Marauder Fanfiction - Tumblr Posts
Hello. I don’t really know how to do this properly
Can you make something where the reader is like two/three years younger then the marauders and like grew up next to James so he’s like her older brother type thing? Completely fine if not but this has been stuck in my head
(zero romance pls if you do pls)
thank you so much for the request!! ♡ i tried to play around with the plot a little :)
always | j.p.
tw: fluff
james potter x reader (platonic)
Your hands instinctively come up to shield your face as confetti rains down in the Great Hall for the third time that evening.
A frown settles on your face as you slowly lower your arms, feeling the split second when your hand comes into contact with a drink on the refreshments table and knocks it to the ground. A frustrated groan escapes your lips.
You flick the remnants of the drink off your hand and sigh, moving away from the table to go lean on another wall. You shuffle your way through the various couples giggling and dancing and snogging, feeling your resentment grow by the second. Once you’ve safely reached the other side of the mob in the middle of the hall, your eyes rake over the place.
As usual, Hogwarts was shimmering with splendour for the annual ball. Fairy lights adorned the ceilings, and decorated tables were laden with every type of food you could think of. The long tables in the centre had been cleared to allow for dancing, while the Weird Sisters played popular tunes at the front of the hall.
You tried not to let it get to you, but as you awkwardly shuffle around to make way for couples trying to get past you, a dull ache makes its way into your heart.
Kingsley Shacklebolt had very sweetly asked you to the school dance a couple of days ago and you had agreed. The whole evening had been spent in preparation for tonight, doing makeup with the girls and putting on your lovely dress adorned with golden butterflies. But Kingsley fell terribly ill an hour before the dance, and couldn’t muster the strength to even get out of bed.
It was unfortunate, something you were so looking forward to going wrong like this. Especially since you really really liked Kingsley.
You sigh, loneliness and embarrassment starting to get the better of you as you resign yourself to staying as an onlooker. Couples fade in and out of your vision, twirling and prancing around. A huff of resentment escapes you as you try not to glare too hard at those having fun.
Just when you stand up straight, deciding that there was no point staying, you feel a hand on your shoulder and startle. Turning around, you come face-to-face with a grinning James Potter.
“Hey Pickle. You doing good?” he asks, his smile widening as he sees the frown on your face.
That was what James had called you since you first met on the Hogwarts express years ago, a timid first-year crashing straight into the most popular third-year in the school. You bumped into him while holding a jar of pickles (god knows why), and ended up hurling them all over him. He laughed it off while you apologised incessantly and cleaned him up. He thought you were adorable.
That day, James pestered you about yourself till you snapped, and the two of you were inseparable ever since.
“No, Potty. I’m not doing good. Kingsley’s sick,” you mutter, trying to veil the hurt in your voice with anger. He lets out a sympathetic coo and softens, his hand moving down to take yours.
You sigh, your anger dissipating to leave disappointment. “I’m gonna leave,” you murmur, turning around to get to the door. But his grip on your hand remains firm. You turn back around, brows furrowed in confusion.
He's smiling at you, tugging on your hand with that mischievous James Potter twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, Pickle.”
“What?”
“Come on. One dance?”
“Jame-“
“Pickle! You’re no fun. Pleaaaaase?”
You groan, mocking reluctance as you let yourself be led by him as he pulls you to the dance floor. “I can’t dance.”
“You don’t have to, I can do it well enough for the both of us,” James grins. He wraps his arm around your waist, takes your hand in his other one.
He pokes at your hand, gesturing for you to put it on his shoulder. You sigh and do as you’re told. He gives you a small smile and you soften, unable to help smiling back in return.
As the two of you position yourself, the loud manic pop music previously playing comes to an end. A gasp escapes you, your eyes lighting up as you hear the first notes of ‘O Children’ start to play. A childhood favourite, your mum’s go-to song to sing.
James chuckles, slowly starting to sway you along to the beat.
‘Lift up your voice, lift up your voice…’
You move along with him, closing your eyes and feeling the rhythm.
‘Children!...’
James’ footing is perfect, yours is haphazard. His movements are elegant, yours rusty. His dancing on beat, yours attempting to be. But the smile that graces both of your faces is the same.
‘Rejoice, rejoice…’
A giggle escapes you as he twirls you around, both of you bursting out into laughter as you trip on his shoe and your face lands smack on his chest. None of you pull away.
You stay like that for a while, your face buried in your shoulder as he holds you close. The two of you move from side to side in time with the music. You melt into his touch, feeling all your disappointment disappear as you tenderly dance to the soft tune.
“Thanks, James,” you murmur gratefully. He smiles down at you.
“Hey, none of that. You’re my Pickle - of course I had to pester you to dance, I always will,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You grin into his shoulder, playfully punching him in the stomach.
“And this song better be playing at your wedding. I need to show everyone, especially your future husband, just how much you suck at dancing.”
“James!”
He laughs, wincing as you pull away to smack him on the shoulder. He pushes you back, but catches you before you tumble to the floor. The two of you are clutching your stomachs and each other’s hands.
You and James dissolve into heaps of laughter and joy, just like you always do.
Hello. I don’t really know how to do this properly
Can you make something where the reader is like two/three years younger then the marauders and like grew up next to James so he’s like her older brother type thing? Completely fine if not but this has been stuck in my head
(zero romance pls if you do pls)
thank you so much for the request!! ♡ i tried to play around with the plot a little :)
always | j.p.
tw: fluff
james potter x reader (platonic)
Your hands instinctively come up to shield your face as confetti rains down in the Great Hall for the third time that evening.
A frown settles on your face as you slowly lower your arms, feeling the split second when your hand comes into contact with a drink on the refreshments table and knocks it to the ground. A frustrated groan escapes your lips.
You flick the remnants of the drink off your hand and sigh, moving away from the table to go lean on another wall. You shuffle your way through the various couples giggling and dancing and snogging, feeling your resentment grow by the second. Once you’ve safely reached the other side of the mob in the middle of the hall, your eyes rake over the place.
As usual, Hogwarts was shimmering with splendour for the annual ball. Fairy lights adorned the ceilings, and decorated tables were laden with every type of food you could think of. The long tables in the centre had been cleared to allow for dancing, while the Weird Sisters played popular tunes at the front of the hall.
You tried not to let it get to you, but as you awkwardly shuffle around to make way for couples trying to get past you, a dull ache makes its way into your heart.
Kingsley Shacklebolt had very sweetly asked you to the school dance a couple of days ago and you had agreed. The whole evening had been spent in preparation for tonight, doing makeup with the girls and putting on your lovely dress adorned with golden butterflies. But Kingsley fell terribly ill an hour before the dance, and couldn’t muster the strength to even get out of bed.
It was unfortunate, something you were so looking forward to going wrong like this. Especially since you really really liked Kingsley.
You sigh, loneliness and embarrassment starting to get the better of you as you resign yourself to staying as an onlooker. Couples fade in and out of your vision, twirling and prancing around. A huff of resentment escapes you as you try not to glare too hard at those having fun.
Just when you stand up straight, deciding that there was no point staying, you feel a hand on your shoulder and startle. Turning around, you come face-to-face with a grinning James Potter.
“Hey Pickle. You doing good?” he asks, his smile widening as he sees the frown on your face.
That was what James had called you since you first met on the Hogwarts express years ago, a timid first-year crashing straight into the most popular third-year in the school. You bumped into him while holding a jar of pickles (god knows why), and ended up hurling them all over him. He laughed it off while you apologised incessantly and cleaned him up. He thought you were adorable.
That day, James pestered you about yourself till you snapped, and the two of you were inseparable ever since.
“No, Potty. I’m not doing good. Kingsley’s sick,” you mutter, trying to veil the hurt in your voice with anger. He lets out a sympathetic coo and softens, his hand moving down to take yours.
You sigh, your anger dissipating to leave disappointment. “I’m gonna leave,” you murmur, turning around to get to the door. But his grip on your hand remains firm. You turn back around, brows furrowed in confusion.
He's smiling at you, tugging on your hand with that mischievous James Potter twinkle in his eyes. “Come on, Pickle.”
“What?”
“Come on. One dance?”
“Jame-“
“Pickle! You’re no fun. Pleaaaaase?”
You groan, mocking reluctance as you let yourself be led by him as he pulls you to the dance floor. “I can’t dance.”
“You don’t have to, I can do it well enough for the both of us,” James grins. He wraps his arm around your waist, takes your hand in his other one.
He pokes at your hand, gesturing for you to put it on his shoulder. You sigh and do as you’re told. He gives you a small smile and you soften, unable to help smiling back in return.
As the two of you position yourself, the loud manic pop music previously playing comes to an end. A gasp escapes you, your eyes lighting up as you hear the first notes of ‘O Children’ start to play. A childhood favourite, your mum’s go-to song to sing.
James chuckles, slowly starting to sway you along to the beat.
‘Lift up your voice, lift up your voice…’
You move along with him, closing your eyes and feeling the rhythm.
‘Children!...’
James’ footing is perfect, yours is haphazard. His movements are elegant, yours rusty. His dancing on beat, yours attempting to be. But the smile that graces both of your faces is the same.
‘Rejoice, rejoice…’
A giggle escapes you as he twirls you around, both of you bursting out into laughter as you trip on his shoe and your face lands smack on his chest. None of you pull away.
You stay like that for a while, your face buried in your shoulder as he holds you close. The two of you move from side to side in time with the music. You melt into his touch, feeling all your disappointment disappear as you tenderly dance to the soft tune.
“Thanks, James,” you murmur gratefully. He smiles down at you.
“Hey, none of that. You’re my Pickle - of course I had to pester you to dance, I always will,” he chuckles, ruffling your hair. You grin into his shoulder, playfully punching him in the stomach.
“And this song better be playing at your wedding. I need to show everyone, especially your future husband, just how much you suck at dancing.”
“James!”
He laughs, wincing as you pull away to smack him on the shoulder. He pushes you back, but catches you before you tumble to the floor. The two of you are clutching your stomachs and each other’s hands.
You and James dissolve into heaps of laughter and joy, just like you always do.
could I request an x reader with fem! X Fred Weasley (if you don’t want to write for him I’m more then fine with whoever else you choose x)
anyway reader is insecure in the relationship (mostly just anxious about physical touch because she’s worried he won’t like it? Idk how to describe but just basically early stages of a relationship)
thanks lovely xx I adore ur work
hi gorgeous! so i decided to do this with remus, i hope it’s okay. thank you for the request! :)
everything you need | r.l.
tw: hurt/comfort, fluff
remus lupin x reader
You couldn’t stop the ache from blooming in your chest even if you tried. There’s a strong feeling of absence as you stare helplessly at Remus, pressed against the other side of the couch with his eyes glued to the television.
It’s always been a desire, to be touched. To be held is to be loved, your mother used to say. You craved the simple feeling of having your hair brushed off your face, the fat of your hip being pinched teasingly, or being held in tight hugs which squeeze all the sad out of you. You can’t remember the last time you were touched like that.
Remus and you had started dating a few weeks ago, and he really was a sweetheart; and everything you ever needed. Always buying you little trinkets whenever he came over, cooking you dinner, and writing you lovely little notes — that was how he showed his love, and you adored him for it.
But you were fraught with the need to feel his touch — for those kisses to last a little longer, those hugs to be a smidge tighter, and soft cuddles to be more frequent.
You didn’t quite know if it was alright for you to ask, though. You had only just started dating, you weren’t even his girlfriend yet. And you knew Remus was the type to show his love in soft, subtle ways, not in overt means like openly touching and holding you. What if he felt like you were going too fast? You couldn’t risk driving him away.
Remus seems to pick up on the cogs turning in your head and the faraway look in your eyes as you ogle at him. He arches an eyebrow and his mouth twists in a frown as he turns his body towards you. “Sweetheart?”
You blink dazedly. “Hm?”
“Are you okay? You looked a little lost there for a second,” he asks, not unkind in the least.
“I’m fine,” you croak, though all you can think about at the moment is brushing that stray curl away from his face. “Was just thinking about work.”
You know he doesn’t buy it, taking a second too long to answer. But being the gentleman he is, he smiles softly and indulges you. “Okay, dove, if you say so. Don’t stress too much about it, yeah?”
He reaches for the television remote beside him and presses the pause button. “I’m gonna go serve us dinner. You want sauce with your fries?”
“Yeah, sure,” you mutter distractedly, not realising how transfixedly you were gazing at his body, resisting the temptation to crawl into his lap and ask for a hug.
Remus stands up, bending down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. You startle, fighting the urge to grab his wrist and pull him back towards you. You want it so badly, but you can’t let him. You can’t let yourself.
He gives you a bemused smile as he makes a beeline into the kitchen. As soon as he’s out of sight, you heave a sigh and slump backwards on the sofa, wrapping your arms tightly around your waist. You wished he were hugging you instead, with his gentle touches and saccharine words.
You let your eyes flutter closed, squeezing yourself as tight as one possibly can. It helps, a little. You rub your arms desperately, teeth roughly biting down on your bottom lip to stop yourself from bursting out in tears.
In a moment, you hear the clinking of cutlery against plates as Remus sets your dishes down on the table. Before you even open your eyes fully, he’s crouching in front of you and needling your arms apart to press his hands to your back. He pulls you towards him, your face pressing against the crook of his neck.
The feel of his skin on yours is almost painful, and you want to pull away. “Remus,” you choke out, desperately trying to keep your voice even.
“Yeah?” It’s nothing more than a soft murmur as he tucks his chin on your shoulder, pressing his palms into your shoulder blades.
You want to ask him why he was hugging you, tell him that everything was fine. But you know he’s already figured you out.
“You don’t have to,” you say instead.
“Why not?” he asks gently, the feel of his breath warm on your skin. “You want this.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“But…” you hate how you’re warbling. “You don’t have to do this, if it’s not what you want. We agreed to go slow.”
“Going slow means I can’t hug you?” he asks softly, but you hear the teasing in his voice.
“No,” you say quickly, feeling the ache in your chest start to worsen. “But I don’t know if you want to touch me, if you want to be touched. I — I know you have different ways of showing your love, and I’ll take any love you can give me —“
“Angel,” Remus breathes, making you stop short. “This isn’t a job offer. I’ll show you love however you want me to.” He tilts his head up to press a kiss to your hair, and the ache starts to soften. “You’re allowed to want this,” he murmurs, like he’s reading your mind.
That pulls a soft sob out of you, as you ball up the fabric of his T-shirt in your hands and cling to it. You wanted this so much, it feels almost ethereal now that you’re getting it.
Remus coos sympathetically, his joints cracking painfully as he kneels down fully. He doesn’t mind in the slightest. He starts to gently knead your scalp, his other hand coasting from one shoulder to the other on your back.
You feel like maybe he doesn’t deserve this, your tears and your demandingness. You feel like you have to explain yourself. “I just —“ you try, his heart squeezing at the unnaturally high pitch.
Remus pulls back slightly, making sure to continue to squeeze the fat at your shoulders kindly. He knows you need the touch. His eyebrows bunch up in worry because of how distraught you look. “I…” you mean to apologise. But all that comes out is a timid, “I just really like hugs.”
His expression softens, and you almost see his lips curve upwards. His heart feels like it’s swelling because of how adorable you look, even with your red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Yeah?” he breathes softly.
You nod meekly, sniffling as you train your eyes on the ground. Remus notes the pink starting to coat your cheeks, and resists the urge to beam and kiss you stupid.
He gently cups your cheek and begins to thumb it, relieved when you melt into his touch instead of pulling away. “I like hugs, too.”
“No, you don’t.”
Remus lets out a soft chuckle at your slightly accusatory tone. “If you want hugs, sweetheart, I’ll give them to you. I really don’t mind. In fact, I’d hold you 24/7 if you wanted.”
“You would?” your eyes light up a bit as you tilt your head up to look at him with a hopeful gaze.
Remus smiles sympathetically — he can’t believe you were so upset over something he would so easily give you. He wasn’t exactly used to physical touch, but for you, he was willing to try. “I would, dove.”
Remus can’t stop the lovesickness which drips into his voice like honey as he thumbs at your cheeks. He ducks his head to meet your eyes, grinning when you meet his gaze and give him a small smile. “Sweetheart, I wanna be with you for the long haul. So you have to tell me when something’s wrong, okay?”
“Okay,” you mumble, flustered with the attention. You felt yourself melting at the affection in his gaze.
This time, he can’t stop the wide smile from curving his lips as he cups your cheeks and presses a soft kiss to your nose. “I love you, sweet thing. Just say the word, and I’ll give you everything you need.”
oh my gosh! I am in love! pleaseee continue this
https://www.tumblr.com/saturnitystar/758532956071624704/chocolate-coated-hearts-rl?source=share
yesss i love barista!remus too much not to continue <3 !! i got so carried away and this was way longer than i expected it to be haha
chocolate-coated hearts | r.l. (part 2)
part 1 | part 2 | part 3
barista!remus x shy!reader
tw: fluff, use of y/n
The rain patters down mercilessly, the tip-tap sound from where it’s hitting your file awfully loud. You break into a slight jog, holding the black file above your head as if it would offer some sort of protection against the downpour.
You were on the way back from the university, and had conveniently ignored your roommate’s reminders to bring an umbrella earlier that morning, because oh, are you sure you checked the forecast for the right day? and it hasn’t rained in weeks – why the hell would it rain today? Unfortunately, it did rain today.
The dampness soaked through your shoes as you moved, splashing upwards to wet your pants. You let out an exasperated sigh and lift your head, eyes darting around to seek shelter until the rain subsided.
In your peripheral vision, you could see a library – but that was way too chilly, given the way you were trembling. There was a bar, but… that was where your weird neighbour, Carl, went every evening. And you were in absolutely no mood to entertain his rambling. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering as you trot a little further in an attempt to find a decent place. Wetness was seeping into your clothes, igniting a chill throughout your entire body.
As the seconds ticked by, you felt the frustration building up. Everything was just going so wrong today. Your lecturer had returned your analysis of Pride and Prejudice, and you had done so badly that it had to be redone. Plus, you were supposed to go out with Madison for lunch, but she had fallen horribly sick. And now, the torrential rain seemed to be mocking you – adding insult to injury.
The warm orange lighting of a sign came into view, and you squint your eyes to make out the words. Rubbing water off your face, you realise that the sign said Beanie’s. Well, it was a cafe – that was good enough. As you veered off the pathway to the right, you could smell freshly-baked cookies and coffee from the place. It better be warm inside, you thought. One more screw-up, and you genuinely believed you would burst.
You come to a stop outside the cafe, taking laboured gasps of air to catch your breath. You shake the water off your file and push the door open, stepping inside.
Fortunately, it was warm inside – you could feel the hot air blowing onto your skin immediately, drying your clothes from inside out. But to your misfortune, the heat seemed to be spreading to your face as well when you caught sight of the person behind the counter.
It had completely slipped your mind. But now it was all coming back to you, staring at his chiselled arms as he placed a plate of bagels on a tray. Your incident a few weeks ago, when you’d embarrassingly frozen on the spot and let the hot barista pick your donuts for you.
That had weighed on your mind for days, the way you had humiliated yourself in front of possibly the most angelic person on earth, and how said angel had treated you as though you were some kind of delicate flower.
You glance back out at the rain, drawing your lip in between your teeth as you contemplated your options. Either you went back out there, or you moved forward and ordered from Mr. Super Hot Barista. And you were definitely not going back into the rain.
Sucking in a deep breath, you brushed your soaked hair out of your face and wiped your hands on your sweatshirt. You shake off as much water as possible before walking towards the counter, feeling shivers run down your spine – from the cold or from shyness, you weren’t sure.
“Hi.” It comes out unnecessarily loudly, and you cringe. You actively try not to ogle at him, and your eyes fall on the tag on his shirt. Remus, it said. For fuck’s sake, even his name was pretty.
Mr. Super Hot Barista – Remus – looked up from the cookies he was boxing, his hazel eyes meeting yours. You could have sworn something like recognition flashed in his gaze. “Hey,” he smiled easily.
It was happening again, and you hated it. You felt your throat start to go dry as you held his gaze, and his smile slowly widened. You swallowed nervously, the quick drip, drip of water from your hair mirroring how fast your heart was beating. He very well knew the effect he was having on you, and was taking full advantage of it.
“So,” Remus started, “What would you like to order, sweetness?”
You thought you were going to pass out from the sheer amount of endearment in the nickname, eyes widening and cheeks turning pink. But you were a strong, independent young woman. And you were not going to let some random barista knock you off your feet.
“One small cappuccino, please,” you squeak, horrified at how small your voice was.
“Right,” he ducked his head to key it into the register, and you resist the urge to reach out and brush your fingers through his gorgeous curls. “And would you like any chocolate donuts with that?”
You swore your stomach flipped upside down at the comment – he remembered your little situation. Your hands come up to cover your reddening cheeks as you involuntarily let out an embarrassed groan.
The sound of his soft chuckle only exacerbates the sensation of your heart bobbing up and down in your chest. “Sorry, sorry – just messing with you.”
You let out a strangled sort of noise, still unwilling to look up and let him see just how flushed you probably were. When you press your face further into your palms, his voice softens. “Hey, I’m not trying to put you on the spot, I swear. I’m sorry.”
The slight tinge of guilt in his voice makes you look up immediately as you drop your hands to your sides. You see him standing in front of the coffee machine, preparing your cappuccino. “No, no. You’re not putting me on the spot, I’m just –” you sputter out, letting out a nervous chortle.
“God, you’re really embarrassed, aren’t you?” he breathes out in quiet laughter. “Calm down, pretty girl. I promise I won’t bite.” That majorly sucks, you thought. You envisioned how his lips would look biting into a cream puff, cursing yourself for even thinking of it a moment later.
“Okay,” you mumble, flipping your slightly less damp hair over your shoulder. And the next thing you utter, you don’t even think about it before saying it. “Don’t call me pretty girl.”
You immediately slap a hand to your mouth, eyes widening in shock at your own tongue. Literature students, and the yappers they are, Madison had once complained. Now you knew just how right she was.
Remus let out an amused snort, his lips curving upwards in a grin. “Okay, sorry, sweetness.”
“Don’t call me that either.”
“Someone’s picky,” he muttered, the smile still on his face as he pressed a lid onto the cup of coffee before pushing it towards you. “What can I call you, then?”
“Y/n,” you mumble, praying that your delight at having been asked your name was not showing on your face.
“Y/n,” he lets it roll around on his tongue, a sweet smile playing on his lips. He scribbles something onto your cup. “That’s a nice name.”
“You too,” you say without thinking, glancing downwards to pull money out the pocket of your pants. You look up to find him eyeing you with his eyebrow arched. A giggle escapes you as you point at his nametag. “Remus, right?”
He looks down at his shirt and chuckles, realisation lighting up his face. “Yeah, my name’s Remus.”
Remus glances back up as you drop the money into his hand. And you’re very careful not to let your fingers brush against his palm this time.
His smile was soft and sunny, making it feel like it had never even rained in the first place. “Bye.”
“Bye,” you echo, your heart fluttering in your chest as you offer him a smile. You turn around to find a table, and just then realise that the cafe was as crowded as it was the last time you were here, if not more.
You purse your lips worriedly. It was still storming outside, and you really needed to get started on your failed analysis and your newly assigned one –
“Y/n!”
You swivel back around to find Remus grinning at you. “You can sit here,” he gestures at the bar stools in front of the platform, which were unoccupied. “I get lonely anyway. It’ll be nice to have some fun company.”
“Oh,” you murmur, an unignorable sense of relief settling over you. “Okay, thanks.” You make your way over, setting your coffee and tote bag down on the platform before hauling yourself up onto the stool.
As he picks up donuts and packs them into boxes, you pull out your book and a stack of foolscap. Remus glances up at the sound, his face immediately lighting up. “M.L. Rio?”
You nod. If We Were Villains was the next book you were assigned to work on.
“That was a good book,” he says casually as he begins to work again. “Why, are you annotating it or something?”
You try not to beam. He reads, your brain was screaming at you. He reads and he has excellent fucking taste. Could he possibly be more perfect?
“Not just annotating,” you reply, a pleased lilt to your voice. “Analysing, for a project. Oh – I forgot to mention, I’m majoring in literature.”
“Literature, huh?” he grins as he sets his tongs down, and he looks almost bemused. “Interesting.”
You pull out a pen and begin to write, the smile never fading from your face. He lets you work in silence, the only sound being the metallic clinking of tongs as he packs pastries into bags and boxes.
“Hot take,” he says suddenly, a couple minutes later. You look up, surprised. “I don’t believe James was some sort of tragic hero, as people make him out to be. I think he was the villain.”
“No.”
“Yes,” he snorts, and a laugh bubbles out of you. “That’s a ridiculous opinion.”
Remus rolls his eyes. “As a literature student, I think you need to be more open-minded.”
“The title is ‘If We Were Villains’, not ‘I Am The Villain’!” you retort indignantly, earning a loud bout of laughter from him. He shakes his head indulgently, continuing to stack boxes. “Great point.”
You can hear the deadpan in his voice, but decide to take it as a victory anyway. Grinning, you get back to your book as a comfortable silence settles over the both of you.
It was hard, but you were trying your hardest not to glance up at him every once in a while. The glowy orange light on the ceiling shone down on him, and you felt your curiosity growing towards the pale scars that decorated his face.
Whenever he caught you staring, you immediately evaded his gaze and took a sip of your coffee, or jotted something onto your paper. You thought you may have seen him trying not to smile a couple of times.
You blink as you glanced at your foolscap, which was full of random squiggly lines and words written in an attempt to make it seem like you were concentrating. But it was absolutely impossible to focus with Remus in front of you.
You furrow your eyebrows disappointedly. It really was important that you finished this up by tonight, and you were obviously not getting any work done here. One look outside told you that, unfortunately, the rain had stopped and the moon had come out.
Remus perked up when he heard the shuffling coming from you. He looked up to see you packing your things. “Leaving so soon?”
“Sorry,” you mutter as you pick up your cup of coffee, almost finished with it. “I’ve got more work to do at home.” The stool screeches as you stand up, slinging your tote bag over your shoulder. You rake your fingers through your hair – you had spent so long in the cafe, it was completely dry now.
He smiles, “Nah, you don’t need to apologise. It was fun talking to you.”
Your heart smiled at that. “Yeah, I had fun too.”
He stays silent for a moment, observing you. Your face starts to feel hot again. “Okay then, I’m gonna go.”
“Hey, wait a minute,” he calls out, causing you to turn back around.
You tilt your head questioningly. “There’s a poetry reading happening here, tomorrow, at 5pm. You like poetry?”
“Yeah,” you reply. “Yeah, I like poetry.”
He nods, the hint of a smile on his lips. “Come round if you’re free. I think you’ll like it.”
It felt like fireworks had begun to explode everywhere within you, from your head to toes and even in those little spaces between your fingers. “Okay,” you murmur. Your heart was tingling with excitement. “I’ll try to make it.”
“Great,” he grins, chucking his hands in his pockets as he leaned against the platform behind him. “Cool, then. See you.”
“See you,” you smile dazedly, pivoting and walking towards the exit with your coffee in hand. Your beam widened as you walked out, strolling back home as you sipped your coffee.
Remus had invited you to a poetry reading. A poetry reading.
Your cheeks ached from how hard you were grinning. You drink the last bit of your cappuccino, going to throw it in a bin on the street. That’s when you caught sight of something scrawled in black ink on the side of the cup.
There was a heart next to your name, and a number below it. Call me, pretty girl, it said in brackets.
You skipped all the way home.
Hello,💚
I was wondering if you’d be willing to write Remus x Fem!Reader who just had surgery of some sort? Preferably some hurt/comfort and fluff, where R is in pain and Remus is sweet about it?
Or if you’re not comfortable with that, any hurt/comfort with Remus would be great :))
(This is my first time requesting, but I really love your works! I just had surgery for my endometriosis, and I haven’t been sleeping much because of pain, so I’ve been up binge reading your works instead 😅)
💚
thank you so much for the request angel! honestly this hit home, because my mum had to have surgery for her endometriosis too, and i just wanted to say that i’m proud of you for being so strong. i hope that the pain has eased now, and you’re getting some well-deserved rest! <3
better | r.l.
tw: mention of surgery, hurt/comfort
remus lupin x reader
Remus rolls over on the bed, feeling around for you until he finds your hand. He takes your fingers in his, lacing them together before giving a soft squeeze.
“Hey sweetheart,” his words are soft and stringed together, as though dipped in honey. Your eyes are wide open as you look at him, the soft moonlight from the window casting shadows across your face. “Hi.”
“Still can’t sleep?” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles gently. His heart aches as he eyes you, curled up in a foetal position with your arms wrapped around your knees. You’ve pressed yourself so tightly together Remus thinks you might squeeze yourself half to death.
“No,” you mumble, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice for his sake. But he can see the slight contortion in your features, and he knows the pain is bothering you.
You’d just gotten surgery for your endometriosis a few days ago, after much convincing from your boyfriend. The pain had been bothering you for months before the surgery and he was convinced that you would feel a lot better once you faced the music. However, these past few days post-surgery weren’t proving to be any better, and he’d often find you in tears from how much everything hurt.
Remus hated that he couldn’t do anything to just take all your pain away and make it alright. But like all good things, it had to get worse before it got better.
He reaches a hand out, cupping your face in the basin of his palm as he silently thumbs your cheek. You relax into his touch, and let your eyes flutter closed.
“Rem,” you whisper.
“Yeah, dove?”
“It really hurts.”
Remus doesn’t miss the crack in your voice, and he feels like his heart is being cleaved in two. A pitiful sound comes from the back of his throat as he extends his other hand to stroke comfortingly at your hairline. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”
At his sympathy, you curl in on yourself even further as though pained. Hot tears dribble down your cheeks and curve the bridge of your nose, and Remus moves his thumb to swipe at them. You whimper, and it makes him hurt in all the worst ways.
“I’m so tired. And I just want to sleep, but I can’t, and –” you choke pathetically on the lump in your throat. Remus shushes you, unable to stop himself from tugging you closer until your knees are squished between both of your chests. He presses a hand to your back, rubbing up and down your spine in a way he hopes is comforting.
Leaning forward, he presses his lips to your hairline. “I’m so sorry, honey. But you’re going to feel better in a few more days.” He desperately wishes his kiss could convey all the comfort and love you needed right now.
Remus needles an arm between your knees and stomach, pressing the back of his hand to your abdomen. His fingers start to trace a circular motion, knuckles brushing against your stitches in the same way they’ve done countless times before. He feels the muscles underneath his hand relax slightly.
“But what if I don’t feel better?” you warble. “What if I never sleep again?”
Remus could almost laugh at how loopy the meds made you if you didn’t sound so pitiful. More tears wet your eyelashes, and he indulgently kisses them away before smoothing his fingers over your cheeks.
“Then I’ll get you sleeping meds.”
“Really?” you sniffle, and it’s the most hopeful you’ve sounded that whole week. But you both know that Remus wasn’t going to let you ruin your system with more medicines than necessary.
“No,” he whispers bemusedly, almost guilty when he hears the earnest longing in your voice, “but what I can do for you right now is get you the heating pad.”
You don’t even look upset at his words, seemingly expecting the response. Your lip quivers as you draw it in between your teeth guiltily. “I don’t want you to get up, though. You should be getting some rest. I bet you’re exhausted, looking after me all night.”
Remus presses a quick peck to the tender spot beneath your eye as he pushes his elbows into the mattress, hoisting himself up straight. “I’m up, sweetheart.” He pulls his hand away from your abdomen, unable to stop the small smile that forms when you whine in protest.
He bends down to press another kiss to your forehead, and you feel the upward curve of his lips against your skin. “And I don’t mind looking after you. The only thing I’m worried about right now is you not getting enough rest.”
You hum softly in response, and Remus resists the urge to cocoon you in a mountain of blankets and smother your pain away. Instead, he brushes strands of hair back from your face. “Try to sleep, please.”
“After you get me the heating pad.”
He hums indulgently, moving his hand to the nape of your neck and comfortingly brushing over the baby hairs there. “You want anything else? Chocolate, or hot tea, maybe?”
“Chocolate would be nice,” you admit.
“Then chocolate it is,” he smiles as he stands up, rounding the bed.
“Rem?”
“Yeah, dove?”
“Are you sure you can’t get me sleeping pills?”
Remus huffs out a laugh, giving your foot a warning squeeze before leaving the room.
crystals | r.b.
regulus black x whimsical!reader
“Baby,” Regulus’ voice comes out two parts affection and one part exasperation as he feels your knees pressing down into the bed on either side of him. You hum distractedly in response, mind wandering to places he knows he can never follow.
He cracks his eyes open, a small smile involuntarily making its way onto his face at the sight of you. You’re as pretty as you always are, so pretty he wonders if you’re actually a dryad of some sort. You certainly look the part, with daisies braided into your hair and miniature toadstool earrings.
He watches as you outstretch your fingers to fiddle with the chain on his neck, your eyebrows bunched in concentration. Your tongue juts out of your lip adorably as you bite down on it, and he resists the urge to kiss you senseless.
The chain Regulus was wearing was nothing more than a thick black string, but it was knotted around various small crystals, courtesy of your hobby of collecting them. When he had first asked you out with a ring, you had shyly given him this string with a single crystal hanging from it – a rose quartz. “For my unconditional love,” you had mumbled, blushing so hard he thought you mirrored a rose. But the pink that coated your cheeks was a lovelier shade than any flower he had laid his eyes on.
From then on, you would knot new crystals onto the string whenever you found them. Regulus was pretty sure some of them had to have been rocks or pebbles, but he loved you too much not to indulge you.
“Mon chéri,” he tries again, amusement seeping into his tone. “It’s 5 in the morning.”
“So?” you ask distractedly, your fingers still tugging and pulling his necklace from side to side. “5AM is when the crystals are most active, you know. This is when they pull the most power from the core of the earth,” you explain matter-of-factly, so dedicated to your task that you don’t notice his smile widening.
You sway forward slightly, unable to balance on the balls of your knees. Regulus silently wraps his palms around your hips, tugging downward until you’re comfortably seated on his stomach.
That was when he noticed you had odd-shaped stones in one of your hands, sunlight reflecting off of them to give a pale blue glow. “What are those?”
You perk up at his question, abandoning your task of trying to tie the stones onto the string. Your head tilts upwards to give him a sunny smile. “They’re aquamarine crystals, obviously.”
“Yeah?” he murmurs, his smile softening. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this, it’s always just as endearing to him. The way you smile fondly at him – like he’s silly for not knowing.
“Yeah,” you beam. “I found these in the stream nearby, the one next to the big daisy field with all the horsies.”
“You walked into the water again, then?”
It’s too laden with fondness to sound accusatory, but you turn slightly sheepish anyway, nodding. Your hands find their way back to his necklace, and this time you manage to loop the string around a crystal successfully. Your face lights up, obviously pleased with your work.
He huffs out a laugh, leaning forward to run his hands down your long skirt. As expected, he finds it damp and sticky. “You’ll have to take a bath, mon amour.”
“In the stream?”
“No,” he mutters, trying but failing to conceal his amused grin. He presses his elbows into the mattress, hoisting himself upwards to press an amorous kiss to your forehead. He can’t help himself, the blush on your cheeks and the shy smile too much for his heart to handle. “In the shower, baby.”
“Oh,” you reply as a way of answer, and Regulus can’t help but chuckle at the slight disappointment in your voice. “Maybe I can shower in the water tomorrow, then? With all the ducks. These ducks are nice; they eat the bread I throw at them. You can come too if you’d like.”
“Maybe,” he replies indulgently, with absolutely no intention of letting you bathe with the ducks instead of with him — but he was never one to deny you anything you asked for.
okay | r.l.
a/n: for my academically burnt out girlies (can you tell i’m one of them😭)
tw: fluff
remus lupin x reader
Remus quietly padded down into the common room, unsurprised to find you seated at the table with parchments and books scattered around you.
There was a puddle of drool spreading from where your face rested against a book, fast asleep. Remus internally winced; there was no way that was a comfortable position for your neck.
He gently brushes the tips of his fingers against your hairline and you immediately jolt awake, almost knocking his arm in the process.
You raise your hands to rub your eyes with slowed movements, the exhaustion lining your features painfully obvious. You turn to him, befuddled, before realising who it is and softening.
You looked adorable, mussed up hair and wide-eyed. It had Remus thinking about how it would feel to wake up to the sight for the rest of his life. “How long have you been up for, dove?”
He flattens his palms onto your shoulder blades, needling pressure into the tense muscles with his thumbs. You melt under his touch, your shoulders slumping. “Not very long,” you lie.
“It’s 4am, baby. You’ve been studying all night, haven’t you?”
You draw your bottom lip between your teeth, letting out a soft sigh. “Yeah… I guess. But I have to, there’s still three more chapters I’m not done revising. I just need more coffee.”
“The last thing you need right now,” Remus mutters as he lets go of your shoulders and lowers himself into a chair beside you, “is coffee. You need to get some rest, sweetheart. You’re not gonna be able to remember anything when you’re this tired.”
He uses his foot to push your chair around till you’re facing him. You reach for him immediately, sleepy movements causing you to lay your arms, bundled up, in his lap. Bemusedly, he takes your hands and starts to rub circles into your wrists.
“But I’m not tired,” you argue, though your eyelids look like they’re physically weighing you down. You’re blinking so forcefully Remus thinks it would generate enough energy to power a light bulb. “I just took a power nap and I’m good now.”
“That’s not enough, dove. It’s late, and you’re gonna be fucked up tomorrow. You need proper rest.”
“Do I?”
“You do.”
Your face is lovably scrunched up now, and Remus can’t tell if you’re trying to challenge him or if your brain really is that fuzzy.
He moves to gather your materials and you make a small noise of protest, dazedly shaking your head. “I can’t rest now, I need to finish studying first.”
You seem hardly able to track his movements, eyelids drooping shut every few seconds. “You can study tomorrow, sweetheart. You’ve studied enough for tonight.”
You huff, stubbornly staying put in your chair. Remus rises to his feet, tucking the stack of books in one arm before firmly pulling you up with the other. You stay silent, obviously annoyed but too exhausted to fight back.
He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side as he leads you up the staircase to his dorm. The anxiety in your features is palpable, and he feels bad for worsening it. But he knows you, he knows you would never feel like you’ve studied enough. You’d work yourself to the bone if you had it your way, so it was up to him to make sure you didn’t.
“You look exhausted, baby,” he murmurs as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead. You visibly soften, your expression morphing into one less rigid. “I am exhausted.”
“I know,” he concedes, pushing you onto the bed until you’re properly laying down. “You’re gonna do better with rest, trust me. You’re gonna be okay.”
You hum weakly in response, eyes fluttering shut as soon as your head hits the pillow. Even in your dazed state, your arms extend towards him.
Remus lets out a soft chuckle and climbs into the bed next to you, pulling the covers over the both of you.
You shuffle towards him, seeking his warmth. He wraps an arm around your middle and tugs till you’re snugly pressed up against each other, pecking a kiss to the soft skin beneath your eye. “I meant what I said, alright? Don’t worry about the test. You’re gonna be okay.”
“Okay,” you whisper, and he feels that last bit of uncertainty you had melt away as you deflate. Your words come out muffled as you move impossibly closer, snuggling your face into his chest. “Okay. G’night.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
Hi, i wanted to request a james potter x reader thingy :))
So the idea is that james and reader broke up during hogwarts/directly after because they had the children talk, james really wants to be a father but reader is terrified of pregnancy so they break up. But over the years the reader keeps yearning for james and eventually they meet again when james and lily are together and have baby harry and its just really angsty 😭😭
Hope all of this makes sense i thought of this while listening to a song lyric
thank you for the request babe i love how your brain works <3 this is quite angsty so hopefully you like it! and now i’m curious to know what song 👀
also here’s some shameless promotion for @astonishment’s series with the same name, it’s deliciously tragic (☹️☹️☹️) and everyone should check it out!!
in another life | j.p.
“Calm down, babe,” Sirius mutters as you walk in step, looping his arm through yours.
You nibble on your bottom lip anxiously, sighing as you glance over at him. “It’s not that easy, Siri. I’m seeing him after what — four years? I can’t just calm down!”
He rolls his eyes, reaching towards you and thumbing at your lip to save it from your torment. “You’re seeing me after four years.”
You turn to Sirius, and he huffs out a laugh at your deadpan expression. “Well, you never asked me to marry you.”
Sirius wiggles his eyebrows, his lips curving up into a grin. “Marry me?”
“Fuck off, Black.”
James and Lily Potter were holding a meet-up of sorts, and had invited most people in your year at Hogwarts. You were hesitant to go, given your history with James, but Sirius insisted you tag along. You knew he, Remus, and Peter had stayed in touch with James. Rightfully, you ought to have too. But neither of you tried to; maybe you both knew it was better that way.
Sirius simpers, coming to a halt in front of the large black gates of the mansion. He reaches forward and begins to twist the lock, and you instinctively reach over and grab his hand to stop him. He turns to you, confusion twisting his features. “What are you — oh. Oh, sweetheart.”
He softens when he sees the expression on your face. You’re biting your cuticles, and the anxiety in your features is palpable. Sirius sighs and firmly pulls your hand away from your mouth, intertwining your fingers together. “It’s gonna be okay. Just be cordial with him. There’s no bad blood, right?”
“Right,” you mutter, albeit uncertainly.
“But, um…” he sighs, dropping your hand to rake his fingers through his hair. “There’s something I should’ve told you before. But I didn’t wanna freak you out.”
“What?”
The apprehension in your tone causes Sirius to wince. “James and Lily, they… they’ve got a baby.”
There’s a beat of loud silence as the fact sinks in, a mount of uncertainty and hurt settling in the pit of your stomach.
“Oh.”
You’re trying not to show it, but the heartbreak on your face is painfully obvious. Sirius pouts, moving to take your hand again. “Babe, I’m sorry. I should’ve –”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the gates swinging open to reveal a beaming James Potter.
“Pads,” he grins immediately, eyes locking on Sirius as he moves towards him and swoops him into a quick hug.
You take the moment to look James over. He looked exactly like you remembered — messy curls, toned biceps, that movie-star grin. Yet something felt different, in the way he pulled Sirius into a hug without all the raucous fervour he would’ve at 16, how he held him so gently at arm’s length while talking to him. He’d softened, you realised, from the responsibilities of fatherhood and being a husband.
They pull apart a moment later, and his gaze drifts to you. His smile loses a bit of its sunshine, not softening but not quite dimming either. “Y/n, hey.”
There’s a moment of hesitation as he looks at you, but then he seems to decide upon giving you a hug too.
“Hi,” you mutter as he shortens the distance between you, needling his arms under yours to press them to your back. You embrace him in return, and a sudden pang of hurt shoots through your heart at the familiarity of the action.
Perhaps he was remembering it too, from the way he tightened his grip. Both of you were heavy on physical touch, and it was undeniably the best part of your relationship back in Hogwarts — how he’d always have a hand wrapped around your waist, how you’d wake up to cuddles and hugs every morning. You didn’t exactly have anyone to hug anymore, living alone.
So you convince yourself that the reason you hold on to James for slightly longer than necessary was because you craved human touch, not because of… anything else.
Finally, James pulls away, his arms dropping to his sides as he gives you a small smile. You plaster one onto your face too, for his sake. “So,” he starts as he turns around, beginning to lead you and Sirius into the mansion, “how’ve you been, Y/n?”
You can feel Sirius’ gaze burning holes into the side of your head, but choose to ignore him. “I’ve been great, yeah. You?”
James nods. “That’s cool. Yeah, I’ve been good too. Things have been fun, but kind of busy; you know, with work and Lily and the baby…” He seems to realise what he’s said, and clears his throat awkwardly. Oh, of course. The baby.
Sirius is beside you in an instant, arching his eyebrows and nudging your elbow to respond.
“Oh, um… congrats on the baby, by the way.”
James turns around to face you as you walk, and you give him a grin to prove that you’re being genuine — to show him that it didn’t feel like there was a knife being twisted in your gut every time the word baby was brought up.
His eyes soften, and you know he can tell how you’re feeling. But he gives you a grateful smile, and says no more as the three of you come to a stop in front of the house.
“By the way,” James mutters as he pushes the door open, “you guys are like, an hour early. You’re the only ones here.”
You immediately turn around to glower at Sirius for subjecting you to more torture than necessary by bringing you early. But he all but smirks as he follows you in.
Your eyes coast around the mansion, taking it all in. It’s decorated in a minimalist aesthetic, white couches and brown rugs. It was pretty, that was for sure; but you couldn’t help but think how different it was from James’ place in the dorm — posters and stickers all over the walls, boisterously red curtains and LED lights. It used to be so full of life.
Honestly, you might’ve guessed an old couple lived here, if not for the small signs of their life as a family — the pacifier on the dining table, a cradle at the far end of the living room, and the heart-shaped photo frames lining the walls.
James watches you, a small smile playing on the edges of his lips. “You like it?”
He knows you wouldn’t like it, it’s everything you aren’t. Your dorm had been just like his; trying to fit as many vinyls and posters onto that small space next to your bed as possible. There would be fairy lights in every corner and succulents on the nightstand, a dreamcatcher which he’d gifted you hanging right above your bed. You were messy, as a person, and with your love too. You thought he was messy as well; but apparently he’d gotten his shit together already.
“Yeah, it’s simple. Pretty.”
“Honey —“ Lily bustles out the kitchen, a small gasp escaping her lips as she sees you and Sirius. She’s holding a ladle in one hand, and has her other arm wrapped around a baby perched on her waist.
You don’t register it when she kisses your cheek and hugs you, asks you how you’re doing and leads you to sit on the couch. Your gaze is locked on the baby, every second spent staring at him worsening the nauseous feeling at the back of your throat.
You must’ve asked for his name, because the word, “Harry,” registers in your head. This beautiful baby, with Lily’s deep green eyes and James’ luscious curls, was Harry.
Would you have named your baby Harry? Probably not, it was too generic. But it was too late now, to pick out names and choose a less boring aesthetic for a house together.
You had lost your chance back in seventh year, that night when you were laying on James’ bed, limbs tangled together as he raked his hands through your hair with all the love in the world. You’re gonna be my husband one day, you’d whispered, feeling so much affection for him you thought your heart would burst. Yeah, baby, he’d replied with a soft smile. We’re gonna live in a mansion, with our dogs and children and —
Children?
I don’t… I don’t want children. And that’s where it all started going downhill, that’s the moment James’ smile turned upside down and his hand dropped from your hair. It had turned into an argument, a screaming match — and eventually a reason to break up. James couldn't understand much you feared it, the pain of pregnancy and the exhaustion that came with motherhood. And some part of you knew that you weren’t blameless either — calling him awful things and accusing him of not loving you; though love was all he ever gave till the day you told him it was over.
The feeling of Sirius’ nails digging into your palm brings you back to the present, and you see him nodding absentmindedly as Lily rambles about how much trouble Harry’s been, and oh, she’s picked up a hobby of crocheting, and…
You flit your eyes to look at James sitting opposite you, gazing at you with his brows pinched in concern. Your emotions must’ve been obvious on your face, then. But he immediately looks away when Lily calls out to him, holding up Harry for him to carry.
You watch silently as James squeezes into the chair next to his wife, taking the small, lovely baby between his large, calloused hands. He smiles at Harry, looking at him though he was the most precious thing on earth. James’ fingers bunch Harry’s tiny shirt as he brings him close to his face, gently pressing a kiss to his forehead. Lily’s head lolls onto James’ shoulder as he shifts Harry into a comfortable lying position in his arms.
There you have it. The perfect family, with the gorgeous wife and the adorable baby and the man who could’ve been yours if you wanted.
It’s too much for you to take, and Sirius squeezes your hand as you start to shake. Harry coos, and you melt at how James’ face breaks into a sunny beam. He tilts his head to press a soft peck to his wife’s hair, and there’s so much love in that simple gesture that you feel like you could die.
You feel Sirius’ worried gaze on you, your hands trembling and your knee bobbing up and down. The taste of blood from how hard you’re nibbling on your lip is grounding; it brings you back to yourself, who you are, and not who you could’ve been.
“Hey,” he murmurs softly from beside you, but it doesn’t get lodged into your brain. The only thing you feel is your vision of the perfect family blurring, soft streams of regret rolling down your cheek. Sirius makes a small noise of pity from beside you, and James looks up instantly, eyes widening as they lock on you. Lily is fast asleep, baby Harry staring at you with his thumb stuck into his mouth.
“Y/n, you okay?” James asks gently, but you don’t reply, still looking at him with that distraught look on your face. You open your mouth, but you don’t seem to have the vocabulary to express the heartache you felt right that moment. It felt strangely like grief; like you were mourning for the version of yourself you never got to meet, for the version of James who didn’t have the chance to be yours.
James' mouth twists downwards in a frown as he stands up and steps closer towards you. It’s like an alarm is set off in your head, and you immediately jolt back to the present, sucking in a deep breath.
Your legs act of their own accord as you stand up, Sirius’s hand falling limp on the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. You gulp down the lump in your throat and fiercely brush the tears away, James coming to a halt in front of you. “Y/n, baby —“
“I’m not your baby.”
James slaps a hand to his mouth, eyes as wide as Harry’s now. “Fuck, no, it — it just came out. I didn’t mean to. Shit, you’re crying.”
“I’m okay,” you warble. James opens his mouth to retort but you don’t let him, knowing that the longer you spent here, the more the gaping hole in your chest would grow. You couldn’t bear it anymore, watching James with his wife and wishing it was you instead. The worst part was that it was all your fault, your stupidity and your rejection.
“I’m fine, really. I…I’m gonna go now, it was nice meeting you. Convey my love to Remus, Peter and the girls.” You pick up your bag, moving to the front door with a befuddled James tracking your movements.
“Y/n —“
“Bye, James,” you call out halfheartedly as you slip into your shoes. He comes to stand at the door, rocking Harry from side to side. He looks almost disappointed as you make to leave.
“I’m sorry.”
You look up, surprised. “It’s not your fault.”
James’ lips pursed together with guilt, seeming like he wants to say something as he opens and closes his mouth. He finally sighs, “It’s not your fault either.
It was startling, how he still knew just the right thing to say — he always had. The regret that had been clogging up your heart for years was drained out upon hearing that one sentence. James didn’t hold the utter failure of your relationship against you, and that was enough. If you couldn’t have his love, at least you had his forgiveness.
You give him a half smile and nod, turning around to leave. You’d go back to yours, more of a house than a home. But at least no one but yourself could hurt you there, there was no one to turn away and no hearts to break. No one to love.
“Hey.”
You spin back around to face the door, heart stopping upon seeing the moistness in his eyes. You hear the scratchiness in his throat as he sucks in a deep breath.
“James…”
“No, don’t — don’t say anything. I just wanted to tell you, um…” he defeatedly runs a hand through his hair and exhales shakily. “I hope we worked out, you know, in another life.”
That catches you off guard, your heart involuntarily squeezing in your chest. James looks almost embarrassed as he says it, but you see the vulnerability in his eyes. He was right — maybe there was some planet on which you were less of a coward, another world where he could put a ring on your finger. He’d been yours to lose in this life, perhaps he was yours to love in another.
You clear your throat, feeling nausea brimming in the pits of your gut. “Yeah, I… I hope so too.”
You spare yourself one last glance at him before turning towards the exit, praying he didn’t see the tears dribbling down your cheeks.
You squeeze your eyes shut and will yourself to trudge forward, before he can call out to you and break your heart all over again.
In a few long strides, you’re out the gates; out of James’ life again.
still here | r.l.
summary: it's your birthday :(
a/n: this is the first time i’ve ever really cried when writing something, it’s got a home in my heart now and i hope you like it!! 🫶 (also listen to our lovely girl billie while reading for added heartbreak)
tw: past suicide attempt
You lean back on the couch from where you’re bending over the table. Remus wastes no time in wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. He gently presses his lips to your forehead. “Happy birthday, lovely girl.”
“Thank you,” you mumble half-heartedly, grateful but too overwhelmed to show it.
There’s a cut-up chocolate cake in front of you, which Remus had insisted upon baking. He’d honoured your wishes not to throw a big bash, and of not wanting an actual present. He didn’t exactly understand why — but he loved you too much to not do what you wanted him to; birthday or not.
Guilt weighs heavily on your heart; Remus has been kinder than you deserve. You decide to help him understand.
“You know,” you start softly, tilting your head to lay it on his shoulder. He hums in acknowledgement, fingertips grazing your sleeve as he starts to rub your arm. “I didn’t think I would last this long.”
The shakiness in your voice surprises even you. You feel Remus’ hand still on your arm.
“What?” he murmurs. You can’t decipher if the slight lilt to his voice is because of sadness or confusion.
“I didn’t think I would last this long,” you repeat quietly, just to be safe, and you feel his hand coasting across your back as he gently grabs your shoulders. He turns you towards him, and you don’t wait for him to ask before you start to explain. “When I was 13, I couldn’t imagine ever making it this far. I tried to kill myself.”
Remus’ eyes widen the slightest bit as he takes in your sudden admission. His grip on your shoulders doesn’t falter; and it’s like you both know he’s the only thing holding you upright.
When he doesn’t respond, your gaze immediately drops to the couch, shame clouding your eyes.
“I… I didn’t know that.”
The crack in his voice makes you look back up, meeting his gaze. His features are softer, sadder; somehow. There’s the slightest bit of grief in the way he’s regarding you. “Are you glad you made it this far?”
You rub your lips together, taking a shaky breath to make sure your voice comes out evenly. “Yeah,” you exhale softly. “Yeah, I am. I got to meet you.”
“Is that the only reason?”
“No,” you reply honestly. “I love my work. My friends, I really like hanging out with them. And I’d say our apartment is pretty sweet.”
The concern in Remus’ expression is still evident, his brows pinched together almost painfully. His hands bunch up the fabric on your shoulders, tugging you towards him. You’re certain the action is subconscious – he looks lost in thought, like he’s deliberating wrapping you up in his arms and never letting you go.
“Would you like more reasons?” you ask quietly, feeling your vision start to blur. You shouldn’t be surprised that he cares this much, but you are.
When he nods, your heart melts – the magma seems to be pooling in your stomach, and you feel the kind of warmth you’ve only ever been able to feel since you met him.
“Okay,” you decide to indulge him. “I like coffee when I wake up, especially when you make it. Feeding the stray dogs on the side of the road every morning. And my guitar, I like to make music on it. I think music is nice.”
You feel your throat start to clog up, the image of Remus distorting into a blurry swirl in your eyes. “It’s lovely when it rains, especially when we’re both at home, cuddling. And –”
Your voice comes out wobbly, the tears coming hard and fast now. You want to stop, but push on for his sake.
“And I really like our apartment. Did I mention that? Also, your hugs – I love the way you hug. It’s like you really love me, and —”
“I do love you,” Remus interrupts in a shaky exhale, words barely audible from the way his voice is trembling. “I love you, okay? I love you a whole lot. And I’m so glad you’re still with me.”
He doesn’t give you a chance to respond, gently pulling you even closer towards him. You meet him in the middle, arms instinctively wrapping around his waist as he brings his hands up to encircle your shoulders.
Remus squeezes you like it’s his job to hold you together, and you hear a soft sniffle as he buries his face in your hair.
“I’m so glad you’re still here,” he says again. Your heart clenches in your chest, in all the best ways.
“I love you,” you respond, because you both know it’s synonymous with Thank you for giving me a reason to be here.
kiss and make-up | j.p. 💋
a/n: i know i said i was gonna take a break but… i just HAD to get this out of my system 🤭
summary: fluff!! james helps you do your makeup
James’ hand comes up to cup your cheek and you bristle, giggling as his fingertip tickles your nose.
“Babe, seriously. I can’t work if you don’t keep still,” he murmurs, bemusement lacing his words as he repositions your face.
You apologize and bite down on your lower lip to stop the smile from spreading across your cheeks. You decide that he deserves some credit for his efforts to doll you up; so you try your best to stay put.
The tip of the eyeliner feels tingly against your skin as James traces it onto your eyelid. You sneak a glance at him, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and tongue jutting out of his rosy lips. You’d give him a big fat kiss if it wouldn’t ruin the make-up he’s been diligently working on for the past hour.
“How’s it look?”
“Shush,” he mutters, tilting his head slightly as he adjusts the wing on your other eye, squinting in an attempt to do some detailing.
Marlene’s band was doing a gig at the biggest pub in town, so you were going down with Lily and Mary to watch her play. The boys were invited too; but were more interested, according to Sirius, in going actual clubbing than listening to some emo rock band.
But your boyfriend had really wanted to spend the night with you, and he claimed that it was not just because you looked really hot in your little dress. So he decided to make it up to you by doing your make-up.
James lets go of your face to lean back and admire his work, and that’s when you notice a dark smudge on his cheek. This time you can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of you.
“What?” he asks, horrified when you clutch your stomach. His expression only worsens your giggling, an amused smile slowly creeping its way onto his face.
You shake your head, pressing one hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter as you tug him towards you with the other.
Grabbing a wet wipe from beside you, you gently thumb at the eyeliner on his cheek. “You’ve got it on your face, idiot.”
“Oh,” James mumbles, and your grin only widens when his cheeks redden. It’s your turn to grab his face, trying your best to rub the stubborn smudge away. His glasses slide down his nose unceremoniously. You suppress a smile as you push them back up.
You feel his eyes on you when you turn him this way and that, nails poking into his cheekbones. Then, slowly, a small smile makes its way onto his cheeks.
A soft sigh escapes his lips and you halt, locking eyes with him bemusedly. “What?”
“Nothing, you —“ he sighs again. gazing at you with a soppy smile on his face. “You look gorgeous, you know?” he mutters. “Like, you’re always pretty, but right now you’re extra pretty. I wish I could kiss you.”
Your heart stutters at his slushy mess of words, and you feel the overwhelming urge to leave your lipstick stains on him, every part of him you can reach.
A huff of laughter finds its way out of you, cheeks heating up embarrassingly. “I wanna kiss you too, hon. But this lipstick’s too cute.”
James pouts. “Cuter than me?”
“Oh, definitely,” you drawl, but you let him press his lips to yours anyway. He leaves the house later on with one black stain and six lip-shaped ones peppered all over his cheeks.
stars & spaghetti | r.b.
a/n: here i go again, not taking a break 😭 i swear i just needed to write this! thank you @lovemenotts for encouraging me to post it 🫶 i love you lily
tw: eating disorder recovery
Regulus knows where to find you, but he also knows better than to act like he was looking for you with two bowls of food in hand.
“Hey.”
You almost jump at the sound of his voice. You turn around from where you’re sitting on the porch, giving him a small smile. “Hi.”
His heart drops a little when he sees your face, with your sunken eyes and tired expression.
“I didn’t realize you were home already. Did you come through the back?”
He hums an affirmative, sitting down next to you on the steps leading out the house.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as you slouch onto the railing on your left, blankly staring out at the road. “How’s your day been?”
Regulus casually twirls his fork into the spaghetti in his bowl before bringing it to his mouth. Maybe he believes he’s being slick, you think, but it’s obvious that he’s got twice his usual serving.
“Today’s been fine, yeah. Just busy. How was work?”
He nods in response, “Good, actually. Mark finally sent me the files I needed to get that huge contract signed, and —” He presses his fork into the pasta again, but this time brings it up to your mouth (hoping you’re too distracted to mind).
His heart drops and how instantly you swerve backwards, almost crashing into the step behind you.
“Reg,” it comes out as a betrayed hiss. You take a shaky exhale before sitting back upright. “I don’t want any; I’ve eaten dinner already.”
“Have you?”
“Yes, I —“
“Then why’s the kitchen completely clean?”
Regulus never takes a harsh tone with you, and he wasn’t going to start now. There’s nothing but quiet, genuine concern in the way he asks. Guilt claws at the back of your throat anyway.
It was one of your worse days; thoughts of excessive calories and not having worked out being all you could think about. You’d stared at yourself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, cursing every flaw of your body and wondering why me.
Without your boyfriend home, it had just felt like there was no reason to fatten yourself.
“Hey,” Regulus mutters, laying his palm facing upwards on your lap. You take it. “You’re getting in your head again.”
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” He reaches out to gently brush a stray hair away from your face. “But do you think you could try to eat something? Please?”
Your heart stops, and it’s like your mind is reeling back into its hiding spot already. No lies on the tip of your tongue.
“It doesn’t have to be a lot, dove, he continues quietly, rubbing your fingers. “Just a few bites. You need fuel, you know.”
Regulus is looking into your eyes with that silent look now, the one which makes you feel like he’d do just about anything to save you from yourself. You don’t think you could ever say no to him.
And it wasn’t like you’d eaten anything today. You were allowed this, for your boyfriend, right?
“Fine.”
He smiles softy and tugs you closer, stamping a kiss to the side of your forehead and picking up the bowl of pasta from beside him. “So, remember that bouquet I bought you last week?”
He starts to make casual conversation as he feeds you, and you do your best to listen. It goes all the way from those flowers were expensive! to maybe we should get a cat — or a new apartment — but NOT a dog.
The food gets lodged in your throat every now and then, but you force yourself to swallow. The ‘full’ feeling starts to creep up on you like your shadow.
Regulus can sense it. “Okay, but why the hell do you like dogs?”
You decide to indulge him and go off on a tangent about the fluffy beasts, which pulls your mind away from its dark corner. The conversation makes the chore of eating easier.
You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you’re going to let him anyway.
Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you don’t even realize the bowl is empty. He stands up to put it away before you get the chance to think too hard about it.
Regulus sits back down next to you. He starts to tell you about the stars, then, and you listen intently. It’s late, but you wouldn’t know what time it is. Time didn’t exist in your little bubble.
At one point you’ve curled into him the furthest you can. Your eyelids are being pulled down by the weight of fatigue, his comforting presence lulling you closer towards sleep.
He thinks you don’t hear it when he murmurs a soft I’m proud of you. You do.