i feel like chaotic full of life james could be easily analyzed by regulus upto the point james became his calm and regulus' questionable behaviour became james' chaos
Hey Mae! I love your work sm. I’m submitting a request because right now I’m dealing with some really crazy friend drama and while I’m mostly handling it okay it’s still a lot! Your fics bring me a lot of comfort- especially your James fics- and I was wondering if could do James comforting reader because of friend drama.
Totally okay if you can’t and thanks for listening either way!
<3 M
Thanks for requesting M, hope your drama is causing you a bit less stress these days! <3
James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 838 words
“And when I asked her she said she wasn’t upset, but I could tell, you know?” You’re sitting with your hands trapped under your thighs on the kitchen counter and your back against the cabinets as James makes a sauce for your pasta on the stove.
Your boyfriend makes a dissatisfied tsking sound. “Upset in general or upset with you?”
“Upset with me,” you clarify, sighing. It’s been an exhausting afternoon. “She gets like this sometimes. She’s all huffy and snaps at me whenever I say anything, but if anyone brings it up she’ll say she’s fine. I don’t know why it always seems to be me.”
James makes a sad face, kissing you on the cheek. “M’sorry, lovie. Then what happened?”
“Then, we were just, you know.” Your fingers wiggle underneath your thighs, wanting to fidget with something, but you’d put them under there in the first place to keep from picking at your hangnail. It’s not unusual for you to come home from a hangout with your friends eager to gossip with James, but today’s weighing heavily on you. “We were just walking around, trying to find somewhere to eat. Everyone else was acting like everything was fine so I was trying to go with it, but any time I talked she’d snipe at me like I was being so annoying. And I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.
“After a while, one of the girls asked if she was alright, and she said she was, but then almost right after that I was talking to someone else and she got really pissed off with me—I don’t even remember what it was, honestly, something about me asking a dumb question—and I just—I completely snapped.”
James looks over at you, eyes widening slightly behind his glasses. You look down at your lap.
“I don’t know, I don’t think any of the things I said were wrong, but I feel—” Your voice tightens and thins, tears pressing at your eyes. “—really bad for raising my voice like that. And now she won’t speak to me.”
“Oh,” James sets down his spoon, “baby.”
“Uh oh,” you joke weakly. James only calls you baby when he’s feeling particularly sorry for you.
He leaves his sauce to simmer, nudging your legs apart and stepping between them. His hands land on your lower back, his head on your shoulder. You slip a hand free from under your leg to cup the back of his head, fingers sinking into downy curls.
“I’ve made things awkward for everyone now,” you say in a small voice. “She’s always angry, but I was the one who shouted. It’s my fault there’s conflict.”
“I really doubt anyone sees it that way,” says James. His palm that’s higher up on your back is rubbing up and down consolingly. “Anyone who knows you knows that you’re not one to shout. But we’re all bound to get a little riled up sometimes, and by the sound of it you’d just reached the end of your tether, lovely. I think your friends will understand that.”
“I don’t know.” You began this conversation hoping to keep up a light front, but you’re starting to sound terribly glum. “I know they’ll all be upset if we don’t make up. I think I need to apologize.”
“Why not her?”
“She won’t do it.”
James sighs, leaning back so he can see you and cupping the side of your neck. His thumb strokes your cheek. “If you think that’s what you need to do,” he says frownily. “I just want to say for the record, though, that you haven’t done anything wrong. She sounds like she deserved to be shouted at.”
You feel a little bit lighter after one of his world-class hugs, your lips tugging upwards. “Oh, yeah? And that’s your totally unbiased opinion, is it?”
“Totally,” he swears, lifting three fingers in a salute. “Scout’s honor.”
You let out a little laugh and pinch him on the bicep, where there’s ridiculously little yield. James grins and retaliates by catching your hand, holding it captive as he leans forward, kissing you soundly.
“You were never in boyscouts,” you mumble against his lips.
“Could’a been.” He kisses the corner of your mouth, your chin. “I like to consider myself an honorary member.”
“Pretty sure that doesn’t count.”
“Oh? And how would you know?”
James’ face is up close and personal with yours, eyes flirty and hand placed intentionally high on your thigh. If you blinked, your eyelashes would be centimeters away from brushing his glasses.
“You’re distracting me,” you say.
He smiles, half sheepish. It seeps through your warming skin. “It was working, too. Let me keep trying?”
You roll your eyes, but you know James can see the grin you’re fighting to suppress. “Sure, fine.”
“Excellent.” He dots a quick kiss on your chin and squeezes your thigh before stepping back in front of the stove. “Get the pasta out for me, please, lovie? I can hardly ravish you on an empty stomach.”
i have this sad lonely little girl inside of me all the time and all i want in my life is for someone to sit with her and hold her and love her and i think that person has to be me
Remus automatically knows when you’ve had enough. He knows when it’s been a day and he knows exactly how to soothe you. He calls you the prettiest names under the sun, “starlight” or if you’re in a really poor mood after you get home from work he’s calling you “baby love,” and showering you with kisses and he suffers your attitude until you get too lippy and he sets you right with a, “oi, watch your mouth baby.” followed by a sweet sweet kiss
this is my first real like... real smut fic? so do take that into consideration [and please be nice to me lol] but also feel free to send me a message if you have any feedback or pointers.
this is a fic based on this trope that was sent to me by @bobluvbot like a million weeks ago and became my hyper fixation for far too long. I finally decided to put it into words. thanks to @unstablereader for championing me as I wrote this and convincing me it was decent enough to post lol
Remus Lupin x fem!reader
CW: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, coming inside of someone, AFAB reader, reader is a Pureblood Slytherin, has hair long enough for Rem to feel it on his shoulders when you're straddling him, reader has hair texture that sticks to you when wet, mentions of smoking weed and being high, mentions of drinking and alcohol, mentions of arranged marriages, use of mudblood and blood supremacy
Remus doesn’t know how exactly this thing started for him.
Perhaps it was the day after a full moon when he forgot to lock the door behind him to the Prefects Bathroom and you let yourself in, nearly fully stripped before you realised he was sitting in the steaming, bubbling pool-sized tub with a spliff hanging lazily from his mouth.
“Circe’s tits!” You screeched as you hastily pulled up your towel to keep your modesty. “You didn’t think to alert me to your presence, Lupin?” You sneered half-heartedly at him as you tried to regain your composure.
“Sorry.” Remus chuckled, voice gravelly from a mixture of last night’s howling and tonight’s smoking. “My brain is moving a little slowly right now.”
You looked between him and the spliff and sighed. “Think you’ll be much longer?” You asked him quietly, cautiously, reticently. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you look so dejected.
Slytherin princess; though you never really let that dictate how you treated people, just that it levelled you with a certain notoriety within the school. You were the only one who could talk sense into Barty Crouch Junior; Pandora Rosier’s biggest defender and advocate; Snape, Mulciber, and Avery’s biggest adversary; the one who encouraged Regulus Black to reach out to his estranged older brother; and the least likely to enact revenge on the Marauder’s for their pranks.
Though Remus had never shared more than a few words with you in passing, he knew a lot about you. In addition to the aforementioned qualities, you were a Pureblood, the eldest daughter and heiress to your family’s name and fortune, Prefect, received top marks in Charms and Transfiguration, and hated the Sacred Twenty-Eight.
Knowing all of that made Remus rather rueful that he hadn’t spoken to you before now.
“Listen, this tub is nearly the size of an Olympic swimming pool.” Remus started, causing you to furrow your brows in confusion. “It’s big.” He clarified. “I don’t mind...sharing if you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable; otherwise, I’ll pack up and leave it to you.”
He didn’t really want to leave; not whilst he was still nursing his post-moon hangover and the warm water was finally starting to relieve some of the tension in his bones. But you looked forlorn, and damn Remus and his bleeding heart, he’d give it up if you needed it.
“I don’t want to kick you out... you were here first.” You murmured, apparently weighing your options in your head.
“I will leave if you want, L/N, but I’m more than willing to share.”
You searched his eyes for what, Remus wasn’t sure, but you seemed to come to some decision. You threw your head back and let out a strangled groan which Remus was certain was more for dramatic effect than it was indicative of any real ire.
“Fine, turn around.”
Remus smirked at you and tried to ignore the protesting of his joints as he stood in the pool and turned to face the opposite wall, allowing you to drop the rest of your clothes and your towel and sink into the water.
“Okay...” You whispered quietly. “You can sit back down now; thank you.”
Perhaps it had begun then; he’d offered you a puff from his joint, causing you to move closer to him. He was a gentleman and avoided noticing the way your breasts sat high on your chest, buoyant in the bubbly and fragrant waters.
He ignored the feeling of your elbow brushing against his. He ignored the way your hair, damp from the steam and humidity, stuck against your skin. And he definitely ignored the way that as the weed started to affect you, you leaned your head onto his shoulder.
What he couldn’t ignore? When you asked him what you could do to help him.
“Help?” Remus asked you bemusedly, jostling his shoulder and forcing you to sit up and return his gaze.
“Yeah; you seem tense, stressed.”
Remus let out a confused chuckle from his nose. “That’s really not anything you need to worry about.”
You laughed back at him, nudging him with your elbow. “Lupin.” You chided. “You were willing to give up your private pool time, you’ve shared your weed with me, and you’ve let me intrude on your bath; let me worry about it.”
And he doesn’t know how you did it, he’s not even sure he remembers how the rest of the conversation went – one moment the two of you were sitting an entire swimming pool apart and pretending the other wasn’t there, and the next moment he was sitting on the edge of the pool with his hands tangled in your hair as you took him in your mouth.
“Christ, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” He tried warning you, tapping your shoulder to get your attention.
Like the watery siren that you were, all you did was moan and take him deeper, and in another moment, he was spilling down your throat.
Remus was sure he looked absolutely wrecked; naked, soaking, exhausted, a few fresh wounds from last night, and his permanent eye bags a more dramatic purple today on account of his lack of sleep last night.
Not you though; somehow even though you’d just done all the work, you looked ethereal. Wet hair pooling in the water around you as you sunk into the suds up to your collarbones, your lips swollen and glistening from your fantastic work if you asked Remus, and eyes a mischievous magnet nearly luring Remus back into the pool completely against his will.
“Godric, you’re good at that.” He breathed embarrassingly. Thankfully, you only laughed at with him.
“I’m sure you meant that as a compliment, Lupin; but it sort of sounds like you’re calling me a whore.”
Remus cackled at that, thankful that his time in the water eased the soreness in his ribs before doing so.
“If you give me a few moments, I’ll return the favour dove.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You offered, moving back to the other side of the pool to retrieve the book you’d deserted in favour of pot, and then in favour of cock. “I’ll just take an I.O.U.”
Or maybe it started at the Ravenclaw afterparty following their win against Hufflepuff. You showed up with your friends fashionably late and clearly having pre-gamed to some extent if Barty’s uncoordinated movements were anything to go by.
He noticed you every once in a while, flitting around the party with various friends, dancing to various tunes, participating in various games over conversations; but something was different about you. You weren’t as...glowy.
Your smile never met your eyes, and your laughs weren’t carefree – not like they were in the tub. Not like they ought to be.
But hey, you helped him when he needed it, and he did technically owe you.
He brushed past you and gently pulled on your elbow as he continued moving. When you turned back to see what had happened, he nodded toward the exit.
He didn’t bother turning around to see if you were following him, he just carried on down the stairs of Ravenclaw tower before turning the corner to an empty corridor.
“Oi, Lupin; your legs are longer than mine. Slow down!” You called.
He didn’t realise at that time how much it meant to him that you had followed; hindsight being 20/20, and all.
“Where are we going?” You queried as you caught up and walked in step with him.
“You’ll see.” He said simply, cutting across the hall and opening the door to an empty classroom.
“Going to teach me how to translate Ancient Runes, Lupin?” You joked, though your affect was clearly lacking.
“I’m going to help.” He responded simply, leaning backwards against the professor’s desk.
“Help?”
“Right.”
You smirked and raised a singular perfectly manicured eyebrow at him, looking him up and down with a suggestive glance.
“What exactly are you to help me with?”
“You seem worried, tense.” He repeated your exact words from the tub a little over a week ago.
You offered him a half smile that, once again, never met your eyes. “That’s not something you need to worry about.”
He offered you a soft smile in return. “I do owe you, though.”
Remus doesn’t know what it was that convinced you to accept his offer. One moment he was leaning casually against the professor’s desk as you watched him warily from the door to the classroom, and the next moment he had you splayed out on the desk before him with the skirt of your dress bunched up around your waist and his head between your legs.
Now, it’s important to note that Remus is a humble and modest person. In fact, he’s really quite self-conscious. He didn’t come from a notable family and compared to his friends he was basically a pauper, he was scarred and tall and lanky, and due to his lycanthropy, he avoided meaningful relationships; meaning that whilst his friends all enjoyed relationships and situationships, he stayed religiously single.
All that being said, there was something Remus knew to be true that he felt worth bragging about.
He was fucking good in bed.
So his ego was properly stroked when you threw your head back so hard that it made a painful whacking sound against the wood of the desk with just the first stripe of his tongue through your folds.
Like a man starved, he buried his face between your legs and hardly ever came back up for air. He pulled your hips flush to his chest with your legs thrown over his shoulders and his arms hugging your thighs that he used as earmuffs.
Remus could easily call this one of his new favourite places to be, especially with the sinful sounds escaping your mouth.
He used his thumb to tease your clit, thrusting his tongue in your hole a few times before bringing it back out to run through your lips.
“Oh, Merlin!” You cried, causing him to chuckle, which caused you to flinch slightly at the feeling of his cold breath against your cunt.
“Come now, L/N; you know that’s not my name.”
You let out another cry as he wasted no time diving back in, his nose rubbing at your clit as his tongue continued its assault.
Remus’ efforts were rewarded in the form of you cumming on his face and your body falling limp below him.
He allowed you to catch your breath as he fought to catch his own, ignoring his knees crying in protest from having spent the last however long supporting his weight on the hard stone floor.
“Oh gods.” You breathed finally, opening your eyes and stealing a shy glance at Remus, still stationed near your core.
He smiled wolfishly at you. “Better?”
You laughed; a real, hard laugh that had been missing from you all night. “Much.” You agreed readily, accepting his outstretched hand and sitting up on the edge of the desk and pushing your skirt back down to cover yourself. “Thank you, Lupin.”
Remus shrugged nonchalantly as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a snap of his fingers, pushing open a window with a flick of his wand. “What are friends for?”
You snorted inelegantly; a far cry from the proper Pureblood heiress you’d been raised to be as you pulled your panties back on and took careful, albeit slightly wobbly, steps to join him at the window.
“Are we friends now?”
“Were we not friends before?” He countered, offering you a drag from his smoke that you easily accepted. He was sure his lips, tongue, and now the end of his cigarette still tasted like you.
“I didn’t think your kind was supposed to be friends with mine.” You offered, not looking at him as you passed the cigarette back.
“Blood status, really L/N?”
You scoffed derisively. “Please, Lupin. Give me some credit.”
It seemed to Remus that you looked almost hurt at his insinuation.
“I meant Gryffindor’s and Slytherin’s.”
“Perhaps we can be the first.”
“Do many of your friends see you naked, Lupin?”
Remus grimaced at that. “Honestly? More than I’d like, yes.”
And there it was again, that uninhibited laugh. Remus felt vindicated in his task for this evening.
“Alright, friends then.” You agreed, reaching out for his cigarette and taking a long drag before returning it to him. “Let me know when you might need my help again, Lupin.”
“Likewise.”
And maybe it was the day that he had Avery pinned against the wall by the collar of his shirt for calling a first year Hufflepuff a Mudblood.
There was blood dripping from Remus’ nose onto the collar of his uniform shirt from an elbow to the face as he spat various threats promises of pain and maiming, when he felt a gentle hand on the small of his back.
Due to the tension radiating through Remus’ body considering how close it was to the moon, his first reaction was to throw an elbow behind him. He thanked every deity possible that you were shorter than him when you ducked expertly to dodge his assault.
“Let him go.” You said simply.
Remus felt his brows furrow as he let out a protesting grumble.
“McGonagall is coming.” You continued.
Remus looked from you back to Avery who was now smirking at him. If Remus left now, Avery would tell McGonagall what Remus did; if Remus stayed, he could tell McGonagall what Avery had said.
“He won’t say anything.” You argued - as if you had heard Remus’ internal conundrum - causing Avery’s face to fall and both boys to whip their heads to you.
“And why the bloody hell won’t I, L/N?” Avery spat.
Your eyes moved from Remus’ to Avery’s where they took on a horrifyingly cold quality, no doubt the result of your cold and indifferent parents raising you like a proper Pureblood heir.
“Because I know where you sleep.” You spat lowly.
Remus watched as Avery fought to remain defiant, but as he heard the sound of McGonagall’s footsteps approaching, let out a frustrated groan.
“Fine. Sod off.” He barked, pushing Remus away from him roughly and stalking off towards the Slytherin dungeons.
Remus angrily picked up his book bag and began stalking down the corridor in the opposite way.
His blood was boiling, the tension in his shoulders and neck was starting to give him a headache and every step he took aggravated the matter.
He turned hastily around a corner when the strap of his book bag was pulled off his shoulder.
“What?” He hissed when he turned to see you with the other end of his strap in your hand.
“This way.”
“L/N.”
“Lupin.” You countered severely, voice intoning no nonsense.
Remus allowed you to drag him by his bookbag like a dog down a seemingly abandoned corridor and into an empty classroom before you locked the doors and threw up a silencing charm.
“What are you doing?” He muttered admittedly far more petulantly than you presently deserved from him.
“Helping.” You answered simply as you began undoing your school tie.
“I’m fine.” He spat, plopping himself down roughly into a chair.
“Right.” You said sarcastically. “And you wouldn’t have continued to punch the first arse you saw on your way back to Gryffindor, huh?” You asked as you started pulling off your top and exposing your lacy black bra. “And I may not be an expert, but you’re a long way from Gryffindor tower which means your chances of running into an arse were really rather high.”
Remus held his hands up to his face and pinches at his temples, trying to stave off the incoming migraine and the overwhelming urge to tell you to fuck off, which he knew he really didn’t want to do.
Suddenly you were in nothing but your bra and panties, kneeling before him and fussing with his belt.
“This really isn’t necessary, L/N.” He offered without much fervour.
“What are friends for?” You asked quietly as you pulled his belt from the loops of his trouser.
“You don’t have to.”
“Do you want me to stop?” You asked pointedly, pausing your movements and looking up at him. You were giving him a choice; an out. Did he want to blow off some steam, or did he want to spend the rest of his day pissed off and tense?
Did he want you to stop?
“No.” He admitted.
Your eyes softened, though everything else about your face remained impassive as you undid the button and zip to his trousers and began encouraging them down his legs.
He decided to give up on his temper tantrum and assist you in the unenviable task of disrobing him and pulled you up into his lap.
“I don’t need anything.” You squeaked as he had you straddle his lap, your hair falling over your shoulders and tickling his own from your place above him.
“I’m not going to get in a fight and be a selfish lover all in the same day, L/N.” He said in faux admonishment. “Friends look after each other, yeah?”
And he’s not sure what swayed you. One moment he had you perched precariously above him as he gently nipped at your neck, and the next moment he was brutally thrusting up into you with no lack of desperation.
“Fuckin’ hells you feel amazing.” He grunted as you mewled above him, eyebrows furrowed and eyes screwed shut causing Remus to worry momentarily.
“Are you okay?” He asked breathlessly. You moaned in response and dropped your chin onto his shoulder.
“Hey, dove, you okay?” He asked again, pulling you from him and slowing his movements.
“Don’t you dare fucking stop, Lupin.” You barked before you pulled his face to yours by the ends of his hair for a searing kiss.
He grinned somewhat maniacally into the kiss and lifted you from his lap as he stood with his cock still lodged deep within you and perched you on the edge of the desk.
“You’re a bossy girl, aren’t you?” He taunted, pushing roughly into you from this new angle and causing you to cry out. “You like telling men what to do, dove?”
You gasped as Remus found the magic little spot he’d been searching for and he doubled down in his thrusts with renewed vigour.
“That’s okay.” He continued, brushing a strand of hair away from your face that had gotten stuck in some of your lipgloss. “I like being told what to do.”
“Please! Please, please please.” You whined, a pretty sheen of sweat dusted your skin and began to pool on the divot of your collarbone.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck me.”
“Working on it.”
You were apparently coherent enough to laugh at that which was torture for Remus who was currently hanging on by a fucking thread as your giggles caused your cunt to clench torturously around his cock.
“Come on, pretty girl. Come on, cum for me, yeah? You’re close; I can tell. Cum for me.” He started chanting, moving his hand that was currently holding your knee up near his ribs to rub circles around your clit.
“Cum for me, L/N.”
“Oh fuck.” You shouted as your orgasm tore through you; Remus felt almost sick from the effort not to follow you over the edge immediately, wanting to help you ride out yours to fruition, but your walls pulsating around him left him very little control over the matter.
“Fuck.” Remus growled, and unfortunately that was the only warning you got before slammed into you once more, twice more, and was then spilling inside you causing your cunt to grow impossibly more wet and warm.
You let out a desperate breath and fell forward into Remus’ chest; he was ashamed to admit how much he relished in the intimacy - ignoring the very intimate act that had already taken place.
“Fuck Lupin, you’re an animal.” You breathed out with a laugh.
Remus let out a surprised bark of laughter as he looked down at you.
“You have no idea.”
And if it wasn’t any of those, perhaps it was a few weeks later, when Remus saw a regal looking owl fly into the Great Hall over the Slytherin table, and with a grand war cry dropped an important looking letter in front of you, causing the rest of your table to fall silent.
Remus watched as Regulus Black’s jaw tightened and Barty Crouch Junior’s spoon fell back into his porridge as they watched you open it.
Remus watched as all colour seemed to drain from your face and your jaw fell slack, though not open.
The rest of the Hall seemed completely unaware of the turmoil taking place over at the Slytherin table; everyone but Remus and, apparently, Sirius Black.
“Shit.” Sirius whispered under his breath quietly, alerting neither Peter nor James who were currently in a heated debate about whether pumpkin pasties or sugar quills were the better treat from Honeydukes.
“What is it?” Remus asked him quietly. Sirius seemed nearly surprised that Remus had noticed, though schooled his expression quickly.
“Marriage announcement, she’s been betrothed.” He sneered the word, his nose actually wrinkling in disgust. “‘Sold off’ is a more appropriate term. It’s too bad, I quite liked her.”
Remus didn’t really like the feeling that settled in his stomach when he considered you being married off, but he didn’t have time to think on it too hard before he watched you storm over to Avery, Mulciber, and Snape before grabbing the former by the nape of his neck and slamming his head down into the table.
Remus was up and over to you in an instant with Sirius close behind, beaten only by Barty and Regulus who had the advantage of proximity.
“You miserable fucking wanker! You’ll fucking rot for this!” You screamed as Regulus fought and nearly lost in his battle of holding you back as Barty began sparring with your newfound enemy.
“I’ll fucking kill you for this Avery! You watch your fucking back!” You screeched. Regulus - for what reason, Remus couldn’t know - thought now a good moment to put you down, and as you launched yourself once again for what he was sure was Avery’s jugular, Remus threw you over his shoulder and took off out of the Great Hall.
“Put me down!” You shouted.
“No.”
“Fuck off, Lupin.” You cried, grabbing at his jumper and slamming your fists into his lower back as he took the stairs two at a time.
“You’re fine, L/N.”
You squealed and began kicking your legs out, causing him to use both arms to pin them to his torso.
“Stop it.”
“Put me down!”
“Stop it. Stop fighting me.”
“I hate you.”
“That’s fine.” He said, though it felt anything but. But he knew, you weren’t really mad at him, you perhaps weren’t even really mad at Avery.
“I hate you.” You said quietly this time.
“That’s alright.”
You had given up on your fight by the time Remus got to his destination. He was sure his shoulder in your stomach was causing you issues and the blood had to have been rushing to your head, but you remained placid as he hoisted you back up right and set you down on the floor of the Astronomy tower.
Your face was wet and your hair was a mess as you took gasping breaths.
This was beyond Remus’ wheelhouse when it came to you; he was good for eating you out, blowing off some steam, quickies, and the odd toke or two, but this? This was beyond his area of expertise.
He decided to sit down beside you - both your backs pressed against the cold stone of the castle in a way he was sure felt good against your skin that was sizzling and crackling with fury. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to say, nothing that he could say, and nothing he’d really know to say at a moment like this. Perhaps he should have left you to your friends; to the Purebloods who got it. Though, Regulus seemed willing to let you help Barty kill Avery, so perhaps it was better that you were up here with him instead.
That's what he’d tell himself for now.
It could have been minutes or even an hour before you finally took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Why’d you do that?”
“Do what?” Remus asked quietly.
“Stop me.”
“You stopped me first.”
You let that sit in the air as you looked out into the horizon.
“What do you need, L/N? What… what can I do?” He begged desperately.
Remus was certain the entire school could hear the sound of his heart breaking at the devastated expression that graced your face when you turned to make eye contact with him; your eyes seemed to beg Remus for something but he couldn’t decipher what it was that you were asking of him.
“I want to…to forget.” You sobbed. “I want to not think, I want to turn it all off for a fucking, god’s damned minute. I want it all to stop.”
“Okay.” He offered readily.
“I want it to stop.”
“Okay.” He repeated, taking your hand in his and giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I’m right here.” He encouraged you. “Tell me what you need.”
“I need to forget.”
“Okay.” Remus said again, pulling at your hand and encouraging you into his lap. “I’m right here; take what you need.”
And Remus wasn’t sure what went through your mind as you searched between his hazel eyes. One moment you were carefully perched above him in his lap; tear tracks staining your cheeks and eyes full of sorrow. And in the next moment, your uniform skirt was hiked up and panties pulled to the side, and Remus’ belt was undone and his trousers were pulled low around his thighs as you bounced up and down on his cock like it was the solution to all of life's problems.
Remus wished it were true, he really did. But if all he could do at this moment was help you turn your brain off and forget the unpleasantness waiting for you back in the castle for just a little bit, then that’s what he would do.
You had your face shoved into his neck and he was quite sure you were biting down on the junction between his shoulder and his neck - in an attempt to quell your moans, your crying, or just out of frustration, Remus didn’t know, and quite frankly he didn’t care either way. You grinded down onto him and he felt you applying pressure to your clit against his pelvic bone, prompting him to start rubbing it with his thumb.
“You can let go, gorgeous. No one’s here.” He whispered.
You bit down harder in response and began riding him with an air of desperation.
“I’m right here.”
And then he felt it. First, he felt your tears fall onto his shoulder, then he felt your teeth break his skin, and finally he felt your walls clench around him.
You stayed latched onto him; your arms around his waist, your hands clenched into the fabric of his jumper, your teeth on his skin and your cunt on his cock as he thrusted up into you and found his own release with very little effort on account of the aftershocks still shuddering through you.
You sat like that for some time afterwards; the gentle breeze causing goosebumps to cover each of you as the sweat began to cool on your skin, and Remus rubbed circles into your bare thighs with his thumbs.
Unfortunately - for reasons Remus wasn’t willing to ponder on at present - you pulled away, a string of spit connecting your lips to the place on Remus’ neck he was sure now adorned the shape of your teeth.
“Sorry.” You rasped, running a hand over the newest of many wounds now decorating his skin. He didn’t want you to be sorry, though, he thought perhaps this might be his favourite one; it wasn’t the result of some hideous monster who took out its rage on him, but instead marked a tender moment between him and his…friend.
You pulled your wand to cast a healing charm over it when Remus grabbed your wrist.
“Don’t.”
Your reddened and swollen eyes looked at him inquisitively, causing Remus to flush in embarrassment.
“Leave it, I’ve already got so many; what’s one more?” He tried to joke, though he could tell as you looked back down at the bite mark, it fell flat.
“I’m sorry.” You said again, and Remus shook his head.
“Don’t be.”
“Thank you.” You said quietly, looking into Remus’ eyes imploringly, as if trying to convey your gratitude through your very soul. “For stopping me.”
This moment suddenly felt too charged for Remus; it was different somehow, something had happened, though he wasn’t sure what.
Not then, at least.
“That’s what friends do.” He said noncommittally. “It was an I.O.U.”
He managed to force a small smile out of you for that, and he was grateful.
So perhaps it was all of those together, in addition to the many blowjobs, many quickies, many quiet, loud, rough, or awkward fucks the two of you had in between.
But maybe…
Maybe it was the way your smile lit up the room when Barty or Pandora said something particularly outlandish or funny; your laughter echoing through the halls like an invitation to experience a secret joy that only you and your friends knew about.
Or maybe it was the way you seemed to be the only one who could weasel a smile, a laugh, or a fond eye roll out of the notoriously cold and apathetic Regulus.
Or maybe it was how a dimple in your left cheek only appeared when you were particularly proud of an achievement you made or a grade you received.
Or maybe it was the kind way you sheltered the younger Slytherin’s from the brunt of the Marauder’s pranks without impeding their more good natured ones.
Or maybe it was the way you hexed McLaggen for hitting on Lily Evans, and then again for calling her a filthy Mudblood when she refused his advancements.
Or maybe it was the way that you could always tell when Remus was feeling sad or low and needed help, needed something, needed you.
And fuck.
He needed you.
Remus wasn’t exactly sure how this thing started for him.
One moment you were on your hands and knees in his bed and he was fucking into you from behind; his body curled around yours as he rubbed at your clit expertly to push you over that edge for the third time tonight. And the next moment you were spread out and pliant beneath him, head thrown back in ecstasy as he lazily pushed into you.
He didn’t often get moments like this; moments to just sit and admire you.
This thing he had with you, it was delicate, precarious. It was precious. And he wasn’t going to go fucking it up by forcing it to be something it wasn’t.
You were friends.
You were friends who helped each other.
You were friends who have seen each other naked; who have tasted each other’s sweat, skin, flesh, blood, and cum.
You were friends who have spent time with each other, on each other, and in each other.
You were friends.
That’s what you had agreed to, that was the arrangement, that was all this was supposed to be.
And then Remus’ stupid sodding heart had to go and fucking yearn for you.
It ached to sit beside you in the library without it being a precursor for one of you to be on your knees in the stacks moments later.
It ached to ask you about your day for the sole purpose of getting to hear about it and not just as a means to help you take your mind off it by bending you over in an empty classroom.
It ached to watch you, uninhibited throughout the day, without it causing grief, or angst, or hungry looks being exchanged.
It ached to taste your lips without tasting the leftover sex from previous actions.
It ached for you to climb into the shower with him after this, to throw on one of his ratty old band tees, and to stay.
It ached for you to stay.
He wanted you to stay.
But you guys were friends.
And that was enough, it had to be enough. He would make it be enough.
So sue him; sue him for taking this extra moment to admire your form below him, when you were only his in this moment. Sue him for memorising the way your hair pooled around your head like a halo even after all the tugging and ruffling that it has been subjected to. Sue him for watching the way your breasts bounced with each gentle thrust of his hips, the way your ribs expanded and contracted with each breath, the way the two of you fit so perfectly together; your body accepting him with grace and ease as he slotted the two of you together over and over and over again.
He ached for you.
And damn him - damn him and his bleeding heart and this beautiful girl beneath him - he reached out to pull a strand of hair that laid plastered to the side of your sweaty face.
He didn’t just ache for you.
He yearned for you.
He loved you.
He was in love with you.
And Godric only knows how far gone he was or for how long now. But it didn’t matter; none of it mattered. All that mattered was this ethereal being that, for just this moment, was all his.
He doesn’t know how long your eyes had been returning his gaze. He supposed it didn’t matter, because he knew; he knew it was written all over his face.
He may as well have been flashing a neon sign on his forehead: “My name is Remus, and I’m wildly in love with you”. And if the sign hadn’t been enough, he was sure his actions were.
There was no longer any desperation in his actions; no destination in mind as he slowly pulled out of you and pushed back in again. His hands weren’t placed in precise locations to elicit a specific reaction of any sort, but rather roved languidly over your body in meticulous worship.
And if that hadn’t been enough, he was sure that the way you were staring deep into his eyes, into his soul; you saw. You knew.
The jig was up.
He had been outed.
Your eyes widened minutely and began to flit around Remus’ face as your grip on his arms stationed on either side of your body loosened.
You knew.
Though it was all for naught at this point, Remus scrunched his eyes closed as if he could save any of his remaining dignity; not that there was much left.
This was it, it was all going to be over.
He lowered himself over your body and pressed his face into your neck, hiding like the coward he was as he picked up the pace of his thrusts.
Gently, tentatively, he felt you press a cautious hand between his shoulder blades and another to the nape of his neck.
Somehow, the tenderness in your touch hurt more.
He came with a strangled cry, feeling humiliating tears fall from his eyes as he filled you up for what he was certain would be the last time.
He melted into your hold and cried silently into your shoulder, and you let him.
Your hand that was stationed between his shoulder blades never moved, but your hand in his hair kneaded gentle, soothing circles into his scalp.
He wanted you to stop; he wanted you to stop because this was all he really wanted... to be here, with you, like this.
He wanted the rough and the fun and the biting and the hair pulling, sure. But he wanted the gentle, the soft, the affection, and the innocent intimacy, too.
That wasn’t fair though; it wasn’t fair to you. You never asked for it, and you never offered it.
You never asked for it.
You never offered it.
He decided that he’d been hiding in your neck for far longer than he had any right to, and slowly pulled his face away from its sanctuary.
He looked up at you through his curls in shame to see you had tear tracks down your cheeks too.
What a fucking mess.
He was a fucking mess; and he’d dragged you down into it.
He slowly pulled out of you and summoned a tissue to clean up the cum leaking from your folds. You hissed at the sensation and he whispered an apology before pulling on a pair of pyjama pants and throwing you a t-shirt that he hoped to fucking God was clean, and sat on the edge of James’ bed; facing you, though his head was bowed in shame.
“I’m sorry.” He offered pathetically, knowing it was not even close to helpful in this situation.
“When…” You started, voice both gravely from the sex and tight with emotions as new tears fell. “When did this happen?”
He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t know. He couldn't say.
“When,” you tried again. “When did this change?”
Your face fell into your hands as you began to cry in earnest.
He wondered what part of this upset you the most; the loss of this friend that you had in him? The pressure to offer him more than you were willing to give? The feeling of guilt over not being able to return his feelings?
You didn’t seem to be waiting for an actual answer from him, but were rather voicing the thoughts running through your head as they came to you.
“I should go.” He whispered, even though this was his room, even though you were wearing his shirt.
“Don’t.” You demanded harshly, eyes blazing with a fire he never imagined ever being shot at him. “Don’t you dare leave me here like this; not after that.”
He nodded quickly, sitting back down on James’ bed as you wiped angrily at your face.
He wished you wouldn’t; he wished you’d be more gentle.
He didn’t get to wish things like that, though.
“When, when did this become love?” You asked in a mixture of shock and bemusement; the thought of an equation you couldn’t solve was clearly insulting to you.
Remus shook his head in disgrace. “I’m sorry.” He offered weakly.
You scoffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Sorry for what, exactly? Making me fall in love with you? Making me fall in love with you and not telling me about it?”
“You... too?” He rasped, looking at you with a slack jaw.
“Fuck.” You seethed, standing up and beginning to pace the dorm room for a few moments as you seemed to think back on the entire duration of this situation.
“When!?” You demanded again after a few moments.
“I don’t know.” He admitted honestly, placatingly.
“Fuck.” You paused in place, bringing your hands to your mouth. Remus hated it, but you paused right in front of the hearth, causing your form to be illuminated by an ethereal glow. He thought you looked beautiful.
“I’m sorry.” He said, for daring to even think such a thing.
But, maybe…maybe if you loved him too, he could think such things?
“Fuck.” You said again, still staring unseeingly at the wall of his dorm as you stood in nothing but an oversized shirt in the middle of the room.
“What-” Remus started, taking a cautious step towards you as if you were a wild animal poised to run at any given moment. “What do you want, Y/N?”
Not one muscle in your body moved save for your eyes as they shot over to him.
“Anything.” He whispered.
I’ll give you anything you want; be anything you want. Say it and I’m yours. I’m yours.
I’m already all yours.
“I need to pee.” You said plainly.
Remus’ chest deflated in relief that you weren’t asking him to obliviate this memory from your mind.
“And then…” You took a shuddering breath that made Remus want to fold you up and keep you safe in his breast pocket for the rest of his life. “And then I want to talk. About this, okay? Please?”
Remus nodded quickly, readily, so unbelievably willingly.
“Don’t leave, please. Please be here when I get back.” You whispered; eyes, voice, and body language far more vulnerable than he ever remembered seeing from you (and ever cared to see from you again).
ok so i had a thought, i want to write this but im not sure if its good, what if reader was like no. 1 ambassador of hookup culture and remus was an old-school hopeless romantic and these two would be like best friends and remus would like take her home while she's drunk and everything and one day they both just talk really flirtily while being tipsy and kiss on the road and fuck and start to date but then remus gets insecure abt whether reader thinks he's just a fling but then reader tell him i love you while being piss-drunk and vomits on his jacket right after and he just knows it was meant to be?
wolfstar variant you say?
burning flames or paradise;
pairing- remus lupin x reader
warning(s)- hurt/comfort, substances.
a/n- i left out the vomiting part cause it kind of gives me the icks. sorry!
little train.
'you didn't kiss me,' you say, pouting your lips. the taste of cherry wine lingers on your tongue. his amber eyes stare into yours, hot breathe craning your neck. amongst the drunk giggles of your friends and the party background, your ears stay perked solely for his words.
'you're too drunk,' he says, half bored, half bemused. it was no tell tale or word of mouth that you were flirty with literally everyone. the 'femme fatale'. the 'brand ambassador of hookup culture'. those were the nicknames that were notoriously famous for you during your school days.
but not once had you ever flirted with him. until tonight, when the cherry wine was high on your tongue, your words not in your control. he tried to reach out for the glass in your hands. you laughed, the sound contagious as always, pulling the glass away from his reach. he watches the liquid swirl before he stares into the glossiness of your eyes.
'won't you kiss me, lupin?' he shakes his head.
'why should i kiss you?'
you flatter your eyelashes, puckering your lips. as if asking for something. he's afraid he's way too sure about what you want.
and he might have just given it to you if you weren't so pissed drunk.
'because you don't actually want me to kiss you.'
you put the glass on the table. resting your back on the pillar behind you. he walks closer to you, so that he can hear you over the barring noise of the speaker.
'i think, lupin, its rather the other way around. its you who doesn't want to kiss me. you treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate,'
'why should i kiss you anyways?' he asked. 'i don't remember us being in a relationship of that sort.'
you stick out your tongue, blowing a raspberry at him.
'at least take me home?'
*-
the lights in your apartment are revolting and far too loud. the dopamine of last night still lingers. so does the ever present feeling of headache after a lot too many drinks. you rush through the drawers of your nightstand, searching for painkillers. otherwise you fear, you might just burst your head.
your eyes fall on a glass full of water, a coaster used as a lid to cover it. on top, there's a sachet of pills and a note with scribbled with a handwriting you recognize all too well.
you take the pills, sliding the note from between the wood and the glass.
'you fell asleep by the time i brought you home. take these pills. i know you'll need them.- love, lupin.'
the sunlight filtered through your curtains. a strange figment of fear crossed your heart, boiling it with trepid heat. you realized you'd fallen for your friend a few weeks ago-at least had a little crush on him.
you took the pills, chugging down the water. your drunk memories flashed in your head like a film. the faded memory of you asking him for a kiss popped in your mind. so did the one with him declining the offer.
did you mess up your friendship? god you hated yourself.
you crammed your face into the pillow, muffling your scream.
*-
remus was surprised when he found you at your doorstep, wearing the scarf he'd knitted you on your birthday, flowers in your hand. and his favorite kind of chocolates.
'hi,'
'you should've said you were coming! i would've cleaned up...'
'come on you fold your socks, lupin. what are you on about?'
he smiled, an awkward curl of his lips. you leaned against the doorway. the smell of soup was distinct, stains on his apron visible. you noticed he wasn't wearing a t-shirt. just an apron. your eyes fell on scars on his shoulders, each telling a tale. some terrible, some horribly terrible.
'so you're just gonna stare at me or?'
fuck, you got distracted.
'you didn't ask me in,'
'you know you don't need to be asked in,' he said, moving as your footsteps faltered on his carpeted floor.
'what are you cooking?'
'sweet corn soup and some toast. didn't feel like making much,'
'lupin, that'll be my 5-star michelin cuisine if i had the energy to make that. now these, are for you,'
'for the record, you take your whiskey neat. and you take your coffee black at three. and what for?'
'you're drunk on life, and i think that's great. and these are as an...apology.'
he walked to the kitchen, turning off the stove.
'an apology...for what exactly?'
'oh, you know because i asked you to kiss me,'
'you asked me to kiss you. you didn't force me.' he says, sitting down beside you. there's a pregnant pause before you keep your hand on his thigh, letting your touch linger.
'it's okay,' he whispers. 'you were drunk.'
'i wasn't. i take my whiskey neat. a little bit of cherry wine does nothing to me.' he chuckles.
'you were piss drunk. you fell asleep on the way home! i had to call a cab midway.'
'accusations accusations,'
'are they?'
you stay silent. you let the charge in the air linger. you let embrace you, entangle you in its ruins. your eyes travel to his face. his dusty blonde hair tangled across his face. lips chapped, pale skin rosy with the bits of chilly air of autumn.
'why didn't you kiss me?'
'what?'
'i said, why didn't you kiss me?' your grip tightens around his thigh. 'i really like you, you know?'
'come on, don't be a bitter liar.'
'i'm not lying.'
he neared your face, hot breathe scanning your face.
'i would love to kiss you,' his hand cradles your cheek, finger on your lip, 'taste these beautiful, soft lips. but i'm afraid, i can't. i can't be a fling for you,'
'who says,' you whisper, nearing his face, touching your forehead with his. 'that you're a fling. i'm not lying. i really do like you. hell have you seen me hooking up with anyone recently? i do like you. just trust me, for once.'
'hopefully,' he says brushing his lips against yours, 'i can.'
'you can,' you confirm, thrusting your lips against him, your tongue loitering in his mouth, tasting him.
he really did treat his mouth like it was heaven's gate.
tiny little droplets of water splash on your face and startle you from a deep slumber. with a grumpy groan, you scrunch your nose and open your eyes, squinting against the bright rays of sun sneaking through the blinds. what you see when you finally awake is a toothy grinned james staring down at you with soaked dark curls sticking to his forehead. "wha—why?"
he ignores your whines, laughing and stamping a wet kiss on your lips. "I'm off on my run, angel. jus' wanted to let you know." you stare at him, eyes still cloudy with sleep. he shrugs with faux nonchalance and pulls out the big guns, wide eyes and a pouted lip. "thought maybe you'd wanna join me."
"james," you scowl, turning on your side and closing your eyes, blanket hiked up over your shoulder as you will yourself to go back to sleep. "s'so early, why are you like this? jus' come back to bed."
"no way, grumpy," he grins, dropping another couple kisses on your cheek—which he notices has creases from how hard your face was pressed against the pillow. "early bird fucks the worm or whatever they say."
you crack a smile, eyes still closed. "it's eat the worm, stupid."
"eat?" he asks, "oh you know i can do that."
he leans down and starts nibbling at your neck, biting down until you're giggling and squirming in the tangled sheets, trying your hardest to free your arms to push him away. "okay! okay! I'm up!"
he pulls away, and you swear his smile is brighter than the damn sun.
water hits your eye again and you flinch, "how are you already wet?"
"had to wash my face, silly." he quips, pinching your cheek and laughing when you bat his hand away. "why, does it bother you?"
he proceeds to shake his head, splattering water all over your face while you squeal his name. god he's such a pest in the mornings.
"you're like a damn dog" you grumble, drying your face with the top sheet.
"oh yeah," he smirks, "wanna see my bone, baby?"
you snort, laughter bubbling up in your throat as you smack his arm, "you're incorrigible."
"you love it." he teases, and he's right. you do love it, you love him, more than you ever expected when you first started dating.
you heave into a sitting position, stretching your arms above your head, only flinching away a little bit when james runs a soft finger across the bit of skin that becomes visible under the hem of your shirt. you rub your nose against his. "hi."
he smiles, and his dimples shows. "hi, angel."
you grab his face with gentle hands and press a sweet kiss to his lips, this one a little more intimate than the one he gave you earlier.
"you sure you don't wanna come? I'll go easy on you, baby. promise."
"not in your wildest dreams, jamie." you pat his cheek. "now off you go so we can have shower sex when you're back."
he kisses you and starts jogging out of the room, saluting you with an easy smile. "yes ma'am!"
