With you.

And worse, you thought he hated you. And he couldnt blame you for it. 

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

It started with Remus noticing. Of course it did.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said one evening in the common room, barely looking up from his book. “Quieter than usual. Brooding.”

“I do not brood,” Sirius snapped, too quickly.

“Mate,” James chimed in, peering over the back of the sofa with a wicked grin, “you’ve been staring into the fire like it murdered your dog. What’s going on? Did you get hexed in the library again? Did Snivellus say something about your hair?”

“Shove off.”

James didn’t shove off.

Instead, he climbed over the sofa, dropped dramatically into the seat beside Sirius, and started poking him in the side like a child. “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

“I’m going to hex you.”

“I’ll take it. Just tell us what’s up.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Sirius froze.

James blinked. “Wait—her?”

“Oh my God,” James said, the moment he saw Sirius’s ears go red. “You’ve got a thing for her. Her? The girl you insult every time she breathes near you? That her?”

Sirius shoved a pillow in James’s face. “Yes, alright? Bloody hell.”

James pulled the pillow off, grinning like it was Christmas. “I knew it.”

“You did not.”

“Well I do now.”

Remus shut his book, expression unreadable. “Does she know?”

Sirius scoffed. “Course not. Why would she? I’m a complete arse to her.”

James looked positively gleeful. “Yeah, you are. You’re awful to her, mate. Like, comically bad.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to be. It just—she looks at me and I panic. I say something I think sounds clever and it always comes out wrong. And now she probably thinks I hate her, which is great, because I actually fancy her so much it’s pathetic.”

He didn’t notice the shuffle of feet near the bottom of the staircase. Didn’t hear the soft intake of breath behind the tapestry wall.

But you did.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Truly. You were just coming down from your dormitory to grab the book you’d left on the armchair earlier. But then you heard your name, or not your name, exactly, but her — and Sirius’s voice saying things you’d never imagined.

“I actually fancy her so much it’s pathetic.”

You stood frozen behind the corner, heart beating far too fast, his words playing on repeat in your head.

This boy, who never seemed to have a kind thing to say, who made you feel like you were always in the way liked you?

You didn’t know what to feel. Shock, mostly. And confusion. And, underneath it all… something warm. Something that felt stupidly like hope.

Because the truth was, no matter how much his words had stung over the past few weeks, a part of you had always wanted him to look at you and see you. Not as someone to mock. But as someone worth knowing.

And now?

Maybe he did.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Sirius had been avoiding you all morning.

Which, frankly, you found amusing. For weeks, he’d been sniping at you in corridors and making passive-aggressive remarks over your shoulder in class. And now? Not even a glance. Not a word.

You couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or if he thought ignoring you would somehow make the whole thing less awkward.

It didn’t.

But it did give you time to think. Too much time.

And now here you were, standing in the doorway of the Astronomy Tower, book in hand, having very much not coincidentally run into him while he was having a cigarette in the cold morning light.

He froze when he saw you. His shoulders tensed like he was preparing for impact.

“Don’t worry,” you said, stepping forward, voice calm. “I’m not here to ask for fashion advice.”

He blinked. “What?”

You smirked. “Ink smudges. Very chic, remember?”

He groaned, turning away with a hand dragged through his hair. “Look, I… I was being a dick.”

You tilted your head. “Was?”

He shot you a look, but it was more sheepish than sharp. “Alright. Am. But I’m trying not to be.”

There was a pause.

You walked over, stopping beside him and leaning on the railing, watching the clouds roll past below. “It’s funny. I always thought you hated me.”

He swallowed. “I don’t.”

“I know.”

That made him look at you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “The walls in Gryffindor Tower aren’t as thick as you lot seem to think. Especially near the stairs.”

The colour drained from his face. “Oh, fuck.”

“Mhm.”

“I—wait, you heard all of it?”

You nodded, letting him sweat in silence for a second longer than necessary before you said, voice soft now, “I wasn’t going to say anything. But since you’re trying not to be a dick…”

He stared at you, stunned silent.

You shrugged. “I like you too. That’s why it hurt.”

Something broke across his face. Guilt, relief, maybe something bordering on hope.

“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just... I get weird. And stupid. And say things I don’t mean.”

“Clearly.”

He huffed a laugh. “Could we maybe... start over?”

You looked at him then, properly looked at him, and nodded. “Yeah. But if you insult my handwriting again, I will hex you.”

Sirius grinned. “Fair enough.”

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Sirius wasn’t sure if it was a date.

He was ninety percent sure it wasn’t. You hadn’t called it that. You hadn’t even really asked him to come. You’d just said, casual as anything, “If you’re not doing anything, I’m heading to the Hog’s Head. Could use the company.”

And of course, he’d said yes.

Now you were sitting across from each other at a rickety table in the dim, smoky corner of the pub, your knees just barely brushing beneath the table. He was trying very hard not to notice, or to look at your mouth too long when you sipped your butterbeer, or to say something sarcastic and ruin it all over again.

You were quiet. Not cold, just thoughtful, eyes drifting around the room before returning to him every so often. There was no tension, not really. But there was something new there. Something that felt delicate. Untouched.

“So,” you said eventually, swirling the dregs of your drink, “have you been practising not being a dick, or is this your first day?”

Sirius laughed, shoulders easing for the first time all morning. “This is day one. Bit nervous, actually. Am I doing alright?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “You haven’t insulted me yet. So I’d say you’re off to a promising start.”

“I can slip one in, if that’d make you more comfortable.”

You shot him a look over the rim of your glass. “Don’t push your luck.”

A beat of silence passed, then another. He could feel the words sitting on his tongue, waiting.

“Y’know,” he said, a little quieter now, “I meant what I said. That night.”

You didn’t look surprised. Just met his gaze like you’d been waiting for him to bring it up.

“I know,” you said. “I meant what I said too.”

He nodded and swallowed. “And you’re really giving me a chance.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I’m just not used to people forgiving me. Let alone liking me after I’ve been a complete arse.”

You looked at him then, properly, and this time, you smiled. Not amused or pitying, something softer. Something that made his heart stutter.

“You’re not that hard to like,” you said.

Maybe it was the warmth of the butterbeer, or the strange quiet of the pub, or the way the sunlight caught in your lashes, but Sirius leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, watching you like he hadn’t quite earned the right yet.

“I’ll still mess up,” he said honestly. “Probably soon. Probably in the next ten minutes.”

You laughed. “Then you can apologise. Like a normal person.”

“I’m not great at normal.”

“You’re not terrible at it either.”

He grinned. “You really think so?”

You leaned in too now, just a bit. “Don’t ruin it.”

And he didn’t. For once, he didn’t say something to break the moment. He just looked at you, the noise of the pub fading into the background, and let himself enjoy the feeling that, maybe, he hadn’t completely ruined everything after all.

anyways... sorry if it was bad, I lowkey rushed this..! andddddddd, im back... finally, after four months, ill try not to abandon you guys anymore..

[fear-less]

🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖ apple cider I ⌗ pairing: sirius black x f!reader

ᝰ.ᐟ summary: Sirius doesnt even like you that much, wait–he does, fuck!

⤑ warnings: fluff, light angst, mutual pining, Sirius is mean but emotionally repressed, accidental insults, eavesdropping, awkward feelings, slow burn (kinda), happy ending

Sirius never meant to be rude to you. It just… happened.

Instead of speaking to you like a normal person, he’d hand you a backhanded compliment, or make a remark so blunt it came out more like an insult. Sometimes you hadn’t even said a word, just happened to be nearby,  and he’d still find something to comment on.

At first, he genuinely thought he couldn’t stand you.

You were quiet, but not shy, never fawning over him like others did. You didn’t play his games, didn’t laugh at his jokes unless they were actually funny, and never seemed particularly bothered by his presence.

That annoyed him. Or… that’s what he told himself.

He told himself it was your indifference that got under his skin. The way you never rose to his bait. The way you’d just glance at him when he said something snarky, not angry, not hurt, just unimpressed, and carry on with whatever you were doing.

But then he started noticing things. Stupid things.

Like the way you twirled your quill when you were thinking. The way you always remembered to feed the owls that hung around the windowsill in the common room, even when no one else did. The way you tucked your sleeve over your hand when the castle got too cold.

And how his eyes always seemed to find you, even when he didn’t mean them to.

He hated that.

He hated it because it made no sense. You didn’t flirt with him. You didn’t want anything from him. And yet, somehow, you were in his head more than anyone else. Worse than James. Worse than bloody Remus’s reading habits. You’d made a home in his brain without even trying.

So the next time you looked at him, he panicked.

“Nice ink smudge,” he said, nodding to the side of your hand. “Very chic.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

“Just saying,” he added, shrugging, eyes already darting away. “Didn’t realise messiness was a new trend.”

You looked down at your hand, wiped the smudge away with a frown, and muttered something under your breath as you walked off.

Sirius sat there, watching you go, heart hammering, and thought:

What the hell is wrong with me?

Sirius sat there for a long moment after you left, dragging a hand down his face.

Nice ink smudge. Very chic. What in Merlin’s name was wrong with him?

He’d meant to say something normal. Maybe even a little bit nice. Something like, “You look focused,” or “That essay killing you too?” But no, his brain had taken a perfectly good opportunity to be decent and twisted it into another bloody insult.

He didn’t mean to do it. Honestly, he didn’t. But every time you looked at him, really looked at him, something prickled under his skin. Like you saw more than you were meant to. Like you knew he wasn’t half as clever or charming or effortless as he pretended to be.

And it scared the shit out of him.

So he did what he always did: he deflected. He pushed. He said something biting before you could say something true.

He was starting to realise that maybe he didn’t hate you at all.

In fact, he might’ve liked you a little too much.

And that — that was a problem. Because Sirius Black didn’t do feelings. He flirted, he joked, he snogged girls he’d forget the names of by next week. He didn’t lie awake thinking about the way someone bit the inside of their cheek when they were concentrating. He didn’t notice things like that.

He didn’t get quiet around people he fancied.

Except he did. With you.

And worse, you thought he hated you. And he couldnt blame you for it. 

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

It started with Remus noticing. Of course it did.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said one evening in the common room, barely looking up from his book. “Quieter than usual. Brooding.”

“I do not brood,” Sirius snapped, too quickly.

“Mate,” James chimed in, peering over the back of the sofa with a wicked grin, “you’ve been staring into the fire like it murdered your dog. What’s going on? Did you get hexed in the library again? Did Snivellus say something about your hair?”

“Shove off.”

James didn’t shove off.

Instead, he climbed over the sofa, dropped dramatically into the seat beside Sirius, and started poking him in the side like a child. “Tell us. Tell us. Tell us.”

“I’m going to hex you.”

“I’ll take it. Just tell us what’s up.”

Remus raised an eyebrow. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Sirius froze.

James blinked. “Wait—her?”

“Oh my God,” James said, the moment he saw Sirius’s ears go red. “You’ve got a thing for her. Her? The girl you insult every time she breathes near you? That her?”

Sirius shoved a pillow in James’s face. “Yes, alright? Bloody hell.”

James pulled the pillow off, grinning like it was Christmas. “I knew it.”

“You did not.”

“Well I do now.”

Remus shut his book, expression unreadable. “Does she know?”

Sirius scoffed. “Course not. Why would she? I’m a complete arse to her.”

James looked positively gleeful. “Yeah, you are. You’re awful to her, mate. Like, comically bad.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t mean to be. It just—she looks at me and I panic. I say something I think sounds clever and it always comes out wrong. And now she probably thinks I hate her, which is great, because I actually fancy her so much it’s pathetic.”

He didn’t notice the shuffle of feet near the bottom of the staircase. Didn’t hear the soft intake of breath behind the tapestry wall.

But you did.

You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. Truly. You were just coming down from your dormitory to grab the book you’d left on the armchair earlier. But then you heard your name, or not your name, exactly, but her — and Sirius’s voice saying things you’d never imagined.

“I actually fancy her so much it’s pathetic.”

You stood frozen behind the corner, heart beating far too fast, his words playing on repeat in your head.

This boy, who never seemed to have a kind thing to say, who made you feel like you were always in the way liked you?

You didn’t know what to feel. Shock, mostly. And confusion. And, underneath it all… something warm. Something that felt stupidly like hope.

Because the truth was, no matter how much his words had stung over the past few weeks, a part of you had always wanted him to look at you and see you. Not as someone to mock. But as someone worth knowing.

And now?

Maybe he did.

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Sirius had been avoiding you all morning.

Which, frankly, you found amusing. For weeks, he’d been sniping at you in corridors and making passive-aggressive remarks over your shoulder in class. And now? Not even a glance. Not a word.

You couldn’t decide if he was embarrassed or if he thought ignoring you would somehow make the whole thing less awkward.

It didn’t.

But it did give you time to think. Too much time.

And now here you were, standing in the doorway of the Astronomy Tower, book in hand, having very much not coincidentally run into him while he was having a cigarette in the cold morning light.

He froze when he saw you. His shoulders tensed like he was preparing for impact.

“Don’t worry,” you said, stepping forward, voice calm. “I’m not here to ask for fashion advice.”

He blinked. “What?”

You smirked. “Ink smudges. Very chic, remember?”

He groaned, turning away with a hand dragged through his hair. “Look, I… I was being a dick.”

You tilted your head. “Was?”

He shot you a look, but it was more sheepish than sharp. “Alright. Am. But I’m trying not to be.”

There was a pause.

You walked over, stopping beside him and leaning on the railing, watching the clouds roll past below. “It’s funny. I always thought you hated me.”

He swallowed. “I don’t.”

“I know.”

That made him look at you.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “The walls in Gryffindor Tower aren’t as thick as you lot seem to think. Especially near the stairs.”

The colour drained from his face. “Oh, fuck.”

“Mhm.”

“I—wait, you heard all of it?”

You nodded, letting him sweat in silence for a second longer than necessary before you said, voice soft now, “I wasn’t going to say anything. But since you’re trying not to be a dick…”

He stared at you, stunned silent.

You shrugged. “I like you too. That’s why it hurt.”

Something broke across his face. Guilt, relief, maybe something bordering on hope.

“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean to push you away. I just... I get weird. And stupid. And say things I don’t mean.”

“Clearly.”

He huffed a laugh. “Could we maybe... start over?”

You looked at him then, properly looked at him, and nodded. “Yeah. But if you insult my handwriting again, I will hex you.”

Sirius grinned. “Fair enough.”

🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖🫧𓇼𓏲ੈ✩‧₊˚🎐🪼⋆.ೃ࿔:･🎐𓍼ֶָ֢⊹ ࣪ ˖

Sirius wasn’t sure if it was a date.

He was ninety percent sure it wasn’t. You hadn’t called it that. You hadn’t even really asked him to come. You’d just said, casual as anything, “If you’re not doing anything, I’m heading to the Hog’s Head. Could use the company.”

And of course, he’d said yes.

Now you were sitting across from each other at a rickety table in the dim, smoky corner of the pub, your knees just barely brushing beneath the table. He was trying very hard not to notice, or to look at your mouth too long when you sipped your butterbeer, or to say something sarcastic and ruin it all over again.

You were quiet. Not cold, just thoughtful, eyes drifting around the room before returning to him every so often. There was no tension, not really. But there was something new there. Something that felt delicate. Untouched.

“So,” you said eventually, swirling the dregs of your drink, “have you been practising not being a dick, or is this your first day?”

Sirius laughed, shoulders easing for the first time all morning. “This is day one. Bit nervous, actually. Am I doing alright?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider. “You haven’t insulted me yet. So I’d say you’re off to a promising start.”

“I can slip one in, if that’d make you more comfortable.”

You shot him a look over the rim of your glass. “Don’t push your luck.”

A beat of silence passed, then another. He could feel the words sitting on his tongue, waiting.

“Y’know,” he said, a little quieter now, “I meant what I said. That night.”

You didn’t look surprised. Just met his gaze like you’d been waiting for him to bring it up.

“I know,” you said. “I meant what I said too.”

He nodded and swallowed. “And you’re really giving me a chance.”

“Don’t sound so shocked.”

“I’m just not used to people forgiving me. Let alone liking me after I’ve been a complete arse.”

You looked at him then, properly, and this time, you smiled. Not amused or pitying, something softer. Something that made his heart stutter.

“You’re not that hard to like,” you said.

Maybe it was the warmth of the butterbeer, or the strange quiet of the pub, or the way the sunlight caught in your lashes, but Sirius leaned forward a little, elbows on the table, watching you like he hadn’t quite earned the right yet.

“I’ll still mess up,” he said honestly. “Probably soon. Probably in the next ten minutes.”

You laughed. “Then you can apologise. Like a normal person.”

“I’m not great at normal.”

“You’re not terrible at it either.”

He grinned. “You really think so?”

You leaned in too now, just a bit. “Don’t ruin it.”

And he didn’t. For once, he didn’t say something to break the moment. He just looked at you, the noise of the pub fading into the background, and let himself enjoy the feeling that, maybe, he hadn’t completely ruined everything after all.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･masterlist + sirius masterlist

anyways... sorry if it was bad, I lowkey rushed this..! andddddddd, im back... finally, after four months, ill try not to abandon you guys anymore..

[fear-less]

I think your account is my new favourite! I absolutely love your stories that I’ve read so far!!!

aww tysm!! sorry it took me forever to respond though 😭😭!!