Hi Mae could you maybe please do Remus (or any one of the marauders is fine) where reader kind of just gets emotional (like crying) during or after sex? Like not in a bad way just it’s all just a lot and the marauder comforting / soothing?
Thank you for requesting <3
cw: mature themes
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 461 words
Remus buries his face in your shoulder when he comes. He holds you with a hand on the inside of your knee, squeezing, and there’s a bubble in your chest fit to bursting. He smears a kiss onto your neck.
For a few moments, it’s only your panting breaths, somehow louder than they seemed before. Your throat warms and tightens. The first tear that slips down your cheek settles in Remus’ hair.
You blink, flustered when it only provokes another. They fall in discordant rhythm, one from one eye and two from the other.
Blissfully ignorant, Remus makes a low, satisfied sound and kisses up your neck. You weave your fingers into the overgrown hair above his ear. When he works his way under your jaw, he pauses.
Remus draws back, wetting his lips. Salt.
“What’s this about?” He kisses your cheek, tender.
You shake your head and dash the tears from the other side of your face. Remus tuts, catching your hand.
“You alright?” he asks, his voice hardly a murmur. Fingers lacing through yours.
“Yeah, sorry.” You take a breath. But your throat closes around it, heat behind your eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Yeah?” Remus’ eyes take you in, uncritical in their assessment. “C’mere, sweetheart.”
You don’t need much more coaxing to sit up into Remus’ embrace. He maneuvers you both upright, moving carefully out of you but keeping you in his lap as he rubs up and down on your back.
You wind your arms around Remus’ neck and hold tight.
After a while, his rubbing moves to your side, then your hip, then your leg. Slow, conscientious.
“I’m okay,” you tell him.
Remus hums, turning his head to kiss your face. “Nothing hurts?”
You shake your head.
“Anything I can do?”
You shake your head again.
Remus rubs your leg some more. It turns to gentle patting, a soothing rhythm as he waits for you to say more.
“I think it was just…” You take a deep breath. “A lot. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, sweet girl,” he chides lightly. “That makes sense. You’re alright.”
“I think it’s done now.”
Remus laughs. It’s almost like a laugh, at least—a huffed exhale, and a twitch you can feel in his shoulders. “Why don’t we just stay here for a while, hm?”
“We don’t have to. I’m okay.”
He draws back, brows raised. His honey-brown eyes aren’t as concerned as you left them, but the tenderness is just the same. “Have you got somewhere to be?” he asks with lips lifting.
You can’t help but fluster when he looks at you like that. “No.”
“Mm, thought not.”
“But I did tell my boyfriend I’d switch the laundry to the dryer.”
Hiii, how are you? I wanted to request a sirius x reader where r feels insecure about their body cause it’s summer and maybe her family or someone made some stupid comment that really hit her hard. I hope this makes sense 😅 Have a great day <3
Thank you angel, hope you have a great day too! In addition to your request, this was inspired by a scene from this chapter of the lovely @solmussa's fic You Signed Up For This because I'd just finished it at the time your request came in and it reminded me of it a lot (the fic is so so good, highly recommend). Hope you enjoy <3
cw: reader's insecure of her body, it's implied vaguely that comments have been made to fuel this at some point
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 896 words
It’s one of those summer days that bleaches you down to your bones. Where you think through a white haze and your body feels heavy enough to puddle on the ground while your head floats away. Sitting in the shade of a tree by the lake with your drink emptied and Sirius’ t-shirt sticking to your skin, you’re considering letting it do just that.
You’re too hot to focus on your book. You watch your boyfriend and friends splash around in the water instead. James has procured two squirt guns from the pound shop, one for him and one for Sirius, but Sirius’ has been stolen by Marlene, who keeps dodging him each time he goes underwater only to pop up and try to reclaim it. James is being no help at all. Remus and Lily have demonstrated little interest in being caught in the fray, and are thusly sat at the edge of the lake, chatting while the waves lap up their legs. You envy all of them the coolness of the water, though you can hardly blame them for enjoying what you won’t.
Still, it’s difficult not to feel even a smidgeon of resentment when Sirius catches you looking and rises up from his crouched position with water streaming off his shoulders and chest in glistening rivers. He starts over to you.
“What’re you doing?”
“I’m reading,” you say, even as you set your book down, folding the corner of your towel over it to keep Sirius from dripping on it.
“No, you’re not.” Your boyfriend stops right above you. The angle makes all the lines of him appear even sharper, his jaw and his clavicle and the jut of hip bones where his swim trunks have sunk low. “You're bored. Why don’t you come out?”
“I’m fine here,” you say. Doing your best to appear happy and content and also to not lay yourself down in the puddle forming at his feet.
Sirius frowns and sits beside you. His hip and arm press to yours as you make room for him on your towel. You nearly sigh when the ends of his hair drip water onto your shoulder. You think perhaps Sirius notices anyway for the worried look he gives you.
“Come get in the water with us,” he says.
“I’m good.”
“You look like you’re going to pass out.” Sirius works a hand behind your neck, lifting the hair from your nape. When he touches his knuckles to your hot skin, the cool of them makes you exhale, and his frown only worsens. “Lovely, you’re overheating. Just take off the shirt and get in.”
You lean your head on his shoulder. More than a little self-pity makes its way into your voice when you say, “I don’t want to.”
“Why?” asks Sirius, though he knows. You know he knows, not only because you’ve told him but because of the look he gives you, one part sad and two parts angry. You know the latter isn’t for you. “You’ve got nothing to hide. You’re gorgeous. Like, knock-me-off-my-feet stunning. You know that.”
You know that Sirius thinks so. He’s told you often enough, and while Sirius is a good liar when he wants to be you can tell when he’s being earnest. You don’t know who you made a deal with in a past life for the most exquisite man you’ve ever seen to call you beautiful and mean it, but whatever price they set couldn’t have been high enough. Nevertheless, not everyone sees you through Sirius’ rose-colored glasses.
You say something you’ll only ever admit to him. “I don’t feel like it. I don’t want everyone to see me.”
His lips collect in a little purse on one side of his mouth. “No?”
You shrug, murmuring, “Sorry.”
“Shut up, don’t be sorry, sweetheart.” He stamps a kiss on your head, then leans his cheek there, pensive. You continue basking in the relief of his skin on yours, still cool from the lake. “Alright. What if I told you I had a plan?”
Ordinarily, you don’t condone any plans Sirius has that haven’t been formed with James to temper him, but this one actually doesn’t sound so bad.
A short minute later, your shirt is being forcibly shucked off and you’re hoisted into Sirius’ arms. You gasp, clinging to him as he bounds towards the water, your front pressed close to his. Sirius looses a whoop once he’s waist-deep and jumps in to submerge you both.
You laugh under the water. Bubbles of mirth float to the surface, and you chase them up, breaking through with your hair plastered to your shoulders and Sirius’ smiling face in front of you. The worst of your insecurities stay obscured by the waves.
“Oh, foul play!” James cries.
He and Marlene attack on your behalf, unloading their squirt guns on your boyfriend. Sirius grabs you to put you in front of him.
Lily calls your name. “Come sit here with us,” she beckons. “He doesn’t deserve you.”
“Oi!” Sirius flips her off, and Lily does it right back. He mutters into your neck, “Don’t listen to her, gorgeous, she’s always had it out for me.”
You smile, shrugging at Lily apologetically. “Thanks, but I’ll stay.”
“Ha! See?” Sirius winks at Lily before mushing a kiss to your cheek. “She loves her tormentor.”
summary: after a bump on the head, you wake with your head on the shoulder of a beautiful stranger (who isn't really a stranger)
cw: hospital setting, concussion, memory loss, mention of vomit
Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words
You wish the drone of all these people would quiet down so you could sleep better. You’re so tired, and conditions are perfect for it otherwise, your body heavy and a warm pillow of ideal firmness beneath your head. There’s a gentle brush of something against your forehead every now and then which feels inherently comforting. It does it again now.
“That’s nice,” you murmur.
A low chuckle. “Happy you think so.”
You tilt your head towards the voice, startled to see a rather breathtaking man looking back at you. He’s close enough for you to count the long, dark lashes fringing his grey eyes and to catch the little tick his mouth does, as though he’s pleased to be looked at by you. Your warm, ideally firm pillow seems to be his shoulder.
You sit up. Flashes appear behind your eyes; you blink to dispel them. “Sorry,” you say.
“Hey, it’s alright,” the man says. He’s frowning, suddenly, brows sewn together in apparent concern. Every movement of his face only serves to make him lovelier; it’s dizzying. “What’s the matter?”
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
The brow situation worsens. “Don’t be sorry for that, lovely. I hardly mind. Come on, why don’t you come back?” He folds a hand around the side of your head very carefully, as though wary of hurting you, to guide you down again. “The nurse said it’ll be good for you to rest while we wait.”
You don’t argue, because he seems to know things. You trust him. Maybe it’s foolish, but who wouldn’t trust someone treating them so kindly, who presses his lips to your forehead as you settle and covers your ear with a hand when the wail of a passing siren cuts through the room and you wince.
“I know,” the angel-man murmurs, sounding woefully compassionate to your plight. “We shouldn’t have to be here much longer. Are you feeling okay?”
You hum unsteadily.
“Do you think you might be sick again?” You’re unsure. “You should tell me if you might be. I’ll have to get a bag.”
“Have I been sick?” you ask, looking up at him.
Something flickers over his expression at your question. He rubs his thumb over the space behind your ear soothingly. “You have,” he answers, “but that was before we came, so it was a bit different. I don’t think they’ll let me follow you into the toilets here.”
You feel your eyes widen. “You were there?”
The man grins. It’s worse than anything he’s done so far, so dazzling you feel you have to close your eyes. You’re seeing stars again.
“I’m not so terribly squeamish as to leave my loveliest girl all alone when she needs me,” he says. “I’m not that awful.”
“I don’t think you’re awful,” you tell him.
“No.” He makes a humorous-looking pouty face at you, still stroking behind your ear. “No, you wouldn't. That’s why you’re my loveliest girl, you’re too good to me.”
“What does that mean?”
“What does what mean, gorgeous?”
You shy a bit at the misnomer. Surely people this beautiful shouldn’t just be dolling out compliments like that. “Your girl.”
His thumb doesn’t stop petting you, but it slows. He looks at you for a handful of moments. It’s rather a lot; you shift in your uncomfortable, plasticy chair, but don’t think once of lifting your head from his shoulder.
“Do you know who I am?” he asks eventually.
You worry your lip between your teeth. “Am I supposed to?”
“No.” He folds his hand over your head again, kissing your temple. “That’s okay. You’ve had a bump on the head, and it’s made you forget some things, but it won’t be forever. My name’s Sirius.” He says this all very patiently. You get the sense he’s done it more than once. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”
At this, you do lift your head. Sirius lets you, though he watches like he doesn’t intend to let you go far. “You and I have?” you ask.
The corner of his mouth ticks. “That’s right.”
“How long is a while?”
“You say two years.” He tilts his head from side to side, like really it’s up for debate. “I say two years and a few weeks, because I thought our first date was to the Ramones show but you thought we were hanging out as friends.”
You gawp at him. Your mouth has actually dropped open. “Are you my boyfriend?”
“Some have said that,” Sirius says, smiling. “I prefer exclusive live-in soulmate.”
You don’t know how you know, but you sense he’s half joking about the last part. Not the first, though.
“Really?” you ask.
Sirius quirks a brow. “Is it so difficult to believe?”
“You’re just—you’re so pretty.”
“Really?” His smile returns to knock the air from you. This one’s wide enough to make his lashes kiss at the corners. “You think so?”
“Of course. You’re beautiful.” You shake your head, surprised when it hurts and then startled anew when Sirius cups your face to still you. You trace the length of his arm with your eyes, admiring the patchwork of tattoos that goes all the way up to disappear under the sleeve of his t-shirt.
“Be careful with yourself,” Sirius murmurs.
Your eyes flit back up to his face. “You have to know.”
“Have to know what?”
“That you’re beautiful.”
Sirius looks absolutely delighted by you. “Well, it’s always nice to hear it,” he says. “Especially from someone so lovely as yourself.”
You feel your features pinch with genuine dismay. “I don’t tell you?”
“You say you don’t want to give me a bigger head than I already have. Something about throwing the earth out of its orbit or something.” He strokes your cheek while he talks, as though this sort of disparagement could inspire only fondness, but at your obvious distress Sirius softens. “I’m joking. You tell me, you just don’t usually look so surprised when you do. Come here, sweetheart.”
He coaxes you under his arm, helping you snuggle up against his side where he can kiss your head as often as he pleases. It’s like Sirius knows exactly what you need; with your head against his chest, now the thing you hear most is the steady beat of his heart. His body works like a grounding point for you, calming your nerves and hushing your thoughts. The sweep of his thumb over your shoulder sends pleasant little shivers all down your arm.
“You don’t have to be so shy, my love,” he murmurs into your hair. “It’s only me.”
If you weren’t shy before, you are now. You hide your face in his chest. “Please don’t call me that.”
Sirius chuckles. “No?” he asks, his voice slow and syrupy sweet with a heart-pittering quality that rings familiar. “You usually like it when I call you nice things.”
“It’s too nice.”
He hums amusedly. “Sorry,” he says, in a tone not sorry at all, “I think you might just have to get used to that, lovely.”
Hi!😄 I really liked the fic you wrote with poly!wolfstar, where the reader left the gas oven on overnight and felt ashamed for awhile afterwards. As someone who easily feels shame and guilt, I would love to read another one like it if you could write one 🤞🏼💞
Thank you.
Haha me too babe, here you go!
cw: modern au, car accident aftermath, financial stress/guilt
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 968 words
The bus home from A&E is solemn quiet.
Sirius holds your hand in his lap. You’re not hurt, nothing more than a few bruises and a twinge in your neck the doctor said will fix itself in time, but by the way he keeps running his thumbs over every one of your fingers you’d think you were in pieces. You’re more focussed on the state of your poor, mangled car, and the three thousand pounds the mechanic quoted you to repair it.
Selfish, you lean your head on Remus’ shoulder, relieved when he leans his head on you in turn.
“Alright?” he murmurs.
You nod.
He rests his lips on your hair. “Next stop is us.”
It’s a short walk home. Remus has to shimmy the key a while to get it into the lock, and you bite your tongue against the urge to offer to do every difficult thing for him forever.
“Supper?” Sirius asks, heading for the kitchen. There’s a pot already on the hob, likely something your boyfriends had been making before you’d called and upturned their night.
Remus hums his assent, leaving his cane by the door.
“None for me,” you say. It’s late, and you can feel your stomach revolting against its emptiness, but the idea of letting Sirius make you food, of swallowing it down through your closed-up throat, is far from appealing.
You pretend not to notice Sirius’ disapproving glance. Remus tuts, motioning you over to the sofa as he sits. You fold yourself into his side and let him kiss you, basking in comfort you don’t deserve.
“Tired?” he asks.
You shrug. You are exhausted, physically, though you don’t think you could sleep if you tried. “I’m sorry about the car.”
“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Remus says.
“I’ll pay for it.”
He sighs, warm breath fanning across your brow.
“Stop that,” says Siriuis. “No, you won’t.”
Self-loathing fills your insides like a sludge. “I’ll save up.”
“We’ll all split it,” Remus says with finality, “just like we always do.”
You tilt your head to look at him. “You guys didn’t ask for this, though.”
Despite the somber mood, his mouth ticks wryly. “Did you?”
“It’s my fault.”
Remus’ face softens. It cracks something inside you. You feel a sore pressure in your sinuses. “It’s alright,” he tells you, very gently.
“You should be mad at me.”
“Why, sweetheart?”
“Because.” You don’t want to look at him anymore, but Remus’ gaze is steadfast. “I wasn’t careful.”
His lips press together as he thinks on this for a moment. “I wish you had been more careful,” Remus admits. “But I don’t think you need to punish yourself so severely. It was an accident.”
You shake your head. “I destroyed our car because I wasn’t being careful.”
“Dove—”
“Now we have to pay three thousand pounds to fix it.” The pressure in your sinuses worsens. That’s double your rent, because you weren’t paying enough attention when the car in front of you stopped suddenly. It’s your fault that Remus’ hip is hurting him from having to walk in the cold. It’s your fault your boyfriends are having supper at nearly midnight. “And we won’t have a car until we do.”
In the kitchen, Sirius heaves a great sigh. You hear the hob click as he sets it to simmer. “Okay,” he says, sounding really as though you’re a very great burden as he strides towards you, “that’s enough. Come here.”
Sirius has never once in his life been awkward, but the embrace somehow is. It’s like he’s scrambling for you, eager, greedy, and when he first slots you in his arms you don’t quite fit right. But he adjusts, one hand slipping beneath your shoulders while the other cradles your face, so when your lips connect it’s anything but.
You’re a bit scatterbrained by the time he’s done. Sirius holds your cheek firmly and ensures you’re looking at him. “Listen to me. Are you listening?”
You nod mutely.
“You were in an accident.” His eyes bore into you, the grey-blue of his irises nearly swallowed by pupil. “The only thing we’re worried about is if you’re okay.”
“Thank you,” seconds Remus.
You shrivel in the face of their caring. “But how will you get to work tomorrow?” you ask Sirius ashamedly.
By the way your boyfriend grins, you’d think you told a grand joke. “Bus, gorgeous. I do still remember how those work, believe it or not.”
You can tell he wants you to banter with him, pretend to be shocked and tease that it’s a miracle he would still know how the bus system works, being so posh and spoiled and all, but all you manage to get out is, “You’ll have to wake up so early.”
Sirius rolls his eyes. Remus tuts at him for being mean, but it does make you feel lighter. More normal. “There are worse things,” he says, levelling you with a meaningful look. “One time, I got a call that my girlfriend had been in a car accident and was on her way to A&E.”
“I told you I was fine.” Now it’s you fighting the urge to roll your eyes. “You didn’t need to worry.”
“Trying to tell Remus when to be angry, trying to tell me when to worry,” he teases. “How about you let us decide how we’re going to feel about things, and you focus on being less bossy, yeah?”
“And maybe stop punishing yourself while you’re at it.” Remus squeezes your waist good-naturedly.
“Yeah, and quit your hunger strike and have supper.”
You raise your eyebrows. “I’m bossy, that’s what you’re saying?”
“That’s exactly it.” Sirius pouts, drawing a line down your cheek with his thumb. “It’s your one flaw. But don’t worry, sweetness, we’ll work on it.”
Hi babe are you in the mood to take smut requests? If so, I just had a vision of Sirius being a tease while at a fancy dinner. Messing around under the table until you both have to excuse yourselves to the bathroom 🙈
Thanks for requesting lovely!
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
cw: mature themes, mdni please
Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 914 words
You accuse Sirius of loving to torture you. Sadism, you called it once. And he always laughs you off, denying, because why would he want to inflict anything unpleasant on his most favorite girl?
He’s beginning to realize you’re not entirely off base. And that maybe he owes you an apology. Later.
Now, he’s having too much fun watching you get wound up at James’ cousin’s wedding rehearsal dinner.
It’s almost shockingly easy. Sirius doesn’t have to do more than knock his shoe into yours to get you to look at him, and then whatever you see on his face has your eyes widening with apprehension.
These are your problems: you’re too easy to wind up, and you look too cute when you’re nervous.
Sirius doesn’t think he can really be held in contempt for taking advantage.
The tablecloth doesn’t so much as rustle as he slips his hand underneath, settling it casually on your leg. This dinner is less formal than the wedding will be, but it’s is still a rather large production; the tables are lit with tealights, guests are wearing suits and nice dresses, and even distant and adopted family like James and Sirius have been given spots at the fringes of the restaurant. Sirius pinches the fabric of your ankle-length dress between his fingers, slowly runching it up your leg.
“The kids’ room they’re going to have sounds fun,” says James, as oblivious as everyone else at the table to how you’ve gone stiff in your seat.
Lily hums, agreeing. “It’s a smart idea. Keeps them away from the dance floor and the alcohol.”
“Right—yeah, but I meant fun for them. I hear they’re going to have a pool table in there. Do you think they’ll let grown-ups in?”
“Are you sure you qualify as a grown-up?” asks Remus.
“Don’t pretend you’re not jealous too, Moony,” James teases right back. “If I can get us in there, I’ll only be proving yet again that I’m even better at handling balls than you are.”
Lily smacks her boyfriend’s chest, but James and Sirius hoot loud enough to draw stares. Even Remus, blushing and glaring, can’t suppress a small smile. You’re the only one whose laughter comes a beat late, and a tad strained. Sirius rubs the inside of your knee comfortingly. You only smush your thighs tighter together.
“Not disproving the child point,” Remus mutters.
Sirius drags his blunt nails over your skin distractedly. “Evans, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play pool.”
“Neither have I.” James sounds surprised. He looks at Lily, who only shrugs smugly. “Are you any good?”
“Guess you’ll have to find out,” she says.
Intrigue sparks in James’ eyes. He looks at you. “Are you any good?”
“I, um—” You blink, as thrown as always by being asked a question, though the usual effect is perhaps a bit compounded by how Sirius’ hand is climbing up your leg. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m alright.”
Sirius hums. He lets his eyes skim over you evaluatively. “I’ll bet she’s better than she’s letting on,” he says.
“That settles it.” James slaps his palm on the table. “The next pool table we find ourselves near, we’re playing, boys versus girls.”
“You really do sound twelve, James,” Lily chides him.
“Don’t care. Maybe if I do, they’ll let us play in the kids’ room at the wedding.”
“Hey,” Sirius says softly, feigning innocence despite how his words are only for you, “you okay, sweetness?”
You’re adorable when you try to glare; you can never quite muster the enmity, and your look ends up almost pleading instead. Sirius loves it. Maybe he is a bit of a sadist.
“I’m fine.” Your gaze sweeps across the table, checking that no one is paying attention to you. “I’m just going to go freshen up.”
“M’kay,” Sirius hums. He lets go of your dress, allowing it to fall back into place as you stand. Takes another sip of his drink as he listens to the click of your heels walking away. He doesn’t even give it a full minute before he’s standing, too.
Remus raises a brow. “Loo?”
“Yup,” Sirius says shamelessly, hardly keeping the hop from his step as he follows after you.
Whatever you might try to claim about Sirius being the depraved one, you’re waiting for him when he pushes open the door to the women’s toilets.
“I hate you,” you say.
“I love you too, pretty girl.” Your face is hot as he takes it between his hands, kissing you. “Is anyone else in here?” He trusts you’ll have already checked.
“No.”
“Good girl,” Sirius purrs. He backs you up to the counter, once again drawing the skirt of your dress up to expose your legs.
“Sirius.” Your breath is warm on his mouth. “We’re in public.”
“Not anymore.”
“This is a public toilet.”
He reaches behind him, flicking the door lock. “There, problem solved.”
You laugh, breathless. Your fingers bunch in his suit jacket. “You’re awful.”
“I think you like how awful I am,” he murmurs, pushing your skirt up past your hips and lifting you up onto the counter.
All he receives in response is a dizzy breath.
Sirius grins. His own hands are trembling slightly as he pushes your underwear to the side. “You’ve been so good for me tonight.” He rubs his fingers against you, feeling the warm slick you’ve been building up for him. “Let me show you what it means to me, yeah?”
Hi babe are you in the mood to take smut requests? If so, I just had a vision of Sirius being a tease while at a fancy dinner. Messing around under the table until you both have to excuse yourselves to the bathroom 🙈
Thanks for requesting lovely!
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
cw: mature themes, mdni please
Sirius Black x shy!reader ♡ 914 words
You accuse Sirius of loving to torture you. Sadism, you called it once. And he always laughs you off, denying, because why would he want to inflict anything unpleasant on his most favorite girl?
He’s beginning to realize you’re not entirely off base. And that maybe he owes you an apology. Later.
Now, he’s having too much fun watching you get wound up at James’ cousin’s wedding rehearsal dinner.
It’s almost shockingly easy. Sirius doesn’t have to do more than knock his shoe into yours to get you to look at him, and then whatever you see on his face has your eyes widening with apprehension.
These are your problems: you’re too easy to wind up, and you look too cute when you’re nervous.
Sirius doesn’t think he can really be held in contempt for taking advantage.
The tablecloth doesn’t so much as rustle as he slips his hand underneath, settling it casually on your leg. This dinner is less formal than the wedding will be, but it’s is still a rather large production; the tables are lit with tealights, guests are wearing suits and nice dresses, and even distant and adopted family like James and Sirius have been given spots at the fringes of the restaurant. Sirius pinches the fabric of your ankle-length dress between his fingers, slowly runching it up your leg.
“The kids’ room they’re going to have sounds fun,” says James, as oblivious as everyone else at the table to how you’ve gone stiff in your seat.
Lily hums, agreeing. “It’s a smart idea. Keeps them away from the dance floor and the alcohol.”
“Right—yeah, but I meant fun for them. I hear they’re going to have a pool table in there. Do you think they’ll let grown-ups in?”
“Are you sure you qualify as a grown-up?” asks Remus.
“Don’t pretend you’re not jealous too, Moony,” James teases right back. “If I can get us in there, I’ll only be proving yet again that I’m even better at handling balls than you are.”
Lily smacks her boyfriend’s chest, but James and Sirius hoot loud enough to draw stares. Even Remus, blushing and glaring, can’t suppress a small smile. You’re the only one whose laughter comes a beat late, and a tad strained. Sirius rubs the inside of your knee comfortingly. You only smush your thighs tighter together.
“Not disproving the child point,” Remus mutters.
Sirius drags his blunt nails over your skin distractedly. “Evans, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play pool.”
“Neither have I.” James sounds surprised. He looks at Lily, who only shrugs smugly. “Are you any good?”
“Guess you’ll have to find out,” she says.
Intrigue sparks in James’ eyes. He looks at you. “Are you any good?”
“I, um—” You blink, as thrown as always by being asked a question, though the usual effect is perhaps a bit compounded by how Sirius’ hand is climbing up your leg. “I don’t know. I suppose I’m alright.”
Sirius hums. He lets his eyes skim over you evaluatively. “I’ll bet she’s better than she’s letting on,” he says.
“That settles it.” James slaps his palm on the table. “The next pool table we find ourselves near, we’re playing, boys versus girls.”
“You really do sound twelve, James,” Lily chides him.
“Don’t care. Maybe if I do, they’ll let us play in the kids’ room at the wedding.”
“Hey,” Sirius says softly, feigning innocence despite how his words are only for you, “you okay, sweetness?”
You’re adorable when you try to glare; you can never quite muster the enmity, and your look ends up almost pleading instead. Sirius loves it. Maybe he is a bit of a sadist.
“I’m fine.” Your gaze sweeps across the table, checking that no one is paying attention to you. “I’m just going to go freshen up.”
“M’kay,” Sirius hums. He lets go of your dress, allowing it to fall back into place as you stand. Takes another sip of his drink as he listens to the click of your heels walking away. He doesn’t even give it a full minute before he’s standing, too.
Remus raises a brow. “Loo?”
“Yup,” Sirius says shamelessly, hardly keeping the hop from his step as he follows after you.
Whatever you might try to claim about Sirius being the depraved one, you’re waiting for him when he pushes open the door to the women’s toilets.
“I hate you,” you say.
“I love you too, pretty girl.” Your face is hot as he takes it between his hands, kissing you. “Is anyone else in here?” He trusts you’ll have already checked.
“No.”
“Good girl,” Sirius purrs. He backs you up to the counter, once again drawing the skirt of your dress up to expose your legs.
“Sirius.” Your breath is warm on his mouth. “We’re in public.”
“Not anymore.”
“This is a public toilet.”
He reaches behind him, flicking the door lock. “There, problem solved.”
You laugh, breathless. Your fingers bunch in his suit jacket. “You’re awful.”
“I think you like how awful I am,” he murmurs, pushing your skirt up past your hips and lifting you up onto the counter.
All he receives in response is a dizzy breath.
Sirius grins. His own hands are trembling slightly as he pushes your underwear to the side. “You’ve been so good for me tonight.” He rubs his fingers against you, feeling the warm slick you’ve been building up for him. “Let me show you what it means to me, yeah?”
remus x potter!reader secret relationship au (i seriously need a name for this au)
summary: you and james are lucky to be dating each other's best friends, because it works out perfectly for you to sneak around your parents' house
wc: 0.7k+
cw: suggestive towards the end, kissing
Lily Evans is your best friend. She has been for years now; after all, sharing a dorm for seven consecutive years with a girl so kind makes it difficult for that not to happen. But at the moment, even though she’s been invited to stay with you and your family for the summer, the one thing you want most is for her to leave your room. You can tell it’s what she wants too. She checks her wrist to catch sight of the time, sighing quietly when she sees it’s not yet past midnight. You shuffle in your bed, glancing at the redhead on the mattress by your bed, huffing out a laugh when you make accidental eye contact.
“Why would they still be awake now?” You rhetorically ask, shaking your head against your pillow. Lily shrugs, lifting herself up to lean back on her elbows, no longer pretending to be trying to sleep. “They’ll tell us when your parents are asleep.”
You both fall into a similar silence, awaiting to hear James’s door open at the other end of the hallway. The boys’ room must have been unusually silent whilst Remus kept an ear out for your parents’ breathing to go steady, anticipating the moment they would finally fall asleep.
It is fortunate that you and your brother were dating each other’s best friends, because at least you are both immediately on board for late night shenanigans such as these. You can imagine this exact situation going down if James and Lily hadn’t been dating — James would have put his foot down and refused to let Remus into your room for as long as he was around. If you had been single and tried had tried to pull this stunt, you would have huffed and shrugged your shoulders, pouting when Lily escaped your room to see her boyfriend.
The door to your room creaks loudly as someone pushes it open, and both you and Lily snap in its direction to observe the slight movement. You scramble up as quietly as you can, Lily right. on your heels as you tiptoe towards the door, grinning widely when you come face to face with your boyfriend. Remus is stood at your door, James and Sirius watching him from different ends of the hallway as he inches his way into your room. You lay your hands on Remus’s shoulders, pressing your lips to his cheek when his hands slip onto your waist, and you both shuffle into the room to let Lily slip out of the gap in the doorway.
All five of you freeze at the sound of the floorboard creaking underneath Lily’s careful footsteps, holding your breaths when she quickly rushes over in the direction of her own lover. You all pause for a long moment whilst Remus listens to the surroundings, relaxing when he finally nods. You give the group one last look, grinning at Sirius’s unimpressed expression as he retreats to his room all by himself, not wanting to witness any more exchanges of affection before you all retreat into your love shacks.
Remus gently closes the door to your bedroom, but his free hand always stays on your waist. He’s quick to pull you closer to him when the closed door grants you privacy for the first time all day, and you don’t hesitate to pull him into a long kiss. You feel Remus soften against you as his lips meld against yours, his hands migrating to your lower back to pull you as close to him as he can. You break the kiss to gasp for air, feeling your face grow hot at the smirk Remus hosts.
He walks you backwards towards your bed, arms tightening around you when you trip over Lily’s mattress on the floor. You gasp loudly when your feet leave the ground, Remus’ enhanced strength easily allowing him to lift you off the ground and place you onto your bed. His lips immediately find yours again, even as he clumsily tries to lay himself down on the bed without crushing you with his weight.
“You’re not tired?” You jokingly mutter against Remus’s lips, biting your bottom lip when he begins aiming his kissing away from your lips and to your jaw, down your neck.
"If you could have anything," Sirius asks, sprawled across your sofa like he owns it, "what would you wish for?"
It's three in the morning. He showed up an hour ago, restless and unable to sleep, climbing through your window like a stray dog seeking shelter. This is becoming a pattern.
"That's a loaded question, Black."
"Humor me." His grey eyes are too bright, manic energy barely contained. Full moon was last week, which means Moony's recovering and Padfoot has nowhere to run. "Anything in the world. What would it be?"
You could say something safe. Money, success, the usual answers. But Sirius doesn't do safe, and he has a way of pulling honesty from you at ungodly hours.
"To give you peace," you say quietly.
He goes very still. "What?"
"You asked." You curl up in the armchair across from him. "I'd wish you could sleep through the night without nightmares. That you could look in a mirror without seeing your family looking back. That you could forgive yourself for things that weren't your fault."
His expression does something complicated—vulnerable and defensive at once. "That's a terrible wish. Completely wasted."
"It's my wish."
"You could ask for anything, and you'd use it on me?" He sits up, running hands through his hair in agitation. "I'm not worth that."
"Yes, you are."
"I'm not." His voice cracks. "I'm a Black. We're rotten, all the way through. Bad blood, bad choices, bad—"
You cross to him, taking his face in your hands. "You're the bravest person I know. You chose goodness when your entire family chose darkness. You'd die for the people you love. That's not rotten, Sirius."
He closes his eyes, leaning into your touch like he's starving for it. "You don't know what you're talking about."
"Then prove me wrong."
He laughs—broken and bitter and achingly sad. Then he pulls you down onto the sofa beside him, holding on like you're the only solid thing in his world.
James Potter x f!muggle!reader
word count: 1,450
warnings: bar, smoking, cursing, underage and of age drinking, ig mature themes?
a/n: hai! so there will probably be only one chapter after this and itll be posted this Friday! yay! the decrease in interactions and such on everything I've posted recently makes me a tad bit nervous, but regardless- Please go check out my 1k celebration post and participate!
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“I’m so fucked,” Ben looked at your retreating figure, the grip on his beer so tight his knuckles paled.
“What’s wrong?” James looked over, all he could see was your crimson jacket disappear into the pub.
“That was my sister,”
“Maybe she didn’t see you.” Peter offered, slurring his words. One of the other boys was holding him up.
Ben shook his head, the anxiety pit in his stomach growing.
“She definitely did, and she didn’t come yell at me,” Ben chugged what was left of his beer, “she’s actually going to kill me, she’s never done that before.”
“Killed you?” Sirius smirked
“You’re a fucking idiot Pads,” Remus retorted, giving him a small smack to the back of his head. Ben started breathing heavy.
“Hey, hey, hey-” James put a hand on Ben’s shoulder, grounding him. “Maybe I can go talk with her, yeah? Maybe she’s not that mad— she’s probably just mad that Padfoot is an idiot, maybe if we just let her punch him, it’ll pass-”
“What-” “Shut up, padfoot.”
Ben shook his head rapidly, James smiled wider, nodding just as fast.
“I’m brilliant at this, don’t worry- how do you think we got out of detention so often?” He patted Ben’s shoulder firmly, walking away.
“She is actually going to kill him-”
“Yeah, but he’s decided on it; there’s no saving him now,” Remus said
James walked towards the pub. It would be easy. For better or for worse, James knew he could be charming, a small smile, a small compliment. Not like Sirius, who laid it on thick from the jump, but subtle.
His smile was often enough to soften people.
He quickly spotted you, drink in hand, leaning over the bar with your face in your hand. He tapped your shoulder.
“Pardon me-” You looked up, a scowl already on your face. James smiled, charming, earnest.
You looked like you had seen a ghost.
“I understand you’re Ben’s sister?” He said as you quickly drank your drink. Putting the glass down rather harshly.
“Are you James Potter?” Your lip quivered, and for the first time that night, James heard your voice. The voice he heard on the recorded message earlier that night, the voice he dreamt about, the voice he craved to hear every waking moment of every single day.
He would recognize the way you said his name. He’d recognize it for miles, drunk or sober. James thought of it often, its echoes resounding in his dreams.
He stared at your face, trying to take in every detail.
He stared at your lips.
He thought of how you had described yourself, he thought of your laugh, the teasing tone your voice took the second you both got on the phone.
It was missing now, a frown on your face, your voice flat and monotone in anger. He felt something akin to a pile of stones had settled in his stomach, and he stood with his mouth slightly agape.
“Tell my brother he has to find his own ride back home tomorrow.” You turned your back to him, putting what was left of your change in the tip jar and walked away.
James didn’t move. His eyes trailed after your figure as you went up to who he guessed was your roommate. He could see her face darken as her eyes flickered over to him.
You both walked out the pub’s second entrance, her arm over your shoulders.
“What happened?” Remus appeared suddenly, pressing his shoulder against James’s.
“Would you think I had lost it if I said his sister is actually the girl I’ve been talking to on the telephone for weeks?”
Remus frowned
“I’d tell you that you’re hallucinating, mate.” He signaled for another beer.
“Well, I’m not; she knew my name.”
“There’s a million reasons why she’d know your name,” Remus took a swig, “we were in the same house as her brother, you taught him how to fly—”
“No Moons, I know that voice…” James shoved his face in his hands, fingers rubbing his eyelids. “The worst part is, I think she knew too, I think she knew before I even came up, and I didn’t even get a chance to talk with her.” Remus patted his back, taking it all in.
“... bollocks”
-
You felt like your feet had been tied to lead blocks as you arrived to your flat. You spent the whole ride home sobbing into Charlotte’s shoulder; between the alcohol and the crying, you were unintelligible.
You threw your jacket at some unknown corner of your room, sluggishly trying to peel off your various layers of clothing.
Charlotte stood at your doorway, as you ranted.
“How is this even possible, out of all the people in this bloody country-” you exclaimed, jumping on one foot trying to pry off one of your boots. “Am I fucking stupid Lottie? Maybe they’re all just playing one big prank on me— that’d be absolutely smashing.”
You huffed as you ripped off the other boot.
“I’m not an expert, but why didn’t you…” Charlotte trailed off. You whipped your head over to glare at her. “Talk… to… him?”
“What the hell was I supposed to say? Hi, man I’ve been talking to on the phone for weeks! Lovely that you took my brother out drinking, your friend badly hit on me, and you lied about who you were!” your eyes watered again.
“I reckon its bed time for you, miss,” you finished pulling your sleep shirt over your head as she said this. “You need a break, babe, sleep in, good breakfast tomorrow-”
“I have to pick up my brat,” you groaned, falling into the plush of your bed.
“You said you told Mr ‘James’ “ she said, her fingers forming airquotes when she said his name, “that your brother had to find his own ride back-”
You groaned
“Yeah, but I didn’t mean it- I can’t just leave him stranded and alone.”
Charlotte shook her head while grabbing the handle of your door.
“If this James can take him out to drink, he can damn well bring the boy back y/n,” she closed the door with a goodnight, a sympathetic smile on her face.
You stared up at the ceiling. Everything felt as if it were spinning around you.
He couldnt have possibly told you. You weren’t irrational; you knew being magical was a secret. The only reason you even knew that world existed at all was because of your brother’s… gifts.
You still felt hurt.
He knew you were… normal. unmagical. a muggle. He could’ve put a stop to it any time. Why keep calling? Why keep roping you in? Maybe he just didn't… like you.
You liked James Potter. You knew this now. All of the daydreams of finding him, of possibly being something… together? you didnt know, you always told yourself it was too early to even think about stuff like that.
But you still felt the butterflies in your tummy and the giddiness every time he called. You missed him when he was gone, and you thought about him all the time.
All of those thoughts disappeared as you thought about it. Why were you truly upset?
He entertained it, knowing you weren’t like him. Knowing you couldn’t be together. But it was just because he didn’t see you like that… at all.
You decided not to think about it anymore. You would never see or hear from him again, you repeated this to yourself as you clumsily scooted over to the head of the bed, curling up there as you stared at the shining little red ‘messages’ button on your telephone.
You pressed the play button absentmindedly, holding the receiver between your ear and the bed.
“hi sweetheart, i hope you and ben are doing well— just wanted to call and check in since its been a few days…” your mom’s voice came through, you inspected your polish as she rambled on, “— anyway, let me know when you can… um.. yeah just get back to me soon! Say hello to Lottie for me? I love you both and Lottie too.”
a beep.
“Hey, its me…” you shot up, eyes wide open. it was like a shot of adrenaline. Your heart beat incessantly as he spoke. “um I was just giving you a ring to catch up, I’m at a bar, but I’ll probably be at a better place to call tomorrow… I just couldn’t stop thinking about calling you…” You could hear the bar in the back, the same bar you had been in.
“I miss you…” a beat, like he realized what he had said. You wanted to cry.
this series is SO GOOD!!!! no amount of interactions can change that, you are SO talented and the relationship and story between them is everything i love this series so much
Hi Mae, could I request a Remus fic where reader is having a chronic pain flare but still wants to have sex? Like it's soft and slow and he adjusts to make sure he doesn't hurt her (after making sure fifty times that shes alright even though she's the one asking for it). I know you've written for chronic illness before but I don't believe you've written smut around that so it's okay if you're not comfortable with that, but I thought I'd ask
Thank you for your request lovely <3
cw: smut mdni, chronic pain flare
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 464 words
Remus likes it when you sigh. Each time you do, he mumbles approval into your skin or squeezes the fleshy underside of your thigh in his hand, and you grow yet dizzier with molten pleasure.
Other sounds have been misinterpreted. The first time you’d gasped, Remus sat straight up, asking, “You alright?” in the sort of voice that let you know he’d be in tatters if you said no. You’ve smothered one or two whimpers for fear of similar overreaction.
Minus the sparse moments of fretfulness, though, Remus respects your knowledge of your own limits. He trusts you to tell him if things get too much, just as you trust him to tell you if he decides he’s not feeling up to it, too. And with the setup he mandated before he was willing to begin anything—support for your joints, a veritable pile of pillows underneath you—the prospect of this time resulting in anything more alarming than this slow, warm seep through your midsection is far from your mind.
Remus’ mouth presses to the crease of your thigh. Gently, he kisses the soft pudge below your navel. Your stomach. Your ribs, up your chest, your cheek.
“Hi,” he breathes, lingering at your lips. Like he’s pleased to find you there.
You smile. “Hi.”
His eyes, dark and reflective in the low light, flicker across your face. “You look so lovely.”
The warmth you’ve been feeling flares, closer now to the surface. Admittedly, you feel prettier than you have in a long while underneath Remus’ gaze. “Thank you,” you say softly.
“How do you feel, lovely girl?” He kisses your neck. It tickles at first, you giggle, but the humor soon fades into something headier.
You tilt your head to the side to encourage him, breathing, “Good.”
“Yeah? Ready?”
“About as ready as I was a half hour ago,” you tease.
Remus huffs, but it’s for show. “No allowances made anymore for a man who likes to take his time.”
“Nope.”
“No patience at all,” he gripes, his mouth on your neck painfully tender. He pets your side, and it feeds the low ache in your gut. A nicer sort of ache.
“Not getting any more patient.” You laugh when he squeezes your middle rebukefully. He positions himself over you, and you peck his lips again as he sets a kind hand to your hip, steadying you.
“How’s this? You feel okay?”
“Good,” you murmur, your eyes closing as he sinks into you slowly. “It’s good.”
As Remus’ arms curl around you, his touch works like a balm. Soothing everything hurt, and warming everything cold, and enveloping everything lonely. You feel heat behind your eyelids.
He kisses the corner of your mouth, a question vocalized only a moment later.
Telling remus “you could have been nicer to me” and he gets so offended and pouty
fem, 0.9k
“Oh, handsome?”
Remus stiffens a little at your tone. He knows you well, but not well enough to know feigned hesitance from real. “What’s wrong?” he asks.
He sits at the top of his bed, where you often like to be, shirtless in a strange turn but still wearing socks and pants. His torso is pale, dotted in freckles at the chest most of all, though there are a few darker ones along his shoulders. His fairer skin paired with the lighter tones of his hair, curling impishly behind his ears. The book he’s reading gets hugged to his tummy as he waits.
You wonder how best to wind him up without giving it away.
“Can we– talk?”
He is palpably unhappy with your question. You cannot wait to see how annoyed he gets when he realises it’s all a fakeout.
“Yeah, of course we can.” Remus stares at you. “Come and sit, then.”
You sit sideways on the bed, keeping your eyes on his leg so as not to give up the game. “I’m nervous.”
He softens, some. “Well don’t be, chick, just tell me what’s going on.”
Chick is a strange one. He uses it when you’re acting small. Like he’s further apart from you than he means to be, or like he’s- it’s almost protective. Reassuringly, ever so slightly patronising, without any of the associated condescension.
“I was thinking a bit about today.”
“Yeah?”
“And there’s…” You press your knee to his gently, without meaning to. “There were a couple of things that stood out to me, and I don’t want to be a priss, but I just think you could’ve been nicer to me. That’s all.”
Remus, to his credit, looks more worried than annoyed. “What things, dovey?”
“That’s not important.”
When Remus frowns it changes his face. He is almost Cabanel, a fallen angel full of growing contempt. “Right, but if I don’t know what I did, how can I–”
“It was less about the specifics. I just– I think you could’ve been nicer.”
“Right. Again, though, I don’t really know what I’ve done wrong. I actually thought I was well-behaved today. I didn't even complain when you said that man on the telly was handsome, when I really could have, and I–”
You can see him restrain himself from starting a tally, which is mature. If he were there sitting beside you saying such a thing when your relationship is as healthy as it’s ever been, you might feel some resistance, too. Remus had woken you up gently, kissed you sweetly. He’d made your breakfast and done the washing and helped you when you couldn’t dust the eaves by taking the chore from you completely. He is a good boyfriend. He’s a good man, actually. Very hardworking, and generous in love.
You feel actually embarrassed for such a silly joke, which lends itself to your acted-shame. “Sorry,” you say, ducking your head. “I’s stupid.”
There’s a small silence. A hand with freckles on the knuckles takes your hand on your knee, cradling it gingerly.
“It’s not stupid. But I can’t understand if you can’t point things out to me. I am… sorry, though, that I made you feel like this. It wasn’t what I was trying to do, but I’ve done it, and you don’t deserve to feel like that.” He draws all of your fingers together like he’s collecting them under his thumb and squeezes. “Can you forgive me?”
“Are you teasing me?” you ask.
Remus’ voice lowers a shade. “No, dove. Not teasing you, how could I? Don’t like seeing you upset like this.”
Coming clean isn’t as fun when he’s being sincere, but what could you expect?
“Remus, I am very very sorry, but I’m just pulling your leg.” You lift his hand to your cheek and rub his knuckles against the finest of hairs that flock the side of your face. His eyes have gone very dark, his mouth pressed in tight line. “I have tricked you. You are, genuinely, always quite nice to me.”
“Not anymore,” he says decidedly, pulling his hand from your grasp to cross it over his chest. “Sofa. And I’m not kissing you goodnight, so have that.”
“Fuck off,” you laugh.
“I’m dead serious. See how nice I am now?” Remus grins. “Best pack yourself a few pillows, though, that sofa’s murder on the coccyx.”
You laugh under your breath, slinking across the top of the bed to lay yourself over his chest and shoulders. Nosing at his naked collar, you smother anymore laughter, worried and then relieved when he refuses to hug you for a bloated two seconds.
“You’re a nuisance,” he says.
“Thank you for saying sorry, even though you didn’t know what I was talking about.” Your top lip kisses his neck. You screw your face sideways to be closer, forehead tickled by his soft curls. “You don’t have to apologise, though, you could have argued with me. I was trying to wind you up.”
Remus’ arms are like cords around you. You worm your way into his lap, just ecstatic to be loved and to have tricked him. He even laughs by your ear.
summary: remus does his best to help soothe your anxiety.
content warning: fluff; established relationship; reader is anxious.
a/n: just something small between drafts <33
It’s dark enough that it’s difficult to split the sky and the sea into two. Instead, it’s all one shade of indigo, with the beach barely illuminated by the lamps dotted along the street. The waves against the shore leave behind blankets of foam on the sand, and the repeated crashing is loud enough to hear from your bedroom window.
You’re tucked against the windowframe, back bent against the wood and your knees to your chest. The wind tousles your shirt and scrapes against your cheeks. If you licked the air, it would taste like salt. Your chest rises and falls steadily as your eyes wander the neighbourhood.
There’s a group of kids hanging out on the beach, bodies like dark notches against the pale sand, their voices carrying with the wind. You can see directly down into your yard and your neighbour’s yard. Their TV casts flickering light across the mowed grass and the bird fountain they’d put up about a week ago. You can just barely hear the voices floating from the news channel. Nothing new. Nothing interesting.
A voice behind you calls out your name, and you look over your shoulder.
Remus lays on your bed, hair a mess and his elbow draped over his eyes. He’s just woken up from the nap he took hours ago, and you know he’ll be awake for most of the night now.
“What time is it?” he asks, voice scratchy from sleep.
You glance at your wrist watch. “Ten thirty-ish.”
Remus groans long and quietly, his arm slipping away to be replaced by both hands that dig harshly at his eyes.
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
You slide away from the windowframe, butt aching from the hard press of wood.
“Figured you needed the sleep,” you answer.
The lamp on the bedside table is orange and soft, and the suncatchers you’ve hung from the ceiling cast thin shadows across the carpet. You bend to pick up pieces of dirty laundry, avoiding stepping on the abandoned game of chess.
“Maybe I did,” you hear Remus mutter, more so to himself than to you.
You smile and shake your head, glancing at his lethargic form briefly as you flitter around the room, picking things up off the floor.
A deck of cards.
Open study books.
A letter from Sirius, torn open and read three times over.
You look over the chicken-scatch writing with a pensive gaze. “You think James and Sirius will be all right this summer?” you ask, voice unusually light.
Remus hears you, and his hands have fallen to rest across his stomach, one knee propped up as he watches you carefully.
“Yeah?” he says, “the Potters have always liked Sirius. But no doubt him and James will get themselves into trouble.”
“That’s not very comforting,” you retort, placing the letter on your desk. It’s cluttered with quills and inkpots, several old potions books, and an assortment of trinkets from Zonko’s joke shop (gifts from the boys).
Remus sighs and shuffles upright, and he calls your name softly. His tone has changed, no longer sleepy. Instead, when you look at him, there’s a sharp sense of clarity in his brown eyes, an expression that says, I see through you.
He gestures for you to come to him with a flick of his hand, so you place the letter down and walk over to him. Your knees dig into the mattress as you crawl up to Remus, before sitting cross-legged in front of him.
Remus tilts his head. “What’s eating you, Sticks?”
You hate that nickname. You got it back in your first year of Hogwarts, all because you entered class with sticks in your hair—a direct result of being shoved into a bush by a group of oblivious girls rushing to their own class. You still find it difficult to believe it was an accident.
“Nothing,” you say tonelessly, hands in your lap.
“Don’t lie,” Remus scolds, brows furrowing. His hands reach for yours, tugging you closer until your knees press against his. “You’ve been distracted since the start of the holidays. Talk to me, please?”
Of course Remus would pick up on that. He, for whatever reason, always seems to be highly in tune with how you feel, reading your face and deducing things in seconds. Frankly, you find it annoying and flattering. A confusing mix.
“I just…” you push your tongue into your cheek, contemplating your words. Remus waits patiently. “I worry about Sirius. He seemed so… vague about what happened. With his family and all… it makes me think that he's downplaying things—and you know Sirius, he takes every chance he gets at being dramatic.”
Remus hums deep within his throat, though the sound is soft. His brows have pulled in, and your heart stutters at his sincere contemplation.
“Well,” he finally says, “Sirius is with James now, and I doubt he'll go back to that house, so you don't have to worry.”
It feels a little rehearsed, and maybe it is, but you can see in his earthy gaze that he's trying to be helpful, even as sleep makes his eyes puffy.
Tilting your head, you mumble. “Yeah, you're right. I'm just being silly.”
Remus shakes his head immediately, his fingers skating over your ear, even though there wasn't anything to tuck away.
“You're not being silly,” he says gently. Too gently. He leans forward to smush his lips to the side of your face, mouth dragging down to your chin, then to peck the corner of your lips.
It makes you smile, gooey and warm, and Remus watches it spread across your face with something close to pride.
“I mean it,” he whispers, “you're not silly. You've just got this huge heart that makes your head spin with too many thoughts and worries.”
“Don't go dropping poetry on me now, Lupin.”
“I'm serious.”
You giggle as Remus shoves his face into the side of your neck, blowing hot air across your skin. Goosebumps scatter down your arms and you laugh while wriggling, and he lets up, though he keeps his forehead pressed to your shoulder.
“I can honestly go back to sleep,” he murmurs, and you can feel the swell of his phonics against your skin. It makes him feel alive.
Your fingers thread through his hair. “Sleep, then.”
“No,” he shakes his head against you. “I'll try and just end up tossing and turning.”
You hum, not quite knowing what else to say. You opt to keep your fingers running through his mussed hair, hoping the physical act might communicate affection better.
Remus lifts his head, and he looks at you with eyes so soft, you wonder for a moment if he's still half-dreaming—not as awake as you think.
“You should go to sleep,” he says, hands moving to encompass yours. His thumbs massage deep circles into the backs of them.
“And what will you do?” you ask, talk of sleep making your eyes feel heavier.
“Read, maybe study.”
“Study what? It's summer holidays.”
“Anything. Holidays mean nothing to me.”
You shake your head while Remus grins in a reserved way; shy-looking but you know he's the exact opposite.
“Loony Lupin,” you mumble as you peel away from Remus, and the man gasps lightly, gripping the front of his shirt as if he were in pain.
“Cruel, wicked, heartless—”
“Go study,” you chuckle as you shimmy under the blankets (already unmade from Remus’ nap).
Remus leans over you once you're settled, elbow bent beside you.
“Hey,” he murmurs, and there's a seriousness to his face. “Don't worry about anything. Everyone is okay.”
The words could make you burst with emotion; a strangled feeling caught in your throat. To find someone who could see through the schooled expressions, the jittery hands, the clouded eyes… it had once been a dream and only that.
“Thank you, Remus,” you whisper earnestly, watching how the orange light slopes around his face like milk, and when he smiles, it's more boyish.
“Good night, Sticks.” Remus presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, lips pulling away regretfully.
You watch with sleepy eyes as he moves to sit at your desk, wrists bent under your chin.
The waves crash outside and the curtains float with puffs of wind. Remus’ untamed hair falls into his eyes and you fall asleep listening to the sound of his quill scratching against parchment.
James Potter x f!muggle!reader
word count: 1,521
warnings: bar, smoking, cursing, underage and of age drinking, ig mature themes?
a/n: im back, baby, click here for my rapid-fire catch-up. all i know its not spring yet but i rlly wanted to do my theme now :3
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If James had the time to think about it, he’d probably guess that he was quickly falling in love with you, which scared him.
He didn’t really know you after all.
He didn’t even know what you looked like. But the sound of your voice made his chest contract and his fingertips buzz. His cheeks would redden, and his gaze would unfocus if he thought about you for too long, Sirius had made sure to point it out.
And how stupid he looked daydreaming about a woman he didn’t know at all. He hadn’t felt this way about anyone since Lily. Not that he liked to remember how that ended.
“Can you focus on what we are talking about for five bloody minutes, Prongs?” Sirius snapped his finger in front of James, “Are we placing bets this year?”
“Godric, let’s not,” Peter whined, “I still haven't financially recovered from last year’s loss.”
“It was fucking rough,” Remus said, a cigarette hanging off of his lips, fingers fiddling with a lighter.
“You guys place bets?” One of the younger boys chimed in. Even though the Marauders had graduated what felt like many springs ago, they still kept in contact with Harvey Bones, quickly recognizing their peer and his father (along with the band of younger kids trailing behind them) as they walked to where the portkeys were. They were quite familiar with a few of the boys as they shared houses for a couple of years.
“Yeah, don’t do it” Remus, ever responsible, cuts in. “It’s bloody stupid to be wasting money like that.”
“Unless you win large,” Sirius chimes through, leaning his arm on the boy’s shoulder. “Then it's fucking fantastic.”
The group of boys chatted along as they walked, picking it up right after they stabilized from the portkey.
“How you doing mate?” James walked slower, falling in line with Ben.
“Really bloody excited, I‘ve never been to something like this.” The younger boy’s smile radiated excitement.
Ben was a nice boy, a shy little Muggleborn who had been sorted into Gryffindor during the Marauders’ 5th year. James remembers McGonagall asking him to help him with extracurricular flying lessons… privately.
He slowly morphed into something resembling a younger brother for them, a friend.
“Though my sister’s quite scared about all this,”
“Is that why she didn’t come?”
“She’s a muggle…” A roar of drunk Chuddley Cannon fans cut through the conversation.
“Oh, right,” James struggled to find the words for a moment, popping another Bertie bean into his mouth. “What part is she afraid of?” James hoped he didn't sound rude.
“I don’t know anymore,” Ben smiles, his gaze locked into an empty sky as they began to settle around the campsite. “I think it's the fact that she’d be helpless to help me, I think she’s felt that way since we got my letter.”
James hums in acknowledgement. He thinks of you—the mysterious Muggle girl on the telephone. He wonders if you’d feel afraid if you knew. If you’d still want to talk to him, if you’d still have the same amusement in your voice when answering the phone.
He wondered if he’d have a chance.
With you.
Or if you would fizzle out in his mouth like a fizzing whizzbee, never to be seen again.
“So, what's your sister like?” James asked with a smirk, Ben laughed with a shake of his head.
-
“Cannot believe we still suck arse,” Peter said while he chewed on a candy rope, his fingers busy counting the money he lost to Sirius.
“Speak for yourself, mate,” Sirius smiled wickedly, “I told you the cannons would lose, don’t know why you didn’t listen.”
Half the group hung their heads in shame at the loss,
“How’d you know though?” Ben piped up, counting his winnings. He only bet against the cannons because James and Sirius did, and he had seen them play Quidditch… they might look like idiots, but they knew what they were talking about.
At least in his eyes.
“Gut feeling”
“Just knew.” James and Sirius both smiled innocently, their responses or lack thereof making Peter groan and drop his head on the table. Ben smothered a laugh.
“This deserves a drink, for cheering or grieving either way- whose up for a little pub run?” James piped up, and Harvey very quickly agreed along with the rest of the boys.
“Have fun!” Ben smiled. The younger half of the group started to settle into the camp, slightly dejected by the ‘grown’ activities they would not be able to partake in.
“Yer not coming?” Peter drawled from between more candy rope
“Thought we couldn't?”
“That’s bloody stupid, ain’t it, Pads?” James tskd, dropping an arm around Sirius, twin smirk on their faces.
“I mean… we’re all adults here, are we not?” Sirius continued, “I don’t see any children in sight, do you, dearest Moony?”
Remus sighed, a repressed smirk on his face as well. The small group of younger boys started to snicker
“I haven’t seen a child in ages. Get ready”
-
“She’s pretty,” James’ eyes scanned the room, trying to follow who Remus was talking about. The little muggle pub they had found, although farther away than they had intended to travel, was lively enough that their small group of 10 was able to blend in fairly easily.
“Thanks, Moons, don’t know if I’m really on the prowl tonight,” James said, absentmindedly swishing what was left of his beer in the bottle. Remus raised an eyebrow. “Do you know if they have a public telephone here?”
The idea landed in his brain like lightning, and he got up as soon as the words left his mouth. Remus pointed towards the black phone on the other side of the bar. James was almost on autopilot. The three drinks he had down were nothing compared to the realization that he could call right now; it made him feel more buzzed than any drink could. He inserted the coins clumsily and turned each digit of your phone number with the rotary dial.
A beat of silence.
It was ringing.
James took a deep breath; he could only focus on the ringing; everyone else faded into the background. What would he say?
“I miss you, I know it's only been a day and a half, but I am slowly approaching drunk territory, and all I can think about is you.” No, that sounded… crazy
“Hey, I know it's eleven at night, but I couldn’t wait to talk to you, and I finally could, and” okay, desperate James isn't very suave.
It finally stopped ringing.
“Hey, this is y/n-” James opened his mouth, “Please leave a message at the tone!” James closed it with a scowl.
James scoffed at the phone as if it was it’s fault. He popped another coin in and dialed once more.
You didn’t pick up. He left a message this time.
“Hey, its me… um I was just giving you a ring to catch up, I’m at a bar, but I’ll probably be at a better place to call tomorrow… I just couldn’t stop thinking about calling you…” James took a sharp breath, “I miss you.” It was like he couldn’t help himself.
“Anyway, have a good night.”
“Godric, I’m an idiot,” James muttered to himself as he hung up the phone.
-
If you had time to think about it, you probably would’ve walked up and punched whoever had the bright idea to bring a sixteen-year-old to a pub. Which at the moment was... James? You decided you were crazy, and there was a snowball's chance in hell that it was indeed your recurring caller.
The alcohol and the flip-flopping, whether it was James or not, made your head spin, and your blood pump.
You needed to sit down.
You stared straight into your brother's eyes ever so briefly before you retracted back, slowly walking back into the pub.
“You aren’t going to do anything?” Charlotte asked, almost aghast.
“What's the point?” You looked at your roommate, your eyes rimmed red. “I’m not his mom, Lottie, and I have enough on my plate.”
If you had been in a better mood, you would’ve intervened. But there was no energy for that today, not as the cold of the wind bit at your cheeks, not with the warmth of the alcohol starting to fade, the cigarette wasn’t enough either.
Your brother was old enough, you guessed. You didn’t know anymore.
The cold slipped through the layers of your clothes.
If you had time to think about it, you’d beat yourself up for not dragging your brother out of there by his ear.
You’d think about the boys he was with. You’d think about if it truly was James.
It’s impossible. You did not know this boy.
The random voice on the telephone could belong to anyone; you had plastered this idea onto some poor random guy.
Regardless, you decided you weren’t going to call James again, nor answer any future calls after this weekend. It was pointless. You decided, as you ordered another drink, to start pursuing better things for your life, concrete things, not disembodied voices on the telephone.
summary: james can't help but panic when he sees that you're not wearing the necklace he got you because you've never taken it off until now. but when he asks you about it, he discovers you never actually took it off and causes a little bit of a chain reaction.
wc: 1k+
university au - let me know if you guys want to see more fics in this au!
In the entry doorway of your flat, James doesn’t seem as happy to see you as he normally is. What’s weirder even, is that he’s expecting the same from you. His arms are hesitant to wrap around your torso when you sling your arms over his shoulders, pulling him into a kiss. He’s happy to receive it, of course, though his shoulders are stiff and his body doesn’t melt into yours as it usually does.
“Hey,” You mutter quietly with that smile that charms James every time. “You okay?” James’s hands come down to grip your hips, and he uses his hold on you to push your body away from his slightly, just so he can get a proper look at your face. “Did I do something?” He asks, eyes clouded with worry. “Are you mad at me or something?” The confused expression that makes its way onto your face only makes your boyfriend more anxious. You tug James into the hallway and shut the door behind him before quizzically muttering “What are you talking about, James? Why would you say that?”
James’s eyes flicker down to your chest, where the low neckline of your shirt exposes your bare skin, where the necklace he got you usually resides. Since the day he gifted it to you, he’s never seen you without it, but lo and behold, here you are. James makes a gesture towards his own neck, voice shaking as he says “It’s just, you’re not wearing your necklace and so-” James trails off when he sees you immediately grasp at your neck, where the necklace usually sits, and an odd sense of relief fills his chest when your eyes go wide with panic, and you cry “Oh my god, James, my necklace!”
Both your hands come up to feel around your neck, making sure the locket is well and truly missing. A chain of curses leaves your lips, and James can only stand there as you stick your hands in your pockets, then desperately ruffle through the bag you have slung over your shoulder. One of its straps slips off your shoulder in your hurry, and a notebook clatters onto the floor. You leave it there. James grimaces to himself. He's only supposed to be picking you up to go to the library together, but you quickly turn on your heels, heading straight back to your room. He slides your notebook off the floor and instantly follows, but he stays standing with his back against the door to your bedroom once you’re inside because the small room offered by university accommodation only has enough space for one person to be panicking.
Admittedly, he feels completely useless just standing there, watching as you drag the mattress away from the wall, climbing up on the bed to check if your necklace fell between the cracks. He bites his lip as you shake your duvet out, sighing when only dust falls onto the floor. You whine, pressing the back of your palms to your eyes, heavily breathing in a poor attempt not to cry.
James pushes his back off the door, face softening as he tilts his head to the side, approaching you. His hands come up to your shoulders, tugging you closer to him so he can pull you into a loving hug, letting the thick duvet fall onto the floor between you. “Sweetheart, it’s okay, we’ll find it.” He tries to soothe you, but you’re already slipping your hands between you and pushing him away from you by the chest. “I can always get you a new one.” He adds, but to his sorrow, it only makes you more upset.
“But I don’t want a new one, I want my necklace!” You insist with a dramatic gesture, fat tears finally rolling down your cheeks. James is sure you can’t see anything through them, so he brings you into another hug, letting you sob in his arms for as long as you wish to. “Oh darling, I’ll find it for you, okay?” He mutters, pressing a kiss to your hair while he sways you back and forth in his arms. With a loud sniffle, you nod at your boyfriend’s words, letting him guide you to sit in your desk chair while he re-assembles your room into a state of order.
However, fortunately for both of you, neither of you need to spend much time looking. A knock comes at your door, and James glances at you before moving towards it. When he swings the heavy door open, he finds a tall man in front him. He has dark, curly hair, and his arms are littered with dark tattoos, but his eyes are a striking blue that has James feeling slightly threatened. He’s one of your flatmates, James recognises from the photos, and in his hand is a familiar heart shaped locket.
“Hey, I, er, found this in the kitchen,” Sirius says loudly enough for you to hear. “It was half hidden by one of the ovens - luckily I kicked my spoon underneath it and had to fetch it. Found this instead.” James sighs in relief, and he hears as you jump up from the desk chair, peeking around him to see what Sirius had to offer. You snatch the locket from Sirius’s hand with an ecstatic gasp, opening the little heart to gaze at the image inside.
“Thanks mate.” James says, extending his hand out for Sirius to shake. “James.” He introduces himself, letting go of Sirius’s hand when you grab his free wrist, turning his hand over and dropping the locket inside. Sirius echoes his own name to your boyfriend, watching in amusement as you turn around, pulling your hair out of the way so James can clasp the locket around your neck. In an automatic response, you lift a hand up to play with the necklace, tugging just lightly enough to make sure it's secured. You finally take a deep breath when you recognise that it’s safely there. “A bit too emotionally attached to that necklace, don’t you think?” Sirius asks jokingly with an eyebrow raised.
He shrugs his shoulders at the friendly glare you shoot him, and open your mouth to offer a sassy response only to be interrupted by James. “Yeah, it’ll probably change when there’s a ring on her finger.” Your eyes light up at the comment, and Sirius can only grin as you glance down at your left hand, flexing your fingers upwards.
“Well you better get to it now that you’ve brought up a ring.” Sirius jokes, and James moves out of your way as you walk back towards your bed. “That’ll be easy enough, we’ve already been together two years.”
The conversation between them blends into background noise, and you barely hear James tell you he’ll be back before the door swings shut behind him and Sirius.
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