Istg Your Writing >>>

istg your writing >>>

Something Human (tasm!PeterParker x Reader)

Summary: “You look so cute when you’re wet,” Peter laughed and you couldn’t help but to join in, only imagining how much of a mess the two of you appeared, soaked to the bone and dishevelled; bags under your eyes, a badge of honour for two grad students nearing the end of another semester of essays, exams, and lab research. “I’m literally going to die of hypothermia,” you retorted. “Well then we should get you out of those clothes,” Peter stated matter-of-factly as the elevator doors closed. — or, the one where you at Peter get caught in the rain Words: 2.4k A/N: established relationship; cursing; so much sexual innuendo; nudity; oral sex (fem!receiving); part 1 of 2 because it'd be cruel not to... Also I actually love this one, so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

The air was alive with electricity, the taste of ozone thick on your tongue as you hurried home from the library, backpack heavy with textbooks and essays you needed to mark for the undergraduate course you were TA-ing for. Overhead, unforgiving clouds, towering and grey, promised a deluge of raging wind and rain. There was a strange atmosphere of anticipation as you and your boyfriend wove through the crowds of New Yorkers and tourists alike, most already beginning to open their umbrellas.

You felt the first thick drop splash onto the tip of your nose and barely had time to consider it before the sky opened up into a powerful torrent, something almost apocalyptic.

“Shit, Y/N!” You heard Peter call out to you over a rumbling clap of thunder, “Let’s go!”

You’d already been hurrying, hand clasped in Peter’s as he towed you along the sidewalk you canvas sneakers soaked through from where they dashed through rapidly forming puddles.

By the time you reached your building, four blocks away, you truly understood the meaning of the word drenched. Rain pooled in your socks, ran between your shoulder blades, and made your hair stick to your face despite the fact that Peter had given you his hoodie and you’d had it pulled up. In the air-conditioned lobby, waiting for the elevator, you felt a chill settling in and shifted closer to Peter whose hair hung limp and dripping around his ears.

“You look so cute when you’re wet,” Peter laughed and you couldn’t help but to join in, only imagining how much of a mess the two of you appeared, soaked to the bone and dishevelled; bags under your eyes, a badge of honour for two grad students nearing the end of another semester of essays, exams, and lab research.

“I’m literally going to die of hypothermia,” you said, happy to hear the ding of the elevator, the pneumatic hiss of doors sliding open. You both stepped inside, Peter pressing the button to take you up to the fifth floor of what had been a six-story walk-up—until the building super had finally fixed the elevator last month. Admittedly, you preferred the stairs, but the elevator was still a novelty that you were going to indulge in for the foreseeable future.

“Well then we should get you out of those clothes,” Peter stated matter-of-factly as the elevator doors closed, grinning when you turned around to stick your tongue out at him. He returned your expression with a wiggle of his eyebrows and you shook your head.

“The one day I didn't check the weather,” you sighed, “And the universe decides to storm with a vengeance.”

“Don’t lie,” Peter teased, “You never check the forecast. It’s why I’m missing so many of my sweaters.” He stared pointedly at the one you wore now, dark green and with wrists threadbare from where Peter’s frenetic fingers had pulled at the fabric.

“Do you want this one back?” you asked teasingly as the elevator bumped to a stop at your floor. Peter looked at you with darkened eyes, something covetous tugging at the corners of his lips as he pressed you into the elevator doors.

“I told you I wanted to get you out of—”

The doors slid open behind you, sending you spilling out into the hallway. You might have stumbled over the elderly woman you recognized as Mrs. Dorsey from three doors down from you if Peter hadn’t caught you round the waist, pulling you up and away from your almost-scandalized looking neighbour. No doubt she’d had some inkling as to what Peter had been about to say. As it was, he nodded politely at her and you imagined that if he was wearing a hat, he’d tip it in her direction.

“Afternoon Mrs. Dorsey,” he greeted her with sweetness like honey in his words, “It’s a mess out there, so be careful.”

“You kids be careful too,” Mrs. Dorsey said lightly, a knowing lilt in her voice, as she stepped into the elevator and you gaped as the doors closed behind her.

“Did she just—?” you shook your head in disbelief.

“I think she did,” Peter laughed, “Who knew that Old Mrs. Dorsey was a flirt?”

“Oh god, Peter,” you cringed, “I help the woman clean her apartment twice a week, please don’t.”

“Okay, okay, sorry.” Peter put his hands up in mock surrender as you fished around in your backpack for the key to your front door, still dripping water onto the carpeted hallway floor. Peter was quicker than you, pulling the key you’d given him a year into your relationship from his keyring in his back pocket and opening the door for you.

“Ladies first,” he grinned, eliciting another eye roll from you as you kicked off your sneakers and unshouldered your backpack. Behind you, Peter did the same. As he closed the door behind him, latching it out of habit, a silence fell between you, eyes meeting across the cramped entryway of your one-bedroom.

“I mopped yesterday,” you said quietly, blinking under the intensity of Peter’s stare, “It’d be a shame to dirty the floors.” A lopsided grin lit up your boyfriend’s face as he took a step closer to you. Despite the cold dampness that had seeped into your bones, you could feel heat radiating off his body, see fire ignited in his eyes. His expressiveness gave you pause, that beautiful way he reacted so passionately to everything was one of the things that had attracted you to him in the first place. He was so real, so very human, and the great irony of it was that he was so much more than that as well.

Peter’s fingers tugging down the zipper of your borrowed hoodie drew you back into the present moment. If he’d said something clever in response to your innuendo—which he most certainly did because he could never help himself—you hadn’t heard it, distracted by the rising of your heartbeat you felt pulsing in your ears.

You allowed him to unzip the sweater fully before you shrugged out of it and your hands moved to the hem of his t-shirt, a soaked through cotton piece in a deep blue colour that you loved on him.

“Off,” you said, lifting his shirt to reveal his lean, muscled abdomen. There were a few faded marks decorating his otherwise smooth skin—physical recollections of last night’s Spider-Man exploits under the cover of a mask and the neon-sprayed darkness of New York.

“As you wish,” Peter whispered, helping you remove his shirt, sliding it over his head as you watched the waterlogged fabric cling to his skin, the droplets trickling down the plane of his chest. He caught you staring and smirked. “I’d tell you to take a picture, but I think you already have a few.”

“Shut up,” you giggled, “If I was dying of hypothermia, I’m so glad you’d run your mouth off instead of helping me.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he licked his lips, “I’d help you in a heartbeat.” True to his word, Peter was pressed up against you in an instant, his hands pulling your t-shirt over your head, tossing it aside to land with a watery squelch somewhere on the tiles. Your shorts were next, his thumb and forefinger expertly flicking the button open and his free hand guiding them down your hips. You shimmied the rest of the way out of them, pulling off your socks as you stepped out of the denim pooled at your feet.

Peter’s eyes ran over your body as your own hands moved to the waistband of his jeans, unclasping his belt with practiced ease and following your own movements, allowing your knees to sink down to the floor as you pulled his pants off the rest of the way, making space for him to step out of them.

You glanced up at him then, blinking innocently before you placed a kiss over his boxers on the place where they bulged away from his body. You slid a hand up the leg opening of his underwear, nails scraping against his thigh until you felt his cock twitch under where your lips still rested over it.

“Y/N,” Peter whispered, his hands coming down to tangle in your damp hair before moving to your shoulders to guide you back up to standing. He pulled you close, one hand resting on the back of your head, the other on your hip, holding you tight. His lips found yours, kissing you just the way you liked—softly at first, but with a fervour that told you he was holding back. You dipped your head to the side, allowing him access to your neck, moaning softly as his teeth scraped over your pulse point and he licked his way back to your jaw.

“Bedroom,” you mumbled, noting the thick lust that was layered in your voice. Peter nodded, taking your hand and pulling you to the very back of your apartment, to the bedroom he often shared with you, especially on nights when he returned after being called away to be more than Peter Parker, drawn away from the warmth of your bed and your arms and your body to save the city before coming back and allowing himself to be just human again.

Your bedroom was a mess, you knew that. Littered with empty coffee cups and study notes, laundry piles you’d been neglecting and a half-finished knitting project on the chair in the corner. But you didn’t care because Peter had seen worse from you, holding your hair back when you got too drunk at your birthday party last year or standing beside you and drying your tears when grant applications for your research were denied.

Your knees hit the back of the bed and you sank into a seated position there, suddenly very aware of the dampness gathering in your cotton underwear, the desperate need for friction between your heated thighs. Peter was dropping to his knees between your legs and you felt your heart flutter with anticipation because he was nothing if not a selfless lover.

“Thought I got you out of all those wet clothes at the front door,” he said, voice low as he pressed two fingers gently against your core, causing your back to arch.

“Guess you missed something,” you replied lightly, your teeth pinching your bottom lip to keep in a moan as he added a bit more pressure.

“Hm,” Peter frowned playfully, “You’re just too distracting.” He kissed each of your knees and trailed his way up your legs, every so often pausing to nibble on the sensitive spots of your inner thighs, spots he knew like the back of his own hand. “Lay down,” he instructed.

You obliged, lowering yourself onto your elbows so you could watch as he hooked a finger through your underwear, glancing up at you quickly. You nodded your permission, allowing him to continue pulling your panties off with aching slowness.

“Like I said,” Peter smiled up at you, clearly enjoying the lewd keenness etched onto your face, “You look cute when you’re wet.”

“Fuck y—” you began to curse at him, but were cut off by the feeling of his lips kissing you gently at your center. Your head fell back, eyes closing of their own accord as Peter tentatively kissed you again, soft open-mouthed kisses at the apex of your thighs before he slid his tongue along your core, humming with delight. His name fell from your lips as he slipped his tongue inside you then. Every inch of your body long-since memorized, he found your clit quickly and lightly lapped at it, making you buck your hips up towards him and giving him an opportunity to slip one hand under your hips to hold you up. His arm wasn’t even shaking with the added effort, goddamn superhuman strength.

As his tongue continued to work figure-8 motions inside you, his other hand slid down to rub your thighs gently before he slipped a finger inside you making you groan with abandon—it would have been embarrassing had you not known how much Peter liked to hear you. His finger gradually curled inside you, stroking you gently as he continued to lap at you with his tongue, finding and steadying his rhythm and pace in mere moments. Your hands wanted to be everywhere on him, but your arms weren’t quite long enough to make that a reality so you settled for clutching at your bedsheets as you whimpered his name.

“Peter,” you sighed, feeling the tension in the pit of your stomach coil tightly, “I’m—”

A familiar shrill—and currently unwelcome—chiming sounded from the entryway. The fucking Spider-Signal, that cell phone Peter had set up so the NYPD could reach him at a moment’s notice. You clenched your eyes shut as Peter’s tempo faltered, distracted by the sound. To his credit, he quickly recovered, finding his way back into the pattern that had been building you toward something mind blowing, but the moment had passed. Peter felt the shift in your body language and his face reappeared from between your legs, a frustrated groan leaving his lips.

“Fuck, Y/N—Fuck!”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, wiggling into a seated position and trying to still your beating heart. “Just make sure whoever cock-blocked me pays for it, yeah?” You opened your arms and beckoned him toward you, allowing his head to fall against your chest.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he promised, and you nodded because you knew he would. Peter stood and sighed, glancing down with a look of defeat at you.

“Be careful,” you warned and this time Peter nodded, both of you knowing that he was always careful, always focused on coming home to you.

“I’ll see you soon, ladybug,” he said, kissing the top of your head before heading toward the bedroom door, toward the backpack carrying his secret identity he’d left by your front door. He paused briefly, turning to you with a smirk. “And no getting off without me, okay?”

You placed a hand over your chest, the other coming up open-palmed beside your face. “Scout’s honour,” you grinned, “I’ll be waiting for you.”

my heart went aww

I Know That Voice

PAIRING: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

WORD COUNT: 2k

CONTENT: some douchebag and a spider, comedy and major fluff

NOTES: while I was trying to think of ideas I thought, what if peter’s best friend just wasn’t a total idiot and actually recognized his voice when they met spider-man? what would that be like? so this is what came out of it. I thought it was really funny, hope you enjoy! last fic of 2021 :)

“who knows maybe he’s like, a really ugly dude with a receding hairline or something-”

peter bursts out laughing, shaking so hard he clutches his hand to his chest.

“you seriously believe that’s what spider-man looks like?” he wheezes.

“no- no! I didn’t say that’s what I think he looks like, I just said that could be a possibility!” you laugh. 

an hour ago when you came over to peter’s house to study, you had every intention to get straight down to business and start the project you two have together that’s due in a week from now. which was also assigned a week ago. doing projects with your best friend are always difficult, but you guys always manage to get a good grade in the end, since you are the two smartest in the grade, maybe aside from your other friend gwen. but when you mentioned to peter that you were 99% sure spider-man waved at you yesterday, it’s been a whole discussion on what you think he looks like. 

“who knows! he could also have no hair, or really bleached hair! or maybe he dresses like a frat boy everyday- or he is a frat boy! just because he’s a hero doesn’t mean he automatically has great fashion sense-” you ramble. 

Keep reading

pirates >>>>

The Devil of the Seas — Prologue

Pirate!Sirius Black x Navy Captain!reader

Word count: 795

Series Masterlist

(y/n) sighed softly, adjusting the jacket of her uniform as she stood outside the throne room. Even after being ten minutes early, she had ended up waiting for over half an hour for the king to let her enter, all the while under the watchful eyes of the two guardsmen positioned on either side of the large wooden doors.

Her gaze flitted around the hallway, landing on the portraits adorning the walls in her pointed efforts to look anywhere except at the two burly men. Detailed portraits of kings and princes, most of them long dead, yet all brought back to life in these works.

She was in the midst of examining the current king's portrait when the heavy doors were thrown open and Lord Snape stormed out of the throne room, face like a thundercloud and nearly knocking her over in his haste. Before she could react to his rudeness, however, the two guards finally shifted from their statue-like positions and gestured for her to enter.

As soon as her foot crossed the threshold, they announced her presence. Loudly.

"Captain (y/n) (y/l/n) of the Royal Navy!" And with that, they closed the doors behind her.

She was exceedingly aware of the sound her boots made as she crossed the distance between the doors and the steps before the thrones, despite the thick red carpet beneath her feet. Head held high, she knew not to look down before she had reached the bottom of those steps, where she bowed deeply. Bowed, for women with her profession did not curtsy.

Not that there were many.

"At your service, sire."

"Ah, captain." The king smiled. "I trust you have been informed about the reason for your summons?"

"Partially. They mentioned a mission, but didn't specify what the task would be."

The king hummed, rising and ambling over to the window. "Tell me, captain, have you ever heard of the man they call the 'Devil of the Seas?'"

"Indeed I have, sire." Aside from following the monarch's movements, (y/n) didn't budge.

"Good. Your assignment is," he paused, turning from the window to look at her, "to capture him. Alive." 

The sudden shock broke through her composure and her eyes widened. "Me? Capture the Black Devil?"

"Indeed. Unless you believe you are not up to the task."

That lit a fire in her. (y/n) (y/l/n) was never one to pass up a challenge, and she certainly did not plan to start now. There was a reason her fellow sailors dubbed her 'Artemis,' she thought to herself, right after reminding herself to get rid of the determined crease in her brow.

"Oh, no, sire, my crew and I are most definitely up for it. Though if I may ask, he has been active for years, nearly a decade, and as far as I am aware, this is the first time you express a desire to send someone after him. What changed, your majesty?"

"What changed? What changed?" His Majesty flew back to the thrones, eyes boring into hers as his voice raised nearly an octave in his agitation. "Do you not recall the day His Highness, the Crown Prince, returned from his journey to the continent? Attacked, robbed by those vicious pirates, they were! Look at him," he cried, waving one arm about wildly, "the poor boy's scarred for life!"

(y/n) snuck a glance at the prince out of the corner of her eye. His Highness sat calmly on his own throne, no longer a boy but a capable young man, preparing to someday take over the kingdom. He glanced up from the documents he was studying to see the scene unfolding before him, with a neutral expression that only showed how unperturbed he was by the whole event. Naturally, he must have gotten used to his father's eccentricities by now. His eyes met hers for a brief second before he returned his attention to his papers and she returned hers to the king.

"I… see, sire. And you wish for him to be brought back here?"

"Naturally, captain. Where else?" The king's features now wore a pleasant smile, and she made a mental note not to forget again how quickly and how easily the moods of royals could change.

"Understood, my liege. Is there anything else?"

"Only that you are to begin preparations at once. That will be all, captain. You are dismissed."

(y/n) made another low bow, and with a murmur of 'your Majesty,' she marched out of the throne room.

As soon as the doors clicked shut behind her, the confident smirk she had been suppressing spread across her face.

It was time to catch the most elusive pirate sailing the seven seas.

hot showers always feel so good 😩. (bonus if they're after a long, tiring day!)

i j realised you're my go to writer for tasm!peter

recs for tasm!peter (some are blurbs and headcanons):

your entire masterlist

secrets and skateparks

being flirty bsf's with peter

baking christmas cookies with peter

watching horror movies with peter

trapped (tw: mentions of self harm, toxic!peter, dark!peter)

recs for marauders:

@/velvetcloxds

@/lonelyhe4rts

both these writers have amazing dialogues and fics :)

enjoy reading darling

-🧚🏼‍♀️

hjada thats so sweet ily

my entire masterlist lmaooo 😩💓

I ALREADY READ FIVE OF THESE ACTUALLY HAHA. In that order. spooky stuff.

and @velvetcloxds is an amazing hooman, I love her works <3 I'll check out the other one as well as all these ficsss 🏃‍♀️🏃‍♀️

THEOOOO!!!

What about me?

Pairing: Ex!Theodore Nott X Gn!Slytherin!Reader

Description: Theo confesses his feelings and mistakes to y/n. The only thing he didn't think about was them.

Warnings: None (let me know if i missed something)

Word count: 1.0k

࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊° ࿔₊°

You sat in the Slytherin common room. Chatting amongst your friends enjoying the last few days before the holiday break. Then there was a moment when everyone's attention diverted to something behind you. Your friend tapped on your shoulder and pointed towards the distraction. When you turned you saw your ex-boyfriend holding a bouquet of flowers walking towards the group of you.

“I’ll see you guys later.” You grabbed your things and walked towards your dorm. You hoped you could avoid any interaction with him. Especially seeing him give flowers to another person. A few minutes later you got a knock on your door.

You opened it to see Theo standing there holding the flowers out to you. “Can we talk?”

You crossed your arms across your chest, “I don't think that there is anything to talk about, Nott.”

“Please don't be like this. Please just listen to what I have to say and if you don't like it, I will leave.” You stood in the doorway debating on whether letting him speak would be worth all the pain it was sure to cause. “Please y/n.”

“Fine, but the instant I tell you to leave, you listen and don’t come back. Understood?”

“Yes. I understand.” You moved your body away from the door, allowing him to move into your room. As you went to close it behind him you could see all of your friends staring at you with wide eyes. You tried to ignore the warning their faces gave you as you turned back to face Theo. He sat on your bed looking just as perfect as he always had in your eyes.

You stared at each other for a moment before you decided to speak. “Did you just come here to stare at me?”

“No. I came here to say I’m sorry. I hate the way we left things and I need you in my life now more than ever. I love you, y/n, and I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.” Those last words hurt, unlike anything. All of the fights, the breakup, nothing hurt more than those three words.

As many times as you had said them to him and silently begged him to say them back he never did. No matter how many fights those words arose, no matter how much those words meant to you they obviously didn’t mean enough for Theo to say them back.

“No.” You shook your head back and forth. “No.”

Theo stood from his spot on your bed and took a few steps toward you. “What do you mean ‘no’?”

“No Theo. You don’t get to say that to me now. I waited months for you to say that to me. Months. Now all of a sudden you love me? I wanted you to say it in your own time. I wanted you to say it but only if you felt that way for me but this is just incredibly selfish. Did you ever once think about how this would affect me? Did you ever think that I was just getting over it? Did you ever think about me at all?”

“I-I did. I thought about you all the time. It was a mistake ever and I mean ever letting you slip away from me. I meant those words. I would shout it across the world if that’s what it would take for you to believe me.”

You stood staring at him in disbelief. “When you came up with this idea to tell me that you love me did you ever take my feelings into consideration? Did you ever think that this would hurt me more than you not saying it?”

For a moment he didn’t speak. He just stood there with an unreadable expression on his face. The feeling of your heartache was tearing through your body. It was the same as the day things ended between the two of you.

“I guess I didn’t. I truly hoped you felt the same way for me as I do for you. I lo-”

“Don’t. Just don't Theo. I was finally moving on. I was finally finding the worth in myself again.”

“I’m sorry y/n. I truly am. I just thought maybe I could fix it. I thought- No. I hoped that you still felt those feelings strongly enough that I could get you back. Letting you go was one of the most stupid things I could have ever done and I’m sorry.”

You took in his words. Letting them sink in. You let the feelings you had for him out of their cage in your heart. Feeling them more than ever. Then tears began pooling in your eyes. As you tried to blink them back they rolled down your cheeks.

Worry covered Theo’s previous expression as he walked closer to you. “Please don't cry, darling. Don't cry because of me. I hate to see you in pain. Regardless of if we are together or not, I care about you more than anyone else and if it were possible to take all of the pain I’ve caused away from you, I would in a heartbeat.”

A knock on the door distracted the both of you from the most intimate moment the two of you had since the breakup. You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and turned around to open the door.

“Sorry to interrupt, but y/n one of the Weasleys is here to see you. I told him he had to wait though. I wanted to make sure you were up for visitors.”

“I- um-” You started to find an excuse before Theo interrupted you.

“No interruption. I was just leaving. So y/n I’ll see you around?” He asked before extending his arms for a small hug. When he pulled away he looked at you with a halfhearted smile.

“Yeah. You will.” You let out a small smile at the tall bronze haired boy as he once again walked out of your life. A part of you wanted him to stop. You wanted to hold him, kiss him, and to be his but you knew that you were both better off without the strain of one another and it is okay. Or at least it will be because time heals all things, even the things that hurt the most.

Taglist: @hs-is-loml @fanfictioniseverything

@sunshinexweasley @squishytomatoes @hvgwartss

LMAO ever-annoying boyfriend pretty much sums up James.

“I’ve got an idea, petal. If I win, you have to kiss me.”

clever mf

Watching your movements as if you created the stars and crafted the sun, watching as if you were a masterpiece sculpted by the gods.

SUMMER SUE YOU FOR MAKING ME TEAR UP. you know whats a masterpiece? THIS FIC. loved all of them but ofc remus has a special place in my heart.

New Years Tropes ¬ Marauders Preference

Plot - Individual blurbs about different New years tropes with each of the Marauders would go (not including Peter) {REQUESTED} I got carried away but HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVELIES <3

Genre - Fluff

James Potter ➥ New Year's Kiss

The grip of that calloused hand broke your focus of the conversation at hand, pulling the attention to the man gripping your forearm, James Potter, otherwise known as you ever-annoying boyfriend.

He mumbles a quick sorry to Diggory before pulling you towards the balcony. Groups of young adults littered throughout the Manor house, drinks flowing, and loud exclamations of New Years resolutions filled the air, as did the laughter that followed some of those resolutions.

“James, are you trying to pull my arm off my body?” Feet moving quickly beneath you as the clasp on your wrist stayed tight. “If I go into the New Year with no arm, I will hurt you.”

Breaking through the bustling bodies as the pair slowed to a stop, standing to overlook the sprawling gardens shining in the moonlight. Letting his hand falter as he turns to face you, a smile portraying his feeling of accomplishment.

“Well, my darling, I wasn’t planning on starting the New Year alone and I remember something about it being lucky to kiss the person you love at midnight.” Reaching to wrap a lone arm across your waist, pulling you against his chest. “And as you are the only one I could ever dream of kissing, I had to make sure you were with me at midnight.”

Distant chants of the countdown blurred behind the pair of you, feeling drunk in the hold of James’ adoring eyes. Taking in every second, every ounce of the atmosphere before deciding what you wanted the final words of the year to be.

3

“James, I love you more than anything”

2

“My darling, I’ll love you till the world stops spinning”

1

Sounds of cheers and fireworks filled the air, but all you could focus on was the feeling of his lips melding with yours. Creating fireworks of their own as your heart sung in happiness, moving closer as your arms hung around his neck. That sweet taste of champagne coloured the kiss, both of your emotions bubbling as if you were intoxicated by love rather than those flutes of bubbles.

“Promise that you will be my New Year’s kiss till we are old and grey?”

“I promise, but I can’t just kiss you on New Year’s. Need to get my fix daily.”

▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️

Sirius Black ➥ Drunken Games

“Oh, enough with the talk, Black. Throw the ball”

The smirk that grew on his face at your remark should have worried you, but with the amount of alcohol coursing through your veins and the excitement pumping through the air, you found that smirk annoyingly hot.

“Sorry princess didn’t realise you were in such a rush to loose” His mob of admirers snickered and giggled at his stupid tease, but he couldn’t care less about them.

His eyes were firmly placed on you, his mouth was only responding if it was towards you, his heart was only beating to the sound of your tune. But he was still Sirius Black, still a playboy who couldn’t possibly be that taken with someone who didn’t fawn over him first.

Stalking towards you, ping-pong rolling between his fingers as he halts just inches away from your flushed figure. Had the music not been so loud, his pounding heart might have given his affection away, but you still hadn’t noticed over the sound of your own heart flooding your ears.

“I’ve got an idea, petal. If I win, you have to kiss me.”

The heat rose to your face at the idea, half of you wished for him to win but the other was spurred by the idea of competing. With the quirk of his eyebrow, he waited nervously for your answer, knowing that the motivation of a kiss from you was enough to fuel him for a year.

“Fine. But if I win, you have to be my personal servant for the first week of January”

If there was anything Sirius hated more, it was answering to someone else, and you knew that he would never agree to this condition. Except, you didn’t realise that he would already bend backwards for whatever you wanted.

Waltzing cockily back to his position at the end of the table as he raised his throwing hand, getting ready to end the game once and for all. Those stormy orbs locked with yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch as he confidently announced. “Deal”

As those syllables fell from his mouth, the ping-pong ball flew through the air before landing with a quiet splash in the cup resting perfectly in front of you. The delicate splash trickled onto your arm as you watched in astonishment, which soon turned to realisation.

Sirius had won, and now you had to kiss the gorgeous idiot.

Caught up in cheers and high-fives from those surrounding him as he turned to humiliate you more. “Well, Y/N, I think yo-“

Halting his sentence as your lips came crashing down onto his. Your hands gripping the fabric of his dress shirt, pulling him closer as the taste of firewhiskey engulfed your sense. For months you had imagined kissing the wizard, but your pride always talked you out of it, and now you wished that this stupid bet had happened sooner.

His shock quickly subsided as he cupped your gentle face with his tattooed hands, kissing you back with such vigour that it felt as if he was expressing every emotion he had saved up. Committing the taste of your lips to memory as his mind tries to catalogue the feelings you conjure up within him.

He broke away as air begged him to refill, and with plumped lips, he muttered. “Is now a bad time to tell you that I’ve wanted to do that since last New Years?”

▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️▪️ ▫️

Remus Lupin ➥ New Year's Confession

The pulse of the party in the common room crept through the walls and into the dorms, sending light rumbles into the bedframe you were currently curled up against. Book in hand with the blankets pooling at your feet, whilst attempting to ring in the New Year your way.

It’s not as if you didn’t enjoy parties but New Years parties within the Gryffindor house were a bit too extreme for your liking. Bodies grinding against each other, Sirius Black trying to shout out jokes, and the younger years struggling to hold their drinks in. It wasn’t your scene, so you decided to welcome the New Year with a good book and plenty of comfort.

Although a part of you had wished to get a kiss at midnight, that part was buried beneath the knowledge that the brunette didn’t feel the way you did. Remus Lupin was a sight to behold and a mystery to solve. A close friend of yours since 2nd year and a hidden crush since 3rd, but he never felt the same and it was clear to see. So, to preserve your heart, you said nothing and tried to minimise any feelings you had for the young wizard.

Unbeknownst to you, that certain brunette wizard was pacing outside your door, trying to find the courage to knock. Lily had made him realise that New Years was the perfect time to reveal his feelings because if something went wrong, it could stay in the previous year, but she never mentioned how to overcome this fear.

How could he tell the person he’s been secretly in love with that he loved them? He couldn’t but he also had to. It was driving him insane to watch you laugh without being the one who caused it, or to see you sad and know that he can’t kiss the tears away. It hurt him to love you in private and a resolution of his was to hurt less.

Three knocks were his tell. Firm but gentle as he hit the thickness of the wooden door, only to be followed by a soft call of welcome.

“Escaping the party so soon, Remmy? I would have assumed you’d at least last till midnight”

Flopping onto your bed, snuggling the duvet underneath stomach as he rested on his elbows to face you. “Not a party without you. So, tell me about whatever fictional man kept you away from this party”

As you babbled on about the love interest in your latest read, rambling yourself away without any focus of the younger werewolf who hung to your every word. Watching your movements as if you created the stars and crafted the sun, watching as if you were a masterpiece sculpted by the gods. Anyone who have been able to notice that look of love in his eyes or the way his body fell calm at the sound of your voice.

A small alarm went off from the muggle watch that laid on your bedside, pulling you from your rant about how this character was better off without the protagonist and reminding of the time.

“Only 1 minute to midnight”

“Really? I swear it was only 11 o’clock two minutes ago.” His nerves crept up again but he steadied them as watched you place your book to the side and inch ever-so slightly closer to his figure. “I need to tell you something because if it goes wrong, I’d like to leave it in this year and never speak of it in the New Year, sound good?”

That hurried and firm tone was not something Remus often used with you, so gently you nodded and offered a comforting smile to assure him that nothing he could say would go wrong.

“I’m in love with you”

His announcement halted your breath and caused your heart to skip a beat, before increasing in speed tenfold. Tongue tied as he continued on with his confession, almost out of nerves rather than need for explanation.

“Since 2nd year, but back then it was just a little crush and I thought it would go away but no, it just grew. So, here I am in our 7th year and I am so in love with you it hurts. All I want is to hold you, kiss you and make you smile, but I can’t because I was afraid.” Sucking in a steady breath as he adds “If you don’t feel the same then please pretend I never said anything and when the clock strikes midnight, we go back to being friends because I can’t be without you even if it is just as friends.”

The distant chants of ‘Happy New Year’ were drowned by the heavy silence that hung between the pair, heart pounding in sync unknown to their owners. You inched forward as you reached for his scarred hand, clutching it as you spoke in a confident whisper.

“I love you too Remmy, always have.”

Feeling his body lunge forward to embrace you, an act of sheer joy at the love that had been confessed. Limbs tangled together as his face lay dangerously near yours, cheeks flushed at the sudden proximity.

You carefully leant forward to connect your lips. Placing a tender chaste kiss against the chapped softness of his own, yearning for that gentle intimacy of the man you loved but not wanting to be bold in your first affection.

“Happy New Year, Moony.”

“Happy New Year, my love.”

And with that, he pulled you back in for a kiss filled with the years of untold passion.

Taglist - @yogirl-willow @ildm4ev @silverose365 @fairycirclebrat @carmellasworld @fairydxll @d22malfoys @merlinsdaughter19 @scandalous-chaos @timmyslover @comfort-reads @gracepotter26 @bite-me-you-fiend @euyiana