698 words of PURE ANGST. sloppy description of wound and coughing blood that possibly makes no sense. reader's last wish to bob before they pass away is for him to keep going. gender neutral.
You're not invincible. Not immortal. Not super.
You're not even an Avenger, not really, you're just a S.H.I.E.L.D agent designated to help with missions.
So really, it was bound to happen, sometime something would go wrong and you would bleed out.
You knew it from the moment you became a spy it was unlikely that old age would be the one to get you. What you didn't expect was that the thing truly hurting wasn't the wound in your belly or the taste of metal in your mouth, what truly hurts is seeing Bob cry by your side, so vulnerable, so desperate.
The fight was over, the threat contained by the others, it wasn't selfish not to care about it at this point, to only care about the blue eyes fixated on you, but it felt wrong, like you should've been better than that—but no one is that good when faced with death.
"Robert, look into my eyes." You still have some strength left in you and you only care about him, you have accepted your death long before those bullets hit you, but you never allowed yourself to accept him suffering.
"Hey, shhh, don't speak, save your breath, I'm here." One of his hands hold one of yours like letting it go would kill him, the other sits on your biggest wound just as heavy, grounding himself to you as he tries to stop the bleeding with the pressure.
"Robbie, baby, please." The pleading works and his eyes shoot up from your wound to yours, defeat is written in your face and it breaks him, his silent cry an open sob now. It's the most pain you've ever been in, both physically and emotionally and you don't regret the year you spent by his side one bit as it was the happiest you've ever been but now you worry about what your death could mean to his mind. "I need you to promise me something, okay?"
Bob shakes his head, a clear no to your request, "stay alive first, t-then you can ask me any-anything." You nod, only to satisfy his heart for a moment, but you take his hand out of your wound forcefully, placing it on your cheek for comfort, he holds your face dearly even if his eyes yell in panic because now your cheek is red with your blood and you're openly bleeding with no pressure and no sign of a god damn ambulance.
"Please promise me you won't let the void," Bob tries to shush you again, a thumb to your lips, a kiss to your forehead, it doesn't work, you have to make him promise you, even if it's the last thing you do. "Bob, you have to win. Not the void. Don't let it win when I'm gone."
You feel guilty, you do. You should've let Bob free, free to fall for someone else. Maybe the cute barista down the street, or even Valentina's personal tailor who always eyes him up and down like he's just waiting for a chance to devour Robert—anyone with a normal job really, you should've let him free to have a stable relationship with someone less possible to die like this.
But you see his eyes, blurred and red with tears and you feel more grateful than guilty. Grateful you have someone so kind mourn you. Grateful for the times his hushed snarky comments made you laugh out loud, for all the times he danced with you to your favorite songs, for being the first to taste test his food, for the moans you swallowed from him as he made love to you.
He's still shaking his head, denial of what's about to happen, so you keep talking. "You don't get to give up living because of me, okay?" You cough and there's blood and you know it's coming, the dizzyness gets to you and you try hard not to close your eyes, you want to see him.
"I promise." Those the last words you hear, his lips brushing against yours the last touch, his love the last thing you feel before it all blacks out.
you're back in wabang for a funeral, you expect uncomfortable conversations, you you didn't expect your ex to show up.
1698 words.
content headsup: smut. exes to... still exes. unsolved feelings. angsty. no happy ending but you do cum so there's that. piv sex no protection and just a makeout as foreplay.
Every particle of your being felt like it was being pulled apart, like being in Wabang was just the worst thing you could be putting it through (and perhaps it was). But your mother sounded hopeless on the phone, you felt bad for her, felt guilty for leaving too, even though you didn't want to.
You didn't care for your mother's husband, the marriage happened after you left, not even knowing him enough to give him the title of step-father, still, it was the respectful thing to do, attend his funeral, wear the black dress, stand by your mother's side quietly.
It was supposed to be easy. Uncomfortable, surely. But easy. He wouldn't allow it though, he shouldn't even be there but you felt his eyes on you the moment he arrived, you wouldn’t even need to look up to know a pair of the bluest eyes you've ever seen were the ones locked on your figure.
Rhett Abbott. Your first love, first heartbreak and first official ex. Wearing all black, from his boots to his cattleman hat, a stark contrast to the off white brace on his arm. You were familiar with it, he wore it on the days after riding, trying to make up to all he put his wrist and hand through.
The rest of the Abbott clan were there too, you should have imagined it, small town, people like to pay their respects. Maybe you did imagine it. Maybe you considered Rhett would be there and you wouldn't care. You squirmed under the warmth of his gaze though. You wished he would look anywhere else, or that you didn't feel so vulnerable being observed by the youngest Abbott.
His eyes bore into you in a way that made you feel exposed, all your teen insecurities brought back to the surface. All the times he made you feel like the whole world was yours to get. All the times you sobbed alone back in New York because of him.
You try to defy him in what you think must be a funny game to him, staring back, hoping your eyes will convey just how angry you're still at him. You don't realize that's all he needed. Proof that you still cared, even after almost 10 years.
After the funeral everyone was supposed to head back to your house, have a beer, an iced tea, eat something while trying to make the mood a little lighter. You never really liked full places (too loud and messy) so you acted like the kid who once lived there would—hid in your room.
"You never really liked people." You knew that voice annoyingly well and your initial reaction was to sigh deeply, absolutely not in the mood to talk to Rhett, especially not if it meant pretending nothing ever happened.
"Wrong. I don't mind people. Just don't enjoy places and situations full of them." You didn't look at him, your back still on your bed, your feet dangling and your eyes locked to your ceiling. But it felt nice, to tell him he didn't know you as well as he believes he does, in a way.
You hear steps, feel your bed shift, weight being added to your side, and you don't turn your head, side eyeing to see him laying down in the same position as you.
"Haven' been here in a long while." There's hesitation in the whisper and it burns you, it shows he knows he shouldn't be saying it. "Looks empty."
"Used to have pictures up, some I took with me; some I asked mom to burn." The ones with you in it. Sure, your mom refused and hid them somewhere, claiming you would regret it, but Rhett didn't need to know that.
"Not holding back any punches, huh?" He chuckles lightly and the bed shifts, you feel like punching him in the throat.
"I think it was deserved."
"Listen I—" Rhett turns to his side, using his elbow as support to at least try looking into your eyes, his sharp blue ones met with the pain in yours.
"Nope, you listen, you don't get to talk to me like everything's fine and dandy." You mirror his position for a beat of a moment, deciding to get up to put some distance between you two. You caught a whiff of his cologne and it made your throat close up for a millisecond, the desire to cry almost getting the best of you. Close to ten years and he still smelled the same, woodsy, manly... And still, somehow incredibly soft.
"I know I fucked up, aren't we grown enough to leave it behind and just talk?"
"You broke me. I still find pieces of myself scattered through my life." He was sat on your old bed now, perfect position for you to angrily tap his shoulder, a weak try to make him stop talking.
"It was hard for me too! You left!"
"You were supposed to come!"
"I couldn't!" You saw it in his eyes then, the pain mirroring yours, the regret, and it didn't change anything, not about the last decade at least, but it mattered that it was there. "I think we both knew it, it just hurt too much to face it."
It's true, even when you made plans, a part of you knew he wouldn't leave the ranch but you couldn't accept it, you hoped that feeling was wrong, that when you left for college he would follow. People are still talking downstairs, it's noisy and lots of them sound drunk, but the silence between you two numbs it all out. It's just you two, Rhett looking broken, like a kicked puppy, and your breath mixing with his by the proximity.
"Missed you so damn much." All you hear from his mouth before it's crashing on yours, desperate, hungry and even softer than you remember.
It's confusing, minutes ago you were arguing and you were about to cry and two hours ago you were nothing but resentment and you wished he wasn't there but as soon as his tongue finds yours you can't think, your legs act on their own accord and in a blink you're on Rhett's lap, his hands on your thighs, pushing your dress up.
You've had boyfriends after Rhett, never anything too serious but still, there had been others in your life, it didn't matter, no one made you heat up like he did, you were each other's firsts at everything: Handjobs at the crappy town movie theatre, oral in the back of the old truck Royal got him, sex on this very bed when your mom was out of town. The inexperience was shared and you two learnt together what the other liked.
It's why he immediately went to your thighs, kneading and almost sinking his rather short nails on your flesh — not only because he always had a thing for them but because he knew you went crazy when you felt him pulling you closer that way. It's why your hands found his hair in practiced speed, knowing it would make him groan when you pulled on it.
You can feel his cock hardening under you, suffocating inside his tight jeans and a moan escapes you — God you've missed this, his reactions to you, his body moving with yours, his cock big against your thigh.
Rhett lifts your dress more, checking for something you already know — the cowboy hat tattoo you got inked on your hip bone the same day he got his chest tattooed. The sound he makes when he realizes you haven't got it removed is heavenly, you were already wet but you're dripping now as he presses his thumb against the drawing in something close to reverence.
You wished you could see him too, all of him, but you gotta be quick and Christ — it's a funeral and you're taking your panties off while he works his belt and zipper to free his cock to you.
Back to his lap his mouth is all over you, teeth and tongue and the prettiest noises a man could ever make — whimpering as his dick touched your wet folds, it takes your breath away, both the feeling against your cunt and his pleading.
Using his shoulders — broader and stronger than you remember — to balance, you hover while he finds your entrance, both of you moaning in each other's mouth as he thrust in. He should've gone slower, inch by inch; but you were so wet it was making him crazy — not to mention he knew you enjoyed the burn of the stretch, you always did.
"Fuck, Rhett — you're so big." His hands go from your thighs to your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes.
"Yeah?" It isn't cocky, his eyes burn with both desire and yearning and a deep need to be validated by you again, to hear you wrecked for him, he does start moving even before you answer, thrusting up because he couldn't wait anymore.
"I missed it so bad." And right now you're speaking of sex, of the way he always angles himself in a way his pubic hairs will hit your clit just right, the way his cock throbs anytime any sound leaves your lips, how feel your pussy feels of him. But damn, you've missed his eyes, his perfect nose, how ruined he sounds because of you.
It doesn't take long before you're both cumming, hard, you open your mouth as if you would scream but no sounds can be heard, your toes curl, his fingers sink to you thighs in a way you're gonna feel for days as he holds you down.
It takes a few before you get yourself off of him, silence fills the room along with the smell of sex. You put your panties back on, fix your hair and your lipstick, and even though there's tears threating to fall, you say the only thing possible to after what happened.
"This was a mistake." You see how he breaks from his reflection on the mirror, but you can't back down, your life isn't here anymore.
CONTENTS: 823 words. Masturbation (female and male). Penetration. Sex without protection. Clark listens on you touching yourself and barges in.
Clark is an adult, he should be able to deal with this like an adult. He should be able to ignore his dry throat and his aching cock. He should be able to tune out and ignore the sounds he’s hearing.
He should but he can’t. He’s sitting down on his own couch, TV on to some late night show, it’s Friday and he’s too caffeinated and you’re visiting from Smallville and that on itself it’s too exciting to be able to sleep.
Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath isn’t working, he has done it countless times since you excused yourself to shower and go to bed, trying his very best to be a good friend and not imagine your naked curves being touched by the water from his shower.
And maybe if you did fell asleep after your shower those pesky thoughts would have eventually left his mind and he would sleep as well, but instead his super hearing is catching your muffled moans, the way they are caught in your throat because you’re biting your lips bloody not to moan out loud, instead of sleeping he’s listening to the wet sounds of your fingers against your pussy and it’s driving him insane.
Clark feels like a hormonal teenager, he feels sixteen seeing you in your pajamas for the first time again, having to excuse himself to the bathroom to take care of his growing hard-on due the shorts and braless long-sleeves you decided to wear during movie night at your place that one time.
But he’s not sixteen anymore, he’s a grown man with experience and hearing a woman moan shouldn’t be enough to send him into such a frenzy.
Even if you weren’t any woman, even if you’re his first love and you don’t even know. Even if you’re the first person he ever kissed and he remembers how perfectly your lips fit his. Even so—he should be able to control himself.
But he’s not a teenager anymore and he still finds himself getting up from his couch, letting your delicious little sounds guide him to his bedroom, letting his hunger for you be his moral compass as he reaches for the door and decided to open it.
The sight is everything for him, he’s gonna remember it for as long as he lives (and that’s a long time): you, completely bare, droplets still shining on your skin from the shower, your legs completely open with your feet grounding you to his bed, one hand gripped tight to your breast and the other working on your clit furiously.
The sound of him coming in makes you close your legs instinctively but you don’t move much more, horniness still clouding your judgment.
“Please… Keep going.” Clark begs, his voice almost breaks in absolute need and you obey him, legs open once more, eyes now locked on him as you touch yourself. He sits on the edge of bed, hands desperately working to get free from his bottoms. “What were you thinking about?” He asks in a whisper, whining as he surrounds his heavy cock with his hand.
He notices you swallowing hard, panting from the sensations you’re giving yourself but finding courage to admit something, “you.”
That breaks him fully, before he realizes he’s by your side, stroking himself so fast he might cum in seconds, you speed up to match him, the sounds of your wet pussy and you moaning his name are the most heavenly sounds he’s ever heard and that probably makes him a sinner—right now he doesn’t care.
All he cares about is how you scooted over so your arms touch and how his cock is leaking and twitching because this is a dream, it must be a dream.
“Clark—I’m gonna—“ Between moans you tell him, and he’s on top of you in a second, a look to your eyes to ask if this is okay and you nod quickly, desperate as he fills you with his cock.
It’s a tight fit all at once but it feels divine when both of you are so sensitive and so drunk from desire, it takes only a few thrusts before you both orgasm, his cum leaking out of your hole as he almost collapses on top of you—almost, because he would never put his whole weight onto you, what if you get hurt? He would never. But he still drops his head to your shoulder, panting and laughing.
It makes you laugh too, and you’re not even sure why. Maybe because after the orgasm it all feels a bit silly. But it stopped any awkwardness from rising too.
“I will kiss you as soon as we recover from this.”
“Good, I remember you’re a very good kisser.” And after all that transpired the last minutes, that’s what makes him blush, his cheeks soft pink from knowing you also remember that first kiss as well as he does.
summary: remus dances with you to take your mind off of things.
word count: 475
content heads-up: fluff + angst undertones. established relationship. second pov with no use of y/n. set in '81.
author's note: harrione dancing inspired me.
Perhaps it wasn't the best idea to stay home, you two alone in a time like this wasn't always the best: Two quiet souls, still learning not to hold everything in, still too used to hiding the pain.
Sirius had left a few hours before. You hadn't heard from Peter in a while, James and Lily were safe somewhere new you didn't know where with their one year old Harry, but something heavy weighted the air around you even with your eyes closed, head on your lover's lap as his finger rubbed against your cheek mindlessly.
You were uneasy, and so was Remus. Not knowing where the Potters were was hard enough, but after Mary passed... There was a taste of hopelessness, helplessness, to the cold air you both were so familiar with.
Remus touches your forehead with his lips, a chaste kiss that makes you take a deep breath with a smile, your eyes now open to meet his, always filled with the same devotion you felt for him, stared right back to you.
"Stop thinking." He says it softly, but he isn't asking, he's telling you, demanding you to stop and that causes you to laugh at him in earnest, "I'm serious!"
"No, darling, you're Remus." It's a lame joke you save up specially for tense moments. It cracks him up every time by how lame is.
The radio hums in the background, a muggle station Sirius and Dorcas hated with passion. There are good muggle stations, that's not it!
You and Remus loved it, there were always some quiet romantic songs, good to fill the space as you read, crocheted or wrote.
He taps on your thigh, telling you to get up, you do it with a groan and watches as he waves his wand, the song getting louder by the command.
You tilt your head, eyebrow raised in suspicion. Remus ignores it completely, pulling up to him with both his hands, earning another laughter from you, along with a high pitched yelp.
Dancing wasn't something you did often, Remus was shy and always told you he couldn't dance, and how watching you was much more fun for him. Still his hands were on your waist as soon as he guided yours to his shoulders.
Remus always smells nice and you let him lead, laying your head on his chest. He moves slowly, almost awkwardly.
You swear he almost steps on your feet more than once, but it makes you smile.
He laughs loudly when you try to spin him around, it's the first time in weeks you've felt weightless, as if everything could be solved as long as you had him to dance with.
You both barely notice the song ending, only realizing when a voice came through.
And that was the Top 10 songs for today, enjoy your Halloween, everyone!
lariii, congratulations on the 100 followers!! you are a great writer!
gold rush (taylor swift) + james potter
thank you so muchhhh!
lari's 100th follower bash + send me a song and one of my boys for a drabble
james + taylor swift's gold rush (I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch, everybody wants you, everybody wonders what it would be like to love you)
When James first asked you out you felt like you had wings and you could fly off at any moment. For a second you thought it was a joke, how could he want you, at all? But he did, you caught his eye in small mannerisms and in the way your glance followed him so sweetly without ever trying anything. Not a bad pick up line, not a poorly made love potion, you kept your distance. That intrigued him so much he started following you with his eyes as well until he decided looking wasn't enough.
You didn't think of yourself as jealous, but you could admit to being insecure, three dates in and james kept asking for more, laughing with you, touching your cheeks, kissing you, but he was the golden boy, so many girls were always on his tail, you tried not to care about it but some of them were stunningly beautiful, how could you compete with that? You weren't the type, if anyone wanted to fight you for him, you would give him up, simply, you hated seeing him surrounded, hated seeing the smile he would offer them, the helping hand, the flying instructions.
When you tried to break things off though, James didn't allow it. Saying that if you didn't want him he would leave you alone, but if that wasn't it, he wouldn't let you ruin it. The words sting, but are true. You tell him there's too many girls around him, fighting for his attention, for his love.
It's too much.
"You're not in some type of gold rush, honey, they want captain Potter, Gryffindor chaser. I'm willingly giving you James Fleamont Potter, just me, just yours." You accept it gladly, he's yours. No competitors.
hiii !! i’m here to req no. 14 from the prompt list + james ( literally bc i can just imagine sirius telling them to kiss and make up ) 💘💘
send me one of my boys + a prompt
james + reader ⋆ "can you both just kiss and make up-" both of them: "SIRIUS"
There were things everyone in Hogwarts knew. Some of them where: You and James were extremely competitive, the sorest of losers, partners in crime? Yes, but stubborn from the biggest to the smallest bone you both had. Having you both playing for the quidditch team was a blessing for Gryffindor. And also a curse. A blessing because it meant the red and golden lions had never won so many matches in a row.
A curse because you were both insufferable during quidditch practice and even worse than that, sharing dorms and common areas with the both of you after a losing match? Hell. Literally.
"Told'ya that stupid strategy wouldn't work," James' hands go through his hair, exasperated by the terrible beating Slytherin had done to the team's score, and to his self esteem. "But nooo, you're always miss right." His face twisting in a mocking expression.
"Didn't work 'cause you didn't do your bloody part, Potter." You're just as frustrated, arms flailing around, the game ended hours ago, this is the fourth or fifth time you both are discussing this exact same point. The common room getting emptier and emptier each time, leaving only you both, Sirius, Remus, Peter and Lily, as your friends they were morally compelled to stay and keep you both from each other's throats. Both your wands already perfectly secure in Remus' pockets to avoid any disappearance of brows or cutting of hair.
Exhausting really, dealing with you two was becoming exhausting, especially because you were both very easy going people with everyone else. James was a charmer, you were always a delight. It was fascinating how irritating both of you became in situations like these, how easy it was to get you both riled up because of the other.
So it clicked to everyone, but you two, apparently, that you simply had feelings for each other. None of you knew how to react upon those, so you bottled it up and when James made something stupid it got you so mad because the feelings you had for him were all intense, all or nothing, no middle ground. And it was the same for him. Best friends who had so much in common and loved doing most of it together, who made each other laugh, and helped each other when things got bad. And then suddenly, a screaming match. Quidditch strategies, blaming each other for some prank, arguing about the right answer to a test, it was the stupid way you two found to actually feel and deal with the strength of your emotions.
Lily and Remus leave while the argument went from the yelling to the huffing, both claiming to need tea if they were going to endure all that for longer. Peter debates staying for a while, he actually had plans with James for the day, but as soon as the yelling gains speed again, he knows those are gone and gives up, leaving only James, you and Sirius and the thick weight of the horrible mood the room was filled with.
"I won't be doing idiotic stuff on the field just 'cause you want me to, honey." James keeps the nickname, not matter how mad he gets, but there's nothing sweet on his tone. And you want to reply, you really do, you want to say he's the only idiot, that you lost because of him, but instead you suddenly feel a strong push on the back of your head, making you and James touch foreheads.
"Can you both just please kiss and make up already." Sirius isn't even joking, he sounds tired, his hands still holding both of your heads as you and James yelled his name, shocked he would even dare to say such thing.
Why would James ever want to kiss you? Or you kiss him? Just because you enjoyed having him around and he made you heart feel a bit weak and you wanted him to validate how smart you are?
Just because James always got your favorite treats from Honeydukes, always asked his dad to make you cosmetic potions if you wanted, and he would always have a spare scarf and gloves when you forgot yours?
And the ball finally fucking dropped for you both. You saw it in his eyes as he saw it in your tiny grin, but oh, you were not going to give this so easy to Sirius, so you just crossed your arms over your chest, scoffed loudly and went straight to your dorm.
Sirius was happy to get you both to shut up at least. And he did find out a month later that when he was napping on the common room couch, James went to your dorm and did kiss you, and that was probably why all arguments had turned into just light banter, with flirty laughs and touches.
James did have to learn to accept you were mostly always right, but he gained a gorgeous girlfriend, an infinite supply of kisses and the hottest make out sessions, so he got over it pretty quickly.
Hi! 12 and James from the new prompt list please. Thankks
send me one of my boys + a prompt by @dumplingsjinson
james + reader ⋆ “my friends keep telling me to move on from you but tell me this: how the hell am I supposed to do that when there’re still pieces of you in my life? you left behind memories I can’t discard; pieces of you you told me to keep safe for you.”
Oh that wound would leave a mark, you knew that for sure, being in your front door, curls completely disheveled, months after you broke up and mentioning things you told him back in Hogwarts while you were both teens. That alone made you twist your nose in an attempt to distract your eyes and avoid the tears from coming.
Keep that piece of me safe, hm? You would always say every time you told him something you never told anyone before, something about your past, some darkness about your parents, something silly about yourself you were embarrassed about even, and he would always kiss his fingers as if they were keys and pretend to be locking his heart, keeping your pieces safe.
"James, please, I can't do this again." It was hard enough the first time, and it has been hard the other times he begged, it only hurt the both of you and it never changed your mind, because you loved him but your made your choice, and when you graduated and he decided to enlist the Order and fight the war and be part of Dumbledore's suicide mission he knew it was over for you two. And he made his choice as well.
You loved his morals, you loved how he put the greater good above all else, and when he chose the Order instead of you, you knew surely that yes, that was the James you fell in love with, but that wasn't you. After the childhood you had you reserved yourself the right to peace, even selfishly, you were not going to spend years every night waiting for letters hoping and crying that when an owl showed up, it wouldn't be his obituary.
He looked so vulnerable and broken, and it was desolating to watch it and know it was your doing. But it had to be done. So you took both of his hands on yours, warming him up for a few moments, leaned in for a chaste, lingering kiss, "go fight your war, find a soldier, forget me, please." And you let go of him, closing your door.
And that was the last time you saw James Potter alive.
lari's 100th follower bash + send me a song and one of my boys for a drabble
james + chord overstreet's hold on (come back, I still need you; let me take your hand, I'll make it right; I swear to love you all my life)
content warning: fay asked for this now we're all gonna suffer. suicide / character death (reader). do not read if depression, anxiety, mental illness, grief and these sorts of themes trigger you.
You called him, you called him. He kept thinking about that as you were taken to the ambulance, why, why did you call? Why if he wouldn't be able to stop you. Why? Did you want him to come? Was he supposed to come faster? Did you set him up to fail? Did you want him to come at all?
He knew, he knew, he knew he wasn't being fair. He knew those weren't the questions to ask. But you haven't called in months, maybe closer to two years now, what if he wasn't living around anymore?
What if he had gone back to his folks' town?
What if he wasn't home when you called his home phone?
Did you even want him to come? Were you asking to be saved? Were you saying goodbye? He tried not to sob when he was instructed to call your family and meet them at the hospital.
You're not related, you can't come with her.
You're not related, he was just your ex from years ago. He couldn't make decisions for you if needed. He couldn't even keep his hands on your cold cold ones on the ride there, he was forced to shove down his sobs to be able to drive and not cause an accident due to his blurry sight.
You asked him how he was, your voice weak. He was so confused but happy nonetheless, he had missed your voice didn't matter how high or low you spoke. He told you about his new job, his new glasses, his new apartment. But you avoided his questions any time he tried to know more about how your life was.
I just want to hear your voice, Jamie, please keep talking. It was such an odd request to have, but he didn't mind, he missed you so much, his best friend, his first love. So he kept talking, he told you about his week, and Peter's new girlfriend, and Remus' PhD, how Sirius had gone viral with one of his songs. He only stopped when he thought you were asleep, complete silence coming from your end of the line.
He heard a noise, your phone dropping. A shiver went through his back, he called for you, hoping you would wake up and pick it up, apologize for falling asleep.
You didn't. He had to call the ambulance on the way there. Even so he got to your apartment first, he had to break through so many doors to get to you his arm and shoulder were sore, you were stomach down on your bed, arm hanging out of it, phone far on the floor.
Cold. Barely breathing.
He did CPR to the best of his abilities, his hands were shaking, his own lungs seemed like they were about to give it up as the tears took his eyes, his cheeks, his neck. His own voice breaking, begging you to wake up. Telling you to not leave him.
The rescue came in seconds later, finishing the medical predicament and taking you with them.
He shouldn't have left. When you told him you wouldn't be able to keep a long distance relationship for an year so he could go to Barcelona, he should've stayed. He should've looked for you when he came back. He knew of your issues, he had his own, you took care of each other. Made sure all meds were taken, all doctor's appointments were scheduled.
James wasn't that arrogant, he knew you wouldn't do something like that because of him. He knew he wasn't the reason. Still the guilt made him so sick to his stomach he had to stop his car on the side of a road to throw up what he had for dinner earlier. He called your parents before getting back to his car, trying to keep calm not to freak them out even more.
I found her in her bed, she was still breathing, she's going to the hospital. She's gonna be fine.
He arrived just in time to see you being pulled out of the ambulance, so many wires plugged into you, a mask attached to your face. He took your hand with his, following the paramedics as they went to some room he wasn't sure for what, he left a kiss to your forehead and shivered at how cold it felt on his lips. "I still love you, please, don't—I need you alive and well, don't give up, please." James could feel the stares from the staff, pity. Sadness. He tried to ignore it as he plopped down to the floor when he couldn't follow anymore. His head hitting the wall softly as the memories of you washed him over.
Y taught him what a panic attack was, and how to deal with his. You were the one to recommend the psychiatrist he was seeing now. You taught him coping mechanisms for anxiety while he was too stubborn to look for therapy himself.
You saved him from himself, from his own thoughts, so so so many times. Not only that, but you gave him reason, purpose, calmness. He would remember your smile even in Spain, he would wonder what you were doing, and the thought of you happy and free made any uneasiness he felt there, while he was alone and lonely, disappear. He remembered coming back to England, he had so many little trinkets he had bought especially for you on his baggage, and he was going to look for you but you seemed so happy on your socials.
Good bloody one, James, trust the social media. He sighed, another hit of the back of his head to the wall. Trusting your happy posting as if he didn't live with you enough time to know you always did it, it kept your parents safe from worrying too much. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it, why didn't he look for you before?
Your parents ask him if you were dating again, James answers "not yet." Completely hopeful this could might as well be some fucked up plan from fate to reunite you two. That you would be out of all of those wires, that mask, in just a few hours. And he would cry and hug you and tell you to never scare him again like that. He would take your hand, now warm, and reach to his heart so you could feel how he still felt for you.
That hope came crashing down when he came back from the cafeteria, coffees on both his hands for your parents.
Your parents who were talking to a doctor. His vision blurred again with the awful yell he heard from your mum. Both cups straight to the floor as he approached the doctor for explanation.
You're wrong. She's alive. You're wrong.
His knees felt weak and he dropped to the floor of the hospital once again that night. Sobbing as he hugged himself wishing you were being embraced by him.
Wishing you would be waiting for him when he got home, snacking something so so so unhealthy while drinking diet coke.
Aaa I loved ur lil thing about Sirius finding out ur a vinyl collector, but I’m broke asf and I collect CDs instead 💔 can u do something about Sirius and CDs please????? If it’s okay <3
send me one of my boys + a prompt
sirius + reader ⋆ seeing your cd collection for the first time
"Wait wait, what's that?" You hear his voice far from you when he was supposed to be following you to the kitchen, you walk back and see Sirius pointing to your glass protected shelf, filled to the brim with CDs, a silly hobby turned into a very serious and loved collection.
You shrug, thinking you had already mentioned it to him, "my CD collection, mostly classics, y'know? Beatles, Bowie, Fleetwood Mac, some Rolling Stones," you mention the first ones that come to your mind, but you know there are many more than that, still, those already make his eyes shine like the star he's named after, his fingers fidgeting the glass begging to open their enclosure and see it all up close, you think for a while, but eventually comes closer, taking his hand out so you yourself can open the glass door. "Be careful or I'll kill you." Still, the threat slips your lips but to him it sounds like a song and his best way to sing along is to kiss you for the first time, a quick, teasing one, and he smirks into it before letting you go and going back to your collection, taking a bunch of cds out to explore.
Okay so this is a really specific request so please don’t do this if u don’t want to 😭😭 I don’t even know how I have it envisioned in my head but ANYWAY
can I please request Sirius Black plus 25 “Finding comfort in their scent” but the “scent” is readers perfume “perfect” by Marc jacobs? I wear that perfume a lot it’s one of my favorites 🥹
ANYWAY it could also just be Sirius + the prompt
thank you!
send me one of my boys + a prompt
sirius + reader ⋆ finding comfort in their scent
It's become sort of an inside joke, whenever you wear Perfect by Marc Jacobs, one of your favorites, Sirius gets extremely touchy, his hands on your waist, his face on your neck, compliments falling from his lips even easier than usual, "doll, you smell... Divine," he always says in the most dreamiest tone, kissing your neck and making an effort to leave his mark there, you joke around and ask him if you didn't smell good the other days then and he laughs with you, surely, but turns you around so you can look him in the eye, and you know he's gonna melt you with what he's gonna say, and you know he knows it too, the charming son of a bitch, "baby, y'always smell like a goddess, but this one... You smelt like that when we met."
You roll your eyes and sigh at him, Sirius replies with a smirk and a kiss to your forehead because he's very aware he's got the result he was aiming to: You even more lovesick. Just like him for you.
young!sirius + reader ⋆ naturally gravitating closer together
Sirius doesn't even notice it at first, the way he always takes the seat behind you in class and how he always makes room by his side for you during meals. He doesn't notice how many times you had been yelled at for not paying attention to the teachers, instead your head turned around to face him, or your arm at his table for him to doodle. None of you are aware of how your thighs seem to be glued together whenever you're sat side by side. It's impossible not to see it though, when holding hands while his arm was around your neck made you both smile, and when he warned you late at night that he was going to kiss you, you didn't stop him, instead you knew you wanted to be close to him like that forever.
oii!! i saw the post you made about the fluff blurbs, so i’m sending my contribution
sirius finding out you are a vinyl collector when he goes to your place for the first time!!
send me one of my boys + a prompt for fluffiness
musician!sirius + fem!reader
You both met at a record shop, fighting over the last Please Please Me vinyl they had (Sirius ended up losing that fight, offering to buy it for you if you gave him your number, long haired, tattooed hot guy? Much like your type) so that's why you don't understand why he's so shocked to see your collection when you bring him to your small apartment after your third date.
"Baby doll, I would marry you right now," you can hear awe in his tone, but he's not even looking at you, his fingers brushing lightly through your precious collector's pieces.
You reply him with a chuckle, moving your hand to touch his and pull him away from the shelf. "Play me something with that guitar of yours, and then we talk about marriage." You shoot him the most mischievous of smirks, and he's not sure if you just want to get him away from the vinyls you're so protective over, or if you're actually showing your preference for musicians. Probably both. But he doesn't really mind, as long as you let him stay.
hello i love your writing so much and! i saw the prompts on your list and i just
omg.
i could barely choose.
but
18 with marauders era sirius 👀👀
please and thank you🙏🙏🙏
send me one of my boys + a prompt
sirius + reader ⋆ feeling hot all over the place after the kiss ) #)'?&)%+#
"You're blushing, mon trésor." His voice merely a whisper, his lips still so close to yours you can feel the warmth from him inhaling and exhaling so smoothly, so effortlessly, his hands on your waist, his forehead glued to yours.
And oh, you were blushing, you were panting, that wasn't your first kiss by any means but you've been flirting with Sirius for months now, glancing at each other at parties, and you always having an extra hair tie on your wrist for when he started to seem bothered by his strands attaching to his face when he began to sweat, and you would gently go through his hair and tie it up for him, and he would thank you with the most beautiful smile, a chaste kiss to your forehead, a few french praise words you were sure he learnt only to make girls like you melt for him.
And it worked, you were indeed melting, "no, I'm so not!" you replied, hands to your cheeks and you looked away from him, the blushing was obvious but you still denied it, you didn't want to seem silly, or too eager, and you definitely didn't want him to know how hot only that kiss made you feel, or how you had to mentally keep yourself from moaning or how you felt like crossing your thighs (or entangling them around his waist).
Because that was Sirius Black, he was cool, he was brilliant, he had girls sometimes literally falling for him, but he was selective of who deserved his attention, and he was just so gorgeous and you didn't want him to see you as some weird fangirl of sorts.
"Oh, you are, you are all adorably red, my dear." You feel his fingers pull your chin so you can look up to him once more, finding a smile you think you never got from him, it seemed almost shy. And eyes sparkling just like the star he was named after, sincerity pouring from them. "It's a'ight, you didn't catch it but I got shivers all over." That earns him a giggle from you as you begin to feel more at ease knowing you weren't the only one feeling more than just the touch of the lips, that he too was as elated as you were.
And in honesty, he really was, as the flirting progressed he couldn't stop himself from thinking about kissing you, and he knew you wanted it too, it wasn't an insecurity thing, no, Sirius wasn't the type, his targets were always certain, only this time it felt like he was the target, the victim, his heart hit with the biggest arrow Cupid could find, so he enjoyed the flirting a little longer, the glancing, the lingering of your fingers on his when you accidentally touched him, the tenderness of how you showed him you cared in such little acts.
He wanted the kiss to be special too, meaningful, the panting and the blushing and how hard you gripped to his waist were a delightful bonus, so he waited until the perfect day came, the sky the bluest he's ever seen, but still with enough beautiful white clouds to look at and wonder what they looked like. A past time you told him you had as a kid in some silly conversation you thought he wouldn't remember.
But he did remember, as he remembers all you've ever talked about, as he'll remember the way you gasped for air after he pulled away from your first kiss, as he'll remember the shivers that went down his spine in the most delicious way and how he felt like he was at the top of the world. And he hopes you'll remember it too. But if you don't, that's ok too, he intends to keep getting you hot and bothered for him for as long as you let him.
request by sweet darling @wisteria-cherry
pairing: sirius x reader.
summary: families are a tricky thing, sirius knows well. he comforts you about it whenever you need him too.
content warnings: fluff, family issues, low self esteem. modern!au.
word count: 900+
He hates seeing you like this, distraught, disappointed. Your eyes red from crying even though you've stopped doing so before he could pick you up at your place.
You both had a date and as soon as you called him to cancel he knew something was wrong, your voice cracking up, the soft sniffling you tried hard to conceal and the fact you never canceled plans with him before. His reaction was to tell you he was coming over, immediately leaving on his motorcycle in his pajama pants and t-shirt, worry making him too uneasy to even care about changing.
Sirius tried talking to you when he got to your place, but you refused to explain, telling him you wanted to go somewhere else. You felt so tired, so suffocated, it seemed the pressure you put on yourself was weighting on your lungs and ready to collapse. Who was he to deny a ride anywhere to his girl?
After all, he loved getting the little pink helmet he bought specifically for you and getting you to put it on and the feeling of your arms around his waist as you intertwined your hands on his belly, holding him close as he promised every single time that as long as you kept hugging him like that, he would never drop you.
He led you to the kitchen, sat you around the big table, kissed your forehead and let you breath as he went around looking for snacks you could get a tiny bit of serotonin from.
"A'ight princess, cookies, iced tea and a very, very concerned boyfriend are ready." The food is set in front of you and he sits on the chair by your side, scooching it closer and positioning himself in front of you, your hands are softly taken by his warm ones and you can feel his genuine concern.
You almost feel silly for what you're gonna tell him, he's so kind and loving and you knew he would never make you feel bad about your feelings. That worry was an automatic defense mechanism for you though, trying to make your sadness less of a big deal than it truly was.
"Just... You know, my parents." You let out a deep sigh, he knew what it was already. It wasn't news for him how you felt pressured to always strive to the best as a way to get their approval, never feeling enough, always feeling like a disappointment. Families were a touchy topic for Sirius, the first time you brought the subject up he told you how they were the wrong ones and how you shouldn't care what they thought of you.
He learned soon enough that was not what you needed from him, you cared and you wouldn't stop caring and wishing to be enough. It had been so long since he cared about what his mum thought of him he almost forgot what it was like. He saw the way you were tearing up again, a few tears falling against your own wishes.
The black haired man simply used both his thumbs to clean it up, lifting your chin so you would look straight into his eyes. "Hey, hey. Your parents love you, and they raised you, and they want what's best for you, right?" You nod into his hand, barely, "so you're more than enough for them. They might show it differently, they might see potential you don't, but they see you and won't ever be disappointed in you for trying your very best."
Families are a tricky thing and it wasn't easy for him to navigate through that, his mother was downright abusive, the Potters were loving, caring, but still Sirius sometimes noticed how Fleamont would push James to do more. How Remus felt he had to do more to honor his mother. He could see how that type of pressure could lead someone to feel less. He hated that, you were not even close to less anything. You were a lot, in the best way possible.
He pulls you into his lap, hugging you from the side and laying his head on the crook of your neck, taking advantage of the position to kiss your cheek countless times, trying to show through his affections how easy it was to love you, to feel proud of you. He knew you for so little time compared to your parents and he could die by how proud he always felt, how endlessly in awe you made him by how hard you tried at everything you did.
"The things I see in you, my love, aren't hidden in some sort of secret place. They are easy to see. To feel. I swear it's not me, it's you, and your folks surely see it too, a'ight?"
You nod again, not knowing how to respond such kind words from him, especially when there wasn't an ounce of hesitance while he spoke, he was so sure, it was a fact, not something he made up to comfort you only. How could you argue with that? If you could feel enough for other people, and if other people told you how great you were, how sweet you were... Then your parents saw it too. Surely, yeah?
His words calm you down, at least for now, it would be a long way before you could heal the self doubt you had when it came to your parents, but having him by your side... You knew you could do it.
pairing: james x reader (as plot device), remus x reader
content warnings: mostly teen angsty (small problems turned into huge life altering situations because of feelings and hormones) and a bit of fluff. steamy make out at the end but nothing pass that. underage drinking. mentions of throwing up (nothing graphic). reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. just teens being teens.
word count: a bit over 3k
Loving James was easy. Too easy almost. You didn't share similar personality traits and you didn't like quidditch all that much, but you met James when you were both just seven year old kids who happened to become neighbours.
Talking to James was easy, you didn't mind saying the wrong thing to him, or sounding dumb or silly, after a guy catches you peeing in a pool and throwing up in the middle of Diagon Alley, there's no much else you can do to be embarrassed about.
Being around him was easy. Too easy. So when he asked you out by fifth year, it seemed like the right thing to do. And the date was good, it was fun, it was just like hanging out with a friend.
Kissing James was easy. Too easy. No butterflies, no blushing, no kicking your feet thinking about it. But he was James, everyone believed you would be married by the end of school years, your parents and the Potters often talked about how it's going to be beautiful to have both families united like that.
It was familiar, it was fine, it was... Was it really supposed to feel so bland? You often wondered, but by then you were already officially dating and you were more often than not found around him and his friends, merging both friend groups, boys and girls, into one.
You all spent a lot of time on Gryffindor's common room, where you would read while, like right now, passing your fingers through James' hair and waiting almost excitedly for Remus' commentary, as you were coincidentally, constantly, reading the same book.
"C'mon, all girlfriends wear it and go cheer their boyfriends during matches, please, please, pleaseeee do this for me." James lips opened once more to whine about how you were a terrible terrible girlfriend for not going to quidditch practices or games and not wearing the red shirt with his name. Rubbish, you always thought, you went to finals, that was more than enough.
"James it is not my fault you decided to play such a toss of a sport, I already have to avoid enough bludgers on the games I do go." You said in a firm tone, but still hoping just him would hear it, of course that was a only a hopeful dream, as every single one of your friends groaned at you, all of them siding with James, were you that bad of a girlfriend?
You just didn't feel like going, and didn't think your cheering on him was that big of a necessity, his abilities wouldn't suddenly get better, would it?
You looked at Remus hoping he would help you out, as he was the one who understood you the most there, he liked books, and tea, and warm sweaters, getting chocolate as a treat and being comfortable in silence. But all you got was a shrug, "I do watch James play all the time, Grumpy, can't help you, and I don't even get a snog after." you and James both snorted at the term, during those three months of dating you had kissed a lot of times, mostly pecks though and even deeper kisses wouldn't go as far or passionate as a proper snog. It was gentle. It was familiar. It was nice. It was easy.
Remus instantly noticed he had struck a nerve, being as observant as he was, and he glanced quickly between Lily and Sirius, the only two who knew his secret, the only ones who saw him actively fall for his best mate's girlfriend. Lily knew because after a while all she could notice was how Remus looked at you the same way she looked at James. Both suffering of the same evil.
Sirius got pulled in the loop after he told Remus he found the way you two dated very... Weird. It was all the three could talk about after, Remus insisting they shouldn't meddle, saying you were just a reserved person, Lily and Sirius saying that James wasn't and he also didn't make much effort to touch you. It was a whole conspiracy club talk point.
But now Remus had some sort of proof it wasn't just you and James avoiding eyes, you two weren't couple-ly alone either, that reaction for a simple snog comment gave him hope he didn't feel before, burning bright as his heartbeat got twice as fast, he just needed to wait.
And wait he did, enjoying his time with you in the library, secretly finding ou what book you were beginning to read so he could do the same and have more to talk about with you, he would get up earlier than normal just to wait for you, as you always took time to read before getting ready for the day, he waited for your presence in each decision he made for his day, when your classes would end so he could wait outside and walk you wherever you were going.
Remus was always observing quietly what made you laugh, and what made you angry or sad, trying his best to be as close as possible while still being loyal to his friendship with James.
It felt almost suffocating to you, not in a horrible way, but you were always counting the minutes for when he would show up and stumbling around your words to answer to his questions about you and your childhood and how your day was. He was always around, his cologne making you feel weird, but you enjoyed the company, especially when James was always busy with quidditch and would never read your recommendations.
It was a particular cold morning and you had forgotten your scarf and would be late to class if you went to get it, so all you could do was shiver and complain to your friends and boyfriend, hoping for at least the comforting words of understanding.
"Grumpy, take this and stop complaining." You heard Remus respond, the only one who would call you that, and you actually enjoyed it even if it wasn't a flattering nickname, the sound coming from his lips was amusing, pretty, it got you warm without anything else. You looked at him thinking he would give you something to warm you up, and you were almost right as he got closer to you, your breath suddenly weakened by the proximity, feeling the fabric of his scarf on your neck after he took his own and put it on you, adjusting so it would maintain your face warm as well if you looked down.
You didn't stop shivering though, feeling chills run through your body as the warmth of his voice touched your cheek, "better?"
You nodded quietly, but you felt sick under his eyes, you were positive you were going to hurl as your stomach wouldn't stop twirling around. It felt like an eternity, like the world had stopped, but it was only a few seconds.
You spent the rest of the day lost in thought, repeating those seconds in your mind countless times and some of the times wishing it ended with a kiss. James didn't even think to give you his scarf or jacket, and you couldn't even blame him, it would not be your first thought if it was the other way around.
But it was for Remus. And you felt that sudden urge in the pit of your stomach to be around him all the time, hell if you could catch a glimpse of his eyes you would even watch quidditch matches. Lucky thing he didn't play.
You felt like you were going insane, truly going mad and it just got worse right before you and James got to the six months dating mark, you sent a letter to your mother, asking her to send some special chocolates "like from other countries and stuff, mum" you said quickly in the note your owl delivered her, your mother obliged happily, suspecting it was a gift for James.
But it wasn't. You had told Remus your father always got you different chocolates when he traveled, and he got so excited you just had to get him some, you were blushing just at the imagery of him happily eating those.
It all came crashing down on you when you finished wrapping them, Lily asking if it was a six months gift for James.
You weren't even keeping up with how many months had passed, so obviously you didn't even think about buying him anything. You were definitely going mad, your heart broke at how badly you were treating your best friend, you first friend, your first kiss.
The fact you had to do something about it made your body itch, already uncomfortable with the idea of losing James.
That day you left the gift you got for Remus in your room, wore Gryffindor colors, wrote Potter on your forehead with red paint and cheered as your house team won the match against Ravenclaw. You saw how happy he was and you held in your tears feeling absolutely awful for what you were about to do.
His eyes sparkled when he noticed you, running to you and surrounding your body with his arms in a familiar hug, a kiss on the forehead where his name was written, "I can't believe you came, it wasn't even an important game."
"You're important to me and I realized I haven't shown that well enough." You hardened your grip around his waist, tears fighting the way down your cheeks. You looked up at him and his eyes changed, confusion and worry taking in, but before he could ask anything, you took his hand, pulling him with you far from the Gryffindor mass of people in the field.
"What's going on? Why are you crying? You know I'm not good with tears, please," he blurred out as soon as you stopped walking, worried sick that something had happened to you.
"I don't think we can keep dating, James." It was a whisper and it wouldn't be heard if you weren't so close to each other and so far from everyone else. Your eyes closed with as much strength as you could, tears being forced down by it. You kept your arms hanging by your sides, feeling unworthy of hugging him, and you waited what felt like an eternity for him to be mad, angry, you waited for the questions and the guilt. But it never came, so you opened your eyes and he was... Smiling.
Relieved.
"Thank god, Merlin, thank god, I thought I was mad for a minute there." He finally let out, you could feel how happy he was just by the tone of his voice, that was not at all the reaction you were expecting, it was better, obviously, but you were simply speechless and confused, not knowing how to reply to his relief, so he just kept going, sitting on the grass and pulling you down with him. "My mum told me we should go out and I thought maybe she was right. She was not."
"Why didn't you say anything? I was almost crying the whole game, and I look pathetic right now because I wanted to please you before destroying your heart."
The laugh you got from him with that was almost inhuman, and you weren't sure if it was because the thought of his heart being destroyed by you was too unreal or because you did look pathetic with his name written on your forehead.
"At first I thought it was supposed to be like that... Or that it would change with time." He looked up to the sky, the sun still out but not bright enough to hurt his eyes, he took a deep breath and shook his head, laughing again at the situation. "And then months went by and I was terrified I was going to hurt your feelings."
"Apparently our six months anniversary was to come this week." The fact he obviously had no idea, just like you, made it all even funnier, ironic even. "So I did what every good girlfriend would do. I bought expensive candy to one of your best mates."
"Nooooo, good Godric, woman, I thought I was an arsehole, you always surprise me." His dramatic silly response earned him a slap on his arm, strong enough to hear a loud yell from him as he felt it.
When you came back to the common room it was full of life and irresponsible drunk teens, you were happy with how things turned out but not at all in the mood to deal with that, so you went to your room, hoping to get clean and be alone with your thoughts for a bit.
You found Remus waiting at your door, messy hair, red eyes and nose, an empty cup of what you imagined was firewhisky in hand. "Been waiting for you." Your whole body trembled, he looked and sounded gorgeous even drunk.
"Sorry, I had to talk to James." You answered with a smile and you felt his eyes burn into your soul as he looked at your face, especially your damn forehead, Remus closed his eyes for just a second, licking his sudden dry lips before speaking again.
"You and Potter," he pointed at the name, smudged already, with the hand that was still holding the empty cup, "doing well, and I... Was waiting." You tilted your head, confused at the scoff he added to the end, the game wasn't even finished that long ago. You tried to touch his hand but he refused the touch. "If I wait long enough they will see." Remus chuckles, but his eyes are sad, you can see it, you've been used to his warm eyes and they looked cold, lifeless.
"Remmy, you're drunk, let's get inside, I've got you those chocolates we talked about!" You say eagerly, opening the door and hoping the promise of sweets would be enough to get him inside and sit him down on your bed, you were worried he would fall off the stairs at that state. You leave the door open as you get inside, getting the package you so carefully wrapped, showing him with excitement.
He was careful, slow, confusion written on his face as he took his steps towards you, blinking quick and hard trying to sober up, he left the cup on your nightstand and took the gift from your hands, both of you not making any sounds, the heavy breathing from both filling the room as he unwrapped it and saw how many different brands and flavors filled the box you gave him. "Why... You didn't have to... I don't..." Before he could go on a spiral of not deserving such treat, your index finger glued to his lips, stopping him.
You felt his lips quiver under your touch and that sent chills down your spine, you were unable to move, unable to speak, you were nervous, afraid you were going to do something stupid, scare him off. His eyes suddenly regaining that warmth you knew it fit him so well, if only for a second.
Remus opened his mouth and you dropped your hand on instinct, "I... love you, so I waited. Was sure you and James would break up." Your eyes widened at the confession and explanation for the obsessive talk about waiting. "Think not." He shrugs, eyes on your forehead and you quickly scrubbed your palm on the paint, trying to get it off, your focus going everywhere and nowhere at all, all at once.
You felt like your heart was about to beat itself out of your mouth, "this stupid thing was to break up with James, I wanted to be a nice girlfriend to him at least once." Remus heard that and without a word left your gift to him beside the firewhiskey cup, reaching out to you, strong and needy as one of his hands went straight to the small of your back, earning him a quick sigh from you, mixture of surprise and pleasure, he took your chin with his free hand, lifting you to face him.
You held your breath without even noticing, counting the seconds for him to finish his move, but Remus didn't, he just looked at you for seconds too long, you battled your nervous system and let your desire for him win, pulling him closer by his neck until your lips finally touched.
Just that little touch was able to flush your cheeks, feelings you couldn't comprehend or explain yet rushing through you as his tongue asked for permission to deepen the kiss, which you gladly give.
His lips were soft on yours but his hands now holding your waist were definitely not, the mere thought of having them mark the sides of your body giving you the confidence to pull his bottom lip lightly with your teeth, and Remus moaned, obviously enjoying it and you could swear to any god that you would do anything asked from you just to be able to keep getting those sounds from him.
You walked backwards to your bed, his lips leaving yours for air but quickly going to your neck as he followed your steps, you sat down and pulled him with you, laying on your pillow and feeling his weight over you, it was your time to moan feeling his leg in between your thighs as he switched between soft kisses and strong sucking your neck.
When your hands went to get his shirt off and his went up your skirt you realized what was almost happening, reality settling in above the teen hormones, "Rem, Rem." You put both palms up his chest, making him lift from his original position, the lack of his weight and warmth over you almost too much to bear. "You're drunk... and I... I've never done this before so... Could you wait a little more for me?" you were concerned for him, obviously you didn't want him to do anything he would regret, but you still felt embarrassed by your confession, being a virgin at fifteen was not weird at all, it was the norm, but still it felt weird to say it after all the feelings that made you burn for Remus just right now.
"Will always wait for you, Grumpy." He pulled you into a warm, strong, side hug, kissing the top of your head as his hand caressed your arm, up and down.
"Guess I did get a proper snog after cheering on James." You laughed, and he laughed. This was easy, it was familiar, but still... It made you feel like you could implode by how many different sensations you were feeling, emotionally, physically, mentally.
hiii, saw your prompt post!!!! 13 + 16 with remus please (if you don’t do both at the same time just 13, but i thought it’d be a good combo)
send me one of my boys + a prompt
remus + reader ⋆ 13 + 16
The touching starts early, first year early.
Your friends from home wouldn't call you particularly shy, but none of them were there when you got off the Hogwarts Express, after spending the whole trip not exchanging more than a few words with the people who sat with you, you desperately needed to find anyone who looked remotely nice, but still approachable.
Remus was there, quiet, shy beautiful smile, a book in hand you've read before, so you stand by his side, not saying anything at first, but feeling the brush of his hand on yours due to the agitation before the house sorting.
You didn't even know him, still, it helped you feel calmer, if you needed to talk to someone, he was there, you could talk about the book. It was a plan.
And it works, when you both get sorted into the same house, you quickly found your way to his side, and into his group of friends, into his routine and into his heart.
You tell him how being by his side brought you comfort that first day, and being needed, bringing something good to someone's life like that... It was almost too much for an eleven year old to bear, he makes it a point for himself from then on, to be by your side, whenever possible.
When you're eleven you stand side by side, fingers barely touching, he offers his hand to help you when you trip and fall down, your arms touch in class because you're desk mates, your hands touch during lunch because both of you are always going for the same dishes.
At twelve, he flicks your forehead for the first time to tease you, beginning an never ending war, whenever one or the other does something a little bit stupid, or goes a bit too far on the banter, two fingers and a click are coming, begins on the forehead, by the end of the year, the shoulder, the back of the head, arms, hands, cheeks, all fall victim to the awfully irritating war tactic.
At thirteen, Hogsmeade weekends are chiseled by the way Remus takes your arms in his every time you're all about to leave, side by side, arms tangled as his hand went right to his pocket. You try not to feel anxious for it, but you silently count the days for when it's time to go there again.
At fourteen he's already gotten so much taller, and he loves when you rest your head on his shoulder, he's also gotten the habit to almost hug you from behind when you're all standing up and talking, putting his arms on both of your shoulders, crouching down just enough so his chin is on the top of your head.
When you're both fifteen, all these little touches begin to make your stomach twirl around, and when girls look at him you feel like you're going to either throw up or punch them in a rage fit.
You start tracing Remus' scars with your fingers when its healed, and patching it up when its not.
Getting off the train for your sixth year, Remus offers his hand to help you hop off, he doesn't let go when you do, holding hands becomes the norm. Reaching for each other's hand when something good is happening, or something terrible.
He often places his arm around your neck, and you intertwine your fingers with his hand there.
You lay on his lap on the common room, facing the fire place, and he reads to you while his fingers go from rubbing your arm to putting your hair behind your ear. He gives you good morning kisses, one cheek only, but it always lingers, and good night kisses, on your forehead, and it also lingers and always ends in a tight hug, your hands on his waist, his around your shoulders and on your head, pulling you close to him.
You dance drunkenly during parties and it always feels like something is about to happen.
But it doesn't.
He almost doesn't let you go at King's Cross, enjoying every tiny bit of the last touch of the year, only pulling his arm back when even the tip of his fingers can't feel yours.
It's seventeen and he helps you out of the train, and it's the first day of your last year, and his heart feels like it's going to burst if he doesn't do anything about it.
It's not the most romantic place, or the most romantic time, but he knows if he waits too long he's gonna miss too precious of moments with you, so when curfew hits and the few people in the common room begin to leave, he holds you in place and you wait.
It's silent for a while as you both just admire each other, Remus shakes his head a chuckles for a good second, not believing he took so long to actually do this, you laugh along with him.
And it could be awkward. But it isn't, because it's him.
You notice his hair still has that bit of light from the summer, making him almost blonde, but not so much, and he notices how your teeth are nibbling on your lower lip, anxiously waiting for something to happen.
And this time it does, he takes your face with his hands and scooches closer to you, "can i kiss you?"
If it was anyone else, you might feel childish by how hard your heart beat after he finally, finally asks it. You feel like you've been waiting for this moment from the second you saw him years ago, but you're sure you've been dreaming of being even closer to him for at least three years, you want to kiss him since you were fifteen.
You nod in a hurry, afraid he might give up.
"Took you so long to ask."
He barely gets the yes and his hands drop to your waist, lips hungrily touching yours, you kissed back with just as much passion, landing your arms around his neck, his lips are chapped, but soft, yours taste like strawberries from your chapstick and he's going to remember that.
He doesn't even have to try to deepen the kiss himself, you're more than willingly giving him entrance and as your tongues brushed against each other you can feel his breath and yours almost synchronize and think to yourself that might be the most romantic thing you've ever lived through.
But then you part ways for air and he looks into your eyes and you see the same sweet, supportive, caring eyes that have been looking back at you since you were eleven, and realize the mere existence of Remus was the most romantic thing to ever happen to you.
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