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This is AMAZINGLY written

Very good as always, your writing is something that can always make me cry.

This is absolutely a beautiful masterpiece.

❝like the grass wants to grow, i want to run anywhere that you go.❞

summary. 'a tiny butterfly flapping its wings today may lead to a devastating hurricane weeks from now.' or alternatively, it takes six lifetimes for you to find each other.

pairings. poly!marauders+lily x reader.

word count. 8.9k (i tried to keep it short. i really did T-T)

tags. hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, happy ending. reincarnated/regressor!reader. no specific gender described. not proofread, we die like lucerys velaryon.

cws. brief depictions of death and war, themes of mental health and trauma.

note: lmaoao, as per the poll, here is the time-traveler!reader fic! i didn't cry during the angsty parts so it's probably not that bad.

YOU WAKE UP to a familiar weathered stone ceiling, owls softly hooting beyond the curtained windows, sunken in the mattress of a canopy bed with low snoring on either side of you. There’s a wilting candle on your nightstand, alongside an unfastened leather journal—a whiff of spilt ink under your nose. In your limp embrace, is a plush capybara with a turtle attached to its head. The quilt blanket is entangled between your thighs, the early morning breeze flurrying past the exposed stretch of your belly where your oversized granny-square jumper has ridden up.

It’s only then, when you try curling your fingers and wiggling your toes, that you realize that your body feels as though it had been hit by a shrinking charm. 

You sit upright instantly, heart skipping a beat from fright.

No.

You can’t have.

You reach for your brass handheld mirror, tucked away in the bedside drawers. 

There is no way you are this unlucky.

Yet staring back at you, is your eleven-year-old self.

Naturally, you end up screaming in frustration—startling the robins idle on the windowsills and all but waking the entirety of the Gryffindor castle. Prefects burst inside the dormitory, wand at the ready and crust in their eyes, in search of a threat only to find you on the verge of hyperventilating.

Bloody hell. 

Not again! 

Merlin, Morgana and Arthur—you are not going through puberty a sixth time.

“Oh, fuck me,” you mumble defeatedly as you fall back onto the patchwork pillows. Your roommates are gawping at you in horror, the sound of heavy footfalls echoing in the halls outside. 

Months ago, you had heard about the gruesome passing of Dorcas Meadowes—you weren’t necessarily close friends with the girl, despite being sorted in the same House, but you would grieve where grief is due. 

YOUR FIRST LIFE came to an abrupt end at the age of nineteen, in a quaint coffeehouse where the owner knew your name and the baristas wore a sunlit grin everyday. That day, no one had expected for Death Eaters to wreak havoc in Diagon Alley—it could have been anticipated, if only the Ministry was competent during the onset of the war. But with the extensive list of Muggleborn and half-blood casualties after that incident,  Ministry officials had no choice but to restrict certain areas and propose the ‘lesser-breeds’ go into hiding for their safety. This alluded to many families; most condemned to be blood-traitors. 

(There had been fleeting whispers of her dying at the wand of Voldemort himself.) 

Then, you’d woken up in the four walls of your dormitory. The sensation of being ever-so cruelly struck by the killing curse burning in your chest—a scorching fire, yet bitterly cold all the same. You had sobbed wretchedly, curled up in a shuddering ball of tears until your roommates had called for the prefects. It got worse when they tried to console you—you felt everything still. The panicked cries and screams of the wounded ceaselessly echoing in your head.  You remembered the shards of glass sinking into your skin as you dove for cover, Unforgivables apathetically hurled in every direction. 

It was not until Madam Pomfrey administered a Calming Draught and an elixir for dreamless sleep that you finally went out like a light extinguished.

Your second life was relatively longer—you had spent it under the supervision of mind healers at St. Mungo’s, after all. For the next thirty years, you’d been confined to a ward on the fourth floor. (Later, you would share this space with a couple who went by the names of Alice and Frank Longbottom.) Regardless of the bleak walls, it was not so bad. The quilts were warm and the assigned matron, Madam Strout, was kind and fussed over you regularly. While the healers had done everything they could, you continued to struggle with discerning what appeared to be your ‘first life.’ (Which one was your true reality? The first? Or the second?) Eventually, all the poking and prodding wore you down. Your fingertips had bruised and brittled. You could not look over your shoulder in fear of finding a Death Eater staring back at you. Night terrors plagued your dreams. 

(Your parents who had always embraced you with loving arms—they could not look you in the eyes now.) 

Memories bled into newer memories as the days went by. You haunted the corridors with a plagued stare, quickly becoming a woeful canard amongst the residents of the hospital. ‘The hysteric fortune teller,’ they called you. You who spoke of wars and rebellion at the age of twelve—but whose words nobody cared for when Voldemort began rising to power. You who’d gone mad and overwrought. In the end, you believed everyone else. 

(See? It must have been all in your head—a wayward spell that unfortunately damaged your memories.)

You’re unsure of how you died, but perhaps, you were never even alive in the first place. There was only so much Draught of Peace you could take before you inevitably became a soulless, sleep-walking husk of a person.

You woke up in the Gryffindor tower once more—this time, you’re careful enough to smother your cries.   

If you flinched every time Marlene McKinnon coarsely bellowed Dorcas’s name in the middle of the school hallways, or if you averted your gaze at the sight of Alice Fortescue and Frank Longbottom’s intertwined hands—it was nobody’s business but your own. In this life, you kept your head down, breezing through your homework and exams—although you had seen no purpose in it, at this point. Each morning that you woke up, you wondered if this was a favor from the Gods, or a relentless hell so meticulously-crafted for you.  

(But what sins had you committed for them to spit on you as they had done? Surely, you would be granted peace after two deaths.)

You could not tell your family, nor could you ask anyone else in Hogwarts if they remembered fragments of their past lives—for the last time you had done that, you were met with vindictive laughter and cruel gazes. 

(At that moment, you had understood Xenophilius Lovegood a little bit more. You never knew how many sought to trample on the wallflowers of the castle.) 

And so, you’d kept your head down until the end of your time in the castle. You stayed away from Diagon Alley and surrounding areas, and you willed yourself to perfect the art of apparating—a skill you wished that you had learned earlier. 

On the first of November 1981, witches and wizards had come to celebrate the fall of Lord Voldemort—which ultimately meant the death of James and Lily Potter. (You could not come to their funeral the first time around, seeing as you were chained to your hospital mattress that day, inebriated on the third dreamless sleep potion administered to you.) 

Under the eyes of St. Jerome, you laid bouquets of white roses and dahlias on their tombstones. 

“Wherever your souls are now, I hope you find each other and unearth peace,” you whispered to the two names engraved on the slate, hands clasped together as you rested on the grass. The winds had been cold and biting, a testament to the looming winter that would sweep away the tears on their graves. Like Dorcas Meadows, you did not interact much with James and Lily—but more than anyone, you knew how death was no easy enemy to conquer.

(You hoped their orphaned son would live a life that would not take him too early.)

A few months later, you met your demise to a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback. 

As you bled out on the grassfields, you wished for Death to come and take you faster.

When you awakened, it was in the same bed and the same dusty ceiling. 

There was nothing you could do but go back to sleep this time around.

After dying pathetically for a third time, a stubborn part of you wanted to fight back—so you did. 

Unlike your previous lives, you joined the Dueling Club, supervised by Professor Flitwick himself. Your wand work was clumsy and you stumbled on your incantations. You could not lift your wand without remembering a coffee shop laid to ruin and wreckage or the hardened gaze of Greyback as he sank his teeth into your neck. The times were merciless, your dance with Death even more—but you would not die helplessly again. 

As you lay in your bed, muscles aching from dueling practice, you had realized one thing. 

You did not want to stain your hands with the blood of another—having grown tired of the Reaper and his antics. If the Gods would not let you rest, then you would not let them take anyone else. 

After all, you had the stubbornness of a Gryffindor lion. 

For the next six years or so, you devoured your textbooks on charms and healing spells, refining your spellwork until your tongue grew numb and your wrists became sore. When the time came, you followed James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, and many more, in joining the Order of the Phoenix. (Perhaps you should have realized earlier that you all were just wide-eyed children on both sides, forced to partake in a war that should have never been yours to fight.) 

The First Wizarding War transfigured the years into a blur of mourning, surviving, and fighting in alleys now-bloodied. Even the sun hid behind the clouds, for brothers began turning on one another. You could only find solace in the fact you had kept Dorcas away from Voldemort’s clutches, volunteering to go in her stead during incursions, and Marlene McKinnon alive for another day to see her family.

But for how long could you cheat fate? 

Hours before your death, you found yourself in a forest clearing. The campsite was filled with witches and wizards afflicted with severe hexes and curses—a few of Dumbledore’s best fighters screaming in agony from the Cruciatus. 

There you found Remus Lupin, bruised and worse for wear, attempting to wrap a bandage around his shoulders in an empty tent. 

“You look like you’ve seen better days,” you said in a soft greeting, stepping inside the tent with a forced smile, your collection of potions and jars of herbal pastes jostling in your leather satchel. 

Remus chuckled tiredly. “Haven’t we all?” 

You gently pried the bandage from his trembling hands and maneuvering yourself at his back. You stifled the urge to cry at the sight of his scars—so violently red against his pallid skin. Compared to your previous lives, you had developed a friendship with Remus and his group of bold marauders—a camaraderie as true as it could be in dire times. (And if providence had been kinder, you could have dared to want more than just friendship.) You poured drops of Dittany onto his shallower wounds, murmuring empty words of comfort as he flinched and hissed.

“It’s Peter,” he rasped, abruptly holding onto your wrist as you turned to leave. “He’s been missing for hours. Please. I don’t know what I’d. . . what I’d do if. . . if. . .”

You squeezed his hand. “I’ll find him, Remus. Don’t worry.”

True to your word, you had found Peter at sundown deep within the forest. There was an unsettling quietude that hung in the air as you trudged to his side. He was kneeling on the muddy ground, head hanging low. It’s only then that you noticed the body laying still in his arms. Violent chills slithered down your spine as you recognized the woman in his embrace. 

“Mary!” you cried out, hurrying to them as fast as you could. 

“What happened?” you asked frantically, hands in a desperate search for a pulse. When you were met with no answer, you pressed again more heatedly. “Peter! Look at me!” You gripped his chin, heart hammering in your chest. “You have to tell me what happened! I can’t. . . I can’t help her if I don’t know what hit her.” Droplets of tears fell from your eyes down to Mary’s pale cheeks. “I can’t. . . I need—please. . .”

Bloodshot eyes stared back at you. “I. . . I didn’t want to do it.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, burying his head into the crook of Mary’s neck. “I was so, so scared.”

“Peter, what are you talking about?” You grimaced impatiently when Peter lifted his gaze—but he was not looking at you, rather behind you.

The answer to your question was a killing curse to the back.

An unseen rustle in the bushes that you should have paid attention to, a cloaked figure darker than any shadow; a Death Eater that’d come to ensnare you in a perfectly-laid trap. 

(Damn it!)

(Damn it all to Hell!)

You awoke to the sound of your screaming and your limbs thrashing in the bed you’ve grown to despise. There was nary a remorse in your body as your roommates wailed at the sight of your nails drawing blood from your arms. Later that morning, the common room would be filled with talks of your faraway gaze and your scratched-up flesh. 

You could not take it anymore.

In your fifth life, you had sought peace—or rather, the most beautiful mockery of it. 

You decided to give up your magic to chase a semblance of normalcy. No more wands, no more moving portraits, no more jinxes and pranks, no more owls and wizard robes. Most of all, no more war. (‘But it did not work like that’, Death laughed.) In this life, you wanted what was denied of you in the previous ones.

A family.

A happy ending.

Bitterly enough, the Gods saw fit to give you only one of the two. 

You married a Muggle, to your parents’ dismay. He was nice and compassionate—a distant contrast to the ongoing turmoil of the wizarding world. But you could not bring yourself to feel guilt. You had been stripped of everything, which included the privilege to die and lay your soul to rest in perpetuity. 

(Who were you, if not a dead man walking?)

Over the years, you would have three children with your husband—three beautiful children born from love, in a world that would not actively seek to take them from you. You raised them all to adulthood, hoping they would not fault you for finding relief at the lack of magic in their veins. Their names were Kinsley, Piper, and Avery—and you had adored every inch of them, from their striking eyes to the tips of their stubby fingers. 

On your deathbed, you were surrounded by your grandchildren and your great-grandchildren. An image you held close to your heart as your vision began to deteriorate. 

Just this once, you prayed to all that would hear. 

Let me die surrounded by my family.

At the age of ninety-one, you drew your final breath.

And when you opened your eyes, you were back in Hogwarts for the sixth time.

TO SIRIUS BLACK, you are a curious little wallflower, albeit a withering one—you who blend among the crowd, with a sad gaze in your eyes and the fretful twisting of your fingers. He doesn’t know why he’s particularly drawn to you—but perhaps he understands, more than anyone, the hesitance of taking up space in fear of punishment for one wrong move. But you look so lost, meandering along the corridors like the ghosts of the castle—but even the spirits seem more alive and colorful than you. 

“What is it that they have taken from you?” Sirius wants to ask. 

(What judgment has fate placed upon you so—for you to cry each morning?) 

There is a raging urge in his veins to reach over and wipe your tears away, but what can he do as a stranger, if not watch powerlessly as you fade into the background? 

His fingers feel like they might fall off if they do not entwine with yours. He wants to offer up his shoulders to carry the burdens that weigh down on a creature as lovely as you. 

There are times when he and the other Gryffindors catch you crying at the long tables of the Great Hall. 

“O-Oh, was I?” Your reply is quiet. Resigned. Sirius has never felt his heart break more than in that moment. You move to weakly swipe at your tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to. . .” 

“It’s alright, really,” Lily says, her voice strained, the words lodged in her throat. Under the table, she seeks James’s hand for comfort. (How can someone appear to be so lonely and defeated?) “We all have those days.”

“Yes.” You blink away the fresh tears pricking at your eyes, mindlessly pulling at the threads of your woven bandages, a weary chuckle falling from the cracked skin of your lips. “Except, it seems the days never end for me.”  

Lily stays silent. 

Sirius shares a look with Remus from across the table, an unspoken question hanging between the animagus and the werewolf.

How do their voices call out to the one who so faithfully believes that the world has abandoned them?

But Sirius Black is determined and unyielding—what good of a prankster would he be if he could not bring a smile upon your beautiful face? 

He gets his chance during Transfiguration class, when McGonagall instructs the class to pair-up for an activity in turning miniature statues into birds. Predictably, you don’t move a muscle, staring ever-so intently at the sights beyond the classroom windows that you don’t notice the professor observing you worriedly—her lips tightly pressed and her eyes wrinkled with concern. Sirius slams his buttocks onto the wooden chair next to you; the sound of chair legs screeching bounces off the cobblestone walls.

“Hullo, partner.” Sirius grins as he offers you an enthusiastic wave, his dark curls floundering with his energy. He feels the gazes of his best mates boring into his back, but decides to ignore it for now—Remus can live without him for one class. In his mind—a perfectly-reasonable logic for an eleven-year-old, mind you—he figures that you would find class more entertaining if you had the right company. And, Sirius is wonderful company. 

You stare at him with furrowed brows and Sirius wishes nothing more than to bring fire to your eyes. “Partner?” you repeat, a tinge of confusion in your voice—a deafening cadence to his ears, as for once, it is not desolation that laces your words. 

“Partner,” Sirius affirms with a nod of his head, barely paying heed to McGonagall’s directions at the front of the room—but noting the mention of a prize for the pair who would successfully cast the spell for longer than ten minutes. He takes your silence for uncertainty, and replies with a light-hearted scoff—finding the pout on your lips adorable. “I’ll have you know I’m a bloody master at Transfiguration. Not even James could match me in this class—okay, maybe he could, but that’s not important, is it? Point is, with me at your side, Minnie will have no choice but to give us a hundred points!” 

From the frown on your lips, Sirius gathers that you’re unimpressed by him—a first, but not a total setback. 

He seizes the small box of porcelain figurines before you can blink, a wry smile on his face as he wrangles a boastful laugh from his throat. “Ready to have your mind blown? I’ve been practicing this spell since last night. There’s no way I’m getting this wrong.” 

“Oh, I’m Sirius Black, by the way—at your service.” He holds out his hand for you to shake, wondering what your palm would feel like in his. Cold? Warm to touch? Or, perhaps, a perfect fit—just as Lily’s hand feels laced with his?

He doesn’t find the answer to his question. Instead, you draw your wand from your robe pocket, and point the tip of the wood at the earthenware at Sirius’s grasp. 

“Avifors,” you recite delicately—such a flawless incantation that Sirius hears Merlin himself weeping in the depths of his grave. 

The figurine grows feathers and a beak—Sirius and the rest of the students can only watch as the weebill flutters its wings and soars through the roof. 

He’s stupefied. Breathless, one might say. But not because of your little trick—rather, the growing smile on your lips as you watch the bird fly across the room. Your eyes flicker with mischief, and like a man on the edge of a cliff—what is Sirius Black to do, but fall? 

THE END OF YOUR first-year at Hogwarts draws near, and so does the springtime—a coveted season for lily flowers to bloom. The April winds find you out by the lake edge, swinging your legs idly on a marble stone bench where the cypress vines grow along the cracks. Songbirds fly overhead as the daylight glistens on the surface of the Black Lake, a beech tree in the near distance, butterflies dancing past the gnarled trunk. Pollen floats like dust in a cupboard under a staircase. Ducklings waddle after their mother as riverine rabbits scurry on into the tall, purple nettles. On days like this, you find it easier to settle into your new life—but, perhaps, you have your friends to thank for that. 

Yet, as you find yourself wanting to reach out to their outstretched hands, flashes of children with your hair, your eyes, cheekbones whittled to resemble your own, haunt you. Their pure and gentle temperaments, painfully akin to their father’s. You mourn them every day. Their names are forever inscribed in the locket of your soul. (You did not find it fair—you who live again, and they who disappear forever. An existence that would cease to be—all because you fear what awaits you in this life. Why must it be you who should walk this land with a body scarred by wounds no one else can see? Why must it be you who mourns the loss of your family, your friends, and all your loved ones—everyone murdered by the Gods who spit on the five graves with your name written on it? Why? Why?)

Do you dare to live a life without them? Is it fair to deprive them of a chance of being a family while you waste away on the Isles? You may have lived multiple lifetimes, but not once have you been given the answers you seek. 

You will not find happiness without them; it is as you deserve. 

(For why else would Death torment you so if you are seen as innocent in their eyes?)

“How did I know I’d find you here?” A sing-song voice emerges from the trees, and you’ve no need to turn your head—the sound of Lily’s bright cadence is one you’re familiar with. But, somehow, you’ve grown fond of her voice, more acquainted with her smile and laugh than you’ve ever been in the last five lives. (You have to wonder if this friendship is one you’re permitted to enjoy.) Her grin is blinding, more so than the afternoon sun behind her. Lily’s wavy hair falls over her shoulder as she plops down on the empty space beside you. “We didn’t see you at lunch today,” she says, looking ahead, the warmth of her hand inching closer to your own. “I figured you didn’t want a bunch of whiffy boys around.”

Then, she looks around, searching for any prying ears, a stream of giggles falling from her lips. “Although, I must warn you—their pockets are loaded with food stolen from the hall, saying they’d give it to you when you returned to the tower. But I think Minnie caught onto them.” She chortles, a fond gaze in her eyes. 

You hum in thought, a smile unknowingly pulling at your lips. “Thank you, Lily. It’s sweet of you to come and find me.” 

She harrumphs light-heartedly, snootily lifting up her nose. “Don’t get too used to it. We’re only just best friends, after all.”

A silence encompasses the two of you, sitting under the shade, pink fingers shyly intertwined. Lily allows the minutes to flow by like a breeze on the waters, until she stares at you with thick emotions flickering in her emerald eyes. She nibbles on her bottom lip, long lashes kissing her eyelids. “Are. . . Are you alright? Is it one of those days again?”

You grin at her question, impishly nudging her legs with yours. It’s a gesture you deeply appreciate—befriending you and growing closer to you in ways you imagine are never in your cards. But Lily is only eleven, and you will not act upon your selfishness. (But, maybe—just maybe—you are allowed to relish in their company until you are called once again to your deathbed. In the next life, they might not know your name as they do now, and the revelation frightens you immensely.)

“I’m okay,” you say, a gnawing lie that sounds unconvincing to even your own ears. You stare at the flock of swans diving in the lake. “I was just missing a few friends back home.” You remember the toddlers that you used to call your own—their spittled possessiveness toward anyone who dared to snatch your attention away from them. “I don’t know if they would be happy with me going off on my own adventure,” you say, sparing Lily a knowing look. “They are—erm—Muggles.” 

“Oh.” Lily nods, mulling over your words. “Tuney. . . my sister. She sort of resents me ever since I left for Hogwarts. We live a world apart, and it barely helps that she ignores me during the holidays.” She sighs, averting her gaze elsewhere, a grimace pulling at her mouth. “Sometimes I wonder if all of this was never meant for me. That I was just a fluke. Why do I have magic and not her? Any day now, I expect for McGonagall to come and ask me to pack my bags and head straight home.” 

“But,” says Lily, her eyes resolute and her fire unwavering, “until that day comes, I will enjoy every bit of this world as I can. Tuney will just have to deal with that.” She offers you a mellow smile—a likeness to a kind husband that you had once in a past lifetime. “Besides, I think those who truly love us will understand the paths we must take. Even if it means parting ways for a long time. Your friends will not blame you; they’ll want you to live truly and freely.” 

Her words sink deep into your bones, and you can’t help but let out a hearty laugh. You simper at the confused tilt of her head. “Wise words, Lily Marie Evans. Are you sure you’re only twelve?” 

Lily beams. “Mum likes to tune into the Sunday motivational-talk channels.”

(“The ones we love never really leave us, do they?” Sirius Black will tell you one day, when you’ve bared to him the truth of your lives, and he looks at you no differently than he has before—with all the adoration and fondness of his heart.)

Later, before you and Lily make your way back to the castle, you pick three flowers among the chicory weeds. She stays behind as you kneel by the riverside. For the children you have loved, and will continue to love for eternity. Droplets of tears fall onto the water, joining the floating blue petals. “I’m sorry that I cannot find you as you are,” you whisper, a heavy weight lifting from your shoulders. “But I hope that we meet again in this life, whichever names you may take.” 

(After all, what love is stronger than one that perseveres across endless lifetimes?)

You carry them in your heart—letting cherished memories remain as such. Otherwise, you’ll be chasing what can never be again. It would be an injustice to their names to try and replicate a shallow imitation of them. They deserve more than that—to be treated like a pawn in Death’s game. They were alive and you will honor them befittingly.

You bid them goodbye and allow the tethers of their soul to untangle from your grasp. 

It is the most difficult farewell—and yet, the easiest act of mercy you have ever carried out.

‘THE FLAP OF a butterfly’s wings can evoke a hurricane in the next world over.’ 

This is a phrase you’ve come to be familiar with over the span of your numerous lives. It has never been truer than the moment you step outside the infirmary to find a group of mismatched Gryffindors waiting for you in the halls. Their heads snap in attention at the sound of your footfalls. In an instant, you’re crowded with their questions and worries—but you find it endearing, the way your friends fuss over you. It’s certainly a welcome change from a past spent by your lonesome in the castle. (You only wonder what makes this life so different from the rest? Why is everything changing without you noticing? What will be taken from you for this deviation in time?) 

“How did it go?” James asks, now seventeen and captain of the Quidditch team, wavy tendrils of brown hair swooping over his round glasses. The broad of his chest fills out his red and yellow jumper, crocheted by Lily over the yule break—the five of you, including Peter, Marlene, Mary, and Dorcas, have matching sweaters as well. 

Except, you like to tease them with a jest that Lily made yours with the most love—as no one else had the pattern of a capybara with an apple on its head. 

“Well enough,” you answer, patting his shoulder with a tired smile that reaches your eyes—for how could one not cheer up in the face of James Fleamont Potter? That would be saying the skies do not brighten in the company of the sun. 

By incontestable decree of Poppy Pomfrey, the headstrong matron of the castle, you are required to meet with a mediwitch from St. Mungo’s twice a week, since the start of your fifth-year. Healer Robbins floos to Hogwarts on Wednesdays and Saturdays to check up on your health, physically and mentally. Of course, you don’t divulge anything about your time-traveling dilemmas, lest you end up confined to a hospital ward again for the rest of your years. But you do end up addressing—albeit, begrudgingly—the dried tear stains on your pillowcase every morning, your wayward habit of purposefully missing meals, or your tendency to withdraw yourself from your peers on certain days—which coincidentally happen to be the anniversary dates of your deaths. (If no one would grieve for you, then you’d do it alone.) 

Who’d have thought that healing would be much more tortuous than hurting in the quietude of your room?

But one thing is for certain—this is a suffering you will endure with greed and hunger. 

For today’s session, Healer Robbins suggests you proactively live in the present more—which is easier said than done. 

“Although, she did tell me to stop slouching all the time,” you inform James, scrunching your nose in feigned offense, to which he replies with a hearty chuckle, pulling you into his embrace for a side hug. You burrow your nose in his scent of oakmoss and orris root, a lingering touch of broom polish as well—you feel the warmth of his hand splayed out on your back, and hide your grin into his chest. 

“Well, someone had to tell you,” says Regulus Black with a scoff, arms crossed over his chest, yet no genuine heat in his trenchant eyes. He looks pleased that you return unharmed from your meeting with Healer Robbins. Funnily enough, you’ve no doubt that the famed Black temper would emerge should you utter so much as a single word against the mediwitch. (You like her, though. Some days, Robbins lovingly spiels about her clumsy-footed wife—and in return, you talk about your sad feelings. Eurgh. Talk about a fair exchange.)

Among the many divergences in this life, one of them is the unforeseen friendship you have forged with Regulus Arcturus Black. But that story begins with Xenophilius Lovegood, when you stumble upon him in the Forbidden Forest chasing after a family of bowtruckles with a fervid expression and a journal in one hand. You protect him from foul-mouthed Ravenclaws, and he allows you to tag along in his woodland escapades—including a lifelong access to the kitchens beyond curfew. His lack of regard for personal safety is both endearing and maddening, you realize early on. One stormy night, you chase Xenophilius into the forest—he is barefoot, following the Mooncalf hoofprints, as you spit out strings of expletives and mouthfuls of rain. That is where you find Regulus, groaning in pain and carrying a burden that is much too heavy for a fifteen-year-old. 

Then, a year later, they decide to give you a heart-attack when you discover that Pandora and Xenophilius have taken Regulus under their wing—figuratively and literally. And, most of all, romantically.

You’re more speechless than Sirius had been when you catch him one fateful evening.

(“Don’t do it, Sirius Black,” you greet, startling the ebony-haired boy as you step out from the shadows. The common room is silent, save for the crackling embers in the fireplace. You stare at the sixteen-year-old with a vehement resolve, your hands curled into fists. If there is one fixed event you had to live through over and over again, it is the news of Severus Snape being nearly mauled to death by a creature so feared and gruesome. You will not let it happen in this life. His eyes flicker with shame amongst a sea of gray, and he knows that you know about his abhorrent idea of a ‘prank.’ 

You sigh, taking another step forward, hand coming to rest on his tense shoulder. “Let it go, Sirius. It’s not worth it. Bringing someone to harm is never worth it. If he dies, his blood will be on your hands—and you don’t want that, trust me. Be kind to him, Sirius—and even kinder to your brother. The two of you are all each other has.”

“Not true,” Sirius whispers back, almost afraid, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheeks. “I have you, Prongs, Lily, and Rem.”

“And Remus is exactly who we should be with right now,” you reply with a harsh glare. “Not in the common rooms trying to one-up Snape because of some childish rivalry.” With a long sigh and a shake of your head, you push back the dark curls from his face. “The times are cruel, Sirius. We must hold onto what we can.”

His forehead will fall onto your shoulder, and your shirt will be soaked with his tears, but you realize that you will hold him, and all those who’ve captured your heart, until Death himself pries you away from their embrace.) 

But, it all pales in comparison to the horror in Sirius’s eyes when you point at Regulus and Peter, as you utter with absolute conviction, “They are my dearest friends.”

While Peter may have been a traitor in another life, a murderer with blood and guilt staining his hands—he is only a skittish boy in this one. A timid student who hides behind the shadows of his friends. You will not let him go down that path again. The Peter Pettigrew you currently know is a mousy little thing, pun intended, who sneaks in a pouch of sugared jelly worms in the library for you and him to enjoy whilst copying off each other’s Arithmancy homework—you two automatically get perfect marks, seeing as you’ve went through school multiple lifetimes already. Truthfully, when you see him tongue-tied before Mary Macdonald, you can’t envision anything else than a lifeless body and a man apologizing for his sins. But it is hardly fair to condemn Peter for the sins of a life he has not lived—and will never live through, if you have anything to say about. 

A lion protects their pride, and that is what you shall do. Even if it tears you apart in the process. (Healer Robbins won’t be so pleased about that, though.) 

But, perhaps, the most unexpected surprise you’ve received this year is—shockingly—not the news of Dorcas and Marlene dating, and neither is Alice and Frank’s relationship as you have already known that since your first life. It is James, Remus, Lily, and Sirius announcing to the world, with a poorly-written poem for a gnome to recite on Valentine’s Day—courtesy of James Potter himself—that the four of them are in love. In all five lives, that has never happened. Not even Lucius Malfoy can call into question the genuineness of their devotion to one another—and he will not dare to do so in your presence, otherwise he’d find himself at the mercy of you and Narcissa Black.

The four of them are happy as one, and you would die to ensure they stay together until the end of their time. Dark lords be damned. 

An even bigger shock comes when their affection for each other unspokenly extends to you. Not in a manner that equals their rambunctious gestures—because the Marauders don’t do anything half-arsed. (And if they fall in love, they fall without fear.) But in a way that is quiet yet intense, ever-so mindful of your walls—with an intention to break them down slowly and only with your utmost permission. They leave you confused with each day that passes. (You fear that they think you pitiful for having not found a significant other.)

(For months now, your heart is set aflutter just by the sound of their voices—if they look at you as a token charity case, it would tear you apart.) 

Forehead kisses, hand-holding in the corridors, late nights in the kitchen—tipsy on gillywater and the scathe of each other’s touch. Picnics by the lake, bodies intertwined where no one knows where they begin or end. Ventures in the library where not a soul is paying attention to the passages of their textbooks—hushed giggles turning into unrestrained laughter until Madam Pince rounds the corner and has you all thrown out. (How long has it been since you felt so free?) It’s the little things, like your fingers brushing against theirs as you walk side-by-side, or the soft glint in their eyes as they stare at you from across the room—as though you are a jewel to behold. 

It is one thing to know that you are living a life after life—but it is another thing entirely to feel alive when they are nearby. 

You are alive when Remus relaxes on the carpeted floor of the Gryffindor tower, and as you lay on the velvet couch, he draws protection runes on your palm with his finger. When he thinks you’re asleep, he presses a kiss to the back of your hand. When the nights are unbearably long and you find a safe haven in his embrace, and he in yours.

You are alive when James cages you in a bear hug after an intense Quidditch match against Slytherin, limp tendrils of hair clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, pressing a series of fervent kisses to the side of your head until his voice is louder than the cries of victory coming from the cheering stands. 

(“Lay back down, James Fleamont Potter,” you command tersely as you push him onto the infirmary bed. You narrow your eyes at the bandages wrapped around his arms and neck, as though it’d personally wronged you. “Don’t even think about getting up,” you quickly add when you notice his droopy eyes staring at the doors—where Sirius, Remus, and Peter have gone off for a night of mischief. With an exaggerated sigh, James will roll his eyes before pulling you into the bed with him.) 

You are alive when Lily scours the Great Hall in the mornings, hair fussed from sleep and her face bare, and when her eyes finally land on you—none misses the way she lights up blindingly, as if she were a poppy flower emerging from the forest floors and all her petals are curling towards the sun. She bounds over to you with a smile that draws everyone in the room to her. And your heart will have no choice but to swell three times its size when Lily falls asleep mid-meal, snoring with her neck bent and a spoon dangling from her mouth. 

You are alive when Sirius dashes across the room to claim you as his Potions partner. He’ll spend the rest of the class with a triumphant grin on his face—sitting on a rickety chair as he lazily admires the view of your backside. And may the Gods help the poor soul who dares to question your work. 

(“See that lovely creature over there?” Sirius will say with a dangerous lilt to his voice, pointing to you who’s quite busy squabbling with Severus and Barty Jr. over frog legs. “They will be the greatest apothecary to ever walk the wizarding world—so watch your tongue, mate.”) 

They are your limbs, the blood in your veins—the ache in your heart. The fires of your soul. And when they are near, you are finally whole. (Healer Robbins certainly won’t like that, either—but this is a thought you shall selfishly keep for yourself.) 

That is why you had come to a decision at the beginning of the year.

“I need to tell you all something,” you say, breaking out of your stupor and finally meeting everyone’s eyes. You meet Sirius’s gaze from where he leans against the wall, his attention on you—and only you. You reckon he notices the way you’re fidgeting nervously with your fingers, gnawing on your lip as you suck in a deep breath. It’s similar to the way he acted when he first told the group about his intentions to run away from his mother. Healer Robbins told you earlier to not dwell on the past—it’s only a thing that time-travelers do, she had said. You suppose there’s no better way to exercise honesty than to tell your loved ones about the secret you have been keeping for the last five lifetimes. You just hope they won’t look at you differently when all is said and done. 

Marlene’s gaze worriedly flickers from you and to the infirmary doors. “Has the mediwitch said something?” 

You shake your head. “There’s something you should know about me.”

Like a badly-written joke, a pack of lions, a snake, and a badger follows you into an empty classroom. They watch with furrowed brows as you cast a silencing charm over the room. You feel the weight of their curiosity as you take a seat in the center, drumming your nails on your lap as everyone moves to do the same. Remus wordlessly takes the seat next to you, as though being by your side is a natural phenomenon—like the shores never straying from the sand. He gives your hand a gentle squeeze and you return his kindness with a weary smile. You look at the protective circle that’s somehow formed around you. Marlene, Dorcas, Mary, Xenophilius, Regulus, Lily and the Marauders. (Since when did you gain a family like this in such a short time?) 

“Where do I even begin?” you ask with a shuddery breath. “It might get a bit intense. . . and sad, and I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you. So it’s okay if you aren’t prepared to take this all in yet. I’d understand.” 

“What one of us goes through, we all go through together,” Dorcas vows with her head high. “It’s not the first time we’ve done this, love,” she says, looking at everyone else in the room. “We’re here for you. Always have been. It’s what friends are for, aren’t they? You taught us that. Let us return the favor now.” 

You laugh wetly, eyes crinkling with gratitude. “I suppose you’re right.” 

There is no time like the present.

And if all goes awry, you probably might just jump out of a window and reset everything. (You wouldn’t, really. This life is precious to you more than anything in the world.)

You close your eyes and draw air into your lungs.

No time like the present.

“When I first died, I was only nineteen.” Despite the pinched expressions and soft gasps, you force the words out. You have to. Otherwise, the tale of your lives will be buried with you forever. This is the first time you have ever said the words aloud. It’s both exhilarating and terrifying. “Death Eaters came to Diagon Alley. It all happened so fast, next thing I knew the killing curse was cast straight at me.” 

Regulus flinches, and you offer him an apologetic grimace. 

“But that wasn’t the end,” you continue amidst their horrified wide-eyes—feeling Remus tighten his hold on your hand. You chuckle bitterly. “If it had been, maybe it all would’ve hurt less. When I woke up, I was back in the Gryffindor tower.” 

“What?” Lily frowns as a shadow is cast over her eyes. “But how?” 

“I wish I knew,” you reply with a lodge in your throat, eyes thick with incoming tears. “I really wish I knew. But I woke up back in Hogwarts. I was alive again. Somehow, someway, I was alive. But I was dying.” You shut your eyes, head craning to the ceilings as you swallow back a sob. “Have you felt what it’s like to be burnt alive? That’s what the killing curse is like. And I feel it everyday. When I told the nurses this, I was sent straight to St. Mungo’s. They could not heal what was not found in my body. They called me mad. And there was nothing I could do but believe them. It was like that until I died on an infirmary bed, leather straps around my wrists and legs, forbidden to leave the ward and feel even the sunlight on my face. I was deemed a threat to the others and myself.” 

Lily beats you to the punch and cries into her hands—the harrowing sound torn from her throat. Mary, with her own stream of tears, pulls Lily into a hug. 

“I-I told you it was ugly,” you say timidly, averting your gaze out of remorse. “We can stop here if you’d like.”

“We’re staying,” says Lily with a guttural edge to her words, eyes quickly growing red. 

“Then, in my third life, I died by a. . . Greyback—it was Greyback who killed me.” You intertwine your fingers with Remus’s, who’s gone ashen from the reveal. “It’s alright.”

“The bloody hell do you mean it’s alright?” James bellows, running a hand through his hair as he tears himself from his seat, chest heaving up and down. “None of this is alright! How could you say that? We. . .We should tell Dumbledore or something—or anyone! This shouldn’t have happened to you—it’s just too cruel. . .” 

“I know,” you acquiesce with a low hang of your head. “I know.”

Sirius exhales jaggedly. “Was that the last of it? Of your. . . your deaths?”

“No.” You stare at him with regret. “In my fourth life, I died in a Death Eater ambush.” 

Xenophilius looks like he might faint any second. 

“But in my fifth life, I met some people in the Muggle world,” you explain, remembering kind eyes and wide smiles, a family made in a home far away from magic and wars. “I loved them dearly. When I thought I was being punished by Gods, they gave me peace. They taught me unconditional love and I. . .” You let the tears drip onto your skirt. “I might never find them again, but I’ll never forget them for as long as I live. It was the only death given to me without pain.”

You watch as Lily’s doe-eyes flicker with realization. Three flowers in a watery grave. 

“And here I am now. The end,” you say, forcing a crooked grin as you brush the dust off your school robes. 

No one moves a muscle for the next few minutes. 

You freeze in fear. 

(Have you upset them? Do they see only a talking corpse now?)

The room is suffocatingly quiet and you can’t bear to see the pity or judgment in their eyes—so you run out of the room as though Death himself was hot on your heels. 

They are right behind you—of course, they are. (Where a part of their soul goes, they will follow.)

“Are you angry?” You quietly ask, wrapping your arms around your waist—afraid to turn around and face them. “I would not blame you if you are.” 

“No, not mad. Never.” Lily falls into place by your side, hovering but never stepping past your erected borders. “Maybe at the circumstances. It’s all so unfair. I’m. . . We’re just upset that you had to live through that all alone. To die over and over. I can’t imagine how much it must have hurt each time.” 

You nod, swallowing the urge to crumble on the floor. “Then you’ll understand why. . . why you and I—all of us—I can’t be with you.”

Remus frowns, stepping forward to reach out to you. “What?” 

“Don’t make this any harder than this has to be, please,” you beg, voice hoarse and hands trembling. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Sirius presses further, a bitter acid to his words. He looks frightened, almost—guilt instantly pools in your stomach.  

“Don’t you see? Everything is changing!” You exclaim, grateful that you’ve chosen the abandoned corridors of the castle where no one dares to venture on a sunny day. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know what’s to happen next! I’d rather die again than let any of you get hurt.”

“Then don’t!” shouts James, veins straining against his neck, tears of his own glistening within his hazel eyes. “I would rather die than pretend none of what I feel—what we feel—for you isn’t real.” 

“You don’t know what you’re saying, James,” you retort with a sharp scoff. “I’ve no need for a relationship that’s borne from pity or charity.” 

“Pity?” Lily echoes incredulously. “You think I’ve confused love for pity? Is that how low you think of us? After all that we’ve been through?”

“Are you stupid?” Sirius bites back. 

“Excuse me?” you shriek. “Must I spell it out for you? I’m trying to protect you! I am cursed!”

“Not anymore than I am!” Remus bellows with his fists tightly clenched, his canines laid bare and his cheeks lit ablaze. “If you’re cursed, I must be damned. Why can’t you allow yourself the same grace that you’ve given us?” 

You wilt. “I can’t do it, Remus. I just can’t. If I die again, and everything resets—don’t you know how much it will kill me if we start as strangers again?” 

Remus encases you in his warmth, an embrace that promises to keep you safe from all harm. (What good of a monster would he be if he can’t rip apart your fears for you?) “Then we will find you in that life. And every life after that. We’ll use a pensieve, or anything at all—just so we don’t forget.”

You melt in his arms, bathing in his scent of caraway and bergamot. You feel Remus placing a kiss on the crown of your head. “All these things I know. All these lives I’ve lived through. What if I ruin everything in this life?” 

“Then do it,” Lily provokes stubbornly. 

“Ruin me,” James pleads raspingly—a falter in his steps as though he’d get on his knees and beg in an instant just for you to stay with them. “Ruin me as much as you’d like. You would be the most beautiful devastation of my life.” 

And so, you choose them. 

For there was never any other option from the start.

YOU WAKE UP in the dead of the night, sunken in a mattress that is one too small for five people to fit in, leafy vines and fairy lights wrapped around the posters of the bed. Sometime during the night, Lily had thieved the wool blanket for herself. You rest in between her and Sirius, their snores echoing into your ears as the grasshoppers chirp outside. The potted plants will swing from the ceiling as the evening breeze passes by. (You’ll scold James in the morning for leaving the windows open again.) By your feet, is a fat Tabby cat with one eye named Tuna. (Full name: Tuna Belly.) There are moving pictures on the flower-plastered wall, a testament to the life you share—and the life you have fought hard for. Ruffled pillows are strewn across the carpeted floor. Parchments and notes lay askew on the desk table across the room—Remus’s jittery preparation for his first day next week as Hogwarts’s newest professor. 

Remus will catch you wide awake and tuck you into his chest, murmuring, “Rest now. We’ve got an early morning tomorrow for Wormy’s wedding.” 

You’ll hum and relinquish your thoughts for the night, holding onto James hand over Remus’s belly. “I love you,” you’ll whisper. 

Remus will say it back without hesitation—and you know the others feel exactly the same. 

Minutes later, the door will creak open and a tiny shadow will come crawling into the bed, knocking into everyone’s knees and stomach. It’s a little Harry who’s three years old now. He curls under your neck and you will hold him with all the love that six lifetimes can offer and more. 

When you close your eyes, it is a comforting darkness that envelopes you.

(Somewhere in a castle beyond valleys and lakes, locked away in the dusty shelves of Dumbledore’s cupboards, sits a broken Time-Turner that finally stops ticking.)

a/n: i wrote the last 2k words like a woman posessed! LMAO. i have to be at training in 2 hours and i haven't prepared yet. tell me what you thought aaaaa!!!! and yes, your sixth life is your last life so u die happily and in peace mwah mwah. might continue this universe with drabbles, idk. if u spot any mistakes.. ignore it for a bit LMAO, i'll proofread this soon.

✧With all my heart✧

{You give Sirius a ring and he doesn’t know how to accept a gift like a normal person}

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Sirius has slung himself haphazardly over the velvet armchair, his legs hooked over the armrest and there’s a cigarette that sits on his supple lips, and you watch as he stretches upward, using his elbows for support, he turns his head towards the open window as he blows out a cloud of smoke.

His position doesn’t look comfortable, but he didn’t mind it, it was better than you sitting in the midst of his cigarette smoke.

“You alright? You’ve been quiet” he asks as he flicks the bud of his cigarette out the window, standing from the armchair and walking over to you on the sofa picking up a cherry-flavored sweet that sits in a small bowl on the coffee table.

He plops himself down by your side, and he's close, close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating from him.

“Yeah I’m alright” you smile as he slings his arm over your shoulder pulling you into his side, his lips press a kiss on the top of your head, “Oh! I brought something for you” you smile and Sirius looks at you with a quizzical expression.

“You did?” He smiles watching you take a tiny red box from the small pouch of your backpack, excitement tingles through his body leaving a fluttering feeling in his chest.

“Yeah, I was in this old antique store with Lily yesterday and this caught my attention, thought of you” your voice is quiet with a sudden shyness.

His heart blooms at the thought of him being on your mind, he takes it from your hands, and you watch as he opens the small box you feel giddy with nervousness as his eyes widen with surprise, and your index finger picks at the sides of your thumb as you wait for a response.

Sirius looks at you with nothing but fondness in his eyes, his black curls resting against his cheeks, “You're proposing to me?” He teases with a fake high-pitched almost whiny voice, taking the ring from its cushioned box.

“What? No!” You shake your head trying to grab the ring from his nimble fingers as he doges your erratic hands, the nervousness in your body seems to dissolve as he stops to admire the ring.

“Just teasing you sweetheart” he smiles as he pushes the ring over his index finger, it has a black band and it’s embedded with red crystal, and it fits, you sigh softly in relief.

“You’re such a dickhead” you whine pushing at his shoulders as he tries to hug you, leaning his whole body weight onto you, and you eventually cave in as he wraps his arms around your soft midsection, "Honestly, you're so insufferable" you sigh, he's laying between your legs on the sofa, his cheek smushing against yours and his hair pressed against the side of your face.

“Mmm yeah yeah— all I’m hearing is that you love me and you can’t get enough” he smiles pressing sloppy kisses against your warm face, giggling to himself when you whine out in disgust.

“You only hear what you want to hear, Sirius,” you say and he feigns offense mumbling about how you're breaking his heart, his head resting against your chest as his hand creeps under your shirt his cold fingers tracing the soft skin of your tummy.

“Such a sap” you whisper your fingers threading through his soft black locks as he nuzzles into you deeper.

“Whoa, full of it today aren’t you angel?” He lets out a breathy laugh looking up at you through his ridiculously beautiful eyelashes that could make any girl envious, your hand cups his flushed cheek, and your thumb gently caresses the beauty mark that sits underneath his right eye.

“Thank you— for the gift, it’s beautiful- hope it didn’t break your bank” he winces at his words, he doesn’t know how to truly thank you he’s never been the best at receiving heartfelt gifts, especially from you and your lovely heart.

“You don’t have to thank me handsome, besides I don’t have a budget when it comes to you” you murmur pressing a kiss to his forehead.

You can sense the shift in him he goes quiet, and he hates the voice that shouts from the back of his head about how you deserve someone better, someone, who isn’t so complicated.

“I love you” he whispers so quietly you almost don’t hear him, his hot breath fans across your chest, “I really do love you” he mumbles into your skin and he hopes you believe him, he hopes you realize that he appreciates you and your gift.

Your eyebrows knit together in worry as you continue to play with his soft hair, “I love you more Sirius” you whisper resting your cheek against the top of his head.

Suddenly he’s sitting on his knees looking down at you with a completely baffled expression on his pretty face, and it’s almost comical at how animated he looks, “You couldn’t even if you tried my love— even if you tried your hardest” he says with a smug smirk his index finger waves in front of your face as you roll you eyes.

You like this side of Sirius, his playful loving banter fills your heart with happiness and you hope you can continue to provide him with lovesick happiness for the rest of his life, he lays back down on top of you his head resting against the crook of your neck, "I love you with all my heart" his lips grazing against the soft skin of your neck as you giggle at how 'cheesy' he's being.

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☾⋆AN//Hope you enjoyed my loves!! <3 {{Requests are open btw!}}

I cope by writing stomach-churning fluffy Sirius.

✧Chop chop!✧

{You cut Sirius’ hair}

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Sirius is sitting on the end of your bed, crossed-legged with his red acoustic guitar in his lap, as carelessly strums a soft melody, there’s a crease that taunts his brows as he tucks a stray strand of black hair behind his ear for like the tenth time tonight, and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you when he lets out a huff of frustration.

“Do you want a bobble?” You ask putting your book down, he looks up at you his facial features softening.

“It won’t help lovely, s’got a mind of its own” he sighs ever so dramatically before running a hand through his raven locks, “Needs cutting, all it of it” and there’s a smirk that teeters on his lips because he knows you’re absolutely mad about his hair for whatever reason.

“Okay, that’s a tad bit dramatic Sirius” you roll your eyes and he laughs at you, twiddling a strand around his finger, “You’re such a wind up” you deadpan as he pretends to cut his hair with his fingers.

You move over to where he’s sitting on the bed, your fingers combing through his soft hair, “I could cut it for ya” you smile fixing the pieces of hair that frame his face, placing a gentle kiss on his cupid's bow.

“Mm not sure I trust you with my hair” he taunts studying your face for a reaction.

“I’ll just cut it when you’re asleep” you smirk before leaning into him whispering a threatening, “Sleep with one eye open love” he laughs at you, his eyes shut and nose slightly crinkled with a joyful expression and it fills your heart with love.

“Alright fine, you can cut it just contain yourself okay? My hair is my best feature” he jokes but you have an inkling that his words carry an underlying seriousness.

You clap with excitement as you jump off the bed running to grab some hair-cutting scissors, Sirius would be lying if he said seeing you this excited to cut his hair wasn’t making him just a little nervous.

“Okay!— come take a seat handsome” you wink patting your desk chair for him to take a seat, he walks over with a certain hesitation.

“You sure you wanna do this in your bedroom?” He asks sitting in the chair as you wrap a towel around his shoulders, you move to stand in front of him, hands on his cheeks as you lift his head up to face you.

“This is going to blow your mind, but there’s a crazy invention called a hoover that-“

He rolls his eyes as he pinches the fat on your thighs you stop mid-sentence yelping his name in shock as you slap his shoulder.

“Alright, smartass” he sighs hands settling on the back of your thighs as he pulls you closer to him, your fingers threading through his hair, “Remember to contain yourself sweetheart” he reminds you watching as you take the scissors with a smile.

Sirius holds his breath as you cut the dark pieces of hair, he sees them fall on the floor from the corner of his eye, which he quickly shuts as your knuckles graze against his cheek.

“Breathe, Sirius” you let out a breathy giggle, and he blushes when he realizes just how close you are to him.

close enough for a kiss, he thinks and his hand cups your concentrated face pulling you into him and stealing your lips in a loving kiss, you gasp in surprise which only makes him laugh.

“Sirius you idiot, I could’ve- mm” and before you can finish complaining he pulls you back into him, his lip’s crashing against yours, his hand still squeezing your things.

You pull away suddenly feeling very warm, “Pack it in before I cut all your hair off” you warn him giggling as he makes a kissy face to you, you press one last kiss to his cheek, “Now behave” you smile as you continue to cut his hair.

It takes a little under an hour when you're finally done and you look at him admiring your work, his hair now sitting neatly just above his shoulders, and it frames his pretty face beautifully and you can’t lie you’re quite proud of yourself.

“Do I still look handsome?” He asks looking up at your proud smile, his fingers push through his hair the short length feels odd.

“Oh drop-dead gorgeous” you smile bringing a mirror to his face you watch as he checks himself out, nodding in approval with an impressed look on his face.

“Huh, should’ve more trust in you sweetheart” and perhaps Sirius has found himself a new hairdresser.

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☾⋆AN/ Hope you enjoyed my loves! <3

 The Marauders era Master list

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Sirius Black -

With all my heart Chop chop!

Lazy morning

Take a little break

touch starved

James Potter -

gorgeous distraction Oh bloody hell Sun-kissed berries

One of those days

Needy

Restless nights

A bad day

lifeguard!James Potter

Lifeguard!James Potter - Sneaking

Summer lovin’ -18-

Strawberry picking

Remus Lupin -

Like a renaissance painting

Burnt toast

touch starved

lazy Sunday morning -18-

Camping

A small moment//Cowboy!Remus

The Saloon//Cowboy!Remus

Regulus Black -

Forever and always

French endearments

Slow dancing

✧gorgeous distraction✧

{James trying his best to study while you distract him}

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“Knock it off” James tries so hard to be serious meekly pushing your shoulder, you watch with a teasing smirk as the crease between his brows wobbles and a small chuckle escapes his supple lips, that he tries so hard to press into a thin line to show how ‘unimpressed’ he his, and he hates to admit it but you’ve got him wrapped around your pretty little finger.

James could never truly be mad at you, you’re his everything and he tells you so about ten thousand times a day, so he doesn’t mind much when you press ticklish kisses against his jaw and to that sensitive part just behind his ear, while he’s trying to study, his books splayed across your bed and he pretends to more interested in them than you.

He always gets this fleeting feeling in his chest whenever he’s around you and it flutters to his stomach leaving him all giddy inside, you drive him mad in the best way possible.

Especially when your gentle fingers play with the curly ends of his hair that sit against his neck, the way your cold knuckles graze against his warm skin, he thinks he just might end up going insane.

You giggle watching as he not so sneakily glances at you, a small smile dances on his lips, and you know he can’t keep his composure for long, “James… James, give me attention” you whisper in his ear as you continue press kisses along his jaw while your gentle fingers still twirl through his hair, with the hope that he might just put away the scattered books and paper tonight.

He wants to be stubborn, he wants to regain some kind of control over himself when it comes to you, but how can he? When you smell like home and your comforting warmth is radiating from you inviting him like a Sirens melody.

"I'll kick you out" he threatens, as you blow cold air against his ear with a giggle, while he scribbles notes down on some paper.

"It's my room, love" you remind him, your head resting against his shoulder

"That won't stop me from locking you out, Love" he smiles as you let out a huff and he thinks he's finally won, that you might have gotten bored, but he's proven otherwise.

Your hands playfully tug at the hem of his sweater nimble fingers dipping under the soft weaved fabric as they gently traverse his lower abdomen, and you feel his muscles tense under your teasing touch as he lets out a breathy giggle that borders on a gasp and you relish in the soft sound.

“Oh!— alright, enough you win, you win” he smiles picking up the old tattered books on transfiguration and chucking them carelessly, you gasp watching them skid across the old wooden floor.

“What did the poor books do to you?” You giggle as he scoffs at you, his hands pull you into his lap and your heart feels so full and loved as his gentle fingers trace mindless patterns on the top of your thighs, and you lean to press a small kiss to the tip of his nose.

his hands settle against your hips, "If I fail I'm blaming you" he says, chuckling as you feign offense with an overdramatic shocked expression.

“Not my fault you're so pretty James” you whisper, hands cupping his warm cheeks, and pride blooms in your chest at the redness that tints his cheeks, "Just completely and utterly irresistible"

He’s a blushing mess and uncontrollable toothy grin splays across his face, his lips wobble as he tries to stop it, and it makes you giggle, “Well... I got nothing on you Angel” he admits with a wink and you roll your eyes at his comment leaning down to capture his soft red lips in a loving kiss that leaves him breathless, and he never wants to let you go.

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☾⋆AN// *BOOM* I wrote this instead of my essay, hope you enjoyed lovelies! <3 {{requests are open!}}

Oh bloody hell

{James accidentally gives you a nose bleed}

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James is a very spontaneous person, so when he asks you to bake a Victorian sponge cake with him at one in the morning because he’s ‘bored’ and can’t sleep, well who are you to deny him?

“You need some help with that?” You ask with a teasing smile as you watch him struggle to open the jam jar, you giggle at the way his eyebrows knit together, and his eyes crinkle slightly with frustration he lets out a huff.

“Nope, I got this,” he says popping the ‘p’ as he wipes his hands on his sweatpants before trying to open the jar again, you shake your head at his stubbornness.

You reach for the powdered sugar, leaning over to where James is, his elbow slightly elevated in the air as he tries to dramatically open the jar with a slight grunt. The next thing you know you hear a ‘pop’ and James’s elbow collides with your face, with force, making you stumble back slightly, and a string of ‘oh my fucking god, shit, I’m so fucking sorry’ escapes his mouth with frantic panic.

The jam is immediately discarded, and he rushes over to you his hands pushing yours away from your face as he looks for any injuries. He’s still apologizing, wincing when he notices the tiny cut on your top lip.

“Love, I’m so so sorry I didn’t even realize you were there” he sounds so guilty as he wipes the tears from your eyes with his thumb and he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek.

You notice an abnormal pressure building up behind your nose, almost as if a rubber band is about to snap, it’s an uncomfortable burning sensation and it causes you to go a little light-headed.

“No sweetheart it’s okay, I’m fine, I’m fine- it was just an accident” you smile trying your best to shake off the funny feeling in your nose, that is until you feel an awful rush, and suddenly hot blood is trickling it’s way out your nose, and James looks at you with a horrified expression, eyes wide, he looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck” he panics, quickly grabbing a hand full kitchen roll, pressing it against your bloody nose as his hand supports the base of your neck tipping your head up slightly to look at the ceiling, his hands jittery with his panic.

“Are you okay?— Shit— stupid question, of course you’re not I’ve just elbowed you in the face—“ he freaks out hand resting on the small of your back while he gently guides you to the dining room chair “here sit down lovely” he watches as you pinch the bridge of your nose in hopes it’ll do something.

“I’m so sorry, I’m really really sorry lovely,” he says and you swear he hasn’t stopped apologizing since his elbow connected with your face.

“It’s alright James” you mumble, glancing over at him with a small smile.

You eventually pull the blood-soaked tissue from your face, and he lets out a sigh of relief as the blood slowly stops.

You look over at him, he’s holding his face in his hands in distress and his eyebrows are pulled together with worry, “Sweetheart I’m so sorry, I’m honestly so sorry” he mumbles guilt lacing through his tone, and his heart wobbles at the thought of you being in pain, you watch as tears build up in his eyes.

“It’s fine James, I promise you it’s fine,” you say trying to get your point across to the very concerned boy, who’s on the verge of tears, “I’m alright, wasn’t that much blood” you smile letting out a breathy giggle. He looks at you with an exasperated expression as if he can’t believe what you’re saying.

“What? no- any amount of blood is too much blood— I can’t believe I did that” he sighs looking down at the floor, wringing his hands, James refuses to look at you scared of the pain that might still linger in your eyes, the pain that he caused, and the stubborn guilt doesn’t budges from its place in his heart.

You stand up, your hand settling against his shoulder, “You can make it up to me with a hug?” You ask coyly watching the smile that wobbles on his lips as he tugs you into him, his head resting on your shoulder.

“I’m alright James, a little headache but I’m fine, I promise you,” you say with honesty as he squeezes you against him before pulling away from you, and your heart aches at the tears that collect on his eyelashes, you tut as you wipe them away with your sleeve.

You watch as he wets the kitchen towel under the sink, he walks over to you, his hand cupping your face carefully, fingers pressing against your warm cheeks as he starts to clean your blood-stained nose and chin, and he winces at the sight.

“Am I still pretty?” You giggle as he scoffs, shaking his head slightly before discarding the towel, he kisses the top of your nose, before studying your face for a moment.

“Yes, so so pretty, even when your nose is spewing blood because your dumb, overzealous boyfriend elbows you in your face”

And you can’t help that laughter that bubbles out from you, he can be so dramatic when he wants to be, and you sigh rolling your eyes, as his head goes back to resting against your shoulder with a huff.

“Well, my dumb, overzealous boyfriend needs to realize that it was just an accident” you chuckle and your fingers rake through his hair, as he nuzzles further against your neck.

He’s pressing apologetic kisses against your shoulder, “I love you” he whispers, hands settling against your hips, squeezing them lovingly, and you're grateful he's stopped apologizing.

“I love you too, now let’s go clean up the mess” you smile motioning to the cake batter that’s somehow splattered all over the kitchen counter, he nods, not leaving your side and you clean the kitchen with James practically glued to you.

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☾⋆AN/ based on that one time I was baking and got a killer nosebleed! Hope you enjoyed lovelies!! <3

I have a Request. Best friends to lovers with James Potter. James potter stealing readers favourite shampoo. The reader notices this while she's in the shower. So angry she wraps a towel around her body and storms up to there marauders dorm with her hair soaking wet. She thinks that it was sirius who took and but she notices James in front of the mirror with a towel wrapped around his waist. Hair soaking wet. So she reaches to smell his hair only to find out that his hair smells like her shampoo

Sun-kissed berries

{James potter steals your shampoo because it smells like you}

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James potter was undoubtedly in love with everything about you, he often finds himself thinking about you in the late hours of the night, the way you smile, how you talk, your hugs even the way you smell and James doesn’t know how such mundane things about you can drive him up the wall with love, but they do.

And he blames that one shampoo you use and its sickeningly sweet berry scent that fills his senses whenever you’re around him, making him dizzy with adoration, and he so desperately wants to tell you how he feels, to lay in bed with you and list off all the things he finds amazing about you, but he won’t he’s far too scared of losing you completely.

So perhaps that’s why James decides to steal your shampoo, and he tells himself he shouldn’t because you only have the tiniest amount left but he’s never been one to make good decisions, so why start now? he thinks as he washes his hair with the sweet-smelling shampoo without any regret.

“She’s going to kill you mate,” Sirius says shaking his head, while James dries off his hair with a towel.

“No she won’t— well she might, but she can’t stay mad at me forever” James mumbles as he ties the drawstrings of his joggers up, his fingers running through his soft damp curls with a proud smirk on his face.

“James you used all of it?!” Remus shouts from the bathroom looking at the empty bottle and James watches as Sirius looks over at him with a shocked expression, his mouth slightly agape as he gasps.

James tries to conjure up some kind of excuse, failing miserably and all he can do is roll his eyes and sigh.

“Fuckin hell James you’ve got it bad” Sirius chuckles taking a seat on the chair, his socked feet resting on the wooden desk, and he replies with a small, not very convincing ‘no I don’t’ but he knows deep down that he does, he loves you.

It was late when you finally got back to your room, and you felt gross from the stressful day you’d had, nothing sounded better than a nice shower, and it would have been great if you weren’t missing a vital part of your shower routine, your shampoo, sun-kissed, berries gone.

Which only fuelled your anger more because who the fuck would steal your shampoo?

Sirius, that’s who, you thought back to that one conversation, he said something about ‘nicking it from you because it smelt like dessert’ and you felt your skin tingle with irritation as you got out of the warm shower wrapping a towel around your body and you feel a sudden coldness seep into your bones making you shiver which only made you seethe with further anger.

“SIRIUS BLACK!” You shout as you storm out of the bathroom, all three of the boys froze in panic as they hear you storm up the stairs, and James’ jaw hits the floor when he sees you walk into the bedroom with just a towel wrapped around your soaking body, and he watches the water droplets that fall from your hair and down your collarbones, and he blushes at the sight.

You walked over to Sirius whose face was painted with a smug smirk, “You’re a fucking prick, I only had a little bit left in the bottle, why the fuck would you steal it? you could've just asked?!” You seethe through gritted teeth, your brows knitted together with frustration.

“What? I didn’t even take it!" He shouts feeling slightly offended as you roll your eyes and you notice the way James is standing there with wet hair and a very guilty look on his face, you huff in disbelief storming over to where he stands.

“Lovely I-“ caught.

“Don’t ‘lovely’ me James” you mumble as you pull him towards you, and a familiar scent fills your senses, Sun-kissed berries your shampoo he looks at you with a sorry smile and it almost makes you want to forgive him, “James, you’re a prick” you snap turning to the door.

“I hate all of you.” You huff before storming out of the bedroom, and you hear Remus shout something about how he ‘didn't do anything’ as you make your way back to your bedroom.

It was early evening now, the sun had set and fallen behind the trees as it dusts the world with its orangey light, and James grabs his wallet after slipping on his jumper.

“Where you going?” Remus asks looking up from his book as he watches James get ready with a frantic rush.

He feels bad, probably more than he should do that’s why he decides to go shop for that one specific brand of shampoo you’ve always used.

“To get back in her good books,” James says with a hopeful smile before leaving, and Remus can't help but shake his head at the very obvious love-sick boy as he darts out the room with determination, and with a little bit of Potter luck he finds the bottle of Sun-kissed berries shampoo, mumbling a little excited 'yes' as he makes the purchase.

You’re lying on the bed, singing softly to yourself as you color one of the pages in your coloring book surrounded by a sea of felt-tip pens, and you hear three distinct knocks on your door, you roll your eyes.

“Go away James” you mumble and but he’s a stubborn man with the task of winning you back and he's never been the type of person to back down especially when it comes to you.

“But I got you something, I think you’ll really appreciate it,” he says from the other side of the door and you sigh as your heart blooms with a loving feeling, you yell at him to enter, and he does with his hands behind his back and a bright smile.

“I’m really sorry lovely” he whispers, showing off the new bottle of shampoo, shaking it in your direction slightly before putting it down on the table, and you can’t stop the smile that teeters on your lips as the nickname ‘Lovely’ floats around your head swarming your belly with butterflies, he always seems to have an effect on you.

He kicks his shoes off before sitting on your bed, and you curse his stupidly cute face and the way he makes your heart flutter with love, “I’m sorry” he says once again however you very much doubt his words.

“Are you really?” You ask with a knowing look.

“No— well I’m sorry but I don’t regret it,” he says and you notice the way a subtle red flushes against his cheeks, “I’m sorry I upset you” he mumbles looking away from you.

You reach out for his hand and he looks at you look with gentle eyes, your thumb brushing against his knuckles, “I’m sorry I called you a prick” you say, and James thinks his heart might jump out of his chest as look at him with the softest eyes, so sweet. You’re so lovely.

“Oh no it's alright, sweetheart, I mean I kinda deserved it” he chuckles and you feel all giddy inside with the way he's looking at you, you start to toy with his fingers trying to calm your heart as it runs laps in your chest.

"Why did you even steal it anyway?" you ask noticing the way he looks everywhere but you, his hand squeezes yours as he lets out a breathy giggle, and it's not like the gentle touches or lingering gazes were unusual for you both, in fact, they came naturally, you just both wished it meant more.

he glances over at you noticing how your head tilts slightly waiting for his answer, and he has a sneaking suspicion that you already know the answer to that, "I think you know why" he whispers and you chuckle.

"Mmm, yeah but I want to hear you say it, tell me Jamie" you whisper a fluttery feeling swarms his stomach making him go dizzy in the best way possible and he goes all bashful at the nickname and he loves the way it sounds coming from you. All the words he wants to say to you sit on his tongue but none dare to leave, you watch as he tries to conjure up the confidence.

You take his hands in yours urging him to say something, "I love you, like a stupid amount, I love the way your just you, I don't know- I can't explain it" he sighs wincing at how bad he is at this, he looks at you and your loving smile and a wave of relief washes over him

“You love me?” you giggle watching as he picks up one of the many colored felt-tip pens that scatter on your bed coloring the flower with a concentrated look in an attempt to stop his mind racing with thoughts.

“Yeah” he whispers, switching color to a darker purple to shade one of the petals.

You move your hand through his soft hair, and he looks over at you, his breathing a little faster than usual and his mind runs with different thoughts, “I love you too Jamie” You say softly as you inch closer to him, dangerously close, and you can feel his shaky breath against your face.

"Yeah?" he breathes

“Yes” you smile, glad that he decided to steal your shampoo as you lean into him capturing his supple lips in a loving kiss, and his hand finds your warm face cupping your cheeks as he pulls you closer to him and you giggle swinging your leg over his thigh to sit comfortably on his lap careful of coloring book that still lays on your bed.

“Watch the coloring book, Potter,” you say lips grazing against his as he quickly picks it up moving onto the bedside table.

You go to kiss him again but he’s quick to stop you, “Does this mean we're" he trails off thinking about all the times he’s daydreamed about this and now he’s a stuttering mess.

“Yes James” you smile and he nods with a bashful grin, excitement flurrying through his chest. He kisses you, with so much love and care, that it leaves you breathless, your hands thread through his soft hair as his sneak under your shirt resting against the small of your back, and the sweet smell of sun-kissed berries fills your senses, while you deepen the passionate kiss, and James makes a mental note to ask you on an actual date tomorrow.

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One of those days

{James comforts you when your social battery runs low}

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You have been quiet all day, barely speaking no more than three words today and you just seem so distracted, miles away, you didn’t even answer the phone when Marlene called and now James was starting to worry.

“Baby?” He opens the bedroom door softly, noticing you curled up on the bed knees tucked towards your chest, you look over at him with a small smile, trying your best to muster up any kind of energy you have.

James walks over to the bed and takes a seat next to you on the bed, his hand goes to brush your hair away from your forehead, “What’s up hmm?” He asks softly, and you close your eyes when the back of his hand brushes against your warm cheek.

In all honesty, you don’t quite know exactly what’s wrong, you just feel so… bland and can’t find the energy to really do anything, talking to anyone just seems like such a chore, and it doesn’t help that there’s this voice that tirelessly shouts at you, telling you you’re being an awful friend by ignoring everyone, telling you that you’re being a horrible partner by sitting in the bedroom all day.

“I just feel so— meh,” you say, taking his hand from your face and holding it, it’s a silent plea for him to stay here with you, “I’m sorry lovely” you whisper bringing his hand to your mouth to press a gentle kiss against his knuckles.

He looks down at you with a small smile, “You don’t have to apologize lovely, you’ve done nothing wrong” he tells you, but James can tell from the unsure look in your eyes that you don’t believe him, and he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

"No, I do, I've been ignoring you all day, and Marlene" you whisper, tears building up in your eyes, "I don't even know why I feel like this, I'm just being ridiculous James, I'm sorry" you wipe your teary eyes.

His heart aches at the sight, “I don't mind lovely, I understand that you need some time alone, I promise” he says leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, “And Marlene won’t be upset just because you had an off day” he wipes away the stray tears that fall from your eyes, his heart squeezing in his chest at the sadness that fills your eyes.

“Thank you” you whisper, a sudden guilt creeps up on you and you hate the fact he has to deal with this, with you, feeling like he has to carry your burden with him, the only thing you can do is apologize.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got nothing to apologize for” he promises you and you wonder what you’ve done to deserve such a lovely person in your life, “I’m here and I always will be, okay?” He tells you, kissing the tip of your nose, you let out a small breathy giggle, and you know you won’t win this argument, not with James’ stubbornness.

“Are you hungry?” He asks hand threading through your hair gently and you nod with a small smile.

“Yeah” you close your eyes once more basking in his loving warmth.

“Do you want to make lunch with me or should we order something? Your choice sweetheart” he says and you hum debating the options in your head.

“Let’s go cook something” you decided, sitting up and he happily nods taking your hand as you both walk into the kitchen, you already feel a little more replenished.

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Lazy morning

{mornings with Sirius}

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It’s early, 6am, and the sun is still rising casting its orangey light through your window, painting the small room with a comfortable warmth, and you notice the way beams of sunlight shine through the curtains like a beacon of light.

You look over at Sirius who is fast asleep, his cheek smushed against the pillow and his mouth slightly agape, you smile at the sight as you gently push his hair from his face tucking the black strands behind his ear, fingertips grazing against his cheek and you admire the small beauty mark that sits under his eye, how his skin glows underneath the suns warm light, it’s unfair that he still looks so beautiful in the midst of sleep.

You enjoy the silence for a moment, moving closer to Sirius’ warmth as his arm slings over your waist, and he mumbles something incoherent and you smile at how he shuffles closer to you, still completely dazed by sleep.

“Stop staring at me, creep” he mumbles against your neck, his legs entangling with yours as he urges you even closer to him.

You feel his hand dip underneath your shirt, his warm palms settling against the small of your back, “I wasn’t staring, I was admiring” you whisper, enjoying the way his fingers trace along your back and he hums in acknowledgment.

His nose nuzzles closer into your neck chasing after your body warmth and the ends of his hair tickle your skin, “You’re so warm” he says lips grazing against you and he presses gentle kisses to your neck down to your shoulder and you sigh at the loving feeling.

He continues to pepper your skin with soft kisses, from your chest trailing up to your neck then jaw, and finally, your face and you burst out in a fit of giggles trying to push him away, hands against his shoulders.

You glance over to your phone, it's already seven and there's a text from James, “We need to get up” you giggle at how Sirius shakes his head, “We can’t be late for James’ match, It's a big one today” you tell him and he groans against your skin, thinking about how cold it was outside the last time you both went.

“Five more minutes lovely, just five more minutes” he whispers with such a persuasive tone that you can’t help but want to indulge him and the way his hands rub against your waist down to your hip makes it even more impossible to move.

You know he’s a nightmare to try and get up, he could lay in bed with you all day if he had it his way, you had to bribe him out of bed.

“Sirius we really can’t be late, James will kill us” you giggle, trying to think of ways to get him out of bed, “Come on we’ll make breakfast together,” you say, playing with his hair.

He doesn’t answer straight away, still silently debating whether or not he wants to get out of bed, “We could make pancakes?” You suggest.

He watches as you get up, eyes trailing along your body, “Come on sleepyhead” you smile pulling at his hand, trying to get him out of bed, he lets out a groan as he reluctantly stands up following you to the kitchen with the odd complaint here and there.

“You’re a bully” he whispers, head resting against your shoulder as he stands behind you while you prepare the pancake batter, you roll your eyes at how dramatic he can be.

“Oh, a bully?” You laugh, and he nods against your neck hands dipping under your shirt to settle against your belly, “I’m making you pancakes at seven in the morning because I love you” you tell him and you can feel as he smiles against your skin, “I don’t think a bully would do that, would they baby?”

You move over to the stove with Sirius still practically glued to your side as you carefully pour the batter into the pan, “Yeah yeah, I love you too” he says, pressing a kiss to your cheek before walking over to the kettle to brew the pair of you some tea, maybe mornings with Sirius weren’t too bad.

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Burnt toast

{Remus finds you eating a midnight snack}

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You’ve never laughed so hard in your life, the look on Remus’ face as he watches you use the same knife for the butter and jam for your very much burnt toast, the look he gives you as if you had just committed a crime right in front of him.

“Please tell me you haven’t been doing that the whole time we’ve been together” He deadpans as you laugh so hard tears blur your sight, he shakes his head softly taking the jam jar from your hands and examining the toast crumbs and butter that contaminate the sweet spread.

“You should be locked away for this” It's the seriousness in his voice that makes you laugh harder, you watch through joyful tears as he takes a teaspoon out of the cutlery drawer and starts to pick out the crumbs and butter pieces from the jar.

“You’re being ridiculous Remus,” You say through a fit of giggles watching as he picks the butter up and puts them back in the fridge, “What do you expect me to do?—- use the same knife?” You giggle as he turns back in shock as if you just asked him the most stupidest question ever.

“Yes I do, it’s cross-contamination” He can’t help but chuckle a little when you wipe the tears from your eyes still laughing, “Alright breathe lovely” he chuckles walking over to you.

“What you even doing up this time of night?” He asks looking over at the clock that read five am in bold red writing.

“Was hungry” you say regaining your composture before taking a bite from the toast, Remus’ arms wrap around your body as he stands behind you, and he presses gentle kisses against your shoulder.

“Well hurry up, it’s fucking freezing out here” he whispers resting his head on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, while you continue to eat your toast. He leans closer to you trying to steal your body warmth as the cold tiles of the kitchen sends a shiver up his spine.

“Wanna bite?” You ask, bringing the toast to his lips and he’s quick to move his head.

He looks at the brunt toast in disgust, shaking his head, “No I don’t” he chuckles, “How have you managed to burn it so bad?” he asks, face cringing a little as he watches you take another bite.

“It tastes fine,” you say, and he’s not quite sure if you’re trying to convince him or yourself.

“Yeah, I’ll take your word for that dove” He smiles, his head resting against your shoulder, the ends of his hair tickling your skin as he presses kisses against your jaw and his hands dip underneath your jumper settling against the warmth of your belly.

“Come on let’s go back to bed,” you say as he nods against you, following you back to the bedroom, and he’s quick to search for your warmth again underneath the covers, holding you close to him as you both drift off back to sleep.

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Needy

{James gets needy after coming home from practice}

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James loves coming home to you after quidditch practice, laying in your arms and basking in your warmth after spending the day outside in the freezing cold rain, the way you make him feel so cosy with love.

There’s a dull ache that seizes his body, leaving him exhausted, his muscles sore from the strenuous exercise and there’s no other place he’d rather be than with you.

He lays in between your legs his head resting against your chest as your fingers play with the ends of his hair, he’s not paying any attention to the movie instead he finds himself distracted by the slow rhythm of your heart and the steady rise and fall of your chest.

“God you’re so warm” he sighs nuzzling his nose into your neck as he leans in closer to you, his hands dipping underneath your shirt settling against your belly, and he hums in bliss at the softness of your skin, “so so warm”

You giggle at his neediness, “Quit treating me like your personal radiator” You try to wiggle free from underneath him but it’s pointless, his body weight sandwiches you against the sofa, not that you’re complaining.

“S’not my fault you’re so warm, and soft,” he says, sighing as your fingers thread through his hair.

There’s a comfortable silence that blankets you both, and you go back to watching the movie, and it’s peaceful until James starts pinching at the fat of your stomach, “James!” you gasp hitting his shoulder and your hands go to grab his trying to stop his pinching.

And you reckon if it was anyone but James Potter you might've killed them for it.

He looks up at you, smirking at your fed-up expression and you roll your eyes trying to hold back the smile that teeters on your lips, “Asshole” you divert your attention back to the movie, trying to avoid his eye contact.

“I’m sorry” he mumbles, lips grazing your neck, and he can feel your pulse against his skin and he peppers delicate kisses against your neck trailing up to your jaw.

And you try your best to ignore him, as he mumbles more apologies, but it’s easier said than done especially when his kisses turn needier and the way his thumb draws circles into your hip coaxing you to look at him.

“Forgive me?” He whispers, and you purse your lips trying to focus on the movie that's still playing.

James takes a moment, thinking of how to win your attention and he smirks when he gets an idea, leaving opened-mouthed kisses along your neck trailing up to your pulse point, a clash of teeth and tongue dragging along your skin, “James” you warn and you feel him snicker against you.

“Do you forgive me now?” He asks, sitting up to admire your face, how the warm light of the lamp sits against your skin, so pretty, he thinks looking down at you with the most loving eyes.

You smile at him, “Yes I do”

“Yeah?”

“Yes” you giggle as his hands cup your jaw, fingers pressed against your cheek, turning your head to face him, he leans down to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth then another and another and another.

He peppers kisses all over your face, hands cupping against either side of your face squishing your cheeks together, and you groan trying to push him away but it’s impossible when he’s sitting on his knees in between your legs.

“Oh my god, James what’s gotten into you?” You giggle, fingers wrapping around his wrists as you bring his hands away from your face, and he looks at you as if you’ve asked the most obvious question ever.

You watch as he huffs, “I’ve missed you, I was at practice all day” he says smushing his face against your neck, laying his body weight against you.

“Just let me love on you sweetheart,” he says with a teasing smile, and you shake your head finally giving up as you let him lay against you.

Your arms wrap around his shoulders and your hands settle against his back as he rests his head in the crook of your neck, he can smell the sweet perfume he’d brought you for your birthday and he hums in contentment as the flowery scent pleasantly surrounds him.

“You’re still coming to my game tomorrow?” He asks, and you can tell he’s getting tired by his tone, your fingers graze along his spine.

You turn to press a kiss to his forehead, “Of course I am, wouldn’t miss it for anything” you tell him and you can feel him smile, his chest blooms with adoration, and you go back to watching the movie as he falls asleep wrapped up in your arms, and you know that by the time he wakes up your going to have seriously bad pins and needles but you don’t mind, it's worth it.

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Restless nights

{You can’t sleep and James stays up with you}

just a little something because I'm fighting off sleep to finish decorating my room!

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12:40 am. The clock reads as if it’s almost taunting you, and you let out a groan of frustration as you fling the covers from your body, you were so tired and yet your body did everything in its power to prevent you from getting sleep.

And you don’t know what it is, maybe because your shirt keeps twisting in an uncomfortable way, or the fabric is too itchy or maybe it’s your pillows, or the quilt? whatever it might be it’s preventing you from sleeping.

So you quietly creep out of bed, careful of James who is entirely enveloped by sleep, and you can't help but feel a little envious of how fast he can fall asleep, you swear his head hits the pillow and he’s gone sometimes.

You make your way to the kitchen, the cold tiles sending a shiver up your spine as you rub your eyes, as they adjust to the light, before flicking the kettle on, you decided that perhaps some tea might help you find dreamland, although you knew that was just wishful thinking.

A minute or so has passed, and you’re sitting on a stool skimming through a book you found, your body slouched with exhaustion as you stare mindlessly at the words, cursing yourself silently when you hear James call your name. You're taken out of your trance, and you watch over your shoulder, as he rubs at his eyes, still very sleepy

James wraps his arms around you, head resting in the crook of your neck. “You scared me, thought the boogeyman took you,” he says, sleep lacing his voice, he smiles into your skin as you let out a small giggle, his warm hands dipping underneath your shirt to settle against your belly.

A slight sense of guilt pinches at your heart for waking him up, “Sorry, I just can’t sleep— I don’t know what’s wrong with me” you whisper, with a wobble to your voice, a build-up of emotions.

James pulls back slightly his hands holding your hips as he swivels your stool to turn you around, “Hey, It’s alright lovely, is there anything I can do to make it better?” He asks, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You look over at the clock, 1:09 am, wincing at the sight you knew James had to be up early for Quidditch practice and the blame of waking him up settles uncomfortably in your chest, you can’t stop the tears that well up in your eyes, a harsh mixture of exhaustion and guilt.

He notices the build-up of tears that collect in your eyes, as he tuts softly, “I’m sorry James, it’s so late and you’ve got to be up early— you’re going to be so tired in the morning” you ramble tears falling down the curve of your cheeks.

His thumb gently wipes them away as you continue to whisper your apologies, his eyebrows crease together in concern, he hates seeing you cry, he hates the pain that laces through your tone, it hurts him to see.

“No, don’t cry lovely, it’s alright- I’ll be alright,” he tells you and you look up at him with a tearful smile, god he was just too sweet.

He holds your face gently in his hands as you cry softly, letting all the emotions out and he tries so hard to rack his tired brain for things that’ll make you feel better, anything to stop your tears.

He waits until your cries have settled, “Come here lovely girl” he says taking your hand as he guides you to the living room, he turns on the tv before joining you on the sofa.

“James, what are you doing?” You ask watching as lays down opening his arms for you.

“I’m staying up with you until feel tired, then we’ll go to bed, yeah?” he smiles and he can see the hesitation in your eyes as he tugs on your hand urging you to lay between his legs, how could you say no to that?

You rest your chin against his chest smiling up at him as he leans down awkwardly to press a soft kiss against your lips, his hands resting against the small of your back.

“You’re too good to me” you whisper, watching as he flicks through the different tv shows before finally settling on some random documentary about the ocean.

His fingers run along your back, and the gentle sensation calms your heart and you suddenly feel a lot better, and you swear James only has the power to make you feel so loved.

“You only deserve the best angel” he presses a kiss to the top of your head, smiling at the way you nuzzle into him, you know there’s no point in trying to disagree with that, James is stubborn especially when it comes to you.

James waits and waits until he can feel you trying to fight off the sleep to guide you back to bed, where you snuggle into him while his hand soothes your back and your legs entwine underneath the warm blankets, smiling at the way you go languid in his arms, "Goodnight lovely" he whispers before he himself goes back to sleep.

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Take a little break

{Sirius convinces you to take a break and you end up sharing your first kiss}

Hope you enjoy my lovelies! 💕

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Routine was something you found solace in, a day constructed by steps where everything fell into place, you couldn’t think of any other way to live, that was until you met Sirius Black who seemed to live the exact opposite, he called it ‘living in the moment' a concept that you had a hard time adjusting to.

But you tried even if it felt so impossible, you lived in the moment with him and you slowly learned to love it, the spontaneity of life with Sirius was so freeing, he taught you a lot of things about yourself that you couldn’t even begin to imagine as you did for him.

Loving him was the easiest part of it all, his laughter and soft touches, he made you feel so adored without fail constantly, it became hard to find flaws within yourself with the way he looks at you as if you were an angel sent from the heavens above and to him you are, you’re his angel.

Even when your sleeves are rolled up as you scribble down notes, papers sprawled across the table, he’s completely enamoured by you and the way your nose scrunches up slightly as you concentrate, or the way your purse your lips, god, he wants to kiss you so bad.

He’s been waiting for a little over half an hour for you to be done working but then again he thinks he’d wait for days with how pretty you look, the way the evening sun seeps into the room settling against your skin, angelic, he thinks.

He reaches over to hold your free hand, “You should take a break, angel” he tries for the fourth time tonight, with the hope that you might just actually listen to him this time.

“I can’t- I need to get this done” you mumble completely wrapped up in your own work as you reach over to another book, you start to read through the contents.

He leans back into his chair, his fingers tapping against the wooden table to the melody of old eighties songs you have playing on your phone, and he frowns at the obvious stress that envelopes you.

Sirius racks his brain trying to think of ways to get you to take a break, anything to stop that crease between your brows and the stress that settles in your eyes.

He moves his chair to sit beside you, a hand on your thigh as he watches you write notes, “When does it need to be handed in?” He asks softly, watching as you nibble the inside of your lip.

You look over at him, “Next week, Friday” you shyly tell him, going back to writing, and you hear him let out an audible sigh.

It was only Sunday, you had all week and the next to get this done but you were dead set on completing it now and your stubborn mind was nothing but relentless, you just had to get it done.

“Angel, you’ve got two weeks to do this, you can’t just do it all in one sitting,” he says, his tone is so caring it makes your chest flutter, “Come on, let’s go do something”

You purse your lips as you look down at the work then back to Sirius, you know he’s right you haven’t moved for what felt like hours and you’re in desperate need of a break, but that little voice in the back of your head is just so persistent.

“I can’t Sirius I just need to get this out of the way” you sigh, feeling a little guilty at the way his shoulders drop.

He takes your hand lifting it to his mouth as he presses a gentle kiss to your knuckles, “Please?” He whispers and you can’t help but giggle at the way he pouts, the hopeful glint that flashes through his eyes, and you just can’t say no to him.

“What would we even do?” You ask smiling at how his eyes widen softly with shock, the relief that washes over him as you finally give in.

He hums as he thinks about the question, “We should go for a walk, get some air, then food?” He suggests, thumb grazing over the curves of your knuckles.

“Okay, yeah we can do that” You smile, as he pulls you up to your feet, you gasp at the sudden movement and the sound of the soft eighths music gets a little louder.

You shake your head with a chuckle noticing the playful smirk that teeters on his lips, “But first, we should dance” he says, pulling you closer to him and you’re already trying to push away from his arms.

“No Sirius I can’t dance” You giggle at the way he starts singing poorly to the lyrics of ‘Don’t you forget about me’ his hands are against your hips as he keeps urging you closer.

There's an uncontrollable smile that adorns his face, a sight you don’t think you could ever be bored of, as he spins you around before bringing you back into him, and you finally give in as you indulge him for a minute.

The pair of you dance messily together in your living room, socked feet colliding together as you both practically trip over each other, the sound of your laughter flows around you both and Sirius doesn’t think he could be any happier.

“You’re not that bad angel” he says chuckling at the way you roll your eyes, such pretty eyes, he thinks as you both continue to gently sway, his arms still wrapped around you.

Your head comes to rest against his shoulder, and for the first time in a couple of weeks, you finally feel at peace, “Yeah? I can't be as bad as you” you giggle as his fingers pinch at your sides.

You look at him a gentle hand brushing his hair behind his ear, he’s so effortlessly beautiful that it makes you almost envious, the way the now setting sun dusts against his skin, you reach up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He tenses slightly at the feeling, you're so close to him, so wrapped up in your love his hands cup either side of your face with such care, his eyes flicking from yours to your lips.

“I want to kiss you” he whispers, and he thinks his heart might jump out of his chest when you look at him, god such pretty eyes, he thinks once again.

You go giddy with excitement and you feel yourself heat up at his gentle words, “Can I Kiss you?” He lets out a shaky sigh.

He hasn’t the slightest idea of why he’s suddenly so nervous, perhaps it’s you, he’s scared of messing things up, going too fast, and ultimately he’s scared of losing you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

So he waits, he would wait forever, until you make up your mind, “Of course you can” You smile, and that’s all he needs as he pulls you closer to him, his lips capturing yours gently as you move into him.

It’s a short kiss broken by soft giggles that you just can’t help, a sound Sirius swears could fix everything wrong in the world, “I can’t kiss you when you’re all giggly” he says although he’s no better himself as he tries to stifle his own laughter.

“I’m sorry- I’m just happy,” you tell him, and he’s at a complete loss for words.

“I’m glad” he whispers as he pulls you back into him, his lips against yours once again, his head tilts slightly as he deepens the kiss.

You both completely lose yourselves in the feeling, the way his lips fit against yours so perfectly, how his hand rests against your cheek while your fingers thread through his hair.

He pulls away, his forehead resting against yours, “If we leave now we might still catch the sunset” you tell him, as he shakes his head his nose bumping against yours.

“Mm, I think I just want to stay here and kiss you,” he says peppering kisses against your face, how could you say no to that?

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- James Potter x reader

{After losing a Quidditch match James is upset, but luckily you’re there to comfort him}

Hope you enjoy lovelies!! 💕

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James knew from the moment he woke up late that today was going to be awful, and he was only proven right time and time again.

The weather was horrible for starters, the rain was just relentless as it continued to pelt down and despite the growing storm the match still wasn’t called off, the same match that James’ team was losing horribly in.

Disappointed felt like a complete understatement, he was distraught, and by the time he got home all those built-up emotions had taken the form of tears and they built up in his tired eyes. He wanted nothing more than for the ground beneath him to swallow him completely.

As soon as you heard the door open you dropped everything you were doing and rushed to the hallway, “James! How was the-“ You immediately stopped yourself as you took in the sight of his teary face, the way his shoulders dropped with exhaustion.

Your chest tightens at the sorrowful sight, you notice the way his eyebrows are pulled together as he unties his shoelaces before kicking them off, “Terrible” he sighs, his hand running through his rain-damp hair.

You walk closer to him the back of your hand wiping away the stray tears that fall down his cheek, and it doesn’t take much before his head falls onto your shoulder, your hand smoothes against his back, and he lets out a shaky sigh against your skin.

“I’m gonna go shower, lovely,” he says, trying his best to keep his tone strong but his attempts are pointless as his voice quivers with sadness.

You nod softly as he leans to press a gentle kiss to your cheek, “Okay, if you need anything just ask” You smile as he makes his way upstairs.

You busied yourself with housework and other small things as you tried to rack your brain for any ideas of how to make his day just a little better. You hated seeing him so defeated and you wanted nothing more than to hear his laugh.

You were just about to start dusting the bookshelf when he calls your name, and you were quick to make your way upstairs to him.

James is sitting on the edge of the bed, with freshly washed hair and clean clothes, but his face is still as teary, “Could you help me, please?” He asks, handing you the face cream and you gladly take the offer sitting down in front of him on the bed.

“Of course I can baby” you smile, pressing a kiss to his hairline.

He wanted to be close to you, wanted to feel your soft hands against his face as you soothe all his worries and stress away, he wanted the warmth of your love to blanket him.

James watches as you collect some of the product on your fingers before gently rubbing it into his skin, and he sighs at the feeling, his eyes closing with the newfound peace. Your thumbs gently graze against his cheeks and you can’t help but pull him closer into you, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to the tip of his nose.

He chuckles at the feeling of your soft lips as the pepper kisses all over his face, and the sweet sound of his breathy laughter only prompts you to continue your journey down to his jaw.

His hands settle on your hip as he pulls you, guiding, you to sit on his lap as he leans against the bed frame.

You rest your forehead against his, his damp curls pressing against your skin, “Thank you” he whispers, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your hip.

“What for?” You giggle, brushing your nose against his ever so slightly.

“For being perfect” he simply responds, his hands traversing underneath your shirt, soothing at the sides of your waist.

The butterflies that invade your stomach are all too prominent and his sweet words make you feel all floaty.

“We lost, the match I mean, pretty bad” he sighs, his head resting against your shoulder as you play with the ends of his hair that sit against the nap of his neck.

You turn your head slightly to press a kiss to the side of his head, “I’m sorry sweetheart” you whisper, wincing at the feeble words, yes, of course, you were sorry he lost, but there was nothing you could outright do to make it better, and the words ‘I’m sorry’ are the only words that felt right.

But what you can do is make him happy, “Why don’t we watch that thing you’ve been talking about?” You suggest, smiling at the way he visibly lights up, how his eyes seem to flicker with excitement.

He honestly didn’t even expect you to have been listening to his rambling let alone even remember it. It was a documentary about aquatic life that he thought looked pretty interesting, one of those things you mention in the moment and never really get around to doing it.

“Yeah I would like that- could we order something to eat?” He asks, his hands soothing against your thighs.

You nod, “Of course, we can” You smile as he presses kisses against your neck his nose nuzzling against your skin, and before you could even move he cups your jaw.

“I mean it, you’re perfect,” he says, pressing another kiss to your lips, his heart fluttering, and you both spend the entire night entangled with each other, surrounded by nothing but love.

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-lifeguard!James Potter x reader

He haunts me everywhere I go.

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“James, you’ve a pool to be guarding” you giggle as he pushes you against the lockers the cold metal sending a shiver across your flushed skin. It’s probably been the most boring day, which was surprising with how hot it was.

He pushes himself against you, his hands against your hips. Enjoying the way you squirm ever so slightly as he leaves a trail of kisses from your jaw down to your neck.

“Mhm, my shift is over in like a minute sweetness” he tries to reason, his hands rubbing against the curves of your sides.

He’s so undeniably pretty underneath the afternoon light, the orangey hues dusting against his sun-kissed skin. You notice how his damp curly hair sticks against his forehead and how there’s a slight glisten to his naked chest.

“Remus will come looking for us” you whisper and you don’t think he’s listening as he continues to pepper kisses across your skin, his teeth nipping at the sensitive parts of your neck. He loves the small sighs that fall from you and how your fingers thread through his hair urging him closer to you.

He smiles against your sticky skin, “He definitely won’t he’s too busy with Sirius” he tells you, fingers dancing dangerously on the waistband of your bikini pants. “God you’re so pretty, you know that? Splashing around in that pool” He smiles at the way you go all bashful as his thumb grazes along your jaw.

“Yeah, you remind me like ten times a day” You giggle, and he whispers a quiet ‘good’ against your lips. You can hear the splashing of the water just outside the locker room, the laughter and different conversations but you just cannot bring yourself to care as James completely takes your breath away, tilting his head to deepen the sweet kiss.

He pushes his tongue against yours and you can taste the sweetness of the cherry lollipop he had earlier, you think you might just go insane.

“James, really we shouldn’t- you’ll get into so much trouble” You let out a breathy giggle as he rests his forehead against yours.

He knows you’re right and he definitely cannot afford to lose this job, not when you two have an apartment, “Alright, you’ll still keep my company right?” He chides, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah of course- who knows I might need you to save me” you tease, running your hand down his stomach. Your finger hooks underneath the sting of his whistle that hangs around his neck, and you pull him down to give him one last sweet kiss. He watches as you walk back outside, eyes falling to the sway of your hips, chasing after you with love-sick eyes.

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Could you write some more lifeguard! James Potter(if it’s not too much trouble) I loved the first blurb of that! Thank you!

Sneaking

{Lifeguard!James sneaks you into the pool he works at}

Of course, I can lovely! Hope you enjoy 💕

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Warm summer nights like this are the worst, the air is so thick with humidity that it makes it hard to breathe and everything feels so much heavier than usual, as if gravity somehow increased with the hot summer heat. You had hoped that the night might bring a cool breeze, yet there was nothing but still air.

However, luckily for you, James was given the keys to the pool he worked at, a stupid play on their part. You convinced him to sneak you both in, just to cool down and he tried his best to persuade you against the idea, with ice cream but to avail, you were stubborn.

“My boss will kill me if she finds out” James huffs, watching you get undressed, leaving you in nothing but your swimsuit. It was a stupid idea he knows that deep down, but god, you were impossible to say no to.

You look over to him, frowning when you realise he’s still dressed, “She won’t know- come on James" You sigh as he looks at you with an unimpressed look, " You know, Remus was right you’ve gone soft” You giggle at the way he gawks at you in disbelief as if he can’t believe the words that just left your mouth.

“Gone soft? He said that?” He asks, taking off his shirt and throwing it next to yours, “Gone soft- as if” he scoffs grabbing your hand and before you can even process what’s happening he’s already jumping into the cool water, taking you right with him with a splash.

“James?! What happened to sneaking?” You whisper-shout, tucking your hair behind your ears as you watch him run a hand through his. He smirks swimming over to you with a slight chuckle.

James shushes you, and you watch as a playful look flickers through his brown eyes, and you know you’re about to eat your words. His hands grasp at your hips, tugging you towards him. “You’re so pretty” he whispers, noticing how the moonlit water reflects against your soft skin.

His lips find yours as your arms wrap around his neck, keeping you balanced, as you urge him closer to you and the water ripples with the movement. “So pretty” he agrees with himself, his supple lips trailing down to your jaw, then across your neck.

He’s so unbelievably sweet, and his words have you feeling all fluttery as if you were flying. You giggle at the ticklish kisses he leaves and you feel him smile against your dewy skin.

“James” you sigh as his hands run across your hips traversing against your back, he pulls you closer against him.

You lose yourself in the soft feeling, and the last thing you expect is for him to splash you with water, you gasp at the sudden cold feeling pushing his shoulder, “You absolute prick!” You gasp suddenly not caring about the fact you’re technically trespassing.

You flick the water up at him watching as he flinches slightly trying to dodge your attacks. “Shhh shh- Hun, you gotta be quiet,” he says, his hands up in defeat as you continue to splash him with water.

But you don’t stop, you’re having way too much fun and James can’t help but admire you, the way you practically shine with nothing but pure joy. Not a care in the world, just as it should be.

His fingers wrap around your wrists stopping your relentless attacks as he pulls you closer to him once again, your hands immediately grab onto his shoulders.

You notice how tiny droplets of water drip from his curls, that stick to his sun-kissed skin, trickling down the curve of his jaw. “I love you” he smiles bashfully, he can’t help it, not with the way you’re looking at him as if you’ve just won the lottery.

“I love you too James” you whisper, his lips against yours although you can’t really call it a kiss because you both are smiling uncontrollably. He rests his head against yours as you both giggle.

Then his phone rings and it causes you both to jump, he swims over to where it lays on top of his pile of clothes. “It’s Moony” he lets you know, looking over at you, “Come on sweetness, let’s go home” he says, although he sounds like he’s trying to reason with you more than anything.

You nod, deciding against giving him a hard time, and you chuckle at the small sigh of relief that leaves his lips.

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-Sirius Black x reader

{Sirius is a little more touch starved then he thought, he just doesn’t know how to ask for help}

Short and sweet! Enjoy as always lovelies!! 💕

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Sirius wildly underestimated just how much of an effect you had on him. He was absolutely hooked on everything revolving around you. Remus and James often teased him for it, telling him that you had him wrapped around your dainty finger, which is somewhat true, not that Sirius would ever admit to it.

But it was still true nonetheless, his heart was yours, wholly.

Which means that in hindsight he most definitely shouldn’t struggle with asking for a simple hug, or kiss or even just to cuddle. But goodness was that easier said than done because the words seem to be caught in the back of his throat. It made him feel silly in a way.

You could tell something was wrong with him just by how quiet he was. Sitting as far away as possible, fidgeting with his hands as he focuses on anything but you. Sirius hates this feeling, whatever it might be.

You notice the way his eyebrows furrow together, how he nibbles on his bottom lip as if he’s deep in contemplation. He looks as if he wants to say something, but he stops before the words can leave him, he does this almost five times before you finally decide to say something.

You nudge his thigh with your foot, making him look over at you, “What’s going on huh? you've been really quiet” You ask, and he almost looks surprised that you even noticed.

He goes to say something but then he closes his mouth once again. There's a beat of silence before speaks again, “Nothing angel, it's nothing” liar, complete liar. And he knows, by the unsure look in your eyes, that you have caught on to his not-so-believable lie, that’s why he’s quick to stand up making his way to your kitchen, saying something about him being 'thirsty'.

He doesn’t want to confront the situation, or his feelings, he's always had a bad habit of bottling things up, in fact, he didn’t really want to think about it, so he avoids it altogether. But you catch on to what's happening pretty quick, the way he kept glancing over at you, how his hands were constantly fiddling with something. It was a dead giveaway.

So you follow him out to the kitchen, noticing that he's leaning against the countertops, his lower back pressed against the dark marble as he runs a hand through his hair with an almost frustrated groan.

You place a gentle hand against his shoulder and he sighs at the warm feeling. “Hey, come here” you whisper, softly smiling at the way his eyes light up as you hold your arms out for him.

He doesn’t need to be told twice, his arms immediately wrap around you, holding you close to him and he swears his heart might just jump out of his chest. It’s pathetic he thinks, how you can make him feel like this, as if he might just crumble.

Your hands soothe against his back, “You should’ve just asked baby” you tell him as he buries his head further into your shoulder breathing deeply, and he feels like he can finally breathe.

“Didn’t know how” he admits and your hands cup either side of his face. Sirius thinks the embarrassment might just eat him alive, but then you press your lips against his and he melts completely at the loving feeling.

He loses himself, his heart blooming with warmth as he chases after your lips with haste, eager to feel you close to him as if it was the first time you’ve seen each other in years.

“Thank you” he whispers, as he rests his forehead against yours and you let out a breathy giggle as your thumb grazes against his cheek.

“Anytime handsome,” you tell him smiling at the way he chuckles, shaking his head softly. His arms circling around you once again.

You tug on his hand as you lead him back to the living room, pulling him down on the sofa with you as you both lay together entwined with nothing but love, and Sirius wouldn’t have it any other way.

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hi!! could i request touch starved remus lupin? loved your sirius one!!! xx

-Remus Lupin x Reader

{Remus doesn’t want to seem clingy, he just loves your touch}

Thank you! And of course you can lovely, Enjoy! 💕💕

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Remus chews on the inside of his cheek as you tidy up the kitchen, you’ve been busy all day whether it’s work, studying or chores there was always something that had your attention, anything but him.

It’s ridiculous he thinks, you’re both adults with adult problems and yet here he is sulking because he feels pushed to the side. He blames it partly on the long week he’s had, nothing seemed to be going right and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warm love and to forget about everything.

However he doesn’t want to come across as clingy, he cringes as the thought crosses his mind, because what if you get sick of it? Sick of him? It’s a thought that festers from some deep-rooted insecurity and he tries his best to talk himself out of thinking that way, but that’s easier said than done especially when those thoughts are at the forefront of his mind.

You smile over at him, the sweetest smile he’s ever seen and there’s an odd sense of guilt that builds up in his chest. He feels awful for moping about all day and he knows he hasn’t been the best of company.

He smiles back at you, although it’s strained it’s still a smile. “Sorry Remmy” you sigh, walking into the living room. He’s sitting on your couch, a throw blanket draped over his knees as he fiddles with the fabric. “But, I’m all done now” You look over at him, your smile dropping as he lets out a shaky sigh, he looks almost frozen as if he wants something but he’s holding back.

Your hand rests against his arm, and he feels the warmth of your palm seeping through his jumper. “Hey, did something happen at work?” You ask, your hand soothing his upper arm, and he thinks he might just start crying because you’re still so caring despite his sour mood.

“No dove, work was fine” he sighs glancing over at you, “I just missed you is all” Your heart clenches in your chest as he whispers the words, his tone so quiet that you almost miss it.

“But I’m right here,” you tell him, slightly confused about where this was coming from.

Then it hits you all at once, as you notice how tears collect in his eyes. You pull him towards you, his arms wrap around you immediately and his hands settle against your back, “It’s been a really long week” he mumbles against your shoulder, breathing you in. You turn your head to press a kiss on his cheek.

Remus pulls back slightly, still close enough that he can feel your body heat radiating against him and he rests his forehead against yours, the ends of his hair tickling your skin, “I’m yours for the entire weekend. No work, no studying, just me and you” you tell him, watching as he smiles widely, bumping his nose against yours.

Your hands cup either side of his face and he sighs softly at the warmth of your palms against his skin. He melts at the way your thumb grazes against the small scar just under his eye, he closes them as he leans into your touch.

“Sounds like a great plan lovely,” he says, his hands resting against your hips as he tugs you closer to him.

His lips press against yours as he gives you little pecks that turn into a slow and gentle kiss, “I love you” you mumble against him, the words have him smiling like a fool and he doesn’t miss the way you let out a breathy giggle.

“Say it again?” He asks dropping a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you Remus” you smile, and he reckons you might just give him heart failure as you play with his hair. He goes completely giddy with love and he can’t quite believe that it’s him you’re talking to.

“I love you too,” he says in between kisses as he litters your face with them, the feeling has you reeling with joy and you both are overtaken with laughter, a sound that has both of your hearts full of sickly love.

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-Remus Lupin x reader

{A lazy Sunday morning is rudely disturbed by James and Sirius, much to Remus’ dismay}

Short and sweet! Hope you enjoy as always lovelies!💕

!18! {Its a little suggestive}

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Remus loves mornings with you, how your gentle fingers run up and down the expanse of his back, he sighs against your collarbones as your fingers graze against his scars that are littered over his skin, you enjoy the roughnesses of them.

You spent the night over at his apartment, enjoying the silence since both James and Sirius were gone.

He nuzzles his nose against your neck as he presses kisses along your shoulders, “Mm, you’re so cuddly in the mornings” you giggle, running a hand through his pillow-tussled hair.

You can feel him smile into your skin as he throws a leg over your own, “You’re so warm” he says, voice still a little raspy from sleep. His hand slips underneath the oversized shirt you’re wearing, and you hum softly at the feeling. He props himself on his elbow, gazing down at you with soft eyes, “And so very pretty dove” he smiles, dropping a kiss to your shoulder, then another to the corner of your mouth.

The butterflies in your stomach are all too prominent at his loving words, and goosebumps prick at your skin as his hand traverses up your body. He notices, of course, he does he always notices the way your body reacts to him.

That’s why he decides to push his luck, leaving a hot trail of kisses along your neck, his soft lips lingering at the sensitive parts of your skin making you sigh with pleasure and it only fuels him to go further.

“I love you” he whispers, lips grazing against your jaw as he moves to lay in between your legs. He continues to pepper kisses along your skin as your fingers thread through his hair, and he smirks when your hips writhe under his own.

You gasp when he grinds down against you mimicking your own actions, “I love yo-” and before you could even get the four words out there’s a loud knock at his door. Remus lets his head drop against your shoulder as he groans.

“Come on Moony! You promised us breakfast” Sirius yells from the other side of the door, followed by James saying something about how he was ‘starving’

Remus lifts his head from your shoulder, “Talk me out of murder” he says, dropping a kiss to your shoulder as you try to stifle a laugh behind your hand.

“We couldn’t do this” you smile, tucking his hair behind his ear before leaning to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and he hums in agreement. And despite the relentless knocking at his bedroom door he still kisses you, thumb resting against your chin as his tongue pushes against yours.

He pulls back, his forehead against yours and for a moment the sound of the knocking is drowned, it doesn’t last long enough though as both James and Sirius start hammering at the door with their fists.

You giggle as he stands up from the bed, the door swings open, “Oh come on! You’re not even dressed!?” James complains throwing his hands up in the air.

“Yeah put a shirt on you flirt” Sirius smirks, his head popping out from behind the door as he sends you a small wave greeting you a good morning, you wave back to him with a laugh.

Remus threads a hand through his hair, “Give me twenty and we’ll be ready” he huffs, watching as the pair nod their heads, and just like that the door closes again and he climbs back into bed with you.

He notices the confusion that paints your face as nuzzles back down into your arms, “Just five more minutes dove” he smiles and you don’t fight him on it as your arms wrap around his shoulders, because how could you deny that?

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Summer lovin’

-James Potter x reader

{A summer night with James Potter, what’s not to love?}

hope enjoy my lovelies! 💕

!18!

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The air is thick with heat, almost suffocating despite the sun's absence. You would’ve hoped that the moon might’ve also brought a cool breeze but atlas the air was still, and your lifeline was the fan that was turned onto its highest speed, plus the tip-tops that James had brought on his way home from rugby practice, a crime, you had called it, to make them practice in this heat.

“I’m gonna melt. Like, turn into an actual puddle” you complain, laying down on the sofa, closing your eyes as the fans breeze brushes past your skin. You turn your head to the door as James walks in, with freshly washed hair and grey shorts.

“Talking to yourself again?” He quips, rolling his shoulders and you catch a glimpse of the new bruise that stretches across his bicep, a purplish colour that blooms under his sun-kissed skin.

You look over at him rolling your eyes as he walks over to where you’re laying, nudging his knee against your own, a silent way to tell you to move your legs, and you do so with a groan, sitting up cross-legged next to him.

“You say that as if I didn’t catch you doing it yesterday” You smirk over at him as he shakes his head, his damp curls sticking to his cheeks.

“Yeah yeah, whatever makes you feel better angel” he says reaching for your hand tugging slightly, as he invites you to sit on his lap, an offer you take gladly as you straddle him. Your thighs pressed on either side of his own.

“Missed you today” he smiles looking up at you with love in his eyes while you push his hair from his face, tucking it behind his ears as it curls against his jaw.

He leans into you, pressing delicate kisses to both corners of your mouth, a feeling that has your chest all fluttery. His lips trail off to the underside of your jaw and he smiles into your skin when he feels your hips ever so slightly grind against his own.

“James- it’s too hot” you warn him despite making no actual effort to move from his lap, in fact, you enjoy the way his hands grasp at your hips, squeezing them slightly as he holds you down against him.

“It could be hotter” he responds, chuckling softly when your hands trail up across his stomach, delicate fingers against his skin, which in turn makes him tense under your soft touch. The smallest moan falling from his lips.

You’ll blame the heat and the fact that James’ supple lips feel like heaven against your warm skin for the haziness that plagues your mind, which renders you completely wordless. You don’t complain when he tugs off your shirt throwing it somewhere behind you, sighing as his hands soothe over your body.

“So pretty” He mumbles into your shoulder, revelling in the way your skin feels against his. Your front pressed to his chest, while he continues to whisper sweet endearments to you. “Feels good huh?” He smiles at the pleasure that takes over your beautiful features.

You can only manage to let out a small, “Mhm, so good” as James continues to litter your neck with hot kisses, traversing upwards to your jaw as your hips continue to rock against him, feeling almost prideful when you feel him, hard, underneath you.

His lips finally meet your own, with a certain passion that has you like putty beneath his hands. He gently cups your face, his thumb caressing your cheek, and you moan when his hips begin to meet yours, the pair of you moving in tandem. He takes the moment to push his tongue against yours. The once sweet kiss suddenly turns into something much more desperate, as you both chase after each other’s mouths.

James doesn’t let you break away from him. When the kiss starts to taper off he only claims your mouth again with needy pecks that turn into deeper kisses, enjoying the way you whimper into him.

You both pull away slightly, his forehead resting against yours, “Shit- look at the mess you’ve made baby” he whispers, looking down to where you’re sitting on him, smiling at the wet patch that stains his shorts.

You sigh, whining when his fingers press against your clit through your underwear, his eyes watching you with admiration. James loves the way your lips are slightly parted as you let out a few shaky breaths, how your eyes are glazed over with nothing but desperate need, a need for him.

His fingers play with the waistband of your panties tugging on them as your hips writhe in anticipation, you gasp, whispering his name as he slips his hand underneath the fabric, fingers sliding along your slick cunt.

“Oh- James please?” You blabber completely losing yourself in your own pleasure. Your mind spinning when his slightly calloused fingers circle at your clit.

“Please what, Hm? What d’ya want, baby?” He asks, whimpering at the way you’re completely soaking his shorts, his cock twitching at the feeling.

You groan, letting your head fall onto his shoulder. “You know what I want Jamie” you mumble, words muffled by beneath his skin and his free hand soothes against your back.

You were right, James knew exactly want you wanted but, god, did he just loves to tease you.

“Tell me, wanna hear you say it” he whispers, his fingers still working against your clit.

“James- I want your fingers. Inside me” you whisper.

And that’s all James needs to hear before he finally slips two fingers inside you with ease. The feeling makes your stomach flutter and you can hear him moan something about how ‘fucking wet you are’ lips against your neck as he curls his fingers inside you.

You rock your hips against his hand, grinding down onto his fingers as they continue to work inside you. Your eyes squeezed shut as you wrap your arms around his neck.

You moan out his name as he presses his thumb against your clit, drawing small circles against you, and he can tell by the way your thighs shake against his own that you’re close.

“M’so close- James, please” you moan into his neck as you continue to grind down against him chasing after your own release. Your stomach tightens as his fingers graze against that spot deep inside you.

“Go on angel, let go for me” he says kissing your shoulder. You play with his curly hair as you cum around his fingers, hips stuttering against him, and he groans at the way you tighten around him.

He works you through your high, guiding you back down with care as his lips continue to kiss at your sticky skin. “You’re perfect” he whispers against you, making you giggle as you lean back, cupping his face in your hands whilst you kiss him.

“Let’s go shower” you mumble against his lips, feeling him smile into your lips.

“Together?” He asks, with an almost hopeful tone, to which you only reply with a “Yes together Jamie” and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

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