Just Another Player In Your Drinking Games (rt)

just another player in your drinking games (rt)

based on this song

✮ wc : 2k

✮ content : angst, clueless (douche) richie

✮ synopsis : this isn’t the cliche first kiss with richie that she had hoped for. this isn’t the richie she had romanticized in her head.

✮ a/n : this is a rewrite of this! this one is so much better and written completely different. this is so long overdue and so many people have been asking for a part 2 to this but i figured before i write a part 2 i might as well rewrite it because my writings progressed from a year ago. i’m satisfied with this fix being a one and done but if you have ideas of a part 2 lmk.

richie was there first. he sits on one of the extra-wide lawn chairs that’s tucked away in the corner of sally mueller’s yard. richie’s knowledge of the girl was limited to ben describing her as a “stuck-up snob due to her rich family with nice clothes and permed hair.” (so basically a duplicate of greta keene and the other one. richie doesn't remember her name– maybe it’s the buzz he’s starting to get. marie? maria? something like that.)

somewhere from, what richie decided, was the largest backyard he has ever stepped onto, beverly calls. “rich!” he watches her as she trips over herself, trying her best to keep her shaky hands steady, half of the contents in the red solo cups clasped in her hands already spilling onto the floor.

extending her arm, beverly grins from ear to ear. “for you.” she sits at richie’s feet as he breathes an inadequate thank you. cringing at the sticky feeling, he thinks for a moment before opening his mouth, rubbing his palm off on his jeans. “where’s yn?” richie says with none of his usual smartmouth, mumbling around the rim of his drink.

he instantly regrets it. beverly’s been convinced that the boy was in love with her since they were eleven— he’s too drunk to figure out how many years ago that is. he figures bev is too because it completely flys over her head. it’s a shame, normally she would’ve jumped at the chance to pinch his arm, tease him about ashley and yn and ashley and yn and ashley—”

“i was at her house like–” beverly’s eyes dart down to her wristwatch. “thirty minutes ago. we got ready at her place but she wanted to stop by at keenes’ and told me to get a head start.”

“did she forget that you were a lightweight?” richie says amused as beverly yawns. “come on man, you’ve been here, what? two minutes?”

“shut up, stan’s inside, go help him. the chess clubs trying to rope him into their... i dunno... cult?”

after leaving bev with one of her girlfriends he steps into the house, suddenly aware of how flushed his cheeks are. “richie?” finally. he exhaled a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “ynn.” richie melts.

“why are you here?” there’s concern in her voice, she sounds genuine. “why... wouldn’t i be?”

yn’s confused but it was common for richie to mess about. she goes back and forth before deciding to answer seriously. “yesterday…”

richie visibly deflated. “come on, ynn” he whined, tugging on her sleeve. “are you serious right now. rich, we talked about this you can’t just pretend like–” he threw his head back, hand making it’s way down his red face, “it’s not a big deal. just–” god, he’s a child. yn was friends with a child. “just– let’s do shots.” yn just stared at him open-mouthed, “you want to cheer me up so bad, so be my partner in a round of beer pong.” “this is so unhealthy.”

yn stood awkwardly next to richie, across from them were curtis allen and marcia fadden. that’s the name he was trying to remember. richie tugs on her sleeve as he picks up the red solo cup curtis just landed his ball in, reaching in and delicately handing the light ball to yn before knocking back the contents of the cup. yn languidly tossed the ball, it bounces, and misses. she sighs and turns to richie with a look on her face. are you happy now? marcia drunkenly bends over, clutching her stomach as she searches for the dainty ball.

yn’s so over this— but richie’s mind is somewhere else.

she follows his gaze and eventually lands on ashley martin. yn’s bottom lip juts forward for a second before she bites down on it, hard. ashley’s here alone, she’s in a pretty dress. she’s visibly glowing. yn bites harder on her lip as she feels jealous. she feels like she needs to throw up.

she turns back to richie, he’s mesmerized. who wouldn't be. he snaps out of it when ashley throws him a smile. “hey, you have another turn. i’llberightback–” he doesn't spare yn a glance, and he’s gone.

she’s left wide-eyed and embarrassed, distracted, the same ping pong ball from earlier lands in one of her cups, and marcia squeals. yn reaches for it but is stopped by fingers holding her hand back. “don’t fucking drink that. let’s go.” eddie grimaces and leads her away from the make-shift beer pong table. a “hey!” and a “sore loser!” going into her ear and coming out the other as she follows eddie out the house onto the lawn.

“you have to talk some sense into richie.”

“what? about what?” eddie pulls a face. “i don’t have the energy for this right now. i just walked past richie and ashley talking. don’t know what the last reason they broke up was or even how they resolved it and sure ashley’s great and all but she’s fucking crazy and i can’t handle another meltdown from richie when she breaks up with him for the fucking twelfth time.” it’s silent for a second before eddie speaks again. “that’s why you guys are weird right now, right?”

yn turns her head to the side, thinking before taking a seat on the couch that had been drunkenly pulled onto the lawn by god knows who. “he came in through my window at like three in the morning and looked like he was about to punch a wall down. he didn't say anything though.”

“bingo.” eddie rolls his eyes and falls back onto the couch next to yn. “just try and if he tells you to fuck off you can say i told you so; next time he throws a tantrum. i would do it but i can’t deal with him right now and my mom also needs me home like yesterday. i am so fucking dead and grounded. i can’t drive you and ben to the quarry tomorrow. sorry, hope you still get to do your nerdy watercolor shit.”

yn feels a crease in her eyebrow as she struggles to keep up with what eddie’s rambling on about. “it’s good. i’ll get a ride with stan or something— speak of the devil.”

“no fucking way— after the way you trashed my car last time? i’ll think about it though because i know it was mostly bev and not you.” stan says nonchalantly, he doesn't stop walking to greet yn, his main goal right now to get beverly into the car. “i was super stoned, that doesn't count.” beverly slurs, hand gripped in stanley’s. not in a romantic way but almost a forceful one. “i need to get her home before she starts whatever she was trying to start over there.” stan stops to explain before walking, purpose in his strides, once more.

“gotta go, he’s my ride.” eddie says before jogging to catch up with the pair. a “see you!” and drunken “byyyee!” reverberating around the lawn from her friends.

“talk to rich!” is the last thing eddie booms before they take a turn outside of the lawn and disappear from yn’s eyesight. yn can imagine stan’s low reply of ‘talk to rich about what?’ that would send eddie into a spiral.

it had been about five minutes before a hand was placed on yn’s shoulder. she didn’t believe in god but if he was real he’d be laughing down at her right about now. “hey, sorry i ditched, what’ve you been up to?” it’s richie, he steps over the back of the couch and drops down next to yn. he’s using a twizzler as a straw (something bill showed him) as he sips on the odd purple liquid in his drink.

“not much. you just missed stan, bev and eds, actually.” “oooh— no shit.” richie smirks as he runs his fingers across the brown couch, falling against it with a soft twirl. richie’s hair is in his flushed face as he turns to face her. “how much did you have to drink after beer pong?” yn cross-examined the boy‘s face.

richie puffs his cheeks out before jokingly darting his eyes around. “i’m not sure… about to have a lot more though.” he grins before nodding his head towards something behind the couch with a raised brow. yn straightens her back to look at what her friend was motioning at. she feels her heart drop to her ass as her eyes land on ashley.

she clears her throat before turning back. “you’re back with ashley?“ “oh yeah.” he says lamely, running his tongue across the inside of his cheek. “i can’t believe you.” she sighs, shifting in her seat while she brings her converse clad feet onto the couch— the only thing separating her knees and chest being her crossed arms.

“ynn, don’t be like that.” he weakly drawls out. “rich, what’s wrong with you? you were sobbing cause of her yesterday.” she raises her fingers to her forehead as she smooths out the crease in between her brows. “it wasn’t like that. that was a misunderstanding.”

she needs him to stop thinking with his dick— god, richie needs a good slap in the face. “was it, really? even eddie’s fed up with you and ashley.”

“you and eds are talking shit about my love life?”

“what love life.”

richie scoffs dramatically before letting a laugh slip. “jeez, yn. tell me how you really feel.” drunk richie would never let that comment slide, she thinks. does she need to make the first move? is that it?

god, this is so cliche. now she’s going to lean in and after, he’s going to admit his undying love for her.

“i just care about you a lot— ok?”

“ok.” he smiled clumsily and his eyes glisten. “i care about you too.” the warmth in his cheeks are still prominent but now yn can clearly see the sharp points of his face highlighted by the moonlight. his cheekbones, nose, jawline, and just above his eyebrows all luminous.

she feels a lump form in her throat at that detail. so she waits. waits for the lump to disappear and waits for richie to say something snarky— he doesn’t.

then, she kisses him. richie’s rigid and it’s awkward, and when she pulls away he doesn't look into her eyes. she’s on fire and her breaths are shallow.

africa by toto starts playing through the speakers for the second time that night when she finally decides to speak. “holy shit–” all she can do is swear at herself over and over in her head as she tries to come up with an apology.

this isn’t the cliche first kiss with richie that she had hoped for. this isn’t the richie she had romanticized in her head.

“rich... are you ready to go?” it’s ashley again, purse under her arm and car keys in her hand, she puts the other hand on richie’s shoulder. “um,” he glances at yn before pausing and gets up from his seat next to her. his cheeks are no longer red and his carefree nature is gone. “yeah.” richie’s already stumbling towards ashley’s car and yn’s heart splits.

ashley greets yn with a wave and bright smile before catching up to richie— just like that, she’s left alone for the second time that night.

yn and richie don’t speak again that night, but she receives a call the day after. (in which she apologized for the kiss while he laughed it off.) on good terms again, richie would still inevitably use yn as a safe haven but, inescapably, she would always find herself alone at the end of the night, and the night after that, and the one after that.

★ she/her, 18

★ LINKS masterlist

★ RECENT UPDATES : if you’re too shy (let me know) (pp)

REQUESTS: open

WIPS & UPCOMING FICS…

tba

©️ 2021 tablefourtwo

if you’re too shy (let me know) (pp)

inspired by this euphoria scene. peter helps his longtime crush take nudes that are meant for someone else. angst, tension, thirdwheel!peter. [0.9k]

from fighting back against his long term bully, eugene ‘flash’ thompson, to taking down giant lizards, this was probably the most life threatening, hazardous situation peter has ever gotten himself into. he should honestly be dead by now considering how long he’s been holding his breath in for.

if you’re too shy (let me know) by the 1975 plays in the background while he makes this assumption, soothingly and absently, as if it’s mocking peter. he almost forgets his current position. almost. peter’s on his knees in front of your bed, watching, eyes glazed over, as you reposition yourself above him.

“i feel like that’s good.” you mumble, wrapping your hand around his own that was currently holding your phone at an upward angle. “does it look real? does it look like i’m taking it?” you smiled, eyes wide and still directed at the phone camera.

peter smiles back for a moment before realising that your smile, tight, with your pearly whites exposed, wasn’t for him. no, these were for someone peter didn’t even know the name of, he tries to remember if he even bothered asking.

“maybe try to loosen up a bit, but straighten up your posture, still.” peter tries to smirk, right corner of his lip forcibly pulled up into a desperate attempt at hiding what he truly felt. what he didn’t even know he felt.

there’s something about your stare that makes peter nervous and makes him say things that he doesn’t mean. like just now— you looked perfect and the mystery man on your phone would be lucky enough to even receive one of these photos in the first place.

peter tenses at the thought, god i sound like a simp. serves you right for agreeing to do this, he thinks.

“are you okay? your hand is like— really warm.” your eyes meet his. “no- yeah, yeah, yeah. that’s good. um, maybe tilt your head down a bit.” peter suggested, his other hand that wasn’t under yours motioning at his own chin.

you hummed, muttering a “good call, that angle probably wasn’t doing it for me.” while leaning your head down a bit, eyes meeting the phone lense once again.

peter wanted to say something along the lines of ‘no angle could possibly do that.’ or ‘every angle does it for you.’ but decided against it, considering the fact that you were probably already uncomfortable.

“make me look good.” you mumbled, biting your lips subtlety for the camera. “always.” peter scoffs jokingly, desperately trying to loosen up in his awkward position.

you were in your nicest bra, a baby pink victoria secret one that you contemplated buying for a while. the dainty undergarment had a small heart shaped golden charm tied into it that produced a soft and dreamy glare in front of the camera.

meeting your own eyes in your vanity mirror, the unease finally caught up to you. “this is a really bad angle for me.” “no it isn’t, shut up.” peter murmurs back but his eyes betray his unbothered façade, quickly lifting up to yours, ready to stop the second you get uncomfortable. “how do i turn on grids on this?” peter jokes, hoping to get to see your pretty smile again.

he gets what he wants because a second later you bark out a laugh. “grids? peter this isn’t vogue.” you grin, and the nerdy joke, peter decides, was 100% worth it when he looks up and realises that your gaze is on him.

it takes a moment for him to snakily retort back.

“okay, excuse me for not making this another one of your blurry, horizontal snapchats where you can barley see anything. i’m an artist, you know. i have to hold myself up to a standard. even if they are your nudes.” peter hopes that the lighthearted joke will throw you off on how rigid he was being, and if you hadn’t been throwing your head back laughing at his sarcasm, you would’ve noticed the deep flush in his cheeks.

“you’re such a dork.” you jabbed, lifting the corners of your lips while doing so. “the baby my neighbour paid me to shoot was a better model than you.” he retorts back. and for a while, it’s intimate, the situation. it’s almost something romantic, and peter thinks it’s worth being the third wheel to you and the mystery man on your phone if it means you’re going to smile and laugh at every one of his jokes and looks.

“do you want a couple with portrait mode on?” he jokes, for what he presumes is the forth time. god, parker, give it a rest, he thinks. finally lowering your phone and exiting the camera app. his repetition doesn’t stop you from giggling. “fuck off.”

he hands your phone to you and you move to lay on your stomach, while you scroll through the photos. “wait this one actually looks like i took it.” you look up at peter, grinning. “right?” he’s still on the floor, gaze dreamy, when he replies; “yeah.”

“these are amazing. thanks, pete.” you pick out your favourite one and send it to the mystery man before getting up to put your shirt back on, feeling peter’s eyes on you the whole time.

“are you checking me out?” you laugh, pulling your shirt over your head. the tension between you two materialising as heat in your cheeks.

peter scoffs, “you wish.” thanking god that your shirt was over your head to miss the fact that his eyes were momentarily bulging out of his head.

peter could get used to this, to you, and the sense of intimacy that was involved in being around you.

ding!

“peter, he replied!”

Insect repellent makes bugs go away (r.t)

summary reader and richie decide to replace patrick hockstetter’s vodka with insect repellent. ( based on this )

warnings bit of drinking, swearing, rushed ending

“Hurry the fuck up.” Richie groaned, repeatedly tapping his foot, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose for the seventh time.

“I’m trying! Class doesn’t end for another twenty minutes will you cool it?” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, pulling her sleeve up. “Alright, so it’s thirty-eight... twenty-four...” she swiftly turned the lock to its respective numbers while she talked.

The two we’re currently in front of Patrick Hockstetter’s locker in the middle of the third period, Patrick’s locker combination (courtesy of Eddie), messily scribbled on (Y/N)’s arm.

“Is that a one or a seven?” (Y/N) asked, holding her arm out to Richie, “Christ, who wrote this? I dunno try both, better yet-” Richie was cut off by the sound of his fist striking against the locker.

“Shit, that usually works with mine.” Richie frowned at the still shut locker. “Oh my god, move.” (Y/N) pleaded as she briefly caught sight of Richie’s digital clock. Did that all take 4 minutes?

(Y/N) grasper the lock a second time and twisted it to seven, unlatching the ugly green colored locker with a satisfying pop.

“Thank you, Eddie.” Richie grinned coolly, immediately going for Patrick’s backpack. “Shit, he was right.” Richie’s eyes were rounding as he pulled out two miniature bottles of vodka Richie recognized from Mr. Keene's store.

“Yeah, he was.” (Y/N) smirked, taking a bottle from Richie.

He, who they were both referring to, was Stan. The boy was closely watching the bowers gang for days after hearing what they had done to Mike, desperately searching for anything he could use against them. “Hey! I’m not stalking them; I’m just people watching.” (Y/N) found it funny nonetheless.

Richie grimaced as (Y/N) unscrewed the bottle and started pouring all its contents into an empty trash can nearby. “Is that really necessary?”

“What, you wanna get wasted now?” (Y/N) teased. “This is necessary, Rich! We have to show them that we are not to be messed with! He killed Mike’s dog, remember?“

Richie grimaced at that. “How could I forget.” He shuts his eyes, trying to shake the image out of his head.

(Y/N) was in the middle of hastily taking the plastic wrapping off of the second one before turning to Richie, “Here,” (Y/N) held out the bottle to him, and he looked at her in a skeptical look. “Fuck off.” He scoffed playfully, smiling widely now. “No, I’m serious!” She laughed. “I mean... you look like you need it.” She said sarcastically.

She was surprised when he took it but chose not to speak against it. Richie warily sniffed the bottle, grimacing at the smell before slowly downing a quarter of it. “Shit, Tozier.” (Y/N) gasped excitedly before taking a sip. “Just don’t tell Bill.” She exclaimed before pouring the rest of it into the bin with the first one.

“Alright, give,”

Richie then dove into his backpack in a rush, searching for the insect repellent they had bought a few days ago. Handing the bottle to (Y/N), she smiled in a silent thanks and twisted the spray nozzle off of the container.

“Shit, we should’ve splurged a bit and get one that actually smells like shit.” (Y/N) complained as she brought the bottle away from her nose, now pouring it into the two small vodka glasses. Richie chuckled from his position leaning against a locker, “Nah, I think he’ll get the message.” He said not meeting her eyes, instead, digging through Patrick’s backpack, snatching the pack of cigarettes out while (Y/N) wasn’t watching, placing one between his lips.

“This is even, right?” (Y/N) held up the two, now filled glasses to show Richie, only getting a shrug in response. “Doesn’t matter.” He took them and carelessly threw them back into Patrick’s backpack.

“So not that I love spending quality time with you, babe.” Richie joker, mumbling around the cigarette.

He zipped the bag back up, holding it by its strap as he put it back in the locker. He plucked the cigarette from his mouth so he could speak. “But tell me again why any of the other losers couldn’t do this?”

“Smooth, Tozier.” (Y/N) plucked a Twizzler out of Patrick’s locker, “Bev and Ben have a test that they can’t miss, Bill has some presentation, Eddie had something too, but I forgot-”

“That’s bull,” Richie rolled his eyes, mumbling something about them being “pussies” before pausing, “wait... are we on a date right now?” Richie turned to (Y/N) accusingly.

“Please,” (Y/N) laughed, reviving an offended smack from the boy. Ignoring him, she stretched dramatically before yawning. “Time?”

“Ten thirty, let’s get outta here.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Shit.” (Y/N) quietly shut Patrick’s locker. Richie’s eyes furrowed at her before turning around.

“What the fuck are you losers doing with my shit?” Patrick Hockstetter, probably kicked out of class for talking back to the teacher, spat, walking towards the pair. “Shit, run!” Richie stuck the cigarette back in his mouth before reaching for  (Y/N)’s hand.

Just before turning, (Y/N) made an impulse decision and kicked the vodka filled trash can, the contents spilling all over the floor. (Y/N) didn’t turn to see Patrick’s reaction as Richie dashed out of the hallway, red converse squeaking as they made contact with the ground.

The two settled to hide behind a car in the school parking lot, deciding to wait until break before actually leaving. “This was kinda fun. We should- we should do it again.” Richie stammered quietly next to her, playing with the unlit cigarette.

(Y/N) stifled a giggle and held her breath to stop herself from calling him cute. “Yeah, Rich, I’ll let you know when Henry pants’ Stan next.”

“You know what I mean.” Richie rolls his eyes, scratching his neck nervously. (Y/N) smiled.

“And by the way,” Richie says, finally turning to face her. “The way you wasted all that vodka? That was kinda hot.”

(Y/N) snickered, shoving Richie lightly. They, for sure, would have to do this again.

far to fall [remus lupin x reader]

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

“Remus, don't be cruel. Don't be."

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

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

word count: 7.8k

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

requested by @marimorena06 here

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

You were in love with your best friend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Sirius tells Remus everything!”

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

Your hackles lowered. “Thank you.”

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

“Cheers,” James said.

“Thanks,” you said.

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

“When will Lily be joining us?”

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

“Not long now.”

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

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

“With Marlene.”

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

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

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

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

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

“About?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You let out a loud, panicked exhale.

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

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

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

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

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

“Two seconds!” you called, voice rough.

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

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

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

“Everything okay?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

“Right. Uh, I’ll go find something.”

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

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

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

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

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

You had to believe he couldn’t.

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

“Is it bad?” he asked in concern.

“It’s fine. Where’s Lily?”

“Sitting, like she should be.”

“I told her that too.”

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

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

“You need anything else?”

“No.”

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

“Tell him it’s hormones.”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t mention it,” you said weakly.

“Everything okay?” Remus asked you.

“Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you shut it?” you hissed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I guess you would.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m not whipped.”

“And I’m not ruggedly handsome.”

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

“It’s not the same.”

“How?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t.”

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

“It’s not that easy.”

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

“Not this.”

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

“She’s more than nice.”

“Yeah, get a load of you.”

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

You leaned back against your chair in a slump.

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

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

Hormones. Huh.

“You want to go home?” He asked you.

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

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

“Margaritas?”

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

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

-

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

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

“Remus will manage me!” you giggled.

Remus laughed. “Don’t I always.”

“I resent that.”

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

“I’m not the boss of her.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Loser,” you mumbled.

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

You giggled. “Not you, Rem.”

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

“Snooze loose.”

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

“I’m not that drunk.”

Everyone at the table looked at you sympathetically.

“You guys suck.”

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

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

“Not me,” James said.

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

“Because you look wide awake.”

“Toss off, Moony.”

I volunteer, you thought to yourself. You laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got a date with Miss McKinnon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready?” he asked.

“Yes sir.”

“1, 2-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I?”

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

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

“Really?”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s your bed,” you repeated.

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

“You’re being unfair.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

9:42AM.

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

What a sweetheart, you thought to yourself wistfully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re fully dressed.”

“What?”

He opened his eyes, looking down at himself.

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

“Oh, sorry. I can take them off.”

“Would you?” he asked, faux-eager.

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

“Don’t tease.”

“I want breakfast and we’re late.”

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

-

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

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

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

“I’m not having sex with Remus.”

“You sound unhappy about that.”

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

“It’s almost 11AM.”

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

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

“I am unhappy about it,” you admitted.

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

“Of what?”

“So, you’re gonna seduce him?”

“Are you joking?”

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

“I could do neither.”

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

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

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

“Thanks,” you said.

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

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

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

“I’m not planning anything.”

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

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

-

It went like this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What do you want?"

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

Your face fell. "Sirius-"

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

You frowned. "James told you?"

"I guessed."

"With prompting?"

He didn't answer, which was answer enough.

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

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

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

"Then what's wrong?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You drew the short straw," you grumbled.

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

"Marriage is not on the cards."

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

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

"Love is supposed to make you happy."

"He does!"

"Then why won't you tell him?"

You thought about this for a long time.

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

You inhaled.

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

-

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

"Woodsmoke," James said. "Boom."

He unwrapped his hand.

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

"I need to buy a ring."

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

"She loves me."

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

"She loves me."

"She does."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"She asked me not to."

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

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

"I'm an excellent kisser."

"You sound like Sirius."

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

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

"How do I tell her?"

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

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

Sirius was shutting his door gently behind him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You said something. "What?" he called.

"Yes! Come in!"

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

"Cramps?"

"What?"

"Is it your period?"

"No."

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

He took a deep breath.

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

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

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

He hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wait, stop," you said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"1, 2-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He gasped. "Demon."

"Who, me?"

"Yes, you. Sent to corrupt me."

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

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

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

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

"Excited to do lots of things to you."

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

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

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

"The right time."

"Doesn't it feel like now?"

"I just want you to be sure."

"I'm sure. Are you?"

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

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

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

"Like this one, do you?"

"Can't you tell?"

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

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

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

"You always wear stuff like this?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Do they bother you?" he asked.

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

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

"You're so handsome."

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

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

"You imagine me like this?"

"Only every night."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You lifted yourself to escape his ministrations.

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

"Mh-hmm."

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

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

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

"I thought I was tall? Handsome?"

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

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

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

"Stay still, sweetheart."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can we go faster?"

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

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

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

"Pretty baby, so pretty spread open like this"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Messy,” you said.

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

“I more than like you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a rough fuck, Lupin.”

“That wasn’t too rough, was it?”

“You could go rougher.”

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

“Maybe not today,” you mumbled.

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

You dotted lazy kisses over his freckled shoulder.

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

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

“I am not the strange one.”

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

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

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

-

James invited you over with a bottle of champagne.

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

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

“She’s always like that,” Remus said.

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

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

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

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

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

<3

A Night Out With Thee Richie Tozier (r.t)

anonymous : cliche prompt #42 with Richie? I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having

summary Richie saves (Y/N) from a horrible date with Derry high school’s resident golden boy.

warnings swearing, drinking

(Y/N) thought that she’d be smarter than to let herself get into this situation. Obviously, she wasn’t.

A Waffle House? For a first date? Maybe she was being too snobbish but she certainly expected more from Derry High School’s Basketball Captain.

She nodded her head along to whatever Lance was saying probably a bit too eagerly, wanting him to just shut up about sports.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom but uh I’ll be right back.” Lance smirked. (Y/N) hummed and sent him a tight lipped smile.

Picking at her barely touched plate of food, she didn’t notice the door to the dinner open and close.

“Overdressed much?” Richie snorted, more of a question than a statement. “What the fuck are you doing here? Dressed like that.” He snickered, taking in the scene in front of him.

“Asshole,” (Y/N) frowned, “I’m on a date.” She says in a hushed tone, face flushing.

Richie and (Y/N) weren’t close, not by a long shot, but they were close enough for her to call him asshole and for him to not take it to heart.

“With who? Cause’ shit this is weird.” He sniffles awkwardly before taking a seat in her dates chair.

“I didn’t know Lance was taking me to get breakfast food for dinner.” (Y/N) said hurriedly, rolling her eyes, careful not to rub her eyes in frustration, the mascara she so carefully applied would be ruined.

“Lance... Lance Evans?” Richie asked in disbelief. 

(Y/N) groaned and Richie all but choked, almost falling off his chair.

“I know he didn’t let me into the team but... I didn’t know the guy could be so,” Richie gestured to (Y/N), the food in front of her and their current setting. “Charming.” He seemed satisfied. biting back his grin with little to no effort.

“Yeah and he’s gonna be out here any second so,” (Y/N) shrugged and nodded to the exit, the sensible thing for Richie to do would be to walk away, but leaving (Y/N) there would be heartless. Right?

Richie rolled his eyes, “okay fine. Let’s go.” Richie stood up, abroptly. “What?”

“You’re clearly having a horrible time, princess. Breakfast and more basketball talk with Evans or a night out with Thee Trashmouth Tozier? Not even a question.” He scoffed playfully.

(Y/N)’s brows furrowed in a playfully judgemental manner. He was right. Listen to Lance talk about how he ‘’made it rain’ at last Friday’s game or leave right now with Richie. “Where are we going?”

“Well, I actually just got intoa’ fight with the big sis.” Richie grinned boyishly, following (Y/N) out the door. “So you came here?” “This is my fuckin’ spot, babe! I always come here.”

(Y/N) waited while Richie unlocked his car and when he did, he opened the rear door for her. She wanted to make a joke about how Richie was such a gentleman but cringed sat herself and held it back instead.

Richie huffed as he started the engine, “your place?” He asked through a smirk cheekily. “You wish.” (Y/N) laughed, snorting.

“So what did you do to piss your sister off so bad?” (Y/N) asked Richie as she absentmindedly played with the straw of her cherry slushy, eyes fixed on the street fighter character Richie was currently playing as.

His hand movements sped up and got rougher as he began to loose, a quick glance at (Y/N) being enough to mess with his flow, the pixelated character on the bright screen grunting as it fell to the ground, dead. Game over.

He turned to her and she took his look in. Really took him in for the first time ever. His face was flushed a light pink, hair a mess, but his eyes. His eyes were different tonight, for the first time, they didn’t have any sense of mischief behind them, Richie didn’t feel the need to mess with (Y/N) for her attention or do something that might hurt himself for it either.

“What? You think I’m paying for all of this with my own hard earned money?” He joked dramatically, gesturing at the plastic bag filled with arcade tokens and (Y/N)’s slushy. “So you robbed her?” (Y/N) grimaced from the brain freeze as well as the thought of Richie stealing from his sister.

“Uh uh; borrowed.” He said matter-of-factly as he, for the third time that night, pushed two tokens into the street fighter machine.

“And what’re you doing drinking that shit?” Richie reaches into his pocket and took out a half full miniature bottle of absolut vodka. “You bought that with your sisters money too?” (Y/N) asked curiously. “No, Mr. Keene’s jus a dumbass.”

“What? He deserves it! Fuckin’ creep...” Richie responded to (Y/N)’s sour look as he shivered at the mention of the drug store owner.

“Here.” Richie quickly unscrewed the small bottle, working quick as he turned the glass upside down, piercing the slushy in (Y/N)’s hand as he impaled it neck deep into her drink, the once cherry red color diluting as the alcohol seeped into the slush.

(Y/N) didnt complain, only holding it away from Richie when he tried to grab at it.

“No way. Your driving me home.” She said teasingly as she sipped at the concoction.

“Whatever.” Richie rolled his eyes, hand gripping the joystick under him as he’s done hundreds of times, swiveling it around a bit and finally pressing the “play” button.

(Y/N) smilled, cheeks flushing, Richie would make a joke about it but she would swear that it was from the alcohol.