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[luveline]

far to fall [remus lupin x reader]

“Listen to you," he said under his breath. "Can't even speak properly, can you, lovely girl?”

“Remus, don't be cruel. Don't be."

"Cruel with you... How could I ever be?"

summary: you’re in love with your best friend remus. he somewhat shares the sentiment.

word count: 7.8k

tags: smut, nsft, marauders era, best-friends to lovers, mutual pining, getting together, first-time, fluff, fem!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader

requested by @marimorena06 here

You had a huge secret. It wasn’t earth-shattering, it wouldn’t bring about world peace or ruination if discovered. It wasn’t criminal, though it felt like that sometimes, a thief stealing glances at his Sandy brown hair and perfect, inviting eyes. It wasn’t dirty or pure or light or dark, it just was.

You were in love with your best friend.

You’d never believed in love at first sight, but Remus Lupin inspired something alike. You just knew, that day in fourth year, when a quiet, brave boy held out his hand for a crying, lonely girl that something was about to happen.

At the time, you’d thought of love. So maybe you’d known all along. But that day turned into years of the same thing, Remus always reaching out to save you, to pull you away from the stuff that was hurting you - he’d always been that way. His saviour complex was something unhealthy and yet you couldn’t get it out of him if you tried.

The secret was starting to become less secret. It began with one wrong look, a gaze too steady, too longing. Remus went up to the bar for another drink and James said, “Oh my god.”

You could tell from his tone you’d been found out. James Potter had always been extremely perceptive. It was a wonder he’d never noticed before.

You put a handful of pear drops in your mouth to avoid responding.

James reached out to squeeze your cheeks, and they fell from your mouth in a sticky wet mess.

“James!” you sputtered, grabbing some napkins from the centre of the table to clean up your face and the ejected sweets. “What is wrong with you?”

“What’s wrong with you?” he shot back. “I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed. I have to tell Sirius-“

“No!” you said, much too loudly. You quickly searched the bar to see if Remus had heard. He hadn’t, so you leaned in very close to James’ face and whispered, “You can’t tell anyone.”

James wrinkled his nose, “I tell Sirius everything.”

“And Sirius tells Remus everything!”

James tilted his head in thought and then conceded. “Fair.”

Your hackles lowered. “Thank you.”

“But I want to talk about this!” he whispered urgently. Remus sat back down, a drink for each of the three of you in his hands. A butterbear for you and something with a little more kick in it for himself and James.

“Cheers,” James said.

“Thanks,” you said.

He smiled, a small smile, brilliant all the same. “You’re welcome.”

“When will Lily be joining us?”

James’ face clouded with adoration. Lily was in her second trimester of pregnancy, so she definitely wouldn’t be drinking anything. She kept a good lid on the boys, a skill you’d never managed to acquire.

“Not long now.”

“Oh, wipe that infatuated look from your face,” a new voice said. You turned your head to see Sirius Black looking exceedingly smart, although dampened by the rain outside. “I’m here, no need for tears.”

“Prat,” James said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Where have you been?”

“With Marlene.”

“How is she?” Remus asked. Marlene had broken her leg trying to dust Sirius’ wardrobe. He felt terrible.

“She’s great! Cast comes off next week.”

They drifted into conversation. You tried your best to pay attention, clenching and unclenching the napkin full of pear drops in your hand.

Remus pushed his shoulder into yours. “Something wrong?”

“Mm?” you looked into his face, startled at how close he was. “No, just thinking.”

“About?”

You looked down at his mouth, caught yourself, averted your gaze to his neck. How do you describe the feeling of being found out?

“Nothing,” you said. “Nothing in particular.”

You insisted on keeping a healthy distance between yourself and Remus, hoping to dissuade James from imparting his newfound knowledge on anyone else in your circle of friends. This was an imperfect method, as years of friendship and doting meant that Remus was more than used to a friendly arm hooked through yours, his shoulders against yours, your knees and thighs pressed together. If you moved, he moved to follow, without thinking. You were almost flush to the booth wall when Lily arrived.

She had the pregnant glow about her, looking incredibly healthy and happy. She squished in next to Sirius without complaint, James  gazing at her as though she were an angel stricken from heaven.

Despite trying to escape his side, Remus gave you such a sense of security that you couldn’t begrudge his right forearm pressed to your left. Your arms fit together like two jigsaw pieces.

“I’ll get some more drinks, shall I?” you asked, hoping to escape Remus and your racing heart for a moment.

“I’ll come with you,” Remus said, sliding out of the booth so you could stand.

“No, that’s okay,” you said abruptly, almost tripping over him. You made a beeline for the bar toilets, shutting the door behind you with a final click.

You let out a loud, panicked exhale.

Being in love with Remus was one thing. It had kept you up so many nights, staring at your ceiling, wondering what you were going to do. Because if you didn’t have Remus, you wouldn’t be you anymore. He was this all encompassing part of you, the glue that held you together most days. If you fucked it all up you would never forgive yourself.

Corrupting the friendship between you both was a taboo you didn’t dare think about. Construing his affection as anything but platonic was your own affliction. You wouldn’t be the one to pull the stitches he’d sewn in you to keep you both together.

It was so heavy. James knowing should’ve made it as though the weight of your secret was lifted - it didn’t. It was crushing.

You pushed the tips of your fingers into your closed eyelids until you saw stars.

Somebody knocked on the door. You threw yourself back from it in a violent flinch, having forgotten where you were.

“Two seconds!” you called, voice rough.

“It’s me,” Lily said through the door.

You frowned. They’d noticed your detour and your absence.

You cracked the door open. Lily pushed in, her small distended stomach brushing the doorway.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yes. Yep. Uh…” you had to think quickly of a way to hide how you were feeling. If Lily spent too long here you might spill it. “Do you have a tampon?”

“Oh!” she looked relieved. “No, babe. I’m pregnant, no cycle for me.”

“Right.” You pressed your hand to your forehead and laughed nervously, though it was half false. The panic from before was persevering.

Lily could see it on your face clear as day. “Is it heavy?”

You were confused for a split second. “Wh- no. No, I just didn’t expect to start right now.”

“Right. Uh, I’ll go find something.”

“You can’t be doing errands for me, you’re not supposed to be on your feet.”

She rolled her eyes, “I’m not that pregnant.”

You stared pointedly at her tummy. “Who told you that?”

“I’ll sort it out,” she said, slipping from the bathroom.

You took the next few minutes to sort out your breathing. You didn’t need to panic. James probably wouldn’t tell Sirius. Sirius was smart and nice enough to know not to tell Remus. And if Remus found out - god forbid he found out - he wouldn’t do anything like you imagined. He wouldn’t toss you aside, cut you out of his life. He couldn’t.

You had to believe he couldn’t.

“Knock knock,” James said. You cracked the door an inch. He could see your blotchy face.

“Is it bad?” he asked in concern.

“It’s fine. Where’s Lily?”

“Sitting, like she should be.”

“I told her that too.”

“Here,” he said. He held out a box of tampons.

“Thank you,” you said, voice oddly tender. Maybe James was a better friend to you then you gave him credit for.

“You need anything else?”

“No.”

“Alright. Remus thinks you’re mad at him.”

“Tell him it’s hormones.”

“Is it?” he asked. You shut the door in his face.

You gave it five minutes as though you’d actually needed a tampon, leaving the full box in the stall for some other desperate soul. You shuffled over to the bar, feeling as though every patron had its eyes on you, ordering a round for your table and some snacks for Lily.

It took you two trips. Remus peered at you in concern, budging up so you could sit at the end of the bench.

“Thanks, Y/N,” Lily said, grinning at her crisps.

“Don’t mention it,” you said weakly.

“Everything okay?” Remus asked you.

“Yep.”

He didn’t believe you. You leaned heavily on the table, tuning into James' story about their evil garden gnomes and the mess they’d made of the baby’s nursery.

Remus took your posture as pain. He placed his large, warm hand to the small of your back and began to rub soothing circles in your skin. You melted under his touch, shoulders slowly lowering into a less defensive position.

James said something, you weren’t sure what, eyes half lidded from Remus touch. Remus laughed, loud, unexpected. It made you smile so hard your cheeks hurt, turning to grace the lines of his exuberant face in a way that was so familiar it made your eyes burn.

“I want a cig. Remus?” Sirius prompted, carefully weaving over Lily’s stomach and legs.

“I don’t smoke,” he said, though he was already standing. You mourned the loss of his hand on your back. He climbed over you with the same care as Sirius had.

“As good a time as any for a pee,” Lily said. Standing seemed slightly more difficult for her than the average person.

James was on you before she’d even made it to the bathroom door. “You fancy Remus,” he crooned.

“Will you shut it?” you hissed.

“This is literally great news. Now you can get married and have kids and him and baby Potter can be best friends forever.”

“You have it all worked out, don’t you?” you sighed in defeat.

“Wouldn’t you? Oh, will you tell him? Please tell him. We can go on triple dates.”

“You say all this like - like it would work out. It’s not that simple.”

James' happy demeanour toned down, a more serious look crossing his face. “I know it’s not simple. But - but when can love not be a good thing?”

Your face flamed. “Who said anything about love?”

James shrugged. “I’d know a thing or two about it.” Lily emerged from the bathroom and his eyes lit up.

“Yes. I guess you would.”

-

“Mate, the amount of whipped you are is ridiculous,” Sirius said.

Remus threw his shoulders back and groaned at the knots there.

“You literally asked me to come stand with you while you smoke in the rain when I don’t even smoke, and now you’re making fun of me for it?” Remus said, leaning against the cold wall behind him.

“Not for me, you pollock,” Sirius said through the cigarette in between his lips, shielding his lighter from the wind

Remus laughed defensively. “Says the man waiting on McKinnon hand and foot.”

“She broke her leg, idiot,” he took a long drag.

“I’m not whipped.”

“And I’m not ruggedly handsome.”

Remus sighed. “If you had your period, I’d do the same for you.”

“It’s not the same.”

“How?”

“You don’t look at me like that. I hope.”

Remus titled his head backwards so that the rain fell on his face. “It’s a want I can’t entertain.”

“You are so determined to be unhappy,” he said theatrically.

“Is that why we’re friends?” Remus asked, lips quirked in a lopsided smile.

“Get a grip.” Sirius said, dropping his finished cigarette on the floor and squishing it under his heel. “Just tell her.”

“I can’t.”

“Look, she didn’t care about your monthly cycle, I hardly think a confession of love will deter her.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is,” Sirius said, holding open the pub’s side door. Remus walked through. “Some things just are.”

“Not this.”

“She’s nice, you’re nice. Perfect match.”

“She’s more than nice.”

“Yeah, get a load of you.”

“I despise you sometimes,” Remus said, although he was laughing all the same. Lily was toddling back to the table. You looked as though you were upset, James saying something quietly to you, his eyes on his wife.

You leaned back against your chair in a slump.

“Move up, sweetness,” Sirius told Lily. “Lest I have to climb over you again and risk damaging my godson.”

You made room for Remus without complaint. He would’ve commented it was too much room - you hadn’t been as touchy today.

Hormones. Huh.

“You want to go home?” He asked you.

“Boo! Don’t go, Y/N.” James said. “Stay here and drink martinis with me.”

“I’ll stay, but I’m not drinking anything with vermouth in it.”

“Margaritas?”

“Be a man, Potter!” Sirius said with bravado. “Cosmopolitans or nowt.”

“Please no cosmopolitans,” Lily pleaded. “They make James too slutty.”

-

You were hiccuping through your third cosmopolitan when Lily cut you off. The pub was busier now that the night was starting, you had to strain to hear her.

“No! No more, Y/N. I can’t manage you and James and Sirius.”

“Remus will manage me!” you giggled.

Remus laughed. “Don’t I always.”

“I resent that.”

You braced your hand in between his knees, reaching forward to swipe Sirius' drink now that yours was empty. Lily threw her hands open when Remus did nothing to stop you.

“I’m not the boss of her.”

“Right!” you agree, practically gulping down the red drink.

“Maybe a little,” he said, disentangling your fingers gently from the stem of the glass.

“Spoilsport,” you mumbled. The cold from the glass was seeping down your hands.

“Feel,” you said, holding your hand out. “I’m cold.”

“You are,” Remus agreed, taking your hand between both of his.

You nodded, satisfied. You were a little dizzy now. The drinks were finally getting to you, seemingly. It was nice to be drunk - you could only think about your cold hands and Remus’ legs and none of the scary stuff.

Sirius was similarly drunk, leaning heavily into Lily’s side and spurting babble at James who was much more sober, surprisingly, his second cocktail still in front of him. How responsible, you thought. How boring.

“Loser,” you mumbled.

“I hope you’re not talking to me,” Remus said lowly.

You giggled. “Not you, Rem.”

Sirius clocked his missing drink and made a high pitched sound. “You fiendish girl.”

“Snooze loose.”

“Jesus, she’s gone,” James said. “I wish we had a camera, she’s funny when she’s drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.”

Everyone at the table looked at you sympathetically.

“You guys suck.”

“I’m so tired,” Lily said, leaning her head atop Sirius’.

“Me too,” Remus said. They shared a companionable laugh.

“Not me,” James said.

“God, getting older sucks. What happened to getting blackout at sixteen? You guys have three cocktails each and fall asleep at the table,” Sirius said.

“Because you look wide awake.”

“Toss off, Moony.”

I volunteer, you thought to yourself. You laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Toss off Moony,” you repeated. It was funnier the second time; you giggled to yourself hysterically, so hard that it made you feel sick.

“Alright, calm down,” Remus said, fingers wrapped around your upper arm. “We don’t want a repeat of Sirius’ birthday.”

“You throw up one time and no one lets you forget.”

“It’s not that you threw up,” Sirius said gleefully, “it’s because you threw up laughing at frogs.”

You couldn’t help yourself, sighing in happiness at the memory. “They were so sticky.”

“Right. Home time. You’re coming with me-“ Remus said to you, “-so I can make sure you don’t choke to death. Sirius?”

“I’ve got a date with Miss McKinnon.”

“She won’t touch you like this,” James said, long arm wrapped tight around Lily’s shoulders.

“We’re gonna cuddle,” he said, enthused.

You staggered to your feet, wobbling in your canvas trainers. Remus steadied you by the shoulders.

“Can you side-along or are you a splinch-risk?” he asked you.

“I’m fiiiine, Remus. You worry too much,” you said, spreading the fingers on your hand against his chest affectionately.

“Sure. See you tomorrow for tea?” Remus asked the remaining friends at the table.

“Yes, Remus. See you then. Goodnight both!” Lily called.

“Goodnight,” you said. You crossed the threshold, Remus’ arm steering you out. He held your shoulder tightly.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

“1, 2-“

You hurdled through the air, a complete feeling of weightlessness moving through you, landing gracelessly at the bottom of the steps to Remus’ flat building.

You felt like the air had been ripped from you, bending over at the waist to brace yourself.

Remus patted your back, used to this post-disapparation sickness.

“You’re okay. Quick, stand up before you throw up.”

You did as he said, smoothing your wind-blown hair to the sides of your head. “Why is side-along always the worst?”

“You’re usually drunk to begin with,” he said, opening the door for you. You walked into the foyer, grateful for the warm air that greeted you. You rushed forward to click the lift button, pleased at the green light that it emanated. Someone had drawn two dots over the downward v to make a weird smiley face.

The doors whooshed open, a low-pitched tone announcing the elevator's arrival. Remus walked in after you, much more steady on his feet.

The mirrored walls displayed you both clear as day. You, looking a little messy, mascara smudged under your eyes. Remus, handsome, neat, worn coat with the patched elbows.

You caught his eye in the reflection. “You’re tall.”

“Am I?”

“Mm,” you said, hopping from foot to foot. “Very tall.”

“No ones ever told me that before,” he said, nudging you out of the opening doors and onto his floor.

“Really?”

“No.”

The inside of his flat was orderly, the smell of woodsmoke and something soft, like lavender or thyme, greeting you. It wasn’t a huge place, just an open plan kitchen/sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. He folded your coats over the side of the sofa and kicked his shoes off.

You couldn’t work the laces of yours, moaning in annoyance.

“Here,” Remus said, leaning down. You brushed the hair out of his eyes without thinking. He untied your laces in the nick of time. You used his shoulders to balance yourself and toe them off.

He rose to his feet. “Come on, you’re in the bed.”

“Remus,” you said, knowing the argument that was about to happen. “It’s your bed, I’m perfectly fine on the sofa.”

“You’re my guest,” he said familiarly.

“It’s your bed,” you repeated.

“You never win this one - I don’t know why you try.”

“You’re being unfair.”

He smiled, knowing he was winning. You had a sudden stroke of genius.

“Look, it’s a double bed. We can share. That way you know I’m not choking to death on my own vomit,” you used his logic against him.

He was hesitant. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“You won’t. Now come on, I’m so tired I can see two of you.”

"What a treat for you,” he said. You turned from him to smile.

-

You woke up confused, boiling hot and with a mild headache. Remus was asleep next to you, his face peaceful in sleep. You shrugged the blanket off of yourself and huffed, trying to cool down. If you squinted, you could see his alarm clock on the opposite bedside table.

9:42AM.

You blinked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Remus had already laid out a glass of water and a closed box of paracetamol.

What a sweetheart, you thought to yourself wistfully.

You sat up to chug the water, forgoing the painkillers. You knew the headache would dissipate as soon as you had a drink. Your legs were aching.

You shrugged off your jeans, bending over to rub at the red lines embossed in your skin from the seams. You searched through Remus’ clothes until you found a pair of navy jogging bottoms, pulling them on instead. You sighed in relief, unbuttoning your shirt to reveal the vest top underneath.

How you’d managed to fall asleep completely dressed was besides you. Remus was in similar fashion, probably overheating just as badly as you’d been.

You crawled over the sheets to his side, placing your hand on the flat stretch of his stomach. Kneeling like this, you could see every detail of his face, his collarbones, his Adam’s apple.

“Moony,” you sing-singed under your breath. “Mooooony.”

He scrunched his eyes closed even tighter. “What is it?” he asked.

You sat back on your haunches, hand trailing down to his hip bone. You considered yourself for a moment and drew away.

“I’m awake, so you must also suffer my misfortune.”

“How selfish,” he said, stretching and pushing his face into the pillow. “Godric, it's warm.”

“You’re fully dressed.”

“What?”

He opened his eyes, looking down at himself.

He glanced at you. “You’re wearing my clothes.”

“Oh, sorry. I can take them off.”

“Would you?” he asked, faux-eager.

You sniggered. “You’d like that, huh? Typical boy.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I want breakfast and we’re late.”

“Yeah?” he turned his head to squint at the clock. You ignored the urge to reach forward and touch his neck. “It’ll have to be brunch.”

-

“Cosmopolitans make you slutty too?” James asked, gesturing to your tank top.

“Misogynist,” you gasped, pretending to be scandalised.

“I never said there was anything wrong with being slutty, babe. Have as much sex as you like with Remus.”

“I’m not having sex with Remus.”

“You sound unhappy about that.”

You punched him in the arm. “Leave me alone. It’s too early for this.”

“It’s almost 11AM.”

You could hear Remus making tea in the Potters’ kitchen, his and Lily’s voices drifting in to mix with the sound of the washing machine, the whining kettle.

You’d come straight to the living room, intending to starfish on their sofa. James had beat you to it. You sat on top of his legs until he moved them

“I am unhappy about it,” you admitted.

James’ face might’ve split from the force of his victorious grin. “Acceptance. That’s like, the last stage.”

“Of what?”

“So, you’re gonna seduce him?”

“Are you joking?”

“No. Seduce him. Or confess your undying love, then seduce him.”

“I could do neither.”

“Bo - ring,” he said. “Look, I’ll help you out. We’ll plan, like, a whole thing.”

“You’re scheming,” Remus said suspiciously. Lily was close behind him, raising her eyebrows.

Remus sat down on the arm of the sofa next to you, offering you a cup of tea.

“Thanks,” you said.

James sat up properly to make room for his wife. Lily rested a protective hand on her stomach, tea held to her chest. They melted together, James’ arm wrapped around her shoulder, hand wandering up and down her upper arm. You could see the goosebumps break out on her skin, an expression of content on both their faces.

You leaned into Remus, just a bit, your hair against his elbow. You breathed out, watching steam from your tea swirl with the action. It tasted exactly as though you’d made it yourself.

“What are you and Y/N planning?” Lily inquired, smirking.

“I’m not planning anything.”

“That’s right, plausible deniability and all that,” James said, nodding gravely. “This burden I shall bear by myself.”

“That sounds like it’s not going to end well.”

-

It went like this.

Marlene got her cast off. Sirius decided that was enough to celebrate, declaring a party must be had at his flat. Everyone had to attend.

It was rammed from one end of the room to the other. You could barely make out one old friend from the next, people from your year of Hogwarts and even the year below having arrived in droves. Marlene sits in the middle of it all, a permanent perplexed expression on her face. Half the people who came brought birthday balloons.

You’re pushing through the people, looking for Remus like you usually are. He’d disappeared to find drinks and never returned 20 minutes ago.

Sirius popped up out of nowhere. “Hey, can I get your help?”

“Sure. Nothing better to do,” you said.

“‘Nothing better to do,’ she says. You’re young, fun and at the biggest party of the year!”

He led you into the kitchen, which was less packed but still had some milling guests, through the kitchen into his bedroom.

"What do you want?"

"Well, I knew there was something, but what was oh- right! You're in love with Moony."

Your face fell. "Sirius-"

"Don't worry, dollface, my lips are sealed."

You frowned. "James told you?"

"I guessed."

"With prompting?"

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

"I'm going to wring James' neck."

"Settle down… is it such a bad thing, loving Remus?"

"No, of course not! He's - he's the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Then what's wrong?"

You sat down heavy on his rumpled bed, picking at a ladder in your tights. "It's difficult." You paused, chewing your lip.

"It's difficult," you repeated. "For me."

Sirius sat down next to you. "It doesn't have to be."

"I think people keep saying that, but they don't really believe it."

"I believe it. Love is never easy, but what's the point in loving someone and not telling them? Love with nowhere to go isn't what it could be."

You dropped your head into his shoulder. "Shouldn't you be having this talk with him? He's your best friend, not me."

"We're good friends, aren't we? Plus, James bagsied him."

"You drew the short straw," you grumbled.

"You're not the short straw, idiot. I like talking to you, especially if you're gonna marry my best mate."

"Marriage is not on the cards."

Sirius tapped a rhythm on his leg. "You're both the same. Determined to be unhappy."

"I love him," you said miserably. "It's a lot. I can't see everything else anymore."

"Love is supposed to make you happy."

"He does!"

"Then why won't you tell him?"

You thought about this for a long time.

"When we were 17… You remember, in potions, Slughorn made Amortentia. I was never any good at potions, Remus used to let me copy all his answers and - I turned to Emmaline, and I said - 'God, can you smell that? It smells like woodsmoke in here.' She looked at me like I was stupid."

You inhaled.

"I've loved him since I was 17," you whispered. "Maybe since the day I met him. How do you tell someone that?"

-

Remus leaned his head against the door, his fingers wrapped around the handle. James was looking at him with an intensely pleased expression.

"Woodsmoke," James said. "Boom."

He unwrapped his hand.

James' face was a picture. "Wh- wait a second! Where are you going?"

"I need to buy a ring."

James chased after him, tugging him back by his shoulder. "Woah- woah, Moons. You can't just ask her to marry you out of the blue."

"She loves me."

"Marriage is more than just love. Trust me." They both came to a stop. James was still grinning. Remus couldn't help it, he smiled back.

"She loves me."

"She does."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to."

"Oh, so now you've suddenly developed an ability to keep secrets?"

"Why do you think I pulled you off to Sirius' room in the middle of a party? For a snog?"

"I'm an excellent kisser."

"You sound like Sirius."

"Can't I get her a ring without getting married?"

"You can get her fifty. But maybe put the poor girl out of her misery?"

"How do I tell her?"

"Think on your feet, buddy," James said, turning them both around.

Remus felt as though volts of electricity were running through his body, as though every footstep he took back down the hallway was as loud as a thunderclap.

Sirius was shutting his door gently behind him.

"Ooh, perfect timing, lover boy. She's debating her whole existence in there."

"What did you say to her?" James asked indignantly.

"Nothing bad. Just that if she never tells him she'll die alone."

Remus ignored them both as they argued, squaring his shoulders to stare at the door. James patted him solidly on the shoulder. "Go get 'em."

They walked down the hallways like kings. "Let's get this party started!" Sirius cried.

"Y/N?" he called through the wood. "Can I come in?"

You said something. "What?" he called.

"Yes! Come in!"

You were splayed out on the bed, hair around you like a halo. You looked sick to your stomach.

"Cramps?"

"What?"

"Is it your period?"

"No."

He pushed himself up against the wall, his palm against the cold plaster.

He took a deep breath.

"When we were 17," he started shakily, "we had potions. Slughorn made amortentia. You were always pretty good at potions, but you never had any confidence, so you'd always copy my answers and I'd pretend not to notice."

You were staring at him with wide, wide eyes. He didn't dare move toward you, swallowing hard.

"And I turned to James and asked him what he could smell. He said Lily, obviously. He asked me what I could smell, and I said, ‘chocolate'. But-" he held your gaze, heart racing, and took the leap, "I lied. I didn't want anybody to know, I didn't want you to know. It was my biggest secret. Even bigger than the wolf."

He hesitated.

"It smelled of you. I fell for you a long time ago," he admitted.

“Was it so far to fall?” you asked him, voice cracking.

“It didn’t hurt at all,” he assured you.

You blinked. A tear gathered at the corner of your eyes, glassy in the low light.

You'd barely sat up and he was on you, almost pulling you off the sheets with the force of his hug. You laughed wildly and he cherished the sound.

You pushed your face into the side of his neck and he shivered at the feeling of you inhaling. You went to say something, and he knew he should've waited, listened, but he couldn't. He plastered his mouth to yours. You didn't hesitate, not for a second, kissing him back with all the wild abandonment you possessed.

He laughed into your mouth, kissing and kissing. You weren't the shy kisser he often imagined, matching his passion and tenacity with ease.

"Wait, stop," you said.

He looked at you in concern. "What, what's the matter?"

You leaned your forehead against his. "We can't make out in Sirius' room. That's, like, a cardinal sin. Imagine the things this bed has seen."

He touched the tip of his nose to yours. "Where else can we?"

"My bed, your bed. I'm not fussy."

He grinned, ducking his head to kiss your cheek. He pulled you up onto your feet. "Splinch-risk?"

"As if. He puts who-knows-what in the drink."

"1, 2-"

Maybe because he wanted to ravish you so badly, the disapparation felt as though it took millenia. When you both finally arrived at the outside of his building he pulled you in.

He couldn't accurately describe love to someone if they asked, but if he could he would play this clip, both of you falling over each other to steal kisses and laugh in the elevator at yourselves, red-faced, ecstatic in the reflections, almost missing your floor. Him fumbling with his keys at the door, forgetting to pull them out. Kissing you up against the thin flat walls like you were a sacred being, like you were a prayer he was sending.

The fronts you put up for other people, for yourselves, fell away. It was just you and him. Maybe it was hard to kiss your best friend without laughing madly or maybe it was your own mistake. Either way, it was a mess of kissing and laughing and struggling to breathe.

"Don't, don't," you begged, tickled by his lips against the skin under your ear.

"Or what?" he asked, though he pulled away anyways.

You went up on tip toes to do the same to him, laughing as he went boneless.

"Alright." He swatted your head lightly with the back of his hand. "You proved your point."

"Did I?" you asked, taking the skin between your teeth.

He gasped. "Demon."

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you. Sent to corrupt me."

"Consider yourself corrupted," you said, licking a stripe over his nibbled skin. "Now you're mine."

"Is that so?" His hands, seconds ago having held the nape of your neck, traveled down. The other pulled you flush against him. He watched your face saturate as you realised his affliction.

The other hand slipped under the edge of your skirt, holding your hip in a brushing grip.

"Excited to see me?" you asked, breathless. You were doing some exploring of your own, fingers traveling over the lines of his stomach and chest.

"Excited to do lots of things to you."

You moved away from the wall he'd pressed you against, walking him backwards until his knees hit the back of the sofa and pushed him down, clambering into his lap. You didn't shy away from him, setting yourself down on him in a way that made you both stutter in your breathing.

"Aren't we supposed to wait?" he asked you.

"For what?" you asked him, pushing his hair from his face with both hands.

"The right time."

"Doesn't it feel like now?"

"I just want you to be sure."

"I'm sure. Are you?"

He grabbed your hips, pressing you down, grinding you against him. "I'm sure," he laughed at your squirming. "I'm sure."

"Let me take my skirt off," you said, moving as if to climb off of him.

His arms tightened around your waist. "Do you have to?"

"Like this one, do you?"

"Can't you tell?"

"Let me up." You unseated yourself from his lap. It seemed much more illicit suddenly, him lying back on the sofa, red in the face and hard watching you undress with a heady gaze. You pulled your tights off in a hurry, almost toppling over. He smirked in amusement.

Next was the skirt. You unzipped it, letting it fall to your ankles before stepping out.  He hooked under your arms and brought you up, onto him again. Your underwear were simple, cute, black with a lettuce edge trim and purple ribbon with a bow on the top, like a gift.

He trailed a finger at the slip of skin just above it.

"You always wear stuff like this?"

"Thought I might get lucky," you admitted, bashful.

He moved his hands, pressed flat at the curve of your stomach, up, over your shirt to the peaks of your breasts. You brought your fingers up to the buttons, he squeezed.

The shirt came off. He pushed your bra up, not bothering with the clasp.

"What, you never took a bra off before?"

"Quicker," he mouthed, pressing his lips to the underside of your breast. He kissed stripes, leaving wet half circles in his path.

You did your best to maneuver around him, digging your fingers into his shirt buttons. You stopped at the first inch of a scar, tracing the thickest one with the lightest touch of your fingernail, sending goosebumps up his back.

"Do they bother you?" he asked.

"Never," you said. Pushing his shoulders back with your hands, you leaned down to analyse the scars. There was no rhyme or reason to them. Some were purple, some white with age.

You brushed your hands down his bare chest and smiled at him.

"You're so handsome."

The smile he gifted you in return was soft, loving.

"You're more perfect than I could have imagined," he said in turn.

"You imagine me like this?"

"Only every night."

Your hands wandered down to the zip of his trousers. You hesitated. "Go on," he said softly, pleaded softly.

You unzipped, unbuttoned. The trepidation between you both heightened. The shape of him was clearer and clearer.

You pulled his trousers down, then used a gentle hand to palm him through his boxers. His breath hitched. You were soft, lovely, probing with curious fingers. You'd be his undoing.

A fingernail, scratching at the waistband. You pulled him free, finally, his dick standing up. You used a knuckle to trace a prominent vein, gasping in happiness at his twitches.

He turned his head to the side, blinking hard. You took him in your hand and pumped with a confidence he wasn't sure you actually had, shyness and pleasure both written on your face.

"Alright, don't do me in," he said. He gripped the skin of your hips and pulled you forward, your silky underwear sliding against him. You took to this like a fish to water, planting your knees on either side and rocking your hips into him. He groaned, attempting to help, but your movements created a weakness in him he couldn't overcome.

You were wet on top of him, leaking through silk, coating him where you made contact.

You reached down in between your bodies to pull your panties to one side. You dipped a finger inside, then two, pulling slickness out and rubbing a circle around your entrance. Remus watched with half lidded eyes.

"You want to?" you asked him. He was better at it than you, probably because he could actually see what he was doing. He graced the skin of your clit, down, pushing his middle finger inside you with infinite care.

You moaned, your shoulders pushed back. "Ah, can you- will you-"

His middle finger was joined by his ring finger. His pinky and index hit the soft skin surrounding your entrance with each stroke. The meat of his pan rubbed your clit, sending spikes of hot pleasure up your abdomen.

You couldn't hold yourself up anymore, falling into his chest, arms braced on the sofa behind him. You tucked your head into his neck and gasped for air.

This restricted his speed but not his movement, scissoring his fingers inside you, curling to find where it felt best and repeating it whenever you squirmed.

You lifted yourself to escape his ministrations.

He rubbed the head of his dick against you. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Mh-hmm."

You were flat to his chest. He pushed his hips down, lining up with your entrance. You cried out at the feeling. The first few inches were easy-going, sliding up into you as easy as pie. You'd brought a hand up to the hair at the base of his neck and he winced at the death grip you had.

"Am I hurting you?" he asked, coming to a stop.

"No - oh my god. You're big."

"I thought I was tall? Handsome?"

"You can be - oh, you can be all of those things."

"Listen to you," he said under his breath. "Can't even speak properly, can you, lovely girl?"

He was far from bottoming out. He held you in place, pulling out to push back in, stretching you out that little bit further each time, filling you up. You tried to move, ride him, and he tightened his grip.

"Stay still, sweetheart."

You listened. He was making good progress of you, easing you open with long, firm thrusts. You were beside yourself at this point, making sounds in his ear that almost pushed him to the edge every time he pushed back in.

Finally, with his full length inside you, he stopped. You wriggled circles around his dick, moaning with weak desperation.

"Remus, don't be cruel. Don't be."

"Cruel with you..." He thrust up, harder than before but never enough to hurt. "How could I ever be?"

You were pitched up, higher than he'd ever heard. His hips were doing all the work, you a sopping wet mess.

"We're a perfect fit," you said, your hair on his neck, your face against his shoulder. He turned to kiss your forehead.

He spread you open with his hands, the drag of his dick against your walls almost too much to bear. He was moving you up and down on him, finally encouraging you to move. You did so with a struggle, using your knees as an anchor to ride him.

You rose as high as you could, taking great pleasure in making him moan with every drop, pulling all the way off to abruptly drop back in, feeling his dick at the very deepest part of you.

When he was fully inside you, you rolled your hips, leaning forward to press pecks to his chest. He tangled a hand in your hair.

His head was thrown back against the sofa. You might look at his face and think he was distressed.

You steadily increased your speed, puffing with exertion though it could hardly be noticed between the sounds you were making.

"Don't wear yourself out," he said, sounding worried.

You let yourself drop onto your legs completely. "I can do it."

He lifted and dropped you with little effort, bobbing short, deep strokes, touching a part of you that stopped you from thinking.

"Can we go faster?"

He lifted you up close to his chest and layed you out flat on the sofa. It felt nice to be on your back, staring up at him instead of down. He hiked one of your legs up by the knee. The other leg fell off the side of the sofa.

It was his turn to be on his knees, lining up with his hand braced beside your head.

He did exaclty as you asked, fucking you at a pace that hardly let you catch your breath. It was overwhelming in the best way. His free hand came down to rub big, arching circles in your clit.

"Pretty baby, so pretty spread open like this"

"I'm close," you breathed uselessly, hand gripping the wrist near your head.

"Yeah? You gonna cum for me, pretty girl?"

The praise sent a hot flush through your whole body. You cried out, feeling the pressure of his thumb on your sensitive clit increase. Despite enjoying the feeling you felt yourself shy away as the climax started, pushing your leg down and in. Remus chuckled, doubling down his efforts.

He thrust into you with a force and it was enough to push you over the edge, both hands clamping down hard around his wrist where he held himself above your head. “Oh, god,” you cried, breathless,  the words ripped out of you.

Remus had an intensely pleased look about him, bringing up the hand from the apex of your thighs to cradle the side of your face, smoothing the lines where you’d scrunched your eyes closed.

You opened your eyes, misty as they were, to look at him, the corners of your mouth going up. He leaned down to kiss you, pushing most of his weight on you.

You made such sweet sounds, he thought. And you were stunning, sweaty and boneless, splayed out across his sofa like a vision, face alight with pleasure. You covered the hand he’d brought to your face with your own, steadying the jostling of each thrust.

He held your gaze and you laughed, a cascading sound, breathy and infectious. He was nearing his own climax, increasing his speed so that the loudest sound in the room was the slap of where his body met yours. You were half-sobbing with every thrust, though they were coloured with pleasure.

He pulled out, leaning back on his haunches, and painted the skin of your stomach white with a few rapid pumps of his shaft.

“Messy,” you said.

“Yeah, you should see the sofa. I’ll never have company again lest they see how much you like me.”

“I more than like you.”

“That much is evident,” he said, charting a course down your abdomen and slipping his fingers back inside you, pumping leisurely in and out, forcing wetness into the ever-growing pool beneath you and smiling like it was funny.

He moved back, his fingers still inside you, to kiss the soft skin between your cunt and your thighs, teasing you. You held your breath in anticipation, almost screaming when he teased the bud of your clit with his mouth. He liked stripes up your centre until you were begging him to stop, ticklish and overwhelmed.

He pulled his fingers free of you and wiped his chin with the back of his hand.

“If we weren’t wizards I’d send you a dry-cleaning invoice.”

You snickered, finally closing your legs to rub the skin of your hips. He watched you, kneeling before you like a prayer.

“You’re a rough fuck, Lupin.”

“That wasn’t too rough, was it?”

“You could go rougher.”

“Oh, could I?” he said, pulling you up and into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs on either side of him. He was still hard enough underneath you to keep going, but he hadn’t pulled you up for that. He rubbed a hand up and down your back, the other behind your shoulders, soothing the shakes moving through you.

“Maybe not today,” you mumbled.

“No, I don’t think so. Another time. We’ve all the time in the world.”

You dotted lazy kisses over his freckled shoulder.

“Wait,” you said, stilling with your mouth a millimetre from his skin. “I lied before, about being on. You didn’t know that. You were gonna fuck me on my period?”

He pushed your head back, his hand in your hairline. “Yes? What a strange question to ask.”

“I am not the strange one.”

“I’ll fuck you whenever you like. A little blood never bothered me.”

“I’m not sure if that’s romantic or insane.”

“You’ll change your mind the next time you cycle.”

-

James invited you over with a bottle of champagne.

You rushed forward to hug him, laughing when the air rushed out of him. “Thanks for your devious master plan, James.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, surprised. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“She’s always like that,” Remus said.

“I bet she is, you dirty dog!” Sirius chimed in. Marlene whacked him upside the shoulder. He shifted her where she sat on his lap, laughing.

“Baby Lupin on the horizon? Harry’s getting so lonely,” James said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Harry’s not even born yet,” Lily said. “Stop pressuring our friends into having kids.”

You felt yourself light up at the thought. It was definitely too soon to be having kids, but it didn’t stop you from thinking about it with great anticipation.

Remus hugged you to his side, grinning. “We’ll see.”

<3

thank u for reading !!the title and some lines of dialogue are directly inspired by the end of love by florence and the machine as linked above!!!

[pellucid-constellations]

Source Material (3)

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You had always been a reader—always drawn to worlds outside of your own. Always seeking more. This world, Azriel's world, was trying to teach you something; you were sure of it. Or, maybe, it was where you were always meant to be.

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: Confusion, self-harm in desperation/confusion, angst, reference to psychosis and related symptoms

a/n: Here we areee :) The story starts to really pick up (and the romance wink wink) after this. Reminder though that this is slow burnnn BUT I think it's worth it (I'm biased) okay ily ily bye ❤️

Part One, Part Two

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

You had read a book when you were young, though the title escaped you, that felt relevant in your current situation. Children had fallen into a different world, one more dangerous but more enticing. More alluring. You could recall creatures and magic and echoes of the past. The name was on the tip of your tongue, evading your memory each time you got close, but it wasn’t as if remembering would help. That book was not a guide for your life, and if you thought hard enough, you could recall that readers had conjured up theories that the children hadn’t actually gone to that strange fantasy world. Instead, someone had died, or someone had gone crazy, or someone was dreaming, and the story was merely told within that recollection. 

It was somewhat comforting to know that even within fiction, there were those looking for a different answer. That you weren’t second-guessing your every sense because you weren’t able to accept reality, but because you were human, and that’s what humans did. They hypothesized and doubted and fact-checked. They looked for logic because the world was mostly run by logic, and so you were human. You were not insane.

But you weren’t human. Not anymore. Even if this were all a dream, or you were going insane, that was something you’d come to accept. You were no longer human. 

Your refute of your fae form hung in the air, bed sheets crumpling between your fingers, expression distraught. There was no reason for them to believe you, though they weren’t outright throwing you into the dungeons you knew lurked below. That had to be a good sign. Your lungs felt as if they were going to burst. 

“I swear,” you repeated, only because no one had said anything. There was only blinking and dead air. “I don’t even have any magic or special skills that would help me in an uprising. I didn’t have this body a few hours ago. You have to believe me.” 

Something flickered on Rhysand’s face as your pleading faded. Another silent conversation then took place. He looked to Azriel—who seemed to flinch—and Azriel gave him one stiff nod. The High Lord ticked his jaw and rubbed his hand along his chin. 

“It would be easier for us to believe your story,” Rhysand slowly replied, though his voice was void of the earlier suspicion. He sounded tired. “If you did not sit in this room, emanating power.” 

You paused, brows furrowing. You looked within yourself for whatever he was talking about, but everything felt different about you, so it was impossible to pinpoint. You didn’t feel powerful, and you certainly didn’t feel emanating, but you were also interpreting a strange language and seeing colors you never had before, so your judgment was unreliable.

You grimaced. “I… am?” 

“It’s quite overwhelming,” Mor gently offered, hands clasped together in front of her waist. She brought her fingers up and pinched them. “Maybe even a little bit suffocating. So you’ll have to forgive the third degree. There are many threats we have to look out for. Especially in recent months.” 

“Suffocating,” you whispered under your breath. “I didn’t mean—” 

“It’s all right,” Azriel interrupted as your fear began to grow once more. 

You craned your neck up to look at him, still so close and imposing over the bed. He had a strange smile on his face that looked as if it was meant to be comforting, but it came across as pained and lingering. You blinked at him. 

“We could clear most of this up now if you were to let me in,” Rhysand posed, snapping your gaze away from the Spymaster. He tapped his temple and nodded towards you. “It wouldn’t hurt if you allowed me to look.” 

“Look?” 

“In your mind. I’m Daemati. I can confirm everything you say if you allow me in.” 

Right. You’d read about that. You remembered. You’d wanted him to look not too long ago, but that had been before—before the pain and fear and blubbering confession. Before you realized you were even more different than you’d thought. 

“How do I do that?” you posed, eagerly straightening on the bed. “Can I just say you can come in, or—” 

“No,” Rhysand shook his head. “It’s more contingent on that wall around your mind. The barrier. It’s—very strong. If you get yourself to lower it, or even just find a point for me to see in, that would be helpful.”

You blinked, searching your mind for the offending force. You shifted to sit on your heels, vaguely aware that you’d distanced yourself from the headboard as the conversation had gone on. If anyone were going to believe you, you needed to do this. You needed to remove the barrier and let Rhysand— 

You paused, an airy breath escaping you. 

Was this real? 

It had to be. 

You bit hard into your bottom lip and focused, but instead of a barrier, you passed by a thread. The same thread that had led you here, and the same one that elicited such a panic within you when you pulled at it before. You formed your thoughts around it, letting a few brush along its edges. A choking sound caught in the room. You searched harder for the barrier. 

Your mind was like a physical space, unusual in its layout. You could see the wall Rhysand was referring to, but it didn’t necessarily look like a wall. It was made up of fractured lines and letters that mixed into words you couldn’t read. Alarmingly, the words were so familiar you almost had the ability to make them out, but the moment you tried, they would warp and become illegible. 

Frustrated tears welled in your eyes—frustrated and confused and scared. Each time you got closer to the wall, it would inch away, and you ran and ran until an ache permeated along your temples. You wouldn’t allow yourself to fall into the abyss that panicked over this strange form of your mind. But you had never been able to see inside this way, so—no, this was real. You were going to approach everything as if it were real, because if you didn’t, you would be crazy and in denial. You could only pick one. Could only accept one at a time. 

There was a small dent in the wall. You could pick out where the letters wavered there, a small warped outline hovering just above the floor of the space. You were out of breath by the time you had an answer for Rhysand, the act of searching your mind more taxing than you had anticipated. 

“I think there is something—a way for you—” 

“I see it,” Rhysand quickly responded. He dove in before you were ready, a blinding panic filling you. It didn’t hurt, but something felt wrong. Like he wasn’t supposed to be there, and you supposed he wasn’t, but it was more intrinsic than that. The discrepancy felt ancient.

You sucked in a breath and fell forward slightly, reaching to steady yourself and grasping at the first thing within reach. Fingers wrapped around your wrist and held you steady, and you clenched your eyes shut as the invasion continued. 

Memories were tumbling around behind the wall—of New York, the busy streets when you went to the city, a few moments on a train as you scrolled on your phone. You felt each memory being observed by the High Lord, but those weren’t all of your memories. You couldn’t show him everything, even though you willed it. A blurry image of your reflection materialized in your mind—the you from before. You fixed your hair in a floor-length mirror in a fitting room, ears rounded, features plain in the way any human’s were. And then Rhysand was forced from your mind with that same ancient force, a harsh shove sending him stumbling back in the physical space. 

You let out a shuddering exhale. The High Lord paled. 

~~

You were left alone without much fanfare, though the several baffled looks thrown your way made you feel like a sideshow. Rhysand had been quick to share what he had seen, and the fingers gently holding you in place had let go—slowly, reluctantly but not. Mor had been the last to leave the room, a fleeting smile and a promise to grab you for lunch offered at the threshold of the door—your door, you supposed. 

You weren’t quite sure what was in store for you here. Oddities were not uncommon from what you could remember from the books, but this level of oddity was probably uncharted. There was also the frustrating fact that you couldn’t just show Rhysand all of your memories at once, but that frustration was also paired with the harrowing realization that you didn’t know everything that was kept behind that wall in your mind. As you had examined it, you had realized. 

You rocked up from the bed for hopefully the last time that day, drifting to the window and then to the door. You’d seen enough of the billowing clouds and unfamiliar foliage, and you wanted to prove more to yourself. 

This was real. This was real, and you were left to interpret it, and now that you were not an alleged member of an unknown uprising, you felt more comfortable branching out. 

The door to your room clicked open, silk flowing past your calves and the floor seeping a chill into the soles of your feet. Nothing creaked or groaned as you walked past the hulking door, though you could hear other things that you shouldn’t have been able to. A wind whistling in a tree far off, the low murmur of speaking several rooms away, the rhythm of heartbeats all out of cohesion—it was all very overwhelming and rivaled the jarring nature of your sight. 

Still, you trekked down the hall. 

The House of Wind was similar to how your brain had conjured it up. Sprawling hallways made way for doors with intricate carvings, and you let your fingers trail along the stars and clouds in the wood. You felt the cold marble beneath your bare feet. You focused on just your heartbeat and tried to remember what your apartment looked like back home. Tried to recreate the dull hum of the refrigerator in your ears and pretend you were feeling the worn carpet that came with old apartments. 

That all felt distant, somehow, but you knew it was there. You had been there, and now you were here. 

You turned down another hallway and the window there was so large, so… revealing, you almost gasped. The city you couldn’t see before was in perfect view from this vantage point, and your fae eyes—you were fae, you had accepted—could make out each billowing chimney and the route of the winding pathways. You approached without meaning to, setting fingers on the window panes and nearly pressing your nose against them as well. 

Velaris. 

This was Velaris. 

You felt yourself spiralling again, but the panic was interrupted. Someone cleared their throat, the sound purposefully gentle, but everything was startling, so you jumped, yelping and covering your mouth. When you spun on your heel, it was Azriel, and he looked pained again. You wondered if that had to do with his harrowing backstory, but you could remember that he was joyful in the books. At times. 

“I apologize,” Azriel said with a slight bow of his head. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Everything scares me,” you tried to brush off with a choppy, placating laugh, but Azriel’s expression only became more closed. 

“I apologize for that as well.” 

Your eyes flicked behind him, taking in the massive wings that seemed glued to his back. They didn’t move as you remembered they had before, the muscle looking stiff. 

“It’s not your fault.” You blinked back to meet his eyes and held them for only a second before searching for a nondescript landing place. “I’m usually very good at adjusting to things. I—I think I’m having difficulty coming to terms with this, though, so it may take me some time.” 

“You said this wasn’t real,” Azriel stated. You watched his hands flex at his sides. “Do you… still feel that way?” 

You nodded jerkily. “Yes.” An audible exhale. “And no.” 

You looked off to the side, observing the way the light from the window reflected in broken streams along the wall. You couldn’t tell what season it was here, but the clear skies may have told the story of Spring. There weren’t very many colors in the trees when you had looked down. Perhaps it was Summer. None of that mattered. 

“Is there anything I can do—” Azriel started, and when you looked up, he was leaning slightly, eyes ready to meet yours “—to show you that this is real? To help?” 

“I don’t—” He didn’t know that you knew things about him. He didn’t know that this was a book, a story, and that this would perhaps never feel real. Something told you to keep that to yourself. Your mind hadn’t let Rhysand see that part. “I think I need time to adjust, maybe.” 

Azriel’s brow twitched, but he didn’t give anything else away. He nodded once, eyes fluttering to the ground before pressing his mouth into the whisper of a smile. “Lunch, then?” 

Walking beside him involved shadows. They whisked past you and trailed along their master, though he paid them no mind. You, on the other hand, eyed each of their movements, unsure what they were reporting back to him in their brief whispers. You shouldn’t know that they told him things. You shouldn’t know that he commanded them. 

“They will not hurt you,” Azriel reassured. He held out his hand and let one pool into the divot of his palm. “They are like extensions of me, but their own beings. They collect information.” 

“Should you be telling me that?”

“Perhaps not,” Azriel hummed absent-mindedly. “But you can’t spread secrets to my enemies if I am one of the only three people you know.”

An unexpected laugh bubbled past your lips, the first real bout of humor to find you. You covered your mouth again, this time from pleasant shock, and continued to walk beside the Shadowsinger. He stared at you openly as you did so, only turning back to the hallway when you cleared your throat and pressed your lips together to hide the lingering smile. 

“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed. “I’ll have to meet more people.” 

“You will regret wanting for that.”

“And what is that supposed to—” 

You heard him before you saw him, a low voice asking several questions in the room over. He sounded serious and firm, but his words were trailing and seeking rather than demanding. It wasn’t Rhysand, and the responding female voice was not Mor. You blinked to orient yourself to the onslaught of sounds as those two also spoke up in the conversation. Four—four people in the room and four heartbeats and four paced breaths and—

“Are you all right?” Azriel asked, and you looked to see his eyes searching yours. 

“Oh, um, yes.” You glanced at the door where you were sure to enter. “I’m getting used to… hearing things. It's a lot.” 

“If you need more time—” 

“No!” you rushed out, settling yourself when Azriel’s brow furrowed. “No, I just need a moment. I want to have lunch. I want to see more and see that this is real. My brain couldn’t possibly conjure up something so large. I need to see that it’s big.”

Azriel seemed to contemplate. He glanced at the door and then back at you, tracing the outline of your face as the muscle in his jaw feathered. You had no idea what was running through his mind, so you guessed. 

“I promise I’m not a danger to anyone. It really is just the sound. Sometimes the colors and the light. Senses, I guess. But that’s part of all of this—the proving. I don’t have any plans to hurt anyone in there. If that was what—” 

“It wasn’t,” Azriel shot down. He moved his hand to the door. “If it… if anything starts to hurt, we can stop. We can introduce you to things more slowly.” 

You felt the confusion show on your face. “Hurt?” 

 “If it’s too much.” 

“I don’t think I understand.” 

Azriel shifted his weight between his feet. “I only mean that you can leave whenever you might need to. I didn’t understand when you first woke up, but I do know. I understand that this is more than you are used to, but it doesn’t have to be pain that makes things real.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Your face heated. “Azriel. Is this about the head thing?” 

He cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t—” 

“I promise I will not slam my head into any walls or hard surfaces again. That was—”

“Rather terrifying.”

“Right,” you blunted. “I can imagine it wasn’t pleasant watching a strange girl freak out and then try to put her head through a wall. But I’m more settled now. I promise, this will help more than anything.” 

He searched your face for a moment longer, his mouth parted as if to say more, but he didn’t. 

You gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry for being dramatic.” 

The door wrenched open before he could speak to the troubled expression morphing his face. A grinning, much larger Illyrian took up the doorway, his wings on full display and contrasting the small shape Azriel had been trying to shove himself into. This man’s hair was longer, his features more rugged and bright. When you startled, a habit it seemed, a sturdy chest connected with your back. 

 “Cassian,” the man greeted, raising his brows in an inviting motion. “Heard you’re not where you're supposed to be. Happens a lot around here.” 

Your gaze flicked down to his outstretched hand, and the size of it dwarfed yours as you hesitantly reached out to accept the shake. He rattled you with one firm, steady flip of his wrist, and the presence at your back seemed to become more imposing. 

“Cassian,” Azriel grumbled out.

Cassian only clicked his tongue. “Yeah, got it.” He gave you a conspiratorial look. “He warned me not to be overwhelming. But you can handle it. And I’m not overwhelming.” 

The casual air of his words had you blinking, your hand still connected with his. Everyone else in this world had been so formal with you. You knew the contrast to your world had a lot to do with the speech patterns and lack of modernization, but Cassian almost seemed modern. Like you could pluck him out of Prythian and smack him in the middle of Boston and he would adapt within hours. Maybe even pop onto public transit and yell at a curb-side vendor before asking any questions. 

“Right. You have mastered the art of subtly, surely,” Mor spoke from around the door. She peeked her head over. “Now let them actually enter the room, Cassian.” 

Another wolfish grin directed at you, and Cassian seemed about ready to tug you into the quaint dining room by your hand, but a low sound at your back halted his almost-tug. Cassian’s grin turned teasing as he stared above your shoulder, and he raised his hands up in surrender, a low whistle humming in the air. 

“Oh, enough,” Mor murmured at him, smacking his chest. “Let them in.” 

Things were certainly different from when you had first woken up. The suspicion was gone from each look thrown your way, replaced instead with curiosity and knowing gazes that you couldn’t place. The light mood you found in Cassian was contagious as you took in the room. Rhysand sat at a long table beside a woman you knew to be Feyre, the pair sharing a private smile and an even quieter laugh. He hadn’t wanted you to be around Feyre—you could remember him saying that. 

You knew fae were territorial and protective of mates, and that plot point had been one of your favorites when you read the books, so for him to allow you near her so quickly— 

“Oh, hello,” a light feminine voice chimed out. The tone was similar to yours. Familiar but entirely not. “I’m Feyre.” 

You offered a nod. Your name. “Nice to meet you.” 

She gave you a sympathetic look as you winced against shimmering light reflecting off the pebbled glass of several shining utensils. The entire dining room was alight. “Would you like to sit down? I’m told you have had quite the journey. I’d like to hear about it, if you would be open to sharing.” 

“I don’t have very much to offer,” you replied, following her outstretched hand to the open chair at the table. “In terms of the journey, I mean.” 

Mor took up the seat across from you, her gaze pointedly down, allowing you to speak. Feyre sat at your left side and Rhysand at the head of the table. There were people missing, even as Cassian found his own place and Azriel lingered near the opposite end. You wondered where the others were, and then cursed yourself for knowing too much. 

On the table, the food was like the language—foreign, but eerily familiar. Everything looked like something you had eaten before, but it also didn’t. The colors were slightly off, the proportions skewed. You felt your brow twitch as you tried to make out the type of meat that rested on a bed of greenery, and then took a breath through your lips as your nose began to burn at the extra attention to scent. 

“You just woke up here?” Feyre casually asked. She had begun to eat, and so had the rest of the table. Azriel had sat down at some point, though, not directly beside you. Something about that felt unnatural. 

“Um, yes. There was a pain in my stomach—like a pulling. I passed out from it, and then I woke up in this house.” 

Feyre briefly flicked her gaze across the table before asking, “Do you still feel the pain?” 

“No. No, that’s gone.”

She hummed. Rhysand spoke. “Tell us of New York.” 

He said the name with such lavish carefulness you almost snorted. “New York is the state I live in. I guess—within the continent I live on, New York is very small, but many people live there. I moved there for school.” 

“Is that where scholars typically go?” Mor inquired. 

“There are schools all over the country. I was—or am—getting my degree in library science. I’m going to be a librarian.” 

The switch to speaking in the past tense was unnerving, and you corrected yourself quickly. You shifted in your seat and picked up your fork, poking at the resemblance of a tomato. 

“Library science,” Mor enunciated. “You have to become educated in the study of the library?” 

“Yes. It’s very extensive. Libraries are crucial to conveying knowledge where I’m from. Things are more digital now, which many people think makes libraries archaic, but we actually offer quite a bit in that realm.” 

“Digital.” Cassian repeated the word under his breath.

“You are very passionate,” Feyre observed, a smile in her voice. 

With a furious heat taking over your face, you replied, “I guess so.” 

“Perhaps it wasn’t a coincidence that you landed in our library, then,” Rhysand hummed, his eyes shining violet over the rim of his glass. 

Maybe this would be a good time to tell them; you were talking about books, about libraries, and this would be the time. You weren’t sure how they would react, but it had been almost a full day in this world and no one had really tried to kill you. No, they were being… kind? Less doubtful? You weren’t sure, once again, what any of it meant. 

Instead of talking, you shoved a piece of spiced meat in your mouth and chewed.

The flavor of it was unlike anything you had tasted before. Your taste buds reacted neutrally, as if you had whatever this was hundreds of times, but your thoughts were driving the meal, and you couldn’t connect your past to the present. 

The meat became ash in your mouth. Your fork dropped unceremoniously on the table, and you pressed your fingers to the polished wood to stop yourself from spitting it out. Casual conversation had begun to flow amongst the group, but it quieted at the sound. Your face heated again. The metal clattering against wood still stung at your sensitive ears. 

“That bad?” Cassian jested. 

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly and swallowed with considerable effort. 

“She doesn’t like boar,” Rhysand drawled back. “Noted.” 

Noted. Noted?

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” you coughed. You reached for the intricately gemmed goblet at your seat and sipped at what you hoped was water. It was not. More choking ensued. Droplets of blood-red wine spilled over the lip as you placed the cup down unsteadily. “Is that alcoholic?” you wheezed. 

From the other side of the table, Azriel’s chair scraped against the floor. He was moving things away and pulling out your own chair in a few swift movements. You followed him up only because your brain was in too many directions at once, the unfamiliar spices from the meat mingling with wine in the middle of the day, and then there were the concerned questions peppering the air from those around you, and this room was so bright. Why was every window in this damn house open? 

“Something plain,” you heard Feyre instruct as you were guided out of the room in a fit of dramatics. “And water. Do you want me to—” 

“No,” was all that came from the Shadowsinger beside you. The hallways became darker. Shadows were lining the walls. When you were alone, Azriel said, “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have assumed everything was okay for you.” 

“It was a normal lunch,” you argued, fingers curling around nothing as you followed his slow steps. He had to be slowing them down for you. “At least I can attest to the reality of this place even more now. I’ve never eaten anything like that in my life.” 

Though even as you said the words, you held a drop of doubt firm within you.

“Feyre had trouble adjusting to the food,” Azriel said. Mostly to himself. “We should have prepared for that.” 

“Feyre?” 

“She was human. From the human lands here. She became fae, as you did.”

But you already knew that. You nodded and bit into your tongue. “You know, you didn’t have to drag me out. I know everyone wants to ask me more questions.” 

“They can ask you another time. You have had a very long—” his eyes flickered to the back of your head and trailed down to your twitching fingers “—stressful day.” 

“Another time,” you repeated. If you woke up tomorrow and were still here, maybe. “Does that mean you plan to keep me around?” 

“Where else would you go?” 

“You could send me away. I don’t… belong here.” 

“You are here now. You landed here. You will stay here.” 

“Why?” 

Azriel hesitated. 

You asked again, “Why would you all trust me so quickly?” 

“Rhys saw inside your mind—saw that there is truth to where you say you came from,” Azriel finally offered. “And with the state of the continent, there are many unknown variables.” 

The taste of the meat was still in the back of your throat and you swallowed hard. “Do you trust me?” 

You caught the underlying meaning in Azriel’s words. Maybe they trusted you, trusted that part of you that you were able to share, but you were also an unknown variable. You needed to be where they could monitor you, and you didn’t blame them. If this were truly all real, all their world, you could pose a threat. But they were being nice, accommodating, and you couldn’t parse out what all of the glances and hospitality meant.

“I want to,” Azriel said. 

And then he pushed into the kitchen, you close behind within a trail of shadows.

[moonstruckme]

hi Mae!! I just have to say I loved the peter aftercare oneshot sooo much! I swear you are like the queen of soft smut, which sounds so hilarious but it really is true! you just absolutely have mastered writing things that are so comfy while still being equally so steamy that I'm just always melting into a puddle.

anyways I have a request (if you like it) for peter, specifically roommate peter and reader where one of them is getting up in the middle of the night to go to their kitchen for water, or because they can't sleep, or had a dream, and the other is already there. maybe there's been some previous tension between them or something or other, and things get smuttyyy in the kitchen, what do we think!

Thanks so much, angel!

cw: pg-13 smut (mdni please)

roommate!peter parker x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Peter appears in the kitchen like a mirage. Damp hair, a loose sweatshirt, silent footsteps that falter when he finds you leaning against the counter with your glass of water. His eyebrows go up.

"Uh, hey."

"Hi," you say back, startled too and lightly mortified to have come across Peter in the apartment you share with him. "Did you just shower?"

"Yeah." Peter reaches past you, and the kitchen is illuminated for a moment in white light from the fridge. He grabs a takeout container. "Yeah, I went for a run, so."

You wrinkle your nose, as much at the idea of running as doing it at two in the morning. You didn't even hear him leave.

Peter grins at your face. "Are you just standing here in the dark?" he teases.

You shrug. There's enough light coming in from the windows for you to see with. "I didn't feel like turning anything on."

"How long have you been up?"

"Just a few minutes." Peter nods, twirling a fork before bringing it to his mouth. You don't know what compels you to go on. "I had a dream."

He frowns. "A bad dream?" he asks through a mouthful.

Heat flushes through you. "Not really."

You woke with your heart in your throat and an urgent ache between your legs, blurred recollections of brown eyes and your name uttered by a familiar voice already fading.  You wanted to fall back asleep and see if you could find your way back to the dream. You forced yourself to get up and find a glass of water instead to cool you down.

The corporeal Peter is looking at you strangely, so you try to clarify. "It was just…weird."

He hums. You feel it like a frisson through you, and take another sip of your water.

"So, um, why did you decide to go on a run now?"

Peter shrugs, the corners of his mouth lifting self-deprecatingly. "It's cooler at night."

"More dangerous, too."

"Well, I've been told a key quality in any real runner is masochism."

You laugh. Peter's smile widens in response, but you see it flicker at the edges when his gaze drops lower. You follow it, and stiffen. Your nipples are raised and showing through the tank top you wore to bed.

"Who was in your dream?"

You blink, your breath catching. "Huh?"

Peter smiles, but there's something behind it. "I'm just wondering. You don't have to tell me."

You think he knows. And the thing is, you can't even say he's arrogant for having guessed. Something has shifted between you and Peter lately. You don't know how, but you know you've both noticed it. It can't just be you. It's too obvious.

You look at the takeout container in his hand and do your best to ignore the self-conscious prickle going down your neck. "I don't mean to dream about anyone," you mumble.

"Hey, I know." Peter's voice drops into a more sympathetic register. "I get that. It's not like you do it on purpose." He drops his finished takeout in the trash, leaning against the counter next to you. "It's the unconscious mind, you can't help it."

"It's still embarrassing."

"That depends on who it's about," he says lightly.

You lift your eyes, giving Peter a despairing look. His expression sobers. "Don't make me say it."

"Okay," he murmurs, gently now. "It's okay."

His hand finds your arm, squeezing up the length of it to your shoulder. You burn silently. You think maybe Peter’s cheeks deepen in color, but he doesn't look away. And so neither do you, letting him bare witness to your shame.

You watch as brown eyes, even lovelier when you're awake, soften in the low light. Peter is so close you think an inhale could close the distance.

"Hey," he says, nose nearly to your cheek.

Your heart beats in your mouth. "Yeah?"

"It's okay." His breath tickles your skin. "It really is. Was it a good dream?"

"Yeah." You can hardly hear yourself, but Peter seems to.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, it was nice."

"That's good. Nice, I mean. I'm glad." His lips tick, an almost self-conscious smile. "I think about you too, you know."

You inhale, and he's there, a whisper from you.

"This okay?" Peter whispers.

You nod, and he closes the distance.

It's a soft press of a kiss. Warm enough to melt into, but not hurried. Peter coaxes you to relax into him with nice, inviting kisses, stepping in front of you to hold you steady.

You reach behind you to set your glass of water on the counter. As soon as you're done, his hands are under your thighs, lifting you up beside it.

"Yeah?" he mumbles.

You exhale into his mouth, "Yeah."

Things heat slowly. You have the half-dizzy thought that you might keep from waking up longer if you draw it out, and whatever Peter's motives are he seems to be in agreement. You kiss until you've committed the shape of Peter's mouth to memory and you're beginning to think you really are going to fall asleep, and then Peter diverts his attention elsewhere.

You come instantly more awake as he puts his mouth to one of your nipples, sucking through the material of your tank top. Your legs clench around his waist. One of Peter's hands drops to your thigh, keeping it there.

"Jesus," you hiss.

"Nope, still me." The damp of his saliva begins seeping into your top. "I'm flattered, though."

You hold onto Peter's shoulders as he licks and teases at the bud, devoting himself thoroughly to one before moving to the other. It's then that you grow impatient, but when you start to pull up your top Peter pushes your hands away.

"Okay, okay," he says, like you're really in a hurry. "I've got it."

He says that, but then he doesn't do it quickly. Your tank top moves up inch by inch, Peter kissing every bare swatch of skin that gets revealed as he goes. Your chest is falling in discordant rhythm by the time he makes it back to where he started, a trail of spit going all the way down your abdomen. Peter bunches the fabric above your breasts with a look like Happy? and takes one into his mouth.

It's a thousand times worse than the dream. Everything is sharper, up to and including the ache between your legs, where Peter has nestled so comfortably you think it can't be half the torment for him that it is for you. He rubs up and down your thigh like he means to console you, only stoking the heat.

"God—" you keen.

"Still no."

"—Peter—"

"There you go."

You shift your hips against him, and Peter moans, sucking you deeper into the wet heat of his mouth. When his teeth press into your flesh, you think you whimper.

You pray to whoever will listen that you won't wake up this time.

[moonstruckme]

hey mae!! how are you? i don’t know if this is something you would be interested in writing as i think you’ve done something similar with remus, but i was wondering if you could do a sort of poly!marauders roommate situation where reader is super shy with remus and sirius but has a soft spot for james? thanks for considering haha !

Hi angel, I'm well how are you? Thank you for your request <3

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

roommate!marauders x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

"You're going to get glitter on the table."

"I'll clean it up."

"It never really goes away," says Remus darkly.

Sirius turns his head from the mirror he's propped on the kitchen table, enough glitter flashing in the corners of his eyes to cause a traffic collision. "There's nothing I can do about the fact that the kitchen has better lighting. If you'd like to install a window in the bathroom, be my guest."

Sitting across the table, James' eyebrows go up. "That's not a bad idea."

"The bathroom doesn't have any exterior walls," Remus points out. The pasta he's reheating on the hob sizzles its agreement.

"True…a skylight, maybe?"

"I think our landlord might notice."

James concedes and goes back to watching Sirius work on his makeup fascinatedly. If a bit of glitter does make its way onto the table, he's certainly not tattling. After a while, the click of the lock in the front door diverts his attention.

You open it silently, in the way that only you seem to know how to do (no matter how James tries to avoid waking everyone when he leaves for his morning runs, that thing always squeaks) and step inside on soft feet. James smothers a grin as Remus' head turns in your direction.

You have a tendency to creep through the house like you're hoping you'll go unnoticed. You rarely do, and James feels sort of bad for thinking it's funny when you're thwarted every time.

"Hiya," says James. "Late night at work?"

"Yeah." You glance up, not necessarily looking surprised at having been caught again. (You may be getting used to it.) A smile flickers like light across your lips as you toe off your shoes. "Hi."

"Oi!" Sirius turns around in his chair to face you. James and Remus both wince. Sirius' tone is nothing but friendly, but oi is not a way to win you over. You tense like you're on trial. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Um, nothing important. Why?"

Sirius' excitement grows. "We're going out in a bit. You should come."

"Oh." Your voice quiets, as though making itself small while you crouch to pick up your shoes. "Thanks, but I'm pretty tired."

"It won't really be a big night out," Remus tries in a gentler tone. "We're only going to a bar nearby. We'll be back by midnight."

"Like Cinderella," adds James, trying to get a smile out of you. It works, sort of.

"I think I'm going to stay in," you say apologetically, "but you all have fun."

"Won't be as much fun without you." Sirius pouts.

You press your lips into a good-humored smile, and flee to your room.

Sirius heaves a sigh.

"Shush," Remus chides him, "she'll hear you."

"She never wants to do anything," Sirius whines.

"Maybe because you keep rushing her."

"It's been weeks!"

"She'll warm up eventually," says James, taking care to keep his voice low. "She's just settling in. And maybe bars aren't her scene."

Sirius wrinkles his nose. "Do we have to start a knitting club for her to hang out with us?"

"It could be a fun new hobby."

"You should talk to her," Remus says.

James looks at him, and finds himself being looked at in return. "Me?"

"Ooh, that's a good idea." Sirius leans forward, glitter flashing animatedly. "Get her to go with us tonight."

"Why me?"

"Because she likes you best."

"Wha—not more than any of us!"

"She's more relaxed with you," says Remus matter-of-factly. "Just give it a try, alright?"

James argues the notion of his preferential treatment for a while longer, but ultimately finds himself at your door, knocking politely. "Can I come in?"

There's no answer. After knocking some more and casting a frightened look back towards the kitchen—to which Sirius responds with an insistent shooing motion—James cracks open the door, half expecting you to already be asleep.

You're not. You're still in your work clothes, laying on your bed with earbuds plugging your ears. You take them out when you see James.

"I tried to knock," he apologizes.

"It's okay." You sit up, blinking at him. You look like you're worried you might be in trouble. "What's up?"

"I'm here to make a case," he admits. "Can I come in?"

Wary, you nod.

James steps inside, shutting the door behind him. You shuffle backwards on your bed, making room, though he isn't sure if he should sit. She's more relaxed with you, Remus had said. James doesn't know if that's true, but you do seem more at ease in your own room, your gaze steady on his. He sits on the bed.

"I don't want to pressure you," he starts out. "You don't have to come if you don't want to, but we would like it if you went out with us. Are you really too tired?"

Your shoulder comes up in a half-shrug. "I don't know…it was a long night."

"Like Remus said, we won't be out long. This place is small—it closes at midnight. Sirius will try to get us to go somewhere else after, but we can tell him no."

That smile is back, quick as a struck match. Its warmth lingers in your eyes. "Can we?"

"It's not easy, but it can be done. Remus will champion us."

You look at your lap. James hopes you're thinking about it rather than thinking about how to tell him no. Your fingers tap on your leg.

"We don't even have to stay until close," he bargains. "Give us an hour, and if you want to leave I'll walk you home."

You look startled. "Why do you want me to go so badly?"

"Because—" There's no keeping the earnestness from his voice. "—we want to hang out with you."

You really shy, then. Shoulders drawing in, lashes kissing at the corners. James wants to wrap you up.

"So," he says to rescue you, "an hour?"

"You don't have to walk me home," you murmur.

"Sorry, I'm afraid that part is non-negotiable. I don't mind, though, if it helps."

Your head gives a little shake. James doesn't know if it's directed at him or yourself. "I'm going to need to change."

A grin splits James' face at the realization that he's convinced you. "Take your time," he says. "Sirius is still working on his makeup anyway, and you've only just gotten home from work. We're not in any big hurry."

"Okay." You finally meet his eyes again as he stands to leave, your look sweet. "Thanks, James."

"Thank you," he replies sincerely.

He's smiling gigantically as he steps out into the hallway, closing your door behind him. It gives him away immediately.

Sirius' eyes pop. "Really?"

"Yeah," James whispers, feeling like you as he creeps quietly back to the kitchen. "She's going to be a minute, but she'll come. For an hour, at least."

Sirius pumps his fist in the air. Remus looks smug as he plates up his dinner.

"Told you it'd work," he hums.

Sirius jumps out of his chair to plant a kiss on James' cheek. "You're a legend!"

At Remus' urgent shushing and James' frightened glance toward your doorway, he covers his mouth with both hands, wincing.

"You're a legend," he whispers.

[moonstruckme]

is it too much to request a continuation to the drunk remus new girl au drabble, following the second date with the guy that goes..not the best (or good, which disappoints her) and she returns home late and talks to remus, who is the only flatmate awake, about the date and the convo quickly turns into something more personal and intimate, like both of them are somehow touching upon their mutual feelings for each other without doing so if that makes sense😭? like nothing is said outwardly, with a hint of miscommunication/neither of them really understand what the other is trying to say so they dont take it in any romantic way

love ur writing sm, take care of urself bae, and ty even if you decide not to write this!

Thank you for requesting angel <3

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

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

By the time you get home, it's late. Even Sirius has gone to bed, though not long ago. Your flat is quiet. Remus hears you shut the door carefully behind you before you follow the lamplight into the sitting room like a moth.

Remus sets his book down when your shadow falls over the sofa. "Hi."

Your smile is sheepish, as though you've interrupted him. "Hi. I wasn't sure if anyone would still be up."

"How was your date?"

"It was fine."

Remus watches you sink into the sofa, your legs folding up beneath you. He glances at the clock. It's been well over four hours since you left for your date. "Just fine?"

Your lips lift tiredly. "It was good. Like, it was an objectively good date, I think. We started at the pub—" Your look turns preemptively watchful at this. Remus keeps his expression neutral. "—and then we left and got ice cream, then just sat on a bench and talked for a while. It was nice, I just don't feel like we really click.

"I would be talking, and I could tell he wasn't all that interested in what I was saying, and then he'd talk for a while and I honestly didn't care much what he was saying either. I was trying to." Your brow does a guilty pinch, like Remus might get upset on the other man's behalf. "We just couldn't find much in common. I think we must have felt the same way about it, though, because neither of us said anything about meeting up again before we left."

"Oh." Remus was anticipating another entertaining post-date story (not that he wants you to have bad dates, of course, but when they don't go well it's at least more fun when you can laugh about it) but this only sounds disappointing. "I'm sorry."

You let out a little sigh, leaning your cheek on the sofa cushion. You look like you could fall asleep right there. "It's okay. I'd rather spend time with someone I really get along with." You mean him, Remus knows. Him, and James, and Sirius, and the circle of acquaintances-turning-friends you're accumulating at your work. He remembers at one time thinking that you must feel rather alone here; he's glad that's not true anymore. "I just wish it were easier to find those people on dates," you say.

Remus hums. He's caught between feeling sorry for you, all your dispelled excitement and the energy you seem to feel could have been spent on better things, and feeling rather selfishly relieved. There are enough men in this flat without you bringing in another. Remus can hardly tolerate James and Sirius sometimes, and certain things he does tolerate only because he loves them; he can't be sure he'd have the same forbearance for someone else leaving their dirty pots on the hob and the toilet seat up.

Also selfishly, Remus likes having your company. James dating Lily wasn't so awful, because Lily would often join them rather than James being absent, but occasionally Sirius will get hung up on a fling and James and Remus will get only scraps of him until it's over with. As much as Remus enjoys peace and quiet, he doesn't enjoy that. Your flatmates have had a near monopoly on you since you moved in; though Remus is glad you have other friends now, he's not eager for them to lose their standing to some bloke you met on a dating app.

He does want for you to be happy, though.

"What sort of person would you like?" he finds himself asking.

You look less sleepy suddenly, blinking at him. "You mean…like, what am I drawn towards, or what am I hoping for?"

"Are they different?"

Your gaze slips down. "I guess not really. Um, I don't know."

Remus hesitates. He doesn't know how or where, but he feels he's made a misstep. "Is it the sort of thing where you'll know it when you meet it?" he asks, hoping to be encouraging.

Your expression softens. "Yeah. I think so." You meet his eyes again, something warm in them. "I guess I learned tonight that it'll have to be someone I can talk to."

"Well, let's hope so."

"I feel like listening is an undervalued skill," you muse. "I'd like someone good at that, too, so I'm not just talking to myself. And maybe with a good sense of humor."

Remus tries to construct this person for you in his mind. Someone who listens to you is a given, that shouldn't be difficult to find (though some of your dating horror stories might contradict this). And someone with a sense of humor. Remus doesn't think he's very funny, but you laugh often, usually at something James or Sirius has done. You're quick to laugh, which is a sweet quality in you, and makes yours an easier standard to meet as well.

"It'd be nice to have some things in common." Your gaze has gone wistful. You're staring at him, enough to make Remus feel warm, but he doesn't think it's really him you're looking at. You're likely in your own world. "So we can do things together."

Someone to read with you. Or to do puzzles like you get so absorbed in, or to join you on your mission to discover the best bakery in the city. Remus wonders if that means you won't need your friends to do those things with you anymore. He tries not to feel bitter at the possibility.

"I could probably use someone who can be patient with me, too."

Your tone is a hair too self-disparaging for Remus' taste. "You need someone who can keep up," he corrects you.

Your mouth ticks. "More like someone who's good in a crisis."

"You're not a crisis."

"Funny that you knew what I was talking about, then."

Remus keeps his expression deadpan, and eventually you crack, grinning.

"You did."

"Because I know how you think," he says, fighting the tug of his own lips. "Not because you are one. Anyone would be patient with you."

You laugh softly. "No, you're all just very nice to me here."

"If the standard is set so low that Sirius is meeting it, we're going to have to bar you from dating until you're more sound of mind."

"Mean," you chide him, grinning still. "That's a jar-worthy offense, I think."

"No, it isn't," Remus replies with authority. "There's a difference between being a wanker and just being a bit of a prick. You'll understand one day."

You laugh truly now, covering your mouth with a hand to avoid waking your flatmates. "That was being a prick."

"Well done."

"Well, you're sort of right," you say. "Not about Sirius, but it doesn't seem like it should be so impossible to find someone who I can get along with."

"You deserve that," agrees Remus. Sincerity weighing heavy on his tongue. "All the things you've just said." And plenty more, he thinks but doesn't say. You're feeling let down enough by dating without his input.

You drop your cheek to the couch cushion again, your expression content. At home. Your voice drops to near a whisper. "Thank you."

Remus smiles back at you, his heart aching. He really has come to care for you. He wasn't expecting to, just based on his general penchant for keeping new people at a distance and how long it took him to warm to James and Sirius, but he has. You crept in.

"You look like you're falling asleep," he says. "Are you going to turn in?"

"Oh. I am tired, but—are you going to bed?"

"I wasn't planning on it just yet. Why?"

"Well, I haven't really gotten to talk to anyone interesting all evening." You look slightly guilty again, but your eyes flicker with humor. "Would it be okay if I stayed here for a while?"

The ache in Remus' heart hasn't stopped. It's only getting worse. "Of course," he says. "I'd like that."

[moonstruckme]

If you’re doing the new girl au out of order I would looove to request Remus and reader having a lil make out during their secret relationship period thinking “okay we have this much time before Sirius gets home and this much time before James gets home” but then everyone starts coming home early

Thanks for requesting!

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

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The problem with kissing your flatmate is that it takes over your home life. There’s no escaping thoughts of him. You’ll be brushing your teeth, and the smell of him fresh out of the shower will leave you dribbling toothpaste out of the corner of your mouth, or you’ll catch yourself staring at his lips while your other flatmates sit between you on the sofa watching a film, or he’ll come into the kitchen to tell you that you’re home alone, and you’ll wind up boiling over your pasta water because you were too busy shoving your tongue down his throat. 

Remus reaches over to shut off the hob. “That can wait until later,” he says, his voice gone raspy in the way that makes your stomach hug your spine, “yeah?” 

“I wasn’t that hungry anyway,” you agree. 

He smiles into your mouth, the material of your top bunching in his fingers. An embarrassing, needy sound sighs out of you when Remus presses you into the counter. “Sirius decided to join James and Lily at the cinema.” 

“James told me that he—” You can’t think properly when he touches you like this. “—that he wouldn’t be back until late.” 

“Which means we have time,” Remus finishes the thought for you. He gets his hands under your thighs, hefting you onto the counter in one strong motion. Blood rushes to your face. 

The concept of time has never seemed more enticing. 

“We don’t have to rush,” Remus goes on, kissing you more gently. Your cheek, your chin. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat?” 

You shake your head quickly. “I can eat later.” 

“Sure?” 

“Yeah.” You bump your nose into his, angling for his lips. “Remus…” 

“Alright,” he soothes. His hand slips beneath your shirt, fingers splaying over your side as though to steady you. “Alright.” 

Remus’ touches are slow and sure, but he trembles with each tiny sound from you. It fills you with a blooming pride to think that it’s you making him unsteady. Quiet, composed Remus, undone by a touch of your bare skin. You feel like a teenager, stealing kisses in spare moments and wondering whether you should let a boy take your top off, hoping you won’t get caught. 

“Bed?” Remus rasps after a while. Your legs have tightened around him like a vice, like you’re worried he’s going to slip away. “Or sofa?” 

You must look a bit startled, because he puts an inch between you, color rising to his cheeks. 

“Not so—I don’t want to rush anything,” he tells you with an amused, breathy sound. His hand comes up to cover the crown of your head. “I just keep worrying you’re going to knock yourself on the cabinet.” 

You laugh and duck down to kiss him. “Bed,” you agree. 

“Yours or mine?” 

“Definitely yours.” You hop down from the counter. Remus' hand slips behind you as though to keep you from going far. “Mine’s too messy.” 

He huffs a laugh. “I’ve lived with Sirius and James for years. I’m used to mess.” 

“I know yours is tidy, though,” you tease him. 

“Actually, I think I left a cup on the nightstand…” 

You laugh again, warm and giddy, curling your fingers in his jumper to tug him towards his bedroom. Remus smiles as he lets you. 

You make it two steps before the door opens. 

“Why would I want to go at eight on a Thursday?” James’ voice echoes down the hall. “Why would anyone?” 

You look at Remus with wide eyes. He’s frowning in the direction of the front door as though he has a mind to scold your flatmates for coming home early. 

“Because,” replies Sirius, sounding sour, “not everyone feels they have to be tucked into bed at ten.” 

“It’s a weeknight, though. I’m surprised they’d even show anything that late on a weeknight.” 

You walk Remus backwards quickly. His brows cinch as he steps into the pantry, just before you shut the door. 

“That late is eight o’clock, James.” 

You dash from the kitchen, throwing yourself onto the couch just as your flatmates emerge from the hallway. 

“Some of us,” Sirius goes on, “would call that the beginning of the night.” 

You pick up the book you left on the coffee table earlier. When Sirius glances over, it looks as though you’ve been reading the whole while. 

“Oh, hi.” You blink up at him. “What are you doing back?” 

James looks sheepish. Sirius heaves a long, dramatic sigh. “James bought tickets for the wrong night.” 

“They want to start showing a film at eight on a Thursday,” James tells you. “Obviously I thought they were for tonight when I saw the time. Isn’t that insane?” 

“That’s…uh, insane, yeah.” 

Sirius narrows his eyes at you. “Why do you look like that?” 

You open your mouth. Shut it again. “Like what?” 

“All…” He waves a hand in your general direction, his mouth screwing up. “Ruffled. God, you’re not reading porn on our sofa, are you?” 

“What?” You sit up, your voice climbing. “No! Jesus, Sirius, you’re—this is a romance novel.” 

James looks like he might laugh, but Sirius only wrinkles his nose. “You’re a libertine. At least take it out of the common space. Isn’t Remus around here somewhere?” 

“I don’t know,” you huff, standing from the couch and taking your book with you. “You’re disgusting. Fine, I’ll read in my room.” 

You shut your door, opening your bedroom window spitefully in the hopes the pollen from the tree outside sets off Sirius’ hay fever. Serves him right. You try to open your book and actually read, but you can’t focus. 

It’s a few minutes later that Remus opens your door quietly. 

You sit up, nervous. “I’m sorry.” 

“Mhm,” he says. “What was your plan, back in there?” 

“I panicked,” you admit. “It was the first thing I thought of.” 

“Shoving me into the pantry?” Remus pauses. All you can do is nod abashedly. “Well, James was rather surprised when he went looking for something for supper and found me instead.” 

You cover your mouth. “No.” 

“Yeah. We left your pasta on the hob, too, by the way.” 

“What did you tell him about why you were in there?” 

“I told him I was thinking.” 

“No.” A giggle spurts out of you. You press your hand harder over your mouth, but they escape between your fingers. “Oh my god, did you really?” 

“You think that’s funny, do you?” Remus asks, grinning as he crawls onto your bed. Your teeth click together when he kisses you. “I didn’t know what else to say. I’m not usually prepared to be discovered in a pantry.” 

“I really am sorry,” you say helplessly.

Remus’ eyes roll. He cups your cheek. “I know we spoke about keeping this between us for now, but I don’t think we have to go to great lengths to do it.” 

“No, I know.” You lay down, more letting yourself be kissed than kissing, hyper-aware of your flatmates in the other room. “I really just panicked. If it makes you feel any better, Sirius thought I was reading smut in the sitting room.” 

Remus chuckles. “I heard that, yeah.”

“Were you laughing at me in the pantry?” 

“Maybe a little.” He kisses your jaw, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “I won’t be your dirty secret,” he murmurs.

“I’m fairly sure I’m your dirty secret, if anyone is.” You match his volume. “If this happens again, I’ll let you shove me out the window so we’re even.” 

Remus hums, considering. “No. I’m too much of a gentleman for that.” 

“Well, now I’m starting to feel bad.” 

“Oh, now you are?”

[moonstruckme]

dropping this request in if i may ~ 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯! so i was a tiny bit inebriated the other night and having the hardest time trying to coordinate putting my lipgloss on in the dark , when I was blessed with the vision of Remus applying it for reader sometime during/after a night out. I know Sirius would be more skilled for pro makeup application but I’m thinking about that gentle chin tilt … the big hands .. the jaw holding… the soft tracing with the applicator— the tension, ugh <3. not sure if it fits into your direction of the new girl au but i love a similar pre relationship vibe if it’s not too repetitive xx !

This was so fun, thank you for requesting!

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

cw: alcohol

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 935 words

The world glitters as you walk from your table up to the bar. Sirius rolls his eyes at your giant smile. 

“Must be going well,” he surmises, glancing at the man you’ve left at the table behind you. 

You shrug, but you’re miles off from blasé. “I think it’s going okay.” 

It’s silly to think you can tell much from a first conversation with someone, but your sort-of-date had a strong start by coming up to you while you were with your flatmates to ask if you’d join him for a drink. He’s your age, cute, the kind of confident that doesn’t overassert itself. You were beyond flattered to be asked, and things have only gotten better from there. You’re thinking you’ll ask to see him again. 

James is smiling at you way too knowingly. You try to straighten your own face to keep him from teasing you. “Can we have two more of the same, please?” 

Sirius frowns. He looks over you assessingly—checking if you’re too drunk to serve, part of his job and probably also a preventative measure to ensure you don’t monopolize the bathroom in your flat later. “You know I’m not comping these for this bloke, right?” 

“Of course, yeah.” Warmth tickles your cheeks. “They’re on his tab.” 

“Ooooh,” James sings, teasing, “he likes you.” 

Sirius hums approvingly and goes to the other side of the bar to start on your drinks. You shy away from James while he tries to pinch your cheeks. 

“And you like him!”

Remus swats James’ shoulder when you lean nearly off your stool, not even looking up from his book. “Don’t harass her.” 

“Aw, come on,” James says, though he stops to prop his chin on his hand instead. His eyes have gone all squishy fond. “It’s cute.” 

You peer over his head at Remus. “Actually, Rem…” 

Remus glances over, and you make your eyes big and pleading. 

“Since Sirius is busy, would you help me with my lip gloss? I tried, but my hand is…” You sigh, remembering how your lack of coordination had resulted in an embarrassing glossy sheen on your chin. “I can’t do it.” 

Remus hesitates for longer than you’re expecting him to. He watches you from the corner of his eye before sighing, resigned. “Come over here.” 

You hop off your stool, trading it for the one next to his. “Thank you!” 

“What do you need to reapply for?” James asks as you hand Remus your tube of lip gloss. 

You ignore the implication in his tone. “Because it wore off.” 

“Mmmhm.” 

You scoff, but before you can tell him off Remus is taking your jaw in a gentle hand. “Tilt your chin up for me?” 

You do, watching as he holds the wand uncertainly. He meets your eyes. 

“I can’t promise this’ll be much better than you would’ve done.” 

That’s okay, you want to say. I trust you. 

You keep perfectly still as Remus brushes the spongy tip of the wand over your lower lip. A soft heat spreads under your skin. 

He works slowly, as meticulous as he is with everything, his smoked whiskey eyes focussed on your lips. And you find yourself focussed—wholly, painfully, focussed—on him. 

You hoped you were over this. You wanted to be over this. It was the main reason you began seeking out dates in the first place, and now you’re here with an attractive man who likes you waiting for you to come back to his table, and you’re having heart palpitations over your flatmate’s hand on your face. And you can’t bring yourself to regret it. 

“You really like him,” says James, watching you with that giant grin on his face again. “Look at you, you’ve got hearts in your eyes. I feel like I need to sneak a picture of you and your date to put on the fridge.” 

Your eyes dart to him. Remus vocalizes what you can’t. 

“Don’t you dare,” he murmurs, low and assured. An unwelcome thrill goes up your spine. 

James makes a mopey sound. “What if I’m very stealthy about it?” 

You nearly laugh and mess up all of Remus’ work. James doesn’t have a stealthy bone in his body. Remus meets your eyes, and you know he’s thinking the same. His tongue does that thing where it pokes into his cheek. 

Fuck. You’re so done for. 

“Alright.” Remus caps your lip gloss. “Let me try and clean it up…” He swipes a thumb beneath your lower lip. Your brain nearly whites out. “...and I think that’s decent.” 

You rub your lips together, watching Remus’ eyes drop to the motion. They make a soft pop when they come apart. 

“Let your Romeo know,” Sirius says as he returns to set your drinks on the bar, “that I’m closing his tab after these two. You’re cut off.” 

“Okay,” you chirp, uncaring. “Hey, did Remus do a good job with my lip gloss?” 

Sirius squints at you across the bar. His eyebrows rise. “Surprisingly, yeah.” He looks at Remus. “I’m impressed.” 

“Surprisingly,” Remus scoffs, returning to his book. “I want my next drink comped for that.” 

“Yours are all comped, prick.” 

“Thank you.” You lean in to give Remus a quick side hug before remembering why that might be a bad idea. Your entire side tingles with awareness. 

He hardly glances up, mumbling a quick, “Anytime.” 

James grins and hands you your drinks. “Go get em’, tiger.” He spins you back towards your table. You go towards it on wobbly steps. 

It’s possible the world glitters just a tiny bit more coming back than it did leaving.

[moonstruckme]

Hi! It’s okay if you don’t want to write this, but I just finished my first week at my dream job that I worked really, really hard to get. I had to move for it so I live alone and haven’t made any friends here yet to celebrate with, so I would love if I could request a drabble of Remus celebrating the end of reader’s first week and being so proud of her 🥹

Congratulations 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 vile agendas

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 557 words

Your flat is dim with evening when you come inside, but the kitchen light is on. 

“Is that her?” someone asks. 

“Unless you’ve given someone else a key…” 

Sirius’ head sticks out into the hallway. “Hey, babe,” he says, grinning, wisps of hair sticking out from where he’s pulled it into a knot in the back of his head, “how was it?” 

You grin back at him, feeling lighter and less tired than you had when you crossed the threshold. It’s nice to be home. “Busy. Good busy, though.” 

“Want a margarita?” 

You feel your eyebrows lift as you move towards the kitchen. “Someone’s making margaritas?” 

“Well, we had to celebrate.” 

“Celebrate what?” 

“There she is!” James catches your face as you round the corner, planting a kiss in the center of your forehead. “Celebrate the end of your first week, obviously.” 

You blink at him, then at Sirius, before your gaze lands on Remus. Where your other two flatmates seem already tipsy (despite the clearly full blender and empty glasses on the counter), you can always turn to him to be the rational one. “Really?” 

Remus half smiles. “Of course.” 

Your chest goes hot. “Oh. That’s so sweet, guys. You didn’t have to.” 

“It’s a big occasion,” says James, going for the blender. He pours a glass so full it spills onto the counter, and Remus takes the blender from him to do the rest. 

“It’s really not,” you laugh as James presses the sticky glass into your hand. 

“Is too!” 

You roll your eyes, though your lips curve as you sip. “All I did was manage to last the first week at my job.” 

“You worked hard to get that job,” Remus reminds you. 

Sirius grabs the next filled glass, humming emphatically. “Very hard. Remember that time you came home absolutely soaked through because you had to walk to and from an interview in the rain? And you didn’t even get that one!” 

“I remember,” you say drily. 

“That was pretty pathetic, babe. You’ve come a long way.” 

Remus makes a long-suffering face behind Sirius’ back, and you huff a laugh. “Thanks.” 

“Awe, you have come a long way.” James puts his arms around your neck, propping his chin on your shoulder and turning so you’re both facing the other boys. “Remember when she showed up here, and we had to teach her how to use the tube?” 

“When she still didn’t know not to smile at strange men,” Sirius teases. 

James sighs, wistful. “Or the difference between a tea and tea.” 

“That one still confuses me a bit,” you admit. 

He gives you a squeeze. “They grow up so fast.” 

“You’re ridiculous,” you say, your face warm. Remus looks like he’s enjoying watching you be embarrassed. “Thanks for the margaritas.” 

“Thanks for acquiring an income,” says Sirius. He’s found some twirly straws in the pantry, and sticks one into your drink with a wink. “It would have been a shame to have to kick you out if you couldn’t pay rent.” 

“You wouldn’t be able to get rid of me,” you promise him. 

Remus makes a low sound of amusement. “He wouldn’t be able to live without your closet.” 

Sirius doesn’t deny it, leaning back against the kitchen counter with a satisfied look. “Thankfully, that’s nothing either of us have to worry about now.”

[moonstruckme]

Hi, Gorgeous!

Hope I’m doing the request thing right, but here’s the gist - f!reader with Endometriosis (or just… a horrible time with shark week if you’re not comfortable with writing about endo) either with the EMT!marauders or in the New Girl AU

I feel like the vibes for either AU would be impeccable yet so different, but i can’t pick one so i’ll leave that choice up to you and the Muses

I don’t know how to end this so i’ll just say I really love your writing style for the boys in all your works :D

Thanks for requesting my love <3

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

cw: reader who menstruates, period cramps, reader has endometriosis, secret relationship

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 725 words

You squeeze your eyes shut as another shiver of pain runs through you. Remus’ thumb strokes your forehead, the weight of his hand atop your head constant and grounding. You breathe out slowly. 

On Remus’ other side, James breathes out with you. It ends in a low, petulant sound as he drops his head onto Remus’ shoulder. “This sucks.” 

You can only humph in reply. 

“For some of us more than others,” Remus hums. He continues running his thumb over your forehead consolingly. You want to ask him to come with you to your room, where he can kiss and cuddle you out of sight of James, but you can’t decide if you want it badly enough to risk the agony of moving. 

James seems possibly too attached to him to let him leave, too. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he mutters, snuggling closer to Remus. “Don’t patronize me. I’m suffering.” 

You’re too exhausted to get properly annoyed with him. Remus sneaks you another piece of chocolate anyways. 

An evil tingle goes through you as the pain in your back and abdomen worsens. You curl in tighter on yourself where you’re laid down on the sofa, your thoughts going to static. 

“I’m so sorry, babe.” James sounds wholeheartedly empathetic. “I feel your pain.” 

“I’m going to kill him,” you whisper so only Remus can hear. 

He shushes you gently, reaching covertly under your blanket to rub your lower back. James releases a long sigh of great torment, none the wiser. 

The pain abates just as you hear a key in the front door like a reward for your patience. 

“Sirius,” you whine as soon as it opens. 

“No,” Sirius replies immediately, “I told you, I’m not doing it anymore. You’re a big girl, you can watch The Last of Us without me there.” 

“No, I need your help with James.” 

“What with James?”

“Sirius,” James whines. 

You can hear the pout in Sirius’ voice even before he comes into the room. “What, handsome?” 

“He thinks he’s on his period,” you mutter. 

“I am,” James laments. “She started hers and all day I’ve been hungry, and achy, and emotional. I read an article, it’s a real thing. We can catch it by being around her.” 

“You read a VICE article.” Remus’ skepticism is far from subtle. 

Sirius coos, perching on the armrest on James’ other side. “Poor Jamie.” He pets James’ hair, and James abandons Remus’ shoulder for a more sympathetic one. “How could you do this to him?” Sirius asks you. 

“James,” you say, indignation overpowering your exhaustion for the moment, “how thick is your uterine lining?” 

Sirius’ nose wrinkles. “His what?” 

“It feels thick,” James prods his own middle, looking worried. “How can you tell?” 

You give up and stuff your face under your blanket. “Mine’s thicker.” 

You tug on Remus’ sleeve for another chocolate, and he stops rubbing your back to slip it to you. The wrapper crinkles quietly as you unwrap it. 

“What was that?” James asks. 

“The sound of my body destroying itself.” 

The sofa squeaks as Sirius gets up. You feel Remus move to stop him, but he’s not quick enough to keep Sirius from lifting the blanket away from your face. He gasps loudly. 

“What?” James leans over to see. “Hey, where’d you get that?” 

“It’s one of Remus’,” Sirius says, gobsmacked. 

“What? But when I asked for one, you said no!” 

“You’re not on your period,” Remus explains. 

James’ voice goes watery. “You love her more than me.” 

You scoff, but Remus’ tone is patient. “I like you both equally.” 

“Are you okay?” Sirius is looking at you with far more concern now than he has since coming home. “If Remus is sharing his chocolate with you, that’s, like, one decimal on the pain scale below needing to call an ambulance.” 

You consider telling him your pain is only a bit worse than it is most months, but the attention is sort of nice. It’s possible you push your bottom lip out just a smidge when you shrug pitiably. 

Sirius pouts more. “Oh, babe…would it help if I watched The Last of Us with you?” 

“That would be nice,” you murmur. Remus’ mouth twitches tellingly, and you pinch his thigh to keep him quiet. 

“But I want to watch Notting Hill,” James complains. 

“You can pick next, Jamie.” 

[moonstruckme]

okay ik you quite literchally just dropped a piping hot yummy scrumptious new girl for us , but shall you ever fancy the mood to write for it and need inspo, I would love to ask for one where Rem accidentally calls the reader baby, (or whatever ur fav endearment is!) be it via exasperation, sleepy, drunk — whatever the case, your slow burns are soo satisfying to read! Xx

Thanks for requesting angel!

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

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 766 words

Remus finds you on the sofa. 

You’ve plainly been abandoned, likely by James, the telly off and a blanket drawn up over your shoulders. Remus’ excursion for a midnight sweet comes to a halt at the sound of your quiet snuffling. 

You’ve only just got over that awful cold you had, its remnants still to be found in the pile of tissues in your bin and your propensity to fall asleep anywhere you’re still for long enough. Remus rounds the sofa to crouch by your head. 

You’re propped on a throw pillow that’s sunken underneath you, subjecting you to an awkward bent that mushes your cheek and must be a terrible strain for your neck. Your skin is shiny in the way it is after you’ve washed your face for bed. Remus traces the slopes and curves of your features with his eyes, feeling that strange expansiveness in his chest. 

He touches your forehead. You haven’t had a fever in days and you don’t still, but Remus runs his knuckles from your temple to your chin anyway. He says your name. 

Your eyelids twitch slightly, rebelling against wakefulness. 

He slips his hand beneath your shoulder. “Come on,” he encourages, his own voice worn with sleep. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? You won’t like this spot so much in the morning.” 

You make a whiny, resentful sound. 

Remus laughs. “What, sweetheart?”

It slips from his tongue smooth as a pad of butter, and yet Remus’ mouth dries up as soon as it’s out. 

Remus has never been much for pet names. Just didn’t grow up around many of them, he supposes, and where James and Sirius throw around affection like it’s in infinite supply he’s always been more reserved with those sorts of things. Around you, though, they’ve come easily from the start. At first he thought it was that you were so unsure of yourself, and Remus wanted to settle you, but you’ve since found your footing and the endearments haven’t stopped yet. This is a new one, though. It feels more intimate, somehow—not, perhaps, something James would call his mum, or the barista at Remus’ favorite coffee shop would say to a customer. Sweetheart. 

It suits you, at least. 

He’s not sure when it happened. Not as soon as the day you moved in, but quicker than Remus can account for. It took him no time at all to develop a tenderness for you, and then that tenderness morphed into something else so smoothly he hardly noticed it happening. Remus just looked at you one day and realized that he cared for you in a different way than he did James and Sirius. Not only because they were his oldest friends, but because of something else. Something to do with the way your laughter tumbles around in his chest and how pleased you look when you bring home fresh irises from the supermarket. Remus finds he’d like to bring home irises for you. Not in a friendly way. 

It should probably bother him to realize this, but it’s a strange relief. You’re easy to like. 

You mumble some sleepy wordlessness into your pillow, shifting into his palm. “Remus?” 

“Yeah,” he tells you. “Ready for bed?” 

You blink slowly, your eyes coming open seemingly lash by lash. Your pupils focus on him. “Hi,” you murmur, croaky. 

Remus smiles; he’s helpless to stop it. “Hi.” 

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, wetting it, because you live to torment him. “Are you okay?” 

He shakes his head at you, bewildered. “Yeah,” he replies gently, “I’m fine, lovely. I just think you’ll be more comfortable in your bed. Let’s get up, alright?” 

You go along with Remus unquestioningly after that, though you seem disinclined to do much of the work yourself. He helps you up, all but lifting you off the sofa before fitting an arm around your waist to navigate you to your room. You can’t do it on your own; with your eyes closed as they are, you’d bump into walls all the way there. 

“What time is it?” you mumble as Remus guides you through your doorway. 

“It’s late.” He helps you under the covers, your movements clumsy and sluggish. 

“But you…” You open your eyes to slits, peering at him. Moonlight from the open window cuts across your face. “You should be in bed.” 

Remus’ chest goes funny again. He represses the urge to kiss you under your eye, where your skin looks the softest. “You’re right,” he says, brushing his thumb over the spot instead; your eyes flutter closed. “I’ll go now.” 

[moonstruckme]

Wait OMG hi if requests are open can I ask for something in newgirl!verse ? I don't have anything specific in mind scenario-wise but I would love to read something about Remus and Reader sharing a tension-filled, romantic/flirty moment, like where it's been long enough for each of them to realize they're attracted to the other but early enough that neither one of them is ready to make a move sorta thing... if that makes any sense. Sorry haha this got so long and rambly lol anyway LOVE YOU!! And feel free to pass on this if it isn't speaking to you! ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for your request angel!!

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

cw: alcohol and drunkenness

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

James told you about Remus and fruity drinks in the same breath as he made you promise to never, not under pain of death, tell Remus. 

Sirius is the key to it, apparently. He can pour a draught beer like anyone else, but when he puts effort into a fancy cocktail it’s reportedly magic. For Remus specifically. Despite being brilliant about most things and generally rather observant, Remus has never made the connection between the drinks and the way he acts after a few of them. According to James, you all know he will, someday, but you shouldn’t be in any hurry to illuminate him when it provides such excellent entertainment in the meantime. 

You’re beginning to see what he means. 

“Are you singing?” you ask Remus. 

Your flatmate blinks at you slowly. His humming peters off. “I like this song,” he says.

“That’s nice.” You smile, bringing your straw back to your mouth. “I’ve just never heard you sing before.” 

“So wait, wait.” James is leaned halfway over the bar trying to be in your field of vision. You turn your attention back to him obligingly. “Tell me again. What’d this guy do to put you off?” 

“There was a dog,” you say. 

“Right. Following.” 

“It walked right past us, and I—obviously—freaked out because it was so cute.”

“Obviously,” says Sirius, with an eye roll you swear is totally fond. 

“And he didn’t even look at it!” 

Remus scoffs. “What a prick.” 

You gesture to Remus emphatically. “Precisely.” 

“Or,” James argues, “he wasn’t looking at the dog because he was trying to pay attention to you.” 

“It was a labrador, James.” 

“You were on a date! He was supposed to be paying attention to you.” 

“I’m fairly sure that most people,” says Sirius, with the superior air of the only sober one, “would find it flattering if their date was staring at them so hard they didn’t notice anything else.” 

You hum, unconvinced. “I just don’t think I could be with someone who doesn’t care about cute dogs.” 

“Now.” James points a finger at you. “We don’t know that for a fact.” 

“No,” Remus says conclusively, “you shouldn’t be with anyone who doesn’t get excited about the things you do.” 

You send James a triumphant look. 

“Sirius.” Remus is doing something very strange with his face. It almost looks like pleading. “Let me have some more cherries.” 

Sirius sighs. “You’re so predictable. My boss is onto me. She’s said I can’t give away that many in one night again.”

Remus scowls. 

“So the story is,” Sirius goes on, putting a small bowl of maraschino cherries on the bartop with a significant look, “you held me at knifepoint.” 

Remus nods solemnly as he picks one up by the stem. “I did.” 

“So,” James pushes you, “you’re really not going to go out with this guy again just because he didn’t see the dog?” 

You shrug. “It’s like Remus said. I want him to be excited about the things I’m excited about.” 

Remus mumbles his approval, and you steal one of his cherries. James frowns at the both of you. 

“That seems harsh. Couldn’t you at least give him one more chance? What if you end up really liking him?” 

“I don’t feel like I will,” you admit.

“Why not?” 

You sigh heftily. “I guess I could give it one more try. He wants to go out again tomorrow.” 

“Well,” James laughs, “don’t let me twist your arm. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” 

“No, I should.” You fold your hands on the bar and set your chin down atop them, resigned. “I’m not being fair.” 

“You’re kinda not,” James agrees. Sirius crosses his arms, arching a brow at you. 

“Not fair that you can do that,” you tell him. “Jar.” 

He blinks, indignant. “On what grounds? James!” 

“Overruled,” James says.

“Right. Thank you,” Sirius huffs. Much to your annoyance, that expression of knowing returns. “Why do you not want to go so badly? It’s only a second date.” 

“I don’t know.” You let your head loll to the side, knuckles to your cheek. 

“Where does he want to take you?” asks Remus.

“Pub.” 

You turn to look at him, and so you don’t miss the look of disdain that comes over his expression. “You can’t let him take you to a pub,” he says.

“Oi,” Sirius interjects. “Why the fuck not?”

“We’re in a pub now,” you point out, amused. 

Remus frowns. “We’re different,” he says simply. “You don’t want to go out with anyone who’s idea of a date is a place like this.” 

“I’ve taken dates to pubs.” James sounds vaguely offended. 

“I don’t want to do this anyway,” you say. “A pub seems as good a place as any. It’s less pressure than dinner, at least” 

Remus’ voice goes gentle. “If you don’t want to go,” he says, “then don’t.” 

“James is right,” you admit quietly. “I’m not giving him a fair chance. He’s probably not a bad guy.” 

Remus’ frown worsens. “Just because someone isn’t bad doesn’t mean they’re good enough for you.” 

You blink at him. The alcohol has you feeling already warm and hazy, but there’s something inlaid in those words that seems to stupefy you under Remus’ gaze. 

“You don’t need another date to know he doesn’t deserve you,” he says. “You should be going out with someone you’re excited to see. And who treats you the way you ought to be treated.” 

“How’s that?” you murmur. 

Remus holds your stare for a heartbeat that feels too heavy in your chest. “Better than a second date at a pub.” 

You know he’s right. You have no interest in a second date with this guy. With anyone, really. You can hardly persuade yourself to have an interest in first dates. You only even began this whole dating stint because you realized you had a crush on your flatmate.

You’d been noticing things about Remus you didn’t mean to. The way his voice is raspier first thing in the morning and late at night, when he’s tired. The warmth of his body next to yours when you watch telly together on the sofa. Those smiles that seem to ignite in his eyes before they turn up the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t stop watching him, and then you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and soon you were dreaming about him with no clue how to stop that either. You like your living situation too much to ruin it. A distraction seemed like the best solution for you. Or several distractions. None of them have taken yet. 

You steal another of Remus’ cherries, feeling the sweetness crack between your teeth. “So you guys can take me to a pub,” you say, “but he can’t?” 

Remus reaches forward and takes the stem from your mouth. You’re too startled to stop him. “We’re different,” he repeats. 

You wet your lips. Remus’ look is unwavering, his eyes like warm honey in the dim light of the pub. The cloying sweetness of the cherry turns to something that sits heavier on your tongue. 

The moment stretches long and thin, or it feels like it does, until Sirius clears his throat and cleaves right through. 

“Glad you find these conditions acceptable,” he says drily. “You’re all cut off, by the way.” 

You tear your gaze from Remus’. “Why?” 

“James has passed out.” 

You sit up to see your most energetic flatmate slumped over the bar, his smushed cheek making his glasses sit askew. “No,” he mumbles halfheartedly, “m’awake.” 

Sirius levels Remus with a look. “Are you going to be able to help me get him home?” 

Remus looks offended. “Yes.” 

You’re dubious of this, but as it turns out Remus’ strangely expressive state has almost no bearing on his physical stability. He refuses to leave until you’re wearing his jacket and pinches your chin in a way he never has before (Sirius seems immensely entertained by this), but stands from his stool and slips James’ arm over his shoulders like it’s nothing. 

As you’re fighting the wind on the way to your flat, Remus’ jacket a welcome weight over your shoulders, James asks you, “You are going to go, then? On a second date?” 

“Why do you care so much?” you ask genuinely. 

James doesn’t even hesitate. He answers with the same genuineness, “I just want you to be happy.” 

You’re caught offguard by that, your guts doing a funny little twist. You blink fast. 

Sirius scoffs and bumps your shoulder lightly. “Sop.” 

“Yeah,” you answer James. “I think I’m going to go.” 

You chance a look at Remus, but his eyes are ahead. James turns to grin at you, nearly tipping over in the process, and Remus rights him with a curse. “Fuck’s sake, Jamie. Mind your feet.” 

It’s funny how your heart can feel heavy and light in the same breath. You ignore both and let Remus lead you home.

[moonstruckme]

I had an idea for the marauders new girl series but idk well it would work in actuality but I thought I’d throw it out there. I know reader could be any nationality, so her accent could be anything, but I thought it would be cute if some of the boys British slang started to slip into her day to day speech or maybe she sometimes slips into a British accent after living with them for a while. But I imagine that would be quite difficult to describe in writing

Thanks for requesting angel!

cw: modern au; as always, reader is from somewhere not from the UK; other than that, really just lots of poking fun at the british dialect

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 834 words

James comes out of the bathroom, still toweling his hair dry, to find you and Sirius muttering on the couch. 

“Oh, James.” You look up from your phone. “Do you know what you’re having for dinner? We’re doing Chinese takeaway.” 

“Takeaway?” James stops en route to his bedroom to pout at you. “I was thinking we could make lasagna.” 

You grimace. “Make? Like, cook ourselves?” 

“Yeah…” 

Sirius lets out a long, weary sigh. “It’s been a long day, mate.” 

“Fair enough. We could go out?” 

“But it’s so far,” Sirius whines. You nod in solidarity. 

“Can’t be arsed,” you say.

James feels his lips quirk, dissatisfaction giving way to amusement. He leans against the wall. “You two,” he says, “have been spending way too much time together.” 

You and Sirius make near identical faces of puzzlement. Sirius asks, “What?” 

“Isn’t that her shirt you’re wearing?” 

Sirius’ expression shifts. He fingers the raw hem of the cropped top, looking rather satisfied with himself. “Yeah, but I’ve made it better.” 

James looks to you, but you only shrug. 

“I hardly wore it,” you say, “and it’s in exchange for me wearing his leather jacket when we go out.” 

“Right. Well, anyway—can’t be arsed?” He shakes his head at Sirius in a way that’s meant to be chiding, if only he could stop grinning. “You should put a quid in the wanker jar for teaching her that phrase.” 

“Oh, shit.” Your brows furrow. “I hadn’t even realized I’d said it.” 

“I’m refining her,” says Sirius, unconcerned. “She speaks the Queen’s English now.” 

“You wouldn’t be allowed within twenty yards of the royal family with that mouth.” 

You’re looking past the both of them, stricken. “Fuck. I think I’ve started saying ‘bin,’ too. What else have you done to me?”

“We’re not doing anything,” James laughs. “It was bound to happen eventually, you living here and all.” 

Sirius pats your back as you put your head in your hands. James starts to feel a tiny, tiny bit bad that he may have sent you into a proper crisis. 

“This is how it starts,” you moan. “You’re assimilating me. Didn’t you people get enough of that before the twenty-first century? Can’t you be done yet?” 

“Hey now,” says James. 

“God, soon it’ll be chuffed and innit.” 

“And you should be so lucky,” Sirius tells you. James detects the hint of defensiveness in his friend’s voice just before the door opens. 

Remus takes one look at the three of you—you slumped with your head in your hands, Sirius halfheartedly consoling you, and James observing from the hall with a towel around his waist—and his face lines with premature exasperation. James would love to not do that to him right when he comes home, just once. 

“What’ve you done?” Remus asks. 

Sirius does a great roll of his eyes. “She’s fine.” 

“She’s upset, because she said ‘can’t be arsed’ and I made fun of her for being too much like Sirius,” James explains sheepishly. 

“She’s not upset because she’s like me, she’s upset because she’s English now,” Sirius sniffs. “One is far more desirable than the other.” 

James shares a look with Remus, who appears as though he might disagree. 

“No.” You sit up, and each of your flatmates’ expressions neatens up. “I’m fine, it’s fine. Let’s just move on. Rem, you can tiebreak for us, alright?” 

Remus raises his eyebrows. “Break a tie for what?” 

“Sirius and I, we want takeaway, but James…” You trail off, eyeing Remus. “What?” 

“Nothing.” Remus shakes his head, but his tongue is poking into his cheek like it does when he’s trying not to smile. James looks between you, confused. 

“No, what?” you ask. 

“It’s just…we say ‘takeaway’ now?” He smiles a bit, worse when you throw your head back, groaning. 

“Fuck.” 

“Oh, I didn’t even catch that!” says James, delighted. 

“You’re alright,” Remus chuckles, going to sit on your other side. “It’s what happens when you move to a new place. It’s normal.” 

“I’m never going to be myself again,” you moan. 

“Listen to that,” Sirius grins, “she’s almost got an accent. Babe, say ‘brilliant’.” 

“Get fucked.” 

“Boys, we’ve got her.” 

James is trapped in the throes of a giggle fit, giddy. “Do you fancy having a Chinese tonight?” he teases. 

You lock eyes with him. “Absolutely not. Jar for that.” 

“What?” James looks around him, but his other flatmates look just as confused. “What for?” 

“It’s weird,” you say emphatically. “It sounds racist. Never do that again.” 

“It’s…” It takes him a moment to replay things in his mind and realize what you’re referring to. “That’s just how it’s said.” 

You shake your head. “Jar.” 

James looks to the other for help. Remus only shrugs. “Jar, James,” he says. “We’ll have to stop saying it like that.” 

“Saying ‘takeaway’ at the end is not that hard,” you insist. 

James goes to find his wallet, muttering, “I thought we were assimilating her.” 

“Yeah,” you reply, “and I’m going to get you all back!”

[moonstruckme]

This is my first time requesting so I hope this is right :)

I have this idea for the Marauders New Girl au where James and Remus walk into the flat to what sound like sex noises from reader and Sirius somewhere in the flat. Something along the lines of 'oh yeah, that's it' 'yeah! right there' ect. Remus is just fuming and James is just so flustered. Remus without thinking storms into wherever they are just to find them doing the most mondane thing like putting up art, decorating, moving furniture, etc. (bonus if they're not even close to eachother) and reader and Sirius don't even realize what they sound like and are soo confused by Remus (And James) storming into the room. :) I just think it would be so funny/lovely to see Remus try and back peddle what just happened. Remus jealous? noo of course not, what are you talking about. James would find the whole thing soo funny and I feel like Sirius would be the only one to clue into Remus' jealousy and Remus knows he knows. maybe even reader is concerned that she's doing something wrong because she doesn't understand what's going on and Remus feels so awful with himself. :) I hope you like this idea! put any spin on it that you find necessary! I absolutly love your work and can't wait to see what you do with this concept!!

I hope you are having a lovely day!! xx

Thanks for your request gorgeous !

cw: mature themes (really just sex jokes)

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 895 words

Remus doesn’t hear James arrive home. He has the volume in his earbuds up as loud as it will go, and then without warning James’ hand is waving wildly in front of his face. 

Remus pauses his music. “Yes?” 

James is plainly distressed, his mouth agape and eyes almost comically wide behind his glasses. He looks at Remus like he’s grown a second head. “Are you—” He winces as a cry comes from across the hall (oh yeah, right there). “—hearing this?” 

“I’m trying not to,” Remus growls. 

The shouts Remus has been hearing since he came home from work are undeniably yours. They’re enthusiastic, a bit bossy, and frequently interspersed with the squeal of bedsprings or the thud of furniture butting against the wall. Remus has been doing his best to drown it all out. 

Quite honestly, he’s surprised by you. Perhaps even a bit betrayed. It wasn’t until now that Remus realized he’d assumed—wrongly, obviously—that you would be more discreet about anyone you brought home than your other flatmates. James does you all the courtesy of attempting to schedule his trysts when no one is home, and Sirius at least occasionally remembers to muffle himself with a pillow. Remus thought you’d be better than Sirius, if nothing else. Learning he was wrong has left a rather undesirable taste in his mouth. 

“Don’t you think we ought to say something?” James asks. 

Remus grunts, pretending to look for a song on his phone. “It’s her business.” Were someone or another to make a comment about noise levels later, though, Remus wouldn’t stand in their way. “If she’s met someone she fancies, it doesn’t seem like our place to do anything about it.” 

“Met?” James looks at him like he’s speaking gibberish. “She and Sirius have known each other for months! How long do you reckon this has been going on?” 

Remus nearly drops his phone. “Sirius?” 

“Yeah, mate.” James gestures towards the hall. As if on cue, another voice asks, “Yeah, there? You like that?” 

Undeniably Sirius’. 

“Fuck me,” Remus breathes.

James waves emphatically. “That’s what I’m saying! This is flatcest! We can’t—it can’t go on.” 

“Yeah, that’s perfect,” you say from across the hall. James makes a face that looks precisely how Remus feels. 

“We’ve got to put a stop to it,” James whispers, haunted. 

Remus, still reeling and now also trying not to imagine castrating his best mate, gestures to the hallway. “Go on, then. Put a stop to it.” 

James takes a breath. “You’re behind me?” 

“I’m behind you.” 

Remus isn’t expecting James means behind him literally, as he marches across the hall like a soldier into battle and throws open your bedroom door—Remus might have given you and Sirius at least a moment to put on clothes—but he holds to his word, following behind James into the den of iniquity. 

The clothes, it turns out, are not an issue. 

Because you and Sirius are both fully dressed. 

“Perfect, perfect,” you’re saying, standing on one end of the room while Sirius pushes your bed into the center. “Can you try—a little to the left?” 

He gives the bed a shove. “Right there?” 

“Right there,” you confirm. You turn to Remus and James. “Hey, how long have you guys been home?” 

“Uh…” James sputters out a laugh, still looking a bit lost. “Just got here.” 

“Been in my room,” Remus mumbles. 

“Well, we could’ve used your help, but” —You shrug, sending Remus an easy smile. He feels disconnected from his body.— “I think we did a half decent job anyways. Let’s see.” You hop up onto your bed, crawling to the top of the mattress. 

The springs squeal. Remus prays his eye hasn’t just twitched. 

“Ahh, yeah,” you say, leaning back on your pillow. “This is perfect. I can still see the tree from here, but it’s not too cramped with my new desk. Thanks, Sirius.” 

“Anytime,” Sirius replies. 

James lets out a high-pitched laugh. 

Sirius a glare on him. “Alright, listen, I can be helpful when I feel like—”

“No, it’s not that.” Giggles are bubbling out of James like a fizzy drink now, his eyes nothing short of mirthful. “It’s just, we thought you two were shagging.” 

Your mouth drops open, but it’s Sirius who practically shouts, “I beg your pardon?” 

“It was the sounds,” Remus says distantly. 

“The…” You look bewildered, bordering on horrified. “The sounds?” 

“Yeah, you know.” James makes a face. “That’s it, right there, aw yeah, you like that?” 

Your hands come up to cover your mouth as James speaks, but now Sirius is laughing, too. 

“Fucking hell,” he says, “do you think you could take a moment before assuming the worst of us? I mean, flatcest!” 

“That’s what I was saying!” James agrees. “The most heinous of flat offences.” 

Sirius’ gaze slides to Remus. There’s something sneaky about it, something in his face that Remus doesn’t like. “You alright?” Sirius asks. “You’re looking rather pale there.” 

“Well, we’ve had quite a shock!” James laughs. 

“Sirius,” you say, very diplomatically, “I hope you know that while I love you, shagging is off the table.” 

Sirius shoots you a lazy grin. “Oh, come on, babe. It’s never wholly off the table.” 

“It is, actually.” 

“Please. You’re just lucky I like to leave the flat to find my dalliances.” 

Remus leaves the room. He needs to lie down.

[moonstruckme]

Autumnal baking day but it’s new girl au maybe?

So obviously this could not go smoothly for them

cw: blood implied? (but not really mentioned), mention of nausea/feeling faint

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s not at all unusual for James to come home to utter chaos in the flat. However, today’s chaos has a different flavor. James can taste it the moment he steps inside. 

“Have you seen my scarf?” Sirius’ head pops out from the hall closet. 

James’ footsteps falter. “Sorry?” 

“My blue scarf.” Sirius looks at him for a moment before waving James off as useless. “Christ, where is it? Don’t take your shoes off, we’re all leaving in a moment.” 

“Okay…to where?” 

“A&E. Aha!” Sirius stretches up onto his toes, reaching for something on the high shelf of the closet. “Knew it was in here.” 

“A&—” James flounders, looking about the main entryway for others who might explain, but you and Remus are nowhere in sight. “What’s happened?” 

“Fucking apple pie, is what happened.” Sirius starts winding his scarf around his neck. James takes the cue and begins putting his coat back on, too. “Our flatmate was trying to chop apples and got the tip of her thumb instead.” 

James lets out a startled breath. “Fuck me.” 

Sirius makes a face. “It was so disgusting, James. Remus took the thing and put it on ice—ugh—” He shudders. “I really almost hurled. Still might, actually, so steer clear.” 

“Is she o…” James goes in search of you while he asks, but the search is over rather quickly. You’re standing in the kitchen looking rather lost, with a paper towel held tight over your thumb. Your face is ashen. “Hi,” James says in a voice like he’d use on an injured kitten. “Oh, hi. Are you okay?” 

You hum in wobbly affirmation, tight-lipped. 

“Do you need to sit down?” 

“She needs to get her shoes and coat on,” says Sirius as he marches into the kitchen. He’s already all bundled up in preparation for the chilled wind outside, and he holds your things up for you. “Rem thinks they can still sew it back on if we get to A&E quickly enough. Put your arm through here, babe.” 

You go even paler at the mention of having your thumb sewn back on, but let Sirius help you into your coat. When you have to put your injured hand through the sleeve, you hold the paper towel more securely and your expression goes tight. 

“Shit,” you whimper. 

“No, you’re fine, you’re fine,” Sirius says urgently. “Don’t pass out again.” 

“Again?” James chokes out. 

“Yeah, it was fucking freaky. If you think she looks like a corpse now—” 

“You’re not helping,” you tell Sirius in a thick voice. 

“Right. Sorry, sorry. Um, just don’t think about it, yeah?” He manages to get your arm through the sleeve, but when he sees your face his brows press close together. “It’d be reassuring if you could stop looking like that.” 

Your throat bobs. “I can’t help it.” 

“Are you going to be sick?” James worries. 

“No, she’s not.” Remus appears like a ghost—how he travels so deathly silent over such squeaky floorboards, James has yet to discover—with a plastic baggie in one hand and a wool hat in the other. “You’re fine,” he tells you, in a tone somehow both gentle and no-nonsense, and the gaunt set of your features relaxes some. James thinks he’d believe whatever Remus said if he said it in that voice, too. And then he does, when Remus puts out his hand with the baggie and says to James, “Hold this.” 

James cups the bottom, the plastic cold and wet with condensation against his palm. Remus tugs the hat down over your ears. He zips up your coat for you as well, and for a few moments James plays with the ice in his hand, watching you soften like ripe fruit to Remus’ handling and being relieved that their calmest flatmate is home to manage you when James and Sirius are clearly shit at it, and then he looks down. 

“Ah!” 

James isn’t proud of the shout that leaves him. It’s loud enough to echo off the kitchen walls, and it takes a shrill pitch at the end that nearly cracks his voice. But as Sirius often preaches, dramatic times call for dramatic measures, and the sound James makes is as entirely unintentional as the way he throws your severed thumb across the room in surprise. 

You flinch as it lands (rather fortuitously) in the sink with a wet splat. Sirius’ hand claps over his mouth, his eyes wide. 

Remus sighs. “James.” 

“You didn’t tell me there was a thumb in it,” James defends himself. 

“It’s not a whole thumb.” 

“It’s not the quantity of thumb that makes the difference!” 

“Did it break open?” Sirius peers over the rim of the sink, standing on tiptoe like getting too close might be treacherous. 

“I’ll check,” Remus says wearily. He turns toward the sink, stopping you with a touch to your shoulder when you try to follow. “No, don’t look. It’s fine.” He picks up the baggie. 

James shudders at the sight of it, and receives a dull look from Remus in return. “Are we really going to take that in a cab with us?” 

“It’s not going to float to A&E,” says Remus. “You won’t carry it, then?” 

“No. Sorry,” James directs his apology at you. “I’m fine with your thumbs normally, it’s only because of the, erm, detachment issue.” 

“Like how hair becomes grosser when you leave it in the shower,” Sirius agrees helpfully. “Still waiting on you to clean out the drain, by the way.” 

You revitalize enough to frown at him. “That hair is ninety percent yours.” 

Remus holds the baggie out to Sirius in question, and Sirius reacts like it’s a loaded gun. 

“Don’t you fucking dare.” 

“Fine. Prats.” Remus rolls his eyes, opening a pocket of his coat to stow the baggie carefully inside. “Are you ready to go?” he asks you. James notes that his tone gets much kinder. You look queasy but nod. “Yeah? Do you feel ill again? We can bring a bag or something if you’ll need it for the cab.” 

“I’m okay,” you say. Not convincing in the slightest, but Remus goes along. 

“Okay.” He wraps an arm around your shoulders, kissing the top of your head as he encourages you out the door. “Let us know if you change your mind.”

“You should use this leverage while you have it, babe,” James jokes as he locks the door behind you all. “You can probably get princess-carried down the stairs if you ask.” 

Remus’ eyebrow lifts in a way that has Sirius grinning and James’ stomach sinking before he even says anything. “Good idea,” he muses. “She might faint again if she overexerts herself. James, you can take her.”

[moonstruckme]

hey!! saw that your requests were open so yk i had to req something for new girl au roommate!marauders!! how abt roommate!marauders x reader who gets stood up on a date and they find out when they see the guy (could be a friend) at the pub they’re at? so immediately they know what’s wrong and cancel all their plans to go see her. and i’m love love loving the subtle remus x reader undertones so maybe james and sirius finally realize that remus is the one who’s the most angry abt the situation and put two and two together? sorry if this is rlly long, and i absolutely love all your work!! 🫶🏽

Thank you for requesting lovely <33

Marauders New Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

It’s not unusual for Remus to be quiet. He gets into his moods, and he’s been in one all evening, so perhaps that’s why it takes James a while to notice. Everyone else is having a great time—Lily’s showing Dorcas photos of her new cat, Em and Mary are venting about the new stuck-up at their work, and Sirius and Marlene are engaged in their favorite pastime, a near violent debate about some band—but when James checks in on Remus he finds his friend scowling across the pub. 

“Alright?” James gives Remus’ ankle a friendly tap under the table. 

Remus makes a noncommittal grunting noise. “Sirius,” he says. 

Sirius is too engaged with Marlene to have his attention pulled, but James is wise enough to bump his elbow before Remus has to call him a second time. Sirius looks over. 

“Isn’t that your friend?” Remus asks, nodding behind James and Sirius. 

They both turn. James spots who Remus means immediately. The guy does have a familiar sort of look, like someone James has perhaps met once or twice. 

“Yeah…” Sirius’ tone is a furrowed brow. “That’s Louis. What’s he doing here?” 

“What,” James jokes, “is he not allowed in here?” 

“He’s supposed to be on a date with y/n,” says Remus. 

“Oh.” James blinks at him. Remus’ gaze hasn’t moved from the other man. “That’s him? That Louis?”

“So wait, where is she?” Marlene asks. 

“Good question.” Sirius pushes back his chair. “Let’s find out.” 

James stands with him automatically, Remus close behind. Your should-be date is too busy schmoozing some girl James hasn’t seen before to notice them until they’re standing above his table, but when he does the smirk dissolves off his face. 

They find you on a bench beside the host’s stand of the restaurant where you should have been seated an hour ago. You look really nice. James doesn’t claim to be particularly knowledgeable about these things, to notice when girls get their hair cut or to know the difference between lip balm and lip gloss (though you and Sirius have both tried to explain this to him), but it’s obvious you’ve put in extra effort tonight. James’ heart aches for you. 

Unlike your date, you look up as soon as the boys come in. It’s a practiced glance, like your gaze has been going to the restaurant’s door all night, but you do a double-take when you register who’s come in. 

“Hey.” James musters a smile for you. “Come here often?” 

Your returning smile is tentative, bemused. “What are you guys doing here?” 

James’ tongue feels stuck with cement, but Sirius doesn’t beat around the bush. “We saw Louis.” 

You straighten. “You did?” There’s a heartbreaking mix of worry and wariness in your look. “Is everything okay?” 

Sirius looks about how James feels, his eyebrows hooked and mouth puckered distressedly as he steps forward. “I’m sorry,” he says, and bends to hug you. “I wouldn’t have set you up if I’d known he’d turn out to be such a prick.” 

It’s hard for Sirius to be sincere, especially during emotional moments. That he’s trying to be for you makes James even more upset. Your confusion doesn’t help. “What?” you ask. 

“He’s not coming,” Remus tells you gently. 

You wilt as Sirius pulls away. It’s clear you already suspected. “Oh.” 

“He’s an idiot,” Sirius says firmly. “You can do scores better than him and he knows it.”

You make a soft sound of acknowledgement, looking to the side as your eyes begin to shine faintly. Sirius glances nervously at James. Even the hostess, who has been politely pretending not to overhear your conversation, is beginning to look uncomfortable. 

Remus steps past James to move closer to you. He says your name, quietly, and when you don’t look up bends to catch your eye. 

“It’s fine,” you mumble. 

“It’s not fine,” he says, not arguing, just stating. “You would never stand someone up, and you deserve better than anyone who would even think of it.” 

“I don’t mean to be pathetic about it—” 

“You’re not.” Remus’ forehead wrinkles with upset. “You’re not, lovely, why would you say that? If anything he’s being pathetic, acting rude to a pretty girl to make himself feel like he’s above the whole thing. He’s not, I promise. You always deserved better.” 

The next breath that leaves you seems to tremble in the air. 

“Are you hungry?” James asks. “I feel like you can’t come to a place like this without at least trying the chocolate cake, but we can go somewhere greasier if you like.” 

You blink. It’s like something clicks for you, a different hue coloring your expression as you look between your three flatmates. “You came here to get me?” 

“You think we’d just leave you be?” asks Remus, still in that private, whispery tone. 

Your arms are around him less than a moment later. 

Remus straightens in surprise, but you hold on fiercely. “Thanks,” you say, croaky, nearly on your toes so that your face is pressed to Remus’ neck. 

“Oh, come,” he murmurs back, though his hands move to hold you in return. One cupping the back of your head, the other rubbing gently up and down on your back. “You’re alright, love.” 

James makes the executive decision that grease is indeed needed and leads you all from the restaurant. Remus keeps you close to his side, letting you wipe your tears on the sleeve of his jumper intermittently. 

“I don’t get why you’re crying about this,” Sirius comments. “All James did was offer you food.” 

“It’s just—” You sniff. “It’s really nice of you guys to come and tell me. You could have just waited for me to come home.”

“We couldn’t do that.” James looks at you, offended. “We’re not monsters.” 

You give a wet little laugh. “Is my makeup awful?” you ask.

It’s obviously a question for Sirius, who turns to inspect you. “Mm, no,” he hums, thumbing away an inky line going down your cheek, “we’ll call it punk rock. Also, if you like that, you should be happy to know that James socked the prick.” 

You stop crying to gawp. “Did you really?” 

James shrugs, grinning sheepishly. 

“Yup,” Sirius confirms proudly. “Louis’ nose will never be the same.” 

“Not that it was ever anything grand,” mutters Remus. 

“Jamie.” You’re shell-shocked, staring at him with your fingers pressed to your lips. “I can’t believe it.” 

“It wasn’t all me,” James defends himself. “Lily’s the one who made sure he’ll never be able to father children.” 

[moonstruckme]

A continuation of this because I could not shut up

cw: vague mention of past injury

Who’s That Girl AU

roommate!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The congestion in your chest keeps you from sleep. The coughing isn’t even violent; it’s pitiful, honestly, weak little puffs of air that do nothing to dislodge the mucus sticking in your throat. You lie in bed and succumb to them, doing all you can to be quiet with your head under the covers and your mouth pressed into your pillow. 

It’s not enough. A floorboard squeaks in the hall. You hope one of your flatmates has only gotten up for a glass of water—Sirius does that sometimes, he has trouble getting to sleep. If you or Remus doesn’t show up in the kitchen to chat with him, you know he’ll go to James’ room to settle down. Then there’s a knock on your door. 

You do your best to clear your throat, but still another cough punches out of you when you attempt to whisper, “Yeah?” 

Though both the room and your hall are dark, you can make out the distinct shape of Remus’ silhouette between them. If you hadn’t recognized him by that, you’d know him by the tentative way the door opens. Like he’s asking for permission a second time. 

Once it’s open, though, Remus comes to your side just like he had earlier. Incautious. Purposeful. Concerned brown eyes and a warm hand laid across your forehead. You’re holding your breath to keep from coughing on him, but you don’t think that’s what’s making your head swim. 

“Alright?” he murmurs. 

“Yeah, I—sorry,” you rasp, bringing up a hand to cover your mouth as you start coughing again. 

Remus doesn’t move. His brows draw closer together and he reaches over you to rub your back through the covers. “Hardly your fault,” he says, in a croaky sort of voice that hints he had been sleeping at some point. “Can I get you anything?” 

You shake your head. “I used all the honey. So we’re out, sorry.” Remus tsks sympathetically. “Out of cough drops, too, so. I think I just have to ride it out until the pharmacies open.” 

Your flatmate’s eyes glint humorously in the dark. “What, you still need cough drops? Didn’t James’ soup heal you completely?” 

“I don’t want to badmouth Euphemia,” you hedge. 

“Oh, you wouldn’t be. She only makes a good soup; James came up with the idea that it cures everything all on his own.” 

“Then no. But in fairness, your vitamin C didn’t work either.” 

“Well, I never claimed it was a miracle.” You’re teasing, but Remus’ voice has turned somber, his palm making slow circles on your upper back. He looks almost sorry. 

“Yeah, I know,” you murmur. “I think we’ve exhausted all avenues. Sorry I woke you.” 

“Sorry you’re being kept up,” he replies softly. 

You shrug, hapless. There’s nothing more either of you can do. You’re stuck with this, but Remus can still go back to his room and get some sleep. You expect he’ll do that now, so it surprises you when he asks, “Aren’t you hungry?” 

You cough a bit in surprise. “I had soup.” 

“So that wasn’t a piece of coriander I saw sticking out of the kitchen sink drain a bit ago?” 

You shrink. “Shit. I thought I rinsed it all down.” 

Remus smiles. It’s a lovely sight, and a rare enough treat that you relax. When Remus smiles, you always feel like you must’ve done something right to earn it. 

“I won’t tell,” he swears. “James will say it only didn’t work because you didn’t eat it all. He’ll want to go get you more.” 

“I tried to finish it,” you say weakly. “But it was a big bowl, and it wasn’t really to my taste…” 

“Careful, you’ll wake him from a dead sleep saying things like that,” Remus teases you. You smile, and watch his expression soften in the low light. “You must be hungry, though. Maybe a different soup? Something warm might calm your throat long enough for you to get to sleep.” 

Remus starts to get up before he’s even finished talking. You think your poor facial control is to blame; you probably look like he’s just offered you a spa holiday. 

“Rem.” You catch his wrist as he stands, letting go when a coughing fit takes you and you have to cover your mouth. Remus stays put anyway. “It’s the middle of the night.” 

“I know,” he says patiently. 

“You really don’t have to.” 

“Okay.” 

“So, you…” You eye him, caught between wishing for him to get a good night’s rest and really, really liking the idea of some soup. “...won’t?” 

“No, I am.” Remus straightens the rest of the way. “Do you want to come with? You can breathe the steam while the pot’s boiling.” 

You do follow him, obviously. You express your desire for one of you to get to sleep a couple more times before Remus tells you kindly to piss off, but then you’re not going to let him slave away for you in the kitchen by himself. 

Remus outright forbids you from helping him chop vegetables, because I know you think you’re steady right now, but I promise you you’ll cut off the same finger you did last time. You end up sitting on the counter beside the stove, face growing warm and dewy as you lean over a simmering pot of broth. 

“Do you really think Sirius is going to get sick now?” you ask. 

“Yes,” Remus answers, chopping carrots with a practiced rhythm. The thunk-thunk-thunk of his knife landing on the cutting board is soothing. “You can’t blame yourself for that, though. Sirius is always getting sick. He’s got the worst immune system of anyone I’ve ever met. You’d think that’d make him used to it, but no.”

“Just like hay fever?” you guess. 

Remus glances over his shoulder to give you a commiserative look. “Just like hay fever. He whines like mad the whole time.” 

You sigh, pleasantly surprised when the cough it provokes feels less painful than usual. The steam may be helping. “I’ll stay home and take care of him. It’s the least I can do, seeing as I brought it here.” 

“Maybe wait and see how well you still like him before committing to things like that. When Sirius gets really stuffed up, he turns on the shower and just steams in there. Runs out all the hot water.” 

You smile ruefully to yourself. “I hope he doesn’t get it as badly as me, then.” 

Remus turns fully now, walking over with the cutting board to dump diced vegetables into the pot. He pushes a damp piece of hair away from your temple. “Me, too,” he says sincerely. 

You look at Remus in the warm glow of the stove light. It softens his skin, blurring freckles and blemishes and melting the amber of his eyes. It feels too intimate, holding his gaze like this while you’re alone, but you can’t pull yours away. 

“Thank you for the soup,” you say. 

The corner of Remus’ mouth twitches. “It’s not finished yet.” 

“I know.” He’s teasing again, but you’re not in the mood anymore. You want him to know how much this means. “It’s just really nice of you. I appreciate it.” 

Remus sets a hand on your shoulder, steadying you both as he moves closer. You’re unwell and probably a little delirious, so you think you can easily blame the steam or your fever for how warm you get when your flatmate’s lips ghost your forehead. “Don’t mention it.”