I get quite a few requests asking me to write something where the reader has anxiety, depression, PTSD, etc,. Of course, I do think that it’s extremely important that these issues are addressed and recognised in fics/writing in general. However, I don’t think I’m qualified to write about them in my work. I personally have never struggled with a mental illness, and I don’t think I could accurately write about a main character that has or has had experience with it.
I hope you all understand where I’m coming from! Thank you all so much for reading my work, and stay tuned for more stuff! :-)
Hi! I saw that request were open and I was wondering if you could do a Remus x reader, where the reader is super stressed because she has 3 tests on the same week and hasn't stopped studying for even a second. If you can't I completely understand ❤️❤️
Thanks for the request! It’s up on my page now. :-)
Hi! I saw that request were open and I was wondering if you could do a Remus x reader, where the reader is super stressed because she has 3 tests on the same week and hasn't stopped studying for even a second. If you can't I completely understand ❤️❤️
Thanks for the request! Enjoy!
| Y/N = Your name |
The music blared into her ears as she scribbled messy notes into her notebook. Her foot tapped against the floor in sync to the beat of the pounding drum.
Every day, Y/N had been studying into the late hours of the night. She would study until 10:30 in the library until she was kicked out by Madame Pince. Then, she would move onto reading her notes in her room until midnight. Today was no exception - it was now 10 o’clock, and the library was completely empty.
As the guitar solo took over the song, Y/N’s hands flew across the page. She could imagine the guitarist’s calloused fingers sliding against the frets, their eyebrows furrowed in focus. The notes grew closer and closer together, the drums slowly creeping back into the song until -
“Y/N!”
Y/N jumped in her seat as a pair of hands dropped onto her shoulders. She scrambled to take off her earphones and placed her quill down onto the desk. She turned around to see a tall figure standing before her, frowning as he studied her notes.
“Bloody hell, Remus. What do you want?” Y/N grunted.
He gave her an apologetic smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Don’t you think you should take a break? From studying?”
Y/N raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Take a break?! I don’t have time for that! I still have to take notes on Muggle Studies, Herbology, Charms…”
Her boyfriend gave her a quizzical look. “Didn’t you already take notes on Charms?”
“Extra notes.” She quipped.
“Of course.”
Y/N rolled her eyes. “This isn’t funny, Remus! I can’t fail my O.W.L.s!”
He sighed, tapping his fingers against her shoulders. “You’re not going to fail, Y/N. And believe me, I’m not just saying that.”
She frowned, opening her mouth to respond when a sharp pain hit her neck. She swatted Remus’ hand away, wrapping her fingers around it as if to ease the pain. The brown-haired boy pursed his lips, his emerald green eyes narrowed in worry.
“Look, I’m fine. I still have 15 more minutes until Madam Pince kicks me out, so I need to make the most of it. I’ll see you later, okay?”
Y/N turned towards the desk only to find it sparkling clean as if nothing was ever there. Her boyfriend smirked in the corner of her eye.
“Give. It. Back.”
He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“Catch me if you can!”
Y/N’s chest heaved as she bolted up the stairs after Remus. She was surprised that her boyfriend, despite having a lanky figure, was quite a fast runner. Beads of sweat were dripping down her face by the time they made it to the Gryffindor Common Room.
Y/N collapsed onto the couch, utterly exhausted. She scanned the room for any sign of her textbooks - or Remus.
“Can I just please have it back already? This isn’t funny anymore, Remus.” She said through heavy panting.
No response. She sighed. She rubbed her aching shoulders, looking up at the ceiling.
Her O.W.L.s were next week - and despite knowing that she would do fine, she couldn’t shake off the anxiety that always came with taking exams. Every night, she would pace around in her room, counting off all the terrible things that could happen to her. What if she needs to go to the bathroom, and they don’t let her? Or worse, what if when she came back from the bathroom and found that her test papers were gone? What if -
“Here, let me help you.”
Y/N gasped at the sudden appearance of her boyfriend. He was sitting on the couch next to her, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Bloody hell, Remus, I told you to stop doing th-”
Y/N was interrupted by a pair of hands gently pressing into her shoulders, massaging her. She closed her eyes at the relaxing sensation of it, letting out a content sigh.
“You know why it hurts so much?” Remus asked quietly.
“Hm?” She responded absentmindedly, her back still to him.
“Because you haven’t been taking any breaks,” he whispered into her ear.
Y/N laughed, and Remus joined soon after. She opened her eyes, letting his hands drop from her shoulders as she turned towards him. The troubling reality hit Y/N again. She hated it, hated how she couldn’t stop thinking about that stupid exam.
Remus frowned, immediately taking note of the sudden change in her expression. “You alright?”
Y/N huffed in annoyance. “I - I’m just really worried about this test, Remus. And to be honest? I don’t even know why!” She whined, dramatically throwing her hands up to the ceiling.
“There’s nothing to worry about. You’ve been studying your arse off, Y/N - and I’ve been telling you that it might be best to just, take a break.”
She crossed her arms.
“It might do you better.”
She turned her eyes towards him.
“You think?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“I’m positive.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, sighing. “Fine. You win.”
He placed a quick kiss on her nose, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Y/N smiled, resting her head against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. They let the peaceful silence take over as they merely enjoyed each other’s company.
“Movie?” Remus asked quietly.
Y/N grinned. “Sure.”
Remus cleared his throat, pulling out the wand from his pocket. He quickly muttered a spell under his breath. The remote came flying towards him, and he outstretched his hand in an attempt to catch it swiftly, only to have it drop onto the ground. Y/N pursed her lips to keep herself from giggling as she watched him sheepishly pick it up and turn the television on.
She buried her face deeper into his shirt as he absentmindedly twirled her hair in his fingers. As the movie went on and her worries began to wash away, Y/N found herself growing more exhausted by the minute. She yawned as her vision went blurry, and the television screen grew dimmer.
“Remus?” She mumbled.
“Yes?” He mumbled back.
Y/N looked up at him, eyes droopy.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Remus raised an eyebrow. “For..?”
She rolled her eyes. “For forcing me to take a break.”
He grinned, gently pressing his lips against her forehead. “You’re welcome.”
Oh, hi! I’m back from the dead. Sorry for being so inactive - there were (and still are) a lot of things going on in my life. I’m on summer break right now, but I’m nevertheless still very busy. Hopefully, I’ll be able to bring you guys more content, but I can’t promise that I’ll be constantly writing, so please be patient!
And for those who are new to my page - welcome! I hope you enjoy reading my stuff. :-) My requests are almost always open, so feel free to leave something in there. And if you would like to, don’t be afraid to pop a little ask in there too.
Hot and Bothered (Young!Sirius Black x Reader drabble)
Imagine/Request: Imagine Sirius getting all hot and bothered by you putting your hair up
Fandom: Harry potter (Marauders Era)
Pairing: Young!Sirius black x Reader
Warning: Smutty? I don’t even know I’m sorry if anyone gets offended
A/N: just a wee drabble for my wee darlings, it’s my first sexually forward? drabble I dunno what to call it… meh I’m so awkward kill me
This was inspired by ‘Muggle games’ by @neville-longbutton-and-imagines
(which i loved )
and a story my best friend was telling me a while ago about her boyfriend getting turned on everything she puts her hair up… if you get my drift… I should probably stop worrying about offending people cause in RL I don’t give a fuck
Do you guys wanna see more smut let me know by dropping me an ask :)
I hope you guys enjoy! ~Rae :)
********************************************
You didn’t think of yourself as a competitive person, you were never bothered when you lost a game. Who knew it would be a simple muggle game to bring it out of you
But you wanted nothing more than to wipe that stupid smug smile off of Sirius Blacks face. Tonight the was the weekly night that the pair of yous got together with James and Lily a sort of 'double date night’.
It was a simple muggle game that you were all playing, twister lily said it was called and it was boys vs girls. You had begun to play half-heartedly but the more times Sirius and James won the more it began to piss you off
“enough!” You shouted as they won yet another round you looked at Lily and held out your hand for the hair bobble on her wrist. Your eyes narrowed and locked with Sirius’s. His shit eating grin still plastered across his face, you furrowed your eyebrows and flung your hair up in the best messy half bun half ponytail you would manage
“ooh she means business, Pads" James mocked nudging Sirius in the ribs with his shoulder "my ten galleons back, they actually win for once"
"another round Black?” You tease arching your eyebrow
Sirius had suddenly gotten very quiet, the famous smirk on his melting away. His brows were now furrowed and his cheeks a slight tinge of pink. Was Sirius Black Blushing?!
“I..I. Um.. I’m gonna pass” he said his attempt to act cool failing dreadfully
“oh come on now pads, you can’t chicken out not” lily laughed
Your eyes followed the full length of your boyfriend until they landed on your boyfriend’s trousers. His bulge had gotten considerably larger and his trousers were slightly beginning to tent. When you realised why you also turned slightly pink
“Nah, actually I think I’m done with this game now,” I said trying to cover for him feeling slightly guilty
“what! Oh, come one it’s just starting to get interesting….” James started before trailing off also realizing about Sirius predicament
“oh” Both Lily and James said in unison
“she only does that when …..” Sirius said through gritted teeth, gesturing slightly.
You all sat down and began to try and move on from the situation
“Sorry, pads” you whispered over to him" I’ll make up to you" winking at him as he blushed a little again, making Sirius blush was now your new favourite thing
Could I request a Neville x Reader in which the Reader is Neville's fiancé and she meets his parents for the very first time. At the end of the visit Alice gives the reader a wrapper? Bonus: I'm a Hufflepuff
Could I request a Neville x Reader in which the Reader is Neville's fiancé and she meets his parents for the very first time. At the end of the visit Alice gives the reader a wrapper?
Thanks for the request! Also HEY, I’m back. Sorry I’ve been absent for so long - I just had a lot of stuff going on. Thank you to those who have supported me throughout my very long break! I love you all, and it feels so good finally be able to write (even though this might be really sucky cus I haven’t written in so long). But anyways, like usual, feel free to send me asks and requests into my inbox, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Neville squeezed your hand as the both of you stood facing the brick wall. You squeezed his hand in return. His eyes darted to yours, his lips pursed.
You alright? He seemed to silently ask.
You nodded, a hesitant attempt of a smile across your lips. He gived you another reassuring squeeze of the hand before turning his attention back to the wall again.
His hazel eyes scanned the lot - for witnesses, you supposed, though the only creatures present were the ants on the floor. Once the coast was clear, the two of you stepped your feet into the wall behind you. You pushed down the scream clawing at your throat.
Your stomach dropped for a mere second as you braced for impact. Even after all these years, you still weren’t used to the sensation.
“We’re here,” you heard Neville whisper.
You peeled your eyes open, glad to find your limbs still intact. You made sure not to lean against the wall in relief as you took in the sight of the hospital.
The waiting room itself was something expected of a typical hospital. It was the people that were quite… unusual.
Witches and wizards of all kinds flooded the room, each with varying types of medical cases. A woman sporting a bright red robe was ushered across the room, laughing hysterically to herself as tears ran down her face. Another man was rolled across the room on a stretcher, his face covered in various painful-looking boils.
You had been to St.Mungo’s before, but something about the fact you were meeting your fiancé’s parents for the first time made you nervous. You had heard very little about them, as Neville was only an infant when they were admitted here.
“Mr.Longbottom!”
A booming voice snapped you out of your worries as a short man with a tuft of grey hair wobbled his way over. He grinned, his hand extended towards Neville.
Neville took his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “Pleasure to see you again, Mr.Pye.”
“My dear boy, have you grown taller again?” He considered this for a moment before shrugging. “Or perhaps, I have shrunk again. Never mind that - you here to see your parents again?”
Neville nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets. You noted how comfortable he seemed to be around this man and assumed that he was the healer he had told you about - the one that Neville had often received candies from when he was a young boy.
“And this is your girlfriend, I assume! Took you long enough to bring her, I would say, hm? Talks about you all the time, darling!”
Neville looked down to his feet, his lips curled in a shy smile. “Uhh- well, actually, you see I kind of-”
He paused, looking up to find that Mr.Pye had already taken your left hand and was narrowing his eyes at the engagement ring. His hand clasped over his chest as a wide grin spread across his face.
“Oh, this is amazing news! Neville, if you could excuse me, I must go tell all my co-workers - oh, this is amazing! Congratulations to the two of you!”
The man squeezed both of you into a hug and scurried away before a single word could be said. You let out a small laugh before turning to your fiancé, an eyebrow raised. He sighed, inclining his head towards the elevator.
“We should probably go before the whole hospital has us surrounded.”
Neville’s parents were located on the fourth floor, where patients with Spell-Related Injuries rested. You found yourself growing increasingly nervous as you frantically wiped the sweat off your palms with your jeans.
Patients turned your way as you walked through the rows of beds. Some kept their eyes fixated on you, while some lost interest quickly and turned their attention back to something else. Some, you noticed, exchanged smiles with Neville as if they were seeing an old friend again.
As you neared the Closed Ward where Neville’s parents stayed, worries flooded into your brain.
What if you say something wrong? What if they don’t like you? What if-
Cutting off your thoughts, Neville took your hand and lead you into the ward. Rows and rows of beds are lined up against each other, each separated by curtains. Whispers of visitors and patients could be heard from the other side of the curtains. Each footstep felt heavier than the last, your nerves getting the best of you as Neville pulled you along. He finally stopped in front of a room, his hand reaching out to push the curtain aside, when he turned to you.
“You alright?” He asked one last time, brows arched in a worried expression.
You took a deep breath before nodding, and he pulled the curtain away.
The book was carefully rested in your lap as you sat beside Mrs.Longbottom, flipping through the pages of a family album. Each turn of the page was delicate as the two of you sat in silence, eyes lingering on each photo.
The silence wasn’t uncomfortable - in fact, it was as if you were having a silent conversation with her. Every curl of the lip or furrow of the brow seemed to express something different, and it felt as though you somehow understood what she was trying to say.
You turned the page - only to find that the album had now skipped years of Neville’s childhood, and that his parents were no longer in the photos. Frowning, your finger traced the page for a date.
September, 1984.
The realisation hit you. This was years after Mr. and Mrs.Longbottom were admitted into the hospital… years after Neville had lost his parents.
Despite the newer technology, the photo was blurry. It was the handiwork of someone who didn’t quite know how to use a camera - or, most likely, Neville’s grandmother.
“We should probably leave now - it’s dark outside,” your fiancé stepped into the room, his father by his side. His eyes drifted down to the album in your lap, and his cheeks immediately went red. He cleared his throat as he closed the curtain behind him.
“W-where did you find that?”
You gave him a knowing look. “Your grandmother gave it to me.”
His closed his eyes in defeat. “Dammit, Gran.”
You chuckled, reaching out your hands to take the book, when you realised that the woman beside you was still staring at the picture of Neville, suddenly without his parents beside him. She traced the outline of the frame with a frail finger, lips pursed.
Her hazel eyes looked into yours as you hesitantly shut the book, scooping it up in your arms. Her eyes carried the unbearable amount sorrow of someone who had been through so much - too much in one lifetime. You blinked back tears, turning away from her.
“We’ll visit you again soon,” Neville reassured them. His parents smiled in response.
You struggled to find the right words. “It - it was nice meeting you.” You decided to add.
He gave them a wave as he slipped out the room, holding the curtain open for you. And just as you were about to exit, you felt a light tap on your shoulder.
When you turned around, your soon-to-be mother-in-law was looking up at you, her hand outstretched to yours. Following her gaze, you wearily lifted it up towards her.
She gently took your hand as she cupped the other on top of your palm. You suddenly noticed how her bony fingers look so fragile compared to yours as you felt her drop a small object onto it. Your fingers wrapped around it as she carefully closed your hand, her eyes softening as she smiled up at you. Before you could thank her, the curtain had swung closed, separating you from her. When you slowly unraveled your fingers, you found a small scrunched-up piece of a candy wrapper. You stood there, left wondering what this all meant. There was nothing particularly special about it - it was just a candy wrapper. Yet, something inside you told you that no, it was more than that - and you supposed you would find out someday.
But until then, you smiled to yourself, tightly squeezing your hand shut.
who is more ghost than boy, who carries sins in his coat pocket like cigarette butts and marvels at, is disgusted by the blood – pure blood – churning in his veins.
Draco Malfoy:
who never quite learned what was right, no, who is flawed and flayed down to his very bone.
Draco Malfoy:
who loves her like the mortals loved their gods.
___
They’re the fallers; Icarus who fell away from the sun and Lucifer who fell from the heavens and him who fell for her.
Because he realizes that it’s too late now. That some comets pass each other by and never crash, that the person who he’s become and the person that she is can never be reconciled, not when it’s branded onto his skin like something infinitely worse than a witch’s curse.
Hansel and Gretel had never invited the monster in.
And his tongue is tied and fingers are crossed when she sits beside him in potion’s class and smiles as though egocentricity hadn’t once been ridiculous.
She feels like the center of the universe, though, when she taps an ink stained finger against the desk or curls her fingers like a noose around her wrist – he can feel his air constricting. “A teaspoon of fairy wings,” she says, smiles like they’re conspirators and he’d taken Felix Felicis that morning.
Waning sunlight dyes the dungeon air around them gold. Illuminates the tips of her fingers and hazes the edges of her face and blurs her mouth until he can’t quite tell what she’s saying. Till she feels like the rose petals he’d pluck from his mother’s garden and – “she loves me” “she loves me not”.
“You’re wonderful at potions,” she tells him one day. Steam is fogging the space between them; pearlescent as he stirs. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d love help with it sometime – I just know I’m going to fail out of this class if I don’t manage to get better marks.”
He can see the veins beneath the paper thin skin of her eyelids; an origami heart that she’s folded into fifths and tucked into his breast pocket.
“Of course,” he says. Ignores the rhythm steady thrum of his heart.
___
They routinely crowd a table in a corner of the library with page faded books and neat miniature jars of sparkling Niffler’s fancy, lurid green Nagini’s venom, hemorrhaging peacock feather that makes Draco’s throat ache for home, golden scales and blunt ended quills, parchments that roll off the table and brush the floor in sweeping strides as he takes her hand in his to measure out ingredients.
There’s a perineal late-afternoon halo around her head. Bubbling laughs that lodge in her throat when potions boil over the cauldron’s edge and he has to hurry to mop them up.
“I’m going to burn your hand off one day,” she tells him. He’s quite out of matches.
But he snatches quills from her fingers and purposefully brushes their hands, learns to look out of his peripheral as though the world’s turned on its side just so he can see the twist of her mouth and the arch of her nose.
His fingers are streaked with paint and she’s still an empty canvas he can’t manage to recreate.
They go outside one day, sit beside the Black Lake with books open on their laps and attention straying, snapping, swaying. He teaches her how to skip rocks; his hand fits neatly around hers and he can’t help but think that the rock sinks and there’s so much under the surface.
He feels like a time traveler. Because September, October, November are gone and the only thing he can remember is fragments of memories that are imbued with the syllables of her name.
___
He kisses her on the first day of December.
A frigid wind is tangling her hair as they stand at the top of the Astronomy tower and look down, down, down.
Looking back he thinks it’s ironic, almost, how his life began and ended at the same place, different times.
Looking back he almost wishes that he’d jumped – almost.
Because he kisses her before she has a chance to say anything. Fits his hands to her cheeks and runs his tongue along her lip and tastes sugary lip gloss and feels a breath hitch in the tender hold of her throat.
He kisses her and thinks about how he prefers looking at her over the reflection in the mirror, empty letters and empty promises and a mark that feels heavy on his arm.
She presses her body to his, curls her fingers in his hair and tugs, just the slightest, so he knows that he’s there and she’s there and god, it feels like the wind is tearing, ripping through his lungs and he’s flown too close to the sun, got too ambitious, is hurtling back towards the earth until –
She catches him. The axis. And he spins around and around. Keeps a hold on her and forgets that the wax dripping down his back burns like failure.
It’s a classic tale of hubris.
Only it’s not.
___
They say that when you grow up your heart dies, but what if it was never there at all?
Because Draco Malfoy – who is more ghost than boy, who collects sin in his coat pocket like cigarette butts and doesn’t quite care about the blood in anybody else’s veins – isn’t sure that his hasn’t wilted like a flower beneath the ice cold snap of winter.
Because his is a cautionary tale as much as it is a love story.
Because he was venom that melted into chocolate only – sucker punch – he’s never managed to be anything but bitter.
“This should do the trick,” Y/N tells him, slips a potion vial into his fingers and acts as though what they’re doing isn’t inherently bad.
“You shouldn’t,” he’d said the night before, trailed a finger along the groove of her ribs and pondered at what hell might look like with her in it. Wondered at the fact that she’s a pomegranate and he’s doing whatever it takes to ensure that he can never leave.
She’d smiled at him, all soft edges and light smiles. Presses a kiss that had reverberated like the big bang against his cheek and murmured, “I’d do anything for you.”
He holds the vial close to his chest and kisses her with his eyes closed and his mouth open.
Doesn’t open his eyes after one, two.
Not yet, he tells himself. Just not yet.
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