lizard-on-a-window-pane

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

Hey, I've been thinking about James with the reader who's super tall, and she's super insecure about it. Then one day one of James' friends mentions the reader's height, and then she feels bad

(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language)

hii, sorry i took a while with this one; thanks so much for requesting! and no worries at all! your english is great, but it also wouldn't matter if it wasn't 🤪 even though it feels like it by now, it's not my first language either lol but isn't it just a lovely tool for us all to fantasize together 🫶 hope you like it! wasn't sure if you wanted the comfort after the angst, so i just wrote it in

pairing: James Potter x reader word count: 2.1k tags: angst, fluff, established relationship, insecure fem reader, not proofread sorry

You’re going out with James and the gang, and you’re excited for a fun night out. Until the dreaded dilemma you face every time you dress up: heels or no heels? You know from past experience that all your girlfriends will be wearing them. They range from Lily’s kitten heels to Marlene’s stilettos, but it’s always a little something for the special occasions. 

The problem is: you’re tall. Very tall. Taller than all your friends with their heels on. When you wear them too, you look like a giant. You’re also taller than your boyfriend, James, but it doesn’t usually look that off… if you’re not wearing heels. When you do, you tower over him.

But you like the shoes, for some occasions. You’d like to just be able to wear them without its being a big deal. You’ve tried so many times to convince yourself that it isn’t, that you should just do whatever you want and care less what people think about you, but as soon as you’re out, they stare, and you feel awful. 

You have a pair you think are really pretty but have literally never worn because of the significant height boost they give. You put them on, take them off, again and again, indecisive. After about the tenth time donning them, you look in the mirror and decide to go for it. What’s the worst that could happen? Short girls probably feels self-conscious about their height too, right? Everyone has something, you encourage yourself as you step out your door. 

You’re all starting the night at a nearby pub where you all meet up. When James sees you, he lights up, giving you the warmest hug. His face nuzzles easily into the crook of your neck from the height difference then he kisses you adoringly. “Hello, gorgeous,” he grins. “You look especially beautiful tonight.” He’s always so cheesy. You always love it. 

“Thanks, Jamie,” you blush back. “You too.” 

“Well, I have to look nice to stand next to my girl, don’t I?” He stands tall next to you, posing, though he’s quite shorter than you. You roll your eyes smilingly at his antics and intertwine your arms. He squeezes your arm in his and leans up for a peck.

You’re all soon standing around a tall table as you catch up, having your first drinks and discussing where the night should take you. Mary brings up another nearby pub, cosier than this one, and Remus seconds the idea. Marlene boos dramatically and argues you can do that any other night. She suggests a rather rowdy club, and Sirius drumrolls the table in excitement. 

“I like that idea,” he surprises no one in saying. 

“I don’t know,” Mary pushes back. “Last time we were there, we got separated, and it was so crowded, it took ages for us to even find each other again.” “Easy fix tonight,” Sirius begins, grinning mischievously. “If we get separated, we all meet back up at Y/N. She’s like a homing beacon with those heels on! We’ll be able to see her over the crowds.” Your stomach plummets. Some of your friends are laughing, others not so much, but you, you are mortified. You feel clammy and frozen, like there’s suddenly a wide distance between you and everyone else. You want to just disappear, go home and not have to hang out with anyone ever. 

Only Lily seems to notice your discomfort, impressive given you’re giving your very best efforts to hide it even though you feel absolute shit. 

“He’s an idiot,” she whispers in your ear. “Don’t listen to him. You look great.” You turn to respond but are surprised to find trying to speak raises a knot in your throat. You can’t imagine how much more embarrassing it would be if you started crying at a stupid joke, so you just given her a strained smile and look down, trying to compose yourself. 

Everyone else has been caught up in the conversation moving on, so it’s a little while before James turns to you, noticing your quiet, your downward gaze. “Y’alright, love?” he whispers, a hand coming to the small of your back. 

“Fine.” You repeat the strained smile, hoping it’s getting more convincing with practice. 

“Sure? You seem upset.” “‘M fine.” You don’t sound fine. “Thanks,” you add, trying to lighten the tone. 

“Alright,” he says, though he doesn’t sound convinced. “So what do you feel like doing?” “I don’t know… Maybe something where we’re sitting?”

“Sitting?” he laughs, thinking you must be joking. When you cringe, he realizes you aren’t. “Oh, uh, why?” Then, looking like a cartoon lightbulb has just gone off above his head, he asks, “Are your shoes hurting your feet or something? I don’t understand how you lot wear those things.” 

“No, I —“ you begin, but quickly realize that could be a good, believable, non-embarrassing — well, at least less embarrassing — excuse. “Um, yeah, a bit.” 

“Oh, well we can find places to take breaks whenever you want. Don’t worry, I’ll go with you to sit as often as you like,” he smiles. 

You just smile back, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. When he’s not looking, you crouch down a bit awkwardly to be the same height as your friends around you. You try to keep this up, but after a while, it’s hurting your back, so you fall in and out of the pose for as long as you can stand it. 

The night goes on, a destination eventually decided upon, a compromise in the end. Most of your friends seem to be having a good time, but you have been quiet all night. You haven’t been able to shake the feelings of discomfort and self-consciousness that joke sparked in you. You just feel sad. Not to mention your back is killing you from constantly trying to look shorter. 

“James, I think I want to go home,” you say into his ear. He turns to you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“What? So early? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, I’m just not feeling so well.” 

“D’you feel sick? Have you had too much?” he asks, lifting his drink. You shake your head. “Your feet hurt?” he guesses again. 

“A little. Look, it’s fine; it’s not a big thing, I’m just tired, okay?” You’re tense and pained and just want to get out of here. You feel the tears welling back up, and you’re keen to leave before the waterworks. You give James a quick kiss, adding “Don’t worry! Have fun! I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” in an off, fake enthusiasm then bolt to the door. 

As you leave, you’re walking so quickly that you bump into some random bloke. 

“Oh, shit, sorry,” he chortles then starts full out laughing with his mate next to him. You push past him. 

You have no idea what he was laughing at. Maybe they had been laughing before you bumped into him. Maybe they were just completely pissed and needed no reason. But your already self-conscious brain immediately feels like they were laughing at you, at how much taller than them you were. 

You can’t help it now and start softly crying as you walk a bit further down then lean against the wall. The ease on your back feels nice, but you wish you could just teleport home. You hide your face in your hands, not wanting people to see you crying. 

So you don’t notice James approach you until you hear his worried, low voice. 

“Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?” He grabs your wrists ever so gently and, holding your hands to his chest with one hand, brings the other to wipe your tears. “Darling, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You see how scared he is and know ugly scenarios are running through his mind. You want to reassure him quickly but you can’t get yourself together. The guilt of the real reason you’re so upset being stupid in comparison makes you feel even worse, and you sob as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. 

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, love, it’s alright,” he coos, holding you close and petting your hair. “Can you tell me what’s wrong?” You step back a bit, wiping your face aggressively and shaking your head at yourself. 

“It’s stupid, Jamie, really I’m fine,” you muffle.

“I just want to help you be okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me.” You look into his beautiful eyes, the worry in them shining through. You love him. You hate worrying him. And talking to him about anything always makes you feel better. 

“I’m just too tall,” you confess. “What?” he seems genuinely lost. 

“I’m too tall,” you repeat, more softly this time, looking at the floor in shame. 

“Too tall? Baby, what’s brought this on?” 

“It’s stupid, I know. I just, I can’t stop thinking about it since Sirius made that joke.”

“What joke?” “‘If we get separated, just look for the giant,’” you misquote sarcastically. 

“Oh, darling. All night you’ve been upset? I’m so sorry I didn’t do something. I thought you were just a bit tired or something.” “I’m so embarrassed,” you whisper. 

“You shouldn’t be,” James says, with more bite in his voice. “Really, you shouldn’t. Not at your height, not at your feelings. Fuck, baby, I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner.” He pulls you into a warm hug as you shake your head. He just holds you a long time, till your breathing is even and slow again, then pulls back, keeping his arms around you. 

“Hey,” James whispers. “Hey,” you whisper back. 

“I hate seeing you sad,” he says through a comforting smile. It manages to make you smile subtly back at him. “My gorgeous girl.” He kisses your cheek, still moist with tears. “Baby, you’re so beautiful. You don’t have to look like everyone else.” “Thanks.” 

“I mean it, Y/N. I think you’re ridiculously gorgeous. Tall, sure, but you’re just too perfect to be anything else. You’re majestic.” You scoff but laugh a bit at him. 

“Majestic? I’m a mess most of the time.”

“You can be a mess and still look majestic. You do it all the time,” he says playfully. “You, my love, are like a queen.” You roll your eyes, but your face has softened. “You’re my queen,” he says more sweetly and kisses you.

“Thank you, Jamie. I’m sorry I was being stupid,” you voice your dark thought.  “Sweetheart,” he chides lovingly. “That’s nothing to be sorry for. I just wish you’d told me earlier. You’re not even a little bit stupid. Only for suffering alone,” he jokes. “We all have things. I get self-conscious about not being tall enough for you to like me,” he confesses, looking nervous. 

“I don’t like you, I love you.” He smiles at this.

“And I’ll never get used to my queen loving me back.” His tone is teasing again, still vulnerable but very him. 

You both take a deep breath and, eyes meeting, just chuckle together for a moment. You shake off the intense emotions, the charged conversation. You sigh and hug him again, his body eager to receive you. 

“What do you want to do, love?” His hand is caressing your back as he looks into your eyes. “We’ll do whatever you feel like.” You have to take a long time to consider it. You’d been so desperate to go home just moments ago, but now you’re unsure. You feel so much lighter and take your time thinking about what would make you happy, everyone else be damned. 

“I want to dance. With you. And not crouch anymore,” you laugh. “My back is fucking killing me.” 

“Crouching? Y/N, if I catch you crouching, I’m going to be very upset,” he teases. “You wanna dance? Let’s go dance, baby.” You nod, smiling. 

“Just help me sneak to the toilets first. I’m sure I look a mess.” “You’re beautiful, but sounds good. Then we dance.” He kisses you. “And then, once you’ve danced all you want to dance, we’ll take you home, and I’ll give you the best massage you’ve ever gotten. Your feet and back are going to be grateful they’re sore.” You scoff lovingly and put your arm in his.

As you head back inside, you stand tall next to James, feeling like you’re floating, happy for now to be majestic mess. 

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fluff #marauders #marauder x reader #sirius black #sorry siri i love you #lily evans #marauders fanfic #angst #fluff #established relationship

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

sunlight ☀️

hii it’s me againn. could you also do tasm peter who is nerdy and nerdy reader? and it’s kind of like a meet cute at the library? that’s literally my dream 😔 (you can tell i’m in my spiderman kick again)

-🎀

love a good spiderman kick ☺️ hope you like it!

pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x reader word count: 1.4k tags: just fluff

The exam was next week, and Peter still hadn’t gotten a chance to so much as glance at the most helpful textbook. The only copy the library carried had been way over due for ages, and the damn things were way too expensive to buy. He hoped it would be back by today because the late fees would be so much worse after today’s cut off. So, into the library he strode to look for it for what felt like the millionth time. 

He was sure the librarian remembered him, and which book he was after, after so many attempts, so he went straight up to the desk. Peter raised his eyebrows in question, in hope. He wrung his hands together as the librarian gave him a look he couldn’t quite decipher. “So?” he finally couldn’t help.

“You just missed it,” the librarian deadpanned. How could she be so damn calm? She must know his life depended on getting his hands on this book! Well, maybe not his life, but definitely his grade… important enough.

“What?! And you didn’t hold it for me or something?” “Hold it for you? What do you think this is, kid? We don’t take reservations.”

After a moment, though, she sighed in slight defeat, something akin to pity entering her hardened features. She gave a sideways nod toward the person standing at the other end of the desk. 

“Maybe she’ll share,” she whispered. 

Peter followed her look. His eyes landed on a girl. She looked mortified. Given the books lying next to her open backpack on the desk, she’d clearly been packing them up. At the top of the pile lay the coveted textbook. And she’d clearly overheard his whole exchange with the librarian. 

You lock your gaze onto the books in front of you. You could feel your cheeks warming, and the last thing you wanted was to accidentally make eye contact with this stranger. This ridiculously attractive stranger you’d noticed in class before… Peter Parker… who had clearly had the same idea about the book being returned today…

You feel terrible at having snatched it up just before him. You hadn’t known someone else was after it, too, but you could’ve guessed, and it felt like pure luck that you got it first. You have no idea how to react, and before you can come up with any idea at all, you sense him stepping toward you and freeze in panic.

“Um, hey,” Peter whisper-says. God, why didn’t he just speak at a normal volume? He was in the library, sure, but just the entrance. He’s sure he sounded weird, and that’s the last thing he wanted after his little outburst clearly made you uncomfortable. It wasn’t your fault you’d gotten the book before him. 

Your eyes dart up to meet his at his words, and when they do, his nerves increase tenfold. Your eyes are so damn pretty. All of you is. And you look half way to an anxiety attack at his approach. “Hey, sorry,” he tries. “Sorry, I know we don’t know each other, but I just… Um, well… Sorry about that,” he ends lamely, gesturing back to where his exchange with the librarian just occurred. “It’s okay,” you whisper, smiling awkwardly and tucking your hair behind your ears. You look back down at your hands, pulling at the too-long sleeves of your shirt. 

Peter’s hand comes up to his head, messing with his hair in a typical nervous tick. He can’t stop staring at you, and you can’t stop avoiding his stare. He had to say something else before the mounting awkwardness blew up. Why couldn’t he think of anything? God, why was his heart racing faster than it ever did when he had to fight giant, scary monsters? Somehow you were scarier. 

“Um,” he starts again. “You in, uh, you in Vidal’s biology class?” he ventures, guessing you need the book to study for the same exam as he. It blows his mind he hasn’t noticed you before if you are.

“Mmhmm,” you nod softly.

“Me too,” he says and cringes. “I don’t recognize you.” “Oh, I don’t know. I tend to sit in the back.” You finally look up at him as you say this. Your eyes meet, and it’s too much to handle. After what feels like an eternal instant, you both look away chuckling. 

Peter’s just nodding like an idiot, chewing his bottom lip, reeling for something else to say but failing miserably. At this point, the thought of getting the book has totally vanished from his mind. The fear of failing next week has been completely replaced with the fear of failing right now.  The idea of your walking away and his not getting to talk to you again makes his stomach sink.

You’re just staring at your hands, unsure what you’re supposed to do in this kind of situation. How do people just know what they’re supposed to do when other people are involved? 

You still feel really bad that you got the book first, and you figure he’s only still talking to you to ask when you’ll be done with it. The exam is so soon, you hadn’t really been planning to return it till after. But keeping it to yourself when he needed it too made your stomach twist. You didn’t even know him, but you wanted to help him. So, you mustered the courage to do something you know, from experience, you otherwise wouldn’t do.

You say softly, “If you want… um, I don’t know… maybe, we could share it?”

“What?” he responds, too quickly, confused, his voice nervously airy.

You’re not sure if he didn’t hear what you said — possible with how softly you’re speaking — or didn’t understand what you meant, so you don’t know what to say. Words are too hard, so you just grab the book — your hands grateful for something to do — and hold it up to him like an offering. 

“Oh!” he hiccups. Then, “Oh,” he says more quietly, chuckling lightly. “I mean, I don’t want to bother you. You got it first fair and square.” “Yeah,” you shrug. “But you need it, too, right?” 

“Yeah…” His mind begins stirring up images of the two of you studying together… maybe laughing together eventually… sitting closer together to both get a good look at the book… 

It’s making his heart beat faster, and he realizes he’d be an idiot to not seize the opportunity. It’s the perfect excuse to spend more time with you, and he doesn’t even have to ask you out. Yet. 

So, he quickly says, “Yeah, um, sharing would be great. If you don’t mind. I can just meet up with you whenever you were going to study anyway… Wherever is good for you; I don’t mind; you choose; whatever you prefer is good with me —” Having started, he can’t stop talking now, his nerves morphing into words, eager to leave his body. 

You giggle at his garrulousness, and he knows he’s in trouble when the sound of it makes his breath hitch. 

“Well,” you say. “I was planning to get started now… you know, since I’d been waiting to get my hands on the book. If you wanted to, um, maybe go to the café maybe?” 

You hadn’t in fact been planning to start right away. If you were honest with yourself, you’d been planning to put it off till you couldn’t not… like you always did no matter how hard you tried to get an early start. Note to self: the only cure you’ve found to procrastination so far: ridiculously pretty boys with warm eyes and a voice you could listen to forever. 

“Yeah, that’d be great. That’d be great,” he nods, smiling. It’s the first time you’ve seen him fully smile. You’d be happy to just hand him the book as long as you could watch him study, the exam be damned. 

“Great,” you repeat, grabbing your things and turning toward the café. Your eyes widen in panicked disbelief at what just happened. You glance slightly back just to make sure you hadn’t imagined it, and sure enough: Peter Parker is taking a quick step to follow you. He falls in step with you as you walk, and it’s terrifying and invigorating just how much you like the feeling of him close beside you.

#peter parker #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm! peter oneshot #tasm!peter fanfic #spiderman fanfiction #ria1k

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

candle light with remus lupin for your eclipse event! maybe something where he's mean but also does good good aftercare? LUV UR WRITIING <3

thank youuu, and thank you for requesting! really hope you like it!!

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader tags / warnings: established relationship, smut (NSFW, MDNI), fluff word count: 3k part of my 1k celebration!

You are exhausted. You’re tense; you’re tired as you come home after what’s felt like a  week, not a day. Too much to do, too much pressure, too many decisions. You feel them in your body, weighing you down. The first thing you do as you enter your bedroom you share with Remus is strip down to your knickers. You toss your bra away with perhaps a little bit too much resentment and find your favourite of Remus’s jumpers you like to borrow. It’s too big on either of you.

You head to your kitchen, putting on a record so sad it’s somehow consoling as you do. As you start making yourself a comforting cup of tea, you hear the door behind you. 

“Hi, lovely.” 

It’s his voice that’s lovely, and just the sound of it has already begun thawing your tension. 

“Hey,” you say back as you feel him approach behind you, his arms coming around your middle. They’re warm and firm, and you sink back into his body. You feel him breathe in your hair, kiss the side of your head. “Remus,” you whine into him. He hums into your neck in response, placing a soft kiss there. His squeezes you tightly, his hands bunching up the jumper you’re wearing. “Hmm. Sad music, cosy jumper, earthy tea, whiny voice,” he lists sympathetically. “Someone’s had a long day.”

“You’ve no idea.” His large hands come to your shoulders, kneading deeply. You squirm at the intensity, pain and pleasure dancing inextricably. At a knot a bit too sensitive for his ministrations, you flinch out of his grasp and step back, turning to face him. You expect to be met by his beguiling brown eyes, but they’re look down. His head cocks to the side appreciatively. You realize he’s admiring your bare legs and chuckle. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.” “Doesn’t mean I like it any less,” he retorts, voice gruffer. He looks you up and down with an intensity that dissipates any playfulness in your mood. You realize how badly you want him to take you, to make you leave the day behind you and completely envelop you in the here and now… and the pleasure it could hold. 

Remus can’t read your mind, though, and being the doting boyfriend he is, he comes to hold you gently again, stroking your back, trying to comfort you. “Let’s get you relaxed, huh, baby?” he says, kissing your forehead. “Yeah,” you whisper.

“What do you want to do? Want to go straight to bed? Watch something? We could read together? Same book or different, you choose.” He’s already taken over preparing your tea, seemingly completely distracted away from your body. 

His suggestions and demeanour make you think maybe he’s not in the mood, Remus never being shy to tell you when he is, so you worry maybe it’s not the best moment to voice your honest desires. 

“I don’t know, whatever; you choose.” You sound a bit defeated, and he looks over at you at your tone. “No, you should. I’m happy with anything if it’s good for you, really,” he says as he turns back to the easy work of pouring the hot water. He’s always this sweet, almost always defers to doing whatever you feel like doing. 

It’s no fault of his, but your looming tiredness, your sudden heat, it all makes you snappy. “I said I don’t care, Rem. Why do I always have to be the one to choose everything? Sometimes I’m tired, okay? And I already said you can choose.” The mugs are forgotten, his attention fully on you at this. “Woah, what’s up?” He leans back on the counter, arms crossed a bit defensively, but eyes all concern. 

“Nothing,” you sigh. “Nothing, I’m sorry.” You turn away and busy yourself with anything you can find, tidying up mindlessly. “Hey, c’mon, love, what’s up?” His voice is slightly harder, and as he asks, he turns you to face him, his hands firmly holding your shoulders. His eyes look searchingly into yours, but your eyes flutter closed at the feeling of his hands on you and the sound of his deep voice. You bite your lip and whimper very very softly.

His hands immediately leave you, and it’s urgent when he rushes out, “Woah, did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to, baby; I just wanted to talk. You alright?”

You nod and whine “Remus” again, stepping toward him and looking into his eyes. You grab his hands in yours and place them back on your body. You bring one to your face and lean into it, put the other on your hip and squeeze your hand over his. 

He’s watching you closely, letting you guide him. 

His proximity and his touch, even like this, heat you up, and your body pushes you to honesty.

“I don’t want to sleep, or  read, or any of that. And I don’t want to choose anything or think about anything else. I want you, Rem. I just want you. Please.”

His eyebrows shoot up, and ever so slowly he starts moving his own hands on you, yours still hovering above them. 

His touch makes you melt, and your eyes shut. You exhale loudly as his hand grabs your face a bit harder. His thumb strokes, pushing into the skin of your cheek. You open your eyes and meet his. They’re looking at yours searchingly, but upon seeing the look you’re giving him when they connect with yours, something clicks in Remus. You register it in his eyes as they shift in what seems like one blink from keen observation to piercing intensity. 

He pulls your face to his forcefully, devouring your mouth. He’s eating up your immediate whimpers, tilting your head with his hands on either side of your face, pushing your tongue with his and licking into your mouth. You surrender completely and let him guide your ardent kiss. 

Soon, his hand juts your head back with no warning, tugging your hair, and his mouth moves from yours to your jaw, kissing sloppily until he reaches your neck, where he plants a cruel bite. You yelp, and he licks over it soothingly, but his voice is rough as he asks, “This what you want?” His mouth sucks your neck harshly, and his hands push under your jumper and grip the flesh of your hips so hard your body sways with his motions. 

“Fuuuck, Rem, yes, pleeease.” “Yes what?” he snaps. “Yes, I want this. I want you to touch me like this.” 

“Good,” he utters matter-of-factly. 

He tugs the jumper over your head and throws it aside then maneuvers your body with his strong hands on your hips. 

“Turn around,” he commands. And you do, though his hands flip you without your having much say in it. 

His arms wrap around you, and he kneads your breasts roughly. He handles you so harshly that you yelp again in pleasured pain. 

Remus presses his body up behind your now almost completely naked one. You feel his breath on your neck and shoulder, and you shiver as sensation shoots down your spine. You’re very pleasantly surprised to also feel his already hard cock on your arse even through his trousers. You push back into it and grind. He groans in reaction then chuckles gruffly into your ear. 

“Fuck, you’re desperate, huh?” He squeezes your tits and thrusts his hips. His voice low and ominously even, he tells you, “You know, baby, all you had to do was tell me you wanted me to fuck you.” You whimper; he chuckles again. “Yeah? You want to get fucked, pretty girl?” You nod wordlessly. “I wanted to fuck you as soon as I came in here and saw your gorgeous thighs.” Never breaking contact with your skin, his hands slide down your body and squeeze the outsides of your thighs. Then they cup your arse and squeeze even tighter, jiggling it in his rough grip. “You looked so fucking sexy. But I thought you were tired. Silly me, huh, not realizing how you wanted me to take care of you. This how you want me to take care of you?” 

“Yees.” “Hmm.” 

Your head is lolled back on his shoulder, but he pushes you suddenly forward. “Bend over.” You do. The kitchen counter is cold on your tits; his hand is hot on your back, pushing you down. 

His other hand yanks your knickers down and rubs roughly through your folds. You’re soaked. “Dirty girl,” he chuckles. “Wanting to get fucked this badly.”

Without ado, he pushes two fingers into you. You scream at the breach, at the first hot graze of your inner walls. He rubs them around then curves them toward your sweet spot. His pace is immediately punishing, and it’s not too many thrusts later that he adds a third finger. Your cunt is squelching as his fingers fuck you. His hand on your back moves up toward your neck and massages your shoulder as he holds you in place.

He keeps going, pushing so hard the fronts of your thighs smack the counter with each thrust, so fast that it’s hard to discern the increasing shaking of your thighs from the motions of his hand.

You whine, and turn your face into the counter to quiet it. His hand at your neck yanks your hair to lift your face. “Uh-uh, pretty thing. I’ve had enough of you being quiet tonight. If I’m going to fuck you this good, you’re going to let me hear how I make you feel.” You whimper involuntarily, doing nothing to filter your loud reaction. “Better.”

Your thighs are seriously shaking now, and you’re tightening deliciously. You’re getting close. 

His hand stops and pulls out of you, the other also releasing his grip on your hair. Your resulting whine sounds almost like you’re crying. 

“Fuck, baby, relax,” Remus laughs. You hear the zipper of his trousers, hear the soft pat of clothes falling to the floor. His foot kicks yours into a wider stance suddenly. Then you feel his hard cock prodding at your warm, wet entrance. One of his hands grips your hip harshly as he guides himself in. He’s slightly slower as he does, but he pushes all the way in without stopping. When he’s completely inside you, you whimper again at the fullness and barely hear him whisper “fuck.” 

Just a second later, he’s thrusting; a few seconds later, it’s already rocking your entire body from the intensity. His grip tightens, and you know you’ll admire a bruise there tomorrow. His other hand grabs your shoulder for better leverage as he pistons in and out of you. 

You’d already been so close that at the fucking he’s giving you, you feel close to the brink before even adjusting entirely to the position. Your hands flat on the counter, uselessly attempting to grip something, give you some stability as your body spasms jarringly. 

“Fuck, already?” Remus pants. His tone seems sincerely surprised, not teasingly so. 

He moves his hand to your other hip, vice-like grip pulling your arse onto his body in time with each fast, forward thrust of his hips. 

He’s the one to moan loudly this time as your walls clench him. His prolonged moan sounds like it’s strangled in his throat as you clench again and again, but though it’s clearly wrecking him, the only effect on his pace is its increased brutality. 

You start cumming in earnest, crying through it, shaking hard. Remus fucks you through most of it, but toward the very end, you feel him pull all the way out quickly, the absence jarring and gaping. His fingers pick up what his cock was just doing, and the sudden re-intensity gives you a second peak. He keeps going until your clenching cunt has mostly relaxed then slowly removes his fingers. 

Your body feels heavy and limp, its only movement the harsh up and down of your heavy panting. When Remus’s hands maneuver you to lift your torso and turn you around, you’re very little help. You feel unstable on your legs, but Remus safely holds you up. “Why’d you —” you start, your voice an exhausted whisper.

“Shut up,” he says, words hard, tone soft. He’s panting too, looking sweaty and spent. “Jump.” You’re confused, but your body heeds his command as his hands lift your arse up till you’re sitting on the counter. His hands grab the backs of your thighs and lift them up and out. You fall back slightly at the shift and end up resting on your forearms looking up at him. You rest your foot on the counter when his hand drops your leg so he can use it to guide himself back inside you.

He slips in easily but takes a moment to settle once he does. His eyes closed, chin lifted, chest rising and falling heavily. He looks so beautiful. 

When he’s gathered himself, he shifts as close to you as he can and guides you up toward him too. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms support you as you hold on to the counter’s edge. His support you, too, wrapped around your waist.  

His forehead comes to yours, and he kisses you sloppily as his hips start thrusting again, more slowly this time. One arm still anchoring you, his other hand comes to your face, holding it as he keeps kissing you. His breathing picks up again as his hips do.

Face still close to yours, he confesses, “I know you wanted it rough, but I really felt like looking at you when I came this time.” “Fuck, Rem.” You kiss him hard and clench him harder. He groans and picks up his pace, clearly getting tired but chasing an approaching high. 

His hand slips between your bodies, pushing you the slightest angle away from him so he can rub at your clit. Your cunt spasms at the sensation, and you hear his breath catch. 

He presses harder, establishes a rhythm, gradually making it faster. You’re close again at his adept touch, and you chant his name desperately as you shake your hips and push over your edge. His strangled moan tells you he’s cumming before the feel of it between your legs does, his dark, aching eyes on you the whole time. Once he starts slowing down, you wrap your arms tightly around him and nestle into his neck. He kisses you everywhere he can reach: your cheek, your neck, your shoulder. 

When he pulls apart from you, you shiver. You’re covered in sweat, and as he pulls his softening cock out of you, the wetness there is even worse. You wrap your arms around yourself and clench your thighs together. 

“Here, baby,” Remus says, running for a clean towel, dampening it before standing in front of you again. Very gently, he pushes your thighs apart again, stroking one soothingly as he cleans between your legs. When he’s done, he wraps you in a hug to bring you down off the counter, supporting you while you find you balance after your legs being rendered jelly.

“C’mere.” He holds you as he walks you to your bedroom. “You want to shower?” “‘M too tired. Can I shower in the morning?” “‘Course, lovely. Whatever you want.” “Ugh.” “What is it?” “I need to pee.” Remus giggles at you as he guides you toward the bathroom instead of the bed. 

“I can’t pee with you staring at me like that,” you complain when he just leans on the sink as you try to go. “I’m not staring; I’m admiring.” “Ok, I can’t pee with you admiring me like that.” He laughs again and turns around dramatically. He takes the opportunity to clean himself up.

You do what you need to do but stay sitting on the toilet even after you’ve finished, feeling too tired to get up. Remus dampens your hand towel and squats in front of you. He dabs at your face gently, freshening it up. You close your eyes at the soothing sensations of being cleaner and of being doted on. When he’s done your whole face and neck, he pecks your nose before getting up. “You planning on sleeping here or what?” he teases. “‘M tired,” you moan. “C’mon, lovely girl,” he chuckles, yanking you up. You finish cleaning up then follow him to bed, plopping down onto it. He hasn’t stopped giggling at your antics. “Want clothes?” “Just knickers please.” He tosses you a clean pair, slips into his own pants, then falls into bed with you. He shifts your body into a reasonable position and pulls the covers over you. Resting on his side, propped up on his elbow, his other hand starts stroking your bare skin lovingly. “You okay, sweet girl?” “Hmmm.” He kisses your forehead. “I know you’re sleepy, but just tell me if you’re okay. Nothing hurts or anything?” “No, Rem, I feel great.” You smile up at him without opening your eyes. You can’t see him looking down at you like you’re the most precious person in the world. To him, you are. “’S like my whole body is sinking and floating at the same time.” He chuckles adoringly and kisses you again, cuddling up beside you. “Good.” “Hmm.” You’re sinking into sleep but whisper giddily, “Thanks for fucking me.” He barks a full laugh. As it quiets to back to his giggle, he brings his face to yours. He nuzzles your nose with his and kisses your cheek. “Always happy to take care of my girl.” He kisses you again. “It was fun. Good for you? What you wanted?” “Mmhmm,” you nod. “Just what I wanted.” You use what little energy you have left to shift closer to him. “Now I want your cuddles.” “Always happy to take care of my girl,” he says again, more softly this time, as he wraps his arms around you snugly and kisses your forehead. 

You settle into each other, and the rise and fall of his breathing, the graze of his petting fingertips are the last things you feel as you drift into sleep.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin smut #remus lupin fluff #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #ria1k

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

candlelight 🕯️

hii it’s me again! congratulations on 1k!! i’ve thinking about this recently (a lot) because im seriously in my miguel ohara kick🥰

but can you do shy & nerdy reader with popular miguel who are dating?? he adores making her flustered and how shy she is.

he makes her ask for his help because he knows how badly she needs him? because she’s just so stressed out about school and stuff? as always if you’re not comfortable writing totally ignore this! this is my first time requesting smut so i don’t know if it’s silly or not! but if you write it i know you’ll do good by it bc ur such an amazing writer😌

-🎀

hiiii, thank you so much!! and thank you for requesting! ahhh, i'm so thrilled you asked for miguel; i was dying to write him and probably will more, especially if people want; i hope you like it! i hope i got enough of the request in here

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x reader word count: 2.2k notes: modern au, established relationship, fluff, smut (i'm going to keep with marking where it gets smutty, though, bc it's like a full fluff fic before any smut, for those who only want the fluff; MDNI!) part of my 1k celebration!

so, i trickled in just a bit of spanish because i'm actually a native speaker so found the opportunity exciting; i don't want translations to be annoying in the middle of it or for you to have to scroll to the end, so thought putting them here was best: mi amor / amor mío: my love / literally something like love of mine but works more like emphasis cariño: term of endearment kind of like dear, literally affection mami: another term of endearment, more often cheeky or sexier descansa: rest dime: tell me que maravilla: a joke from the movie, literally what a marvel / wonder, kind of like how wonderful or even just amazing hope i didn't miss any others

The phone buzzing beside you startles you almost completely out of your chair. Coffee makes you jumpy. An entire pot in one night makes you… suspect what you’d be like on cocaine. You’d thought you’d put it on silent. No phone till at least one paper is done, you’d told yourself. Finals had you reeling, and you were desperate to make some progress. When you grab your phone, you see a text from Miguel:

You take your headphones off, and sure enough, a moment later hear a knock at the door. You open it to a Miguel in loose sweatpants and hoodie, dark hair messy, gym bag slung over one shoulder. Even these clothes could do nothing to hide the impressive broadness of his shoulders. 

“Hey, baby,” he says through a bright smile. He kisses your cheek and steps into the apartment. “I know you were trying to focus, but I was getting worried.” “Sorry, I had my headphones on; the neighbors were being too loud again, and I really needed to focus.” “No, not the waiting at your door, mi amor. I’m talking about all of… this,” he gestures wildly around the apartment then his gaze lands on you. “Those dishes were there when I was here days ago, and even though I’m pretty sure adding anything to that tower would topple it, you haven’t. When’s the last time you ate?” “I ha—“ you begin to retort, but he cuts you off. “And I mean real food.” You start again but just give up and shrug. “And you.” He steps close to you and frames your face with his hands. You lean into his touch as he caresses your face. “Baby, you know I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world, right?” You blush and look down immediately. 

It used to be worse, before you got together. When you were confused about his even noticing you, and instead he’d flirted with you. Even now that he was your boyfriend, it took very little from him to fluster you.

He can’t help but chuckle at your reaction. He always does.

“Don’t you? My gorgeous,” he kisses one warm cheek, “gorgeous,” he kisses the other, “girl,” he gives your nose a concluding peck. 

You nod shyly. “C’mon, cariño. Tell me,” he encourages, his tone still teasing but ever adoring. “I want to hear it." “I know you think I’m pretty,” you whisper. “Pretty? No, amor mío, I think flowers and bright colors are pretty; the ocean or a view of the mountains, too. But you, you are beauty personified.” “Miguel, stop,” you whisper through the smile you can’t help, hiding your face in his chest. He laughs lightly. His hand comes to your hair and scratches lovingly.

“I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” He gives your forehead a kiss. “Before I told you you look terrible, baby.” He starts laughing loudly and holds you closer into his hug when you smack his chest and try to pull away. 

“That’s so mean!” gets muffled into his sweatshirt. “It’s not mean; it’s true. You’re still beautiful, but you need a break.” “I can’t, Miguel. I’m drowning in work still, and you know being sick last week really got me behind, and it feels like no matter how long I sit there, I’m no closer to finishing anything, and you’re right my apartment is falling apart, but every time I do something else I feel guilty for stalling on work, and, and —“

Before you can find another overwhelming thing to list, Miguel is hushing you and stroking your back in his warm embrace.

“Breathe, baby, breathe.” He sways you lightly then pulls back a bit to look into your eyes. His hands are caressing your face again, and his fingers brush lightly under your eyes, where you know there are dark circles, as he whispers, “You haven’t slept.” He sound sad rather than accusatory. 

“Okay,” he starts softly. “Look, I know how much you have on your plate, and I’m not telling you you’re wrong to be stressed. I get it. But you can’t get it done like this, running on fumes and caffeine. How about this? I’m going to help you relax tonight, you’re going to forget about everything you have to do, you’re going to sleep well, and then tomorrow morning you’ll get back to it all.” “I’m fine, really. You don’t need to worry about me. And I’ll rest after finals.” Just then a car horn blares near your window, making you jump cartoonishly. “Yeah, you seem totally fine,” Miguel deadpans teasingly. “There’s nothing wrong with taking some time, Y/N… And accepting a little a help, okay?”

You nod lightly. “Great,” he gives you a quick peck and moves toward your kitchen, hunting around your barren fridge and cabinets. “Here’s the game plan then. You are going to put on your favorite playlist then go take a warm shower for as long as you like. Your kitchen is as empty as your stomach, so I am going to run down the street to pick up some empanadas then I’ll work on cleaning up this war zone a little bit when I get back.”

“You don’t have to clean.” “Stop fighting me,” he tsks. “Besides you know I don’t mind cleaning. I’m glad I’m not hearing complaints about the food at least,” he laughs. “I love empanadas,” you whisper defeatedly. He cackles. “Who doesn’t?” He kisses you as he moves past you toward the door. “Be back soon. No working! I expect you in the shower when I get back.” You quirk an eyebrow teasingly at him. You were still too shy to say anything teasing, but he’d been working you out of your shell during your time together. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t really like that aspect of being with Miguel. 

His eyebrows mimic yours, and he chuckles lowly. “Don’t give me that look, mami, or you’re not getting me out the door, and you’ll miss out on the empanadas.”

You pull the neck of your shirt up to cover your face, making him laugh. You hear him bound back over to you from the door. He pulls your shirt back down, gives you a short but intense kiss, then heads out. 

Miguel is back before you know it. You are in fact in the shower when you hear him return. You’re already rinsing, but you linger a little longer, enjoying the feeling of the warm water easing the stresses off your tense body. 

When you leave your room to join him again, you’re immediately hit with the delicious smell of food. You see it resting on the counter and find Miguel washing your dishes. 

You come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his firm torso, resting your head on his back. “Hola, cariño,” he coos. “I’m almost done.” You nod into him, humming.

When he finishes up, he turns in your arms, bringing his own large ones around you. He leans down and kisses you softly. “Hungry?” 

You nod enthusiastically, and he chuckles. 

You opt to eat on the sofa, getting comfy. Miguel does most of the talking. Between how tired and how hungry you are, you don’t have the energy or available mouth to talk much. He doesn’t seem to mind, happy to regale you with his silly stories.

When you finish, Miguel cleans up, holding you down and giving you a faux menacing look when you try to get up to help. 

When he comes back, he settles much closer to you than he had been before. You relish his warmth, physical and emotional, and lean into him. 

“Turn around,” he whispers.

“Hm?” “Like this.” He adjusts your body so you’re facing away from him and starts massaging your shoulders. You hadn’t realized just how tense you were until the amazing feeling of its being relieved somewhat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Miguel,” you exhale approvingly, earning a chuckle.

“I like it when you say my name like that.” He leans in and whispers into your ear, his breath tickling the back of your neck deliciously, “Reminds me of other times you end up whining my name.”

It’s shocking how quickly he works you up. You turn to look at him, and when you do, his expression shifts from teasing to intrigued.

“Oh?” he asks. He smirks. “I know that look.” He leans in and kisses your neck sloppily, and you whimper. You’re embarrassed at the sound, but he seems to like it. You feel him smile against the skin under your jaw. “I’m more than happy to give you what you want, but I need to know what that is to give it to you.” His voice is much lower but just as mischievous.

“Miguel,” you complain. “Dime, mi amor.” 

“I —“ Any other words get caught in your throat. Your throat he’s busy sucking on.

“Please, baby. C’mon, I know you can. Tell me what you want.” He runs his teeth along your neck like he knows you like. You often joke he feels like he has fangs when he does. “I want you,” you tell him. 

“Yeah?” “Mhm…”

“I’m yours, mami. How do you want me?”

“I want you to make me feel good.” “Oh, I’ll make you feel good. I’ll make you feel so, so good.” He punctuates his words with kisses, working his way up your neck, your jaw, your mouth. “Tell me how,” he whispers, and you feel his lips grazing yours with each word.

You want to relax, and you know exactly what relaxes you the most. “I want you to eat me out.”

His eyebrows jump in surprise. Such directness was unlike you. Your exhaustion was probably weakening your filter, and the way he was already making you feel certainly wasn’t helping it. You almost get shy about it, but when you see just how dark his eyes have gotten, see his Adam’s apple bob and his bottom lip come between his teeth, you keep yourself from shrinking away. He nods slowly, staring deeply into your eyes, then kisses you hard. “Get naked,” he says gruffly. 

Already starting to do as he says, you weakly whisper, “You too?” He chuckles lightly but obliges quickly. 

You don’t think you’ll ever get used to seeing him like this. He’s so beautiful. His broad chest and toned abs; his caramel skin and dark hair.

You look back at his face and find he’s noticed you staring at his body. He’s so confident, you think he’s going to tease you about it. Instead, with an adoring smile, he tells you, “That’s how I feel when I see you, too.” You lean up and kiss him, pouring all the emotions you can’t articulate in words into it. 

Without disconnecting your lips, his body guides yours back down until you’re completely prone. He keeps kissing you until you’re breathless, lovingly attends to your neck and down your chest. He lingers there, his tongue making you arch your back, pushing your body up into the sensations he’s delivering. He sucks harder at your visceral reaction then hotly finishes his path down, his face now aligned between your thighs.

He looks at you intently and whispers, “Que maravilla.”

He looks up at you, eyes black storms you lose yourself in as his mouth connects with your body. 

From your delightful vantage point, you watch his muscular shoulders contort as he moves to pleasure you. He looks like he’s thoroughly enjoying it, and seeing him so into it gives you confidence. You start subtly moving your hips in rhythm with his motions. His hands tighten where they hold your thighs, and, mortified, you interpret this as his telling you to stay still, so you do. 

Then Miguel shakes his head hard — the vibrations of which shoot shocking pleasure into you — and he pants, “Keep doing that. Show me how you want it.” His strong grip pushes and pulls you in a movement close to what you were just doing. You take over and move faster. He’s nodding now, and the shake of it has your thighs shaking on either side of his head. 

You’re making loud whimpering sounds when you yell, “Mi — ahh — Migueeell.” He doubles his efforts, picking up his pace and pressing hard against you. You come on his face, and he looks feral as he eats you through it. When you’re done, he licks up your entire slit before shuffling his body back over yours. You’re chest to chest, and his hand comes up to stroke your head. “Good?” 

Your cheeks warm, and you nod shyly. He giggles and gives you a peck. “You’re adorable, mi amor.”

Your legs feel delightfully like jelly as you move them, wrapping them around his waist. He hums approvingly and gives one thigh a tight squeeze, pulling it impossibly closer to his body. He begins stroking it as he kisses you lazily. Your hands entwine in his thick hair, stroke his strong back, hold him close.

When he shifts his weight slightly on top of you, you notice his hardness against your body.

“You want me to…” you whisper, thrusting your hips up into his in place of words.

“Uh-uh, maybe in a little bit, baby, but for right now, I just want you to relax.” 

He continues kisses you languidly, enveloping you in his body heat, and as you close your eyes and melt into the sensations, you’re sure you’re going to have no trouble sleeping soundly tonight. 

#miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel ohara imagine #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #miguel ohara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #1k celebration #ria1k

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

1,000 followers writing celebration

my beautiful beautiful chiliad*, this is insane and i'm so so grateful so let's celebrate!

a somewhat celestial theme slightly inspired by last night's eclipse, with a guiding "1k followers ~ 1k words" since keeping them shorter will let me get through more if i get enough requests

tell me if you'd like me to write by...

sunlight ☀️

warm, fluffy prompts

moonlight 🌙

angsty, darker prompts

starlight ✨

fates written in the stars: give me a trope or au

candlelight 🕯️

smutty prompts (only request if you're 18+)

and you? are you a stargazer? an astronaut? an alien?

this is optional but really helps me make something more tailored to you; lmk how you imagine the !reader just a few examples: quirky, grumpy, shy, confident, horny, bookish, chubby/fat, tomboy

and with which character...

as always, Remus, Sirius, James

but i'm also eager to write for new characters, here are some options:

Poe Dameron, Miguel O'Hara, TASM!Peter Parker, Wolverine, Gambit, Fred Weasley, Geralt of Rivia Tangerine, Dean Winchester, Spencer Reid, Billy Butcher, Carmy Berzatto, Roy Kent, Jaime Tartt

or any other character i've mentioned before or one you really want that i haven't mentioned (good chance if they're from fandoms/movies/tv/actors i've mentioned) but send me a back-up one that is on my list just in case can be any gender; i know i tend to be heteroromantic on here, but i am bisexual and feel comfortable writing as such

i'll be celebrating all weekend! send requests through my ask box thank you for reading, interacting, following, and just being your beautiful selves

*i recently learned this brilliant word and couldn't resist; chiliad: a group of a thousand things **secret trivia: the image is my way of rendering our favourite star boy celestial

#1k celebration #requests open #fanfiction #marauders #sirius black #remus lupin #james potter #poe dameron #star wars #marvel #x men #harry potter #supernatural #criminal minds #the boys #the bear #ted lasso #tangerine #ria1k #reader insert #fluff #smut #angst

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

When the Levee Breaks

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader

tags / warnings: friends to lovers fluff then smut, mutual pining, smoking weed (be responsible irl), high sex, explicit descriptions of oral (f receiving), fem!reader

NSFW notes: A LARGE PORTION OF THIS FIC IS NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS; DO NOT READ IT IF IT ISN'T APPROPRIATE FOR YOU! HOWEVER, because such a long portion (like 2/3) has no sexual material (except for the implication at the very beginning), i have clearly marked where it becomes NSFW in case any age-appropriate readers want to read only up to that point (i know some people just want fluff not smut even if they're of age, and that's so chill); i will say there is drug use before then, so still adult material, but fluffy around that; please please be responsible for your content consumption

random notes: set in the late 70's / early 80's, following canon of when the marauders would've met but the rest of the world building (e.g. au) left ambiguous title inspired by a song on one of the albums mentioned idk why this turned out similar to The Prettiest Star with Sirius Black, but i guess my fantasy is just to listen to music intensely with someone then fuck lovingly lol

word count: 6.4k

hope you enjoy! thank you if you read it! 🫶

You watch as his long fingers, practiced and adept, roll the spliff. You liked this part. You could stare at his hands under the guise of watching the rolling. Remus didn’t have to know how far from pot your mind wandered when you did. He didn’t have to know it made you wonder every time what else he could do with this fingers. Imagine how they would feel on you. In you. 

At the thought, you squirm where you’re seated on his settee next to him. He chuckles in a low tone. 

“Antsy?” 

“No.” 

He can tell you’re lying. You can tell he can tell. But you don’t care. As long as he can’t tell why you’re lying, it doesn’t matter, and you can keep wriggling.

“Whatever you say, jitterbug.” 

Your wringing hands catch his attention, and his eyes fix on them even as his hands continue their work. 

“Next time, you’re rolling it,” he says through a smile. “There’d be nothing left to smoke by the time you finished shaking it everywhere,” he laughs, too amused with himself, giggling as if he were already high. 

“Remus?” you start, and he shakes his head and chuckles, loving how you get when he teases you. 

“What?” he smiles, eyebrows shooting up at you, both a welcome and a challenge for you to say whatever you’re about to. 

“Can you remind me who provided this wonderful gift on this wonderful afternoon?” You shake the baggy you brought to his flat not 15 minutes ago. 

He laughs, now nodding, and concedes, “You’re right, sunshine. I should be so grateful.”

Remus brings the spliff to his mouth to lick the edge of the paper, and your retort gets caught in your throat as you fixate on his tongue. 

A bit too late, a bit too quiet for your usual banter, you say, “You should be, Moons. I can still take it home and smoke by myself.”

“Oh now I’ve rolled it for you, yeah? Didn’t realize you were just here for my services. Should’ve known you were just pretending to love me till you got what you wanted.” He holds up his finished work — a beauty really — in front of you as he finishes his joke. You hum affirmatively, taking it from him and looking it over. 

You inspect it exaggeratedly and with a theatrical sense of casual satisfaction tell him, “Hm, not bad. I was starting to regret the long con, but I think this was worth it.” 

He’s giggling as he gets up, bumping his body against yours before he does, going toward his record collection. He walks over lazily, unhurriedly, his bare feet quiet on the floor, his hand coming up to mess with his hair. His loose, comfy clothes do a lot to hide the muscles you know are lean but strong underneath.

“Come help me choose,” he says over his shoulder as he falls to one knee to scan a lower shelf. Almost a whole wall of his small apartment is covered in shelves, boxes, stacks of records. It looks a mess, but it’s actually meticulously organized by release date.

You follow him, come up just behind him. You crouch, too, not all the way down like him. You lean on him, resting your head atop his, bringing your arms around his shoulders and neck. 

He moans casually, seeming happy, and grabs your arms where they fall across his chest. 

“Oh, Rem. You should know…”

“Hm?” he asks, looking up at you. You look down at him, seeing his warm smile upside down. 

“This is the real reason I’ve pretended to be your friend all these years,” you fake seriousness as you nod toward the records. Remus rolls his eyes, but his smile stretches further across his lovely face. It pulls on a long scar that runs down his cheek. 

“And may I ask how you knew when we were eleven that one day I would own such an epic collection?” 

“Easy. You wore a Led Zeppelin t-shirt one of the first days we knew each other.”

He’s taken aback by your giving an actual answer. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling down at him. The warmth of reminiscing about those childhood years softening you. 

“I think I remember that shirt,” he smiles nostalgically. “How do you remember that?” He twists in your embrace, coming to sit on the floor and pulling you with him. You’re sitting close to each other, and he’s watching you, rapt. 

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I remember being so nervous and lonely at the beginning. Wanting to make friends. And you seemed nice, so I noticed you.” You shrug again, look down for a moment, not wanting to express embarrassment at a more honest recollection: you had a crush on him immediately, even back then, even before you were really sure what it was you were feeling — that came with the years that followed. “The day you wore that shirt, it was like something familiar I could latch onto. Someone who liked something I liked.” Remus is smiling adoringly at you. Listening as intently as he is, looking as giddy, he looks like a child at the greatest story time ever from his seat on the floor. 

“I even tried to talk to you about it,” you confess, cringing teasingly at yourself.

“Yeah?” He sits up straighter like a puppy hearing someone at the door. 

“Yeah,” you exhale. 

“I don’t remember that happening.”

“That’s because it didn’t,” you laugh. “I said tried to talk to you. I got too nervous and ran to hide before I could get the words out.” 

He’s shaking his head in disbelief, his smile still plastered on his face.

“I can’t believe I hadn’t noticed you yet.” Remus looks especially contemplative for a moment then hums, biting his lower lip. “It’s crazy. Trying to think of my life before you is like remembering a blank canvas.” 

Your cheeks warm and so does your heart. 

You’re smiling a beaming smile at him but say, “There wasn’t much to notice. I was pretty quiet. And besides, your attention probably couldn’t handle a single thing more given you were getting to know Sirius and James.” He laughs lightly at the good memories but shakes his head at you a little more pronouncedly. 

“I’m sure there was a lot to notice. I was just an idiot. And quiet, too. By comparison to that lot anyway. They spoke enough for the three of us. I probably would’ve wimped out if I’d tried to talk to a pretty girl like you back then.” The edges of his entrancing brown eyes crinkled from his smile. “I mean… to be honest… I’d get nervous for a while, talking to you at first.”

“You didn’t,” you tease but secretly really want to hear more.  

“I did, yeah. Of course I did,” he laughs at himself. “I had a big crush on you. James and Sirius wouldn’t let me live it down for ages.” 

You’re shocked at this news. And maybe your face shows it. What it doesn’t show is how desperately your mind is racing, questioning: “Wait, could things have been otherwise? Did he actually like me as more than a friend at some point? Did I ruin it somehow?”

Remus tenses slightly, his smile no longer reaching his eyes, which are attentive at your reaction. 

“That was a long time ago,” he jokes to fill the silence that is beginning to stretch too long, his tone awkward.

“What happened?” you whisper, unable to help it. 

He takes a second to answer, like he doesn’t know what to say. He’s searching your face, and you’re not sure how much he can read there. 

He shrugs. His face gives an “I don’t know” scowl. He’s trying to escape answering, but you don’t let him.

“Remus,” you laugh and shove him playfully. 

“I don’t know,” he giggles. “I don’t know. Then I got to know you I guess. And we became friends.” 

You give a scoffy laugh. You know he probably didn’t mean it that way, but your stomach sinks at the idea that getting to know you would remedy him of his crush. You’re staring at the floor when his voice breaks you out of your thoughts. 

“Hey, you okay?” He’s trying to keep the playful atmosphere, but you hear true concern in his tone. “Did I say something I shouldn’t’ve?”

You want to say “yes,” but you wouldn’t be able to tell him which part. So, you don’t say anything.

“I didn’t think you’d mind, after all these years,” he says more softly.

“No, Rem. Of course I don’t mind.” You shake your head as if dismissing the idea, attempting a laugh that still comes out strained. “I was just surprised is all.” 

He’s watching you, nodding subtlety, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. 

“Let’s choose something, yeah?” you nod next to you toward the wall, desperate to redirect attention.

“Yeah, yeah, ‘course.” Remus turns toward the records, skimming across his stacks. A thought catches him, and he moves purposefully toward a different shelf.

“What are you thinking?” you notice, your interest piqued. 

“1971,” he says as if it’s an answer. It is to you. 

1971: the year you met. 

He pulls out a well-worn record, and the strain on your smile finally dissipates to easy delight. You come stand next to him, and he hands it to you. 

“Do you remember how much we listened to that then?” he asks. 

“How could I forget,” you smile, your fingers tracing the cover of Led Zeppelin IV. 

It came out November 1971, but neither of you could get it till at least a month later, during Christmas break from school. When you finally did, the two of you listened to it nonstop. You absolutely loved the album, but you knew you listened to it that much because it was an easy excuse to hang out with Remus. You’d been listening to music together, often just the two of you, ever since.

“Fuck, I remember we’d listen to it in my room,” Remus reminisces. “And even Sirius, the biggest Zeppelin fan of us all, couldn’t take it anymore,” he laughs. “He’d turn it off when he found us listening to it, scolding us for ‘abusing a sacred thing.’”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Oh, look at this,” Remus startles you, excited. He pulls another record off the same shelf.

“This is too perfect,” he giggles. “I didn’t remember this came out then,” he muses, looking it over. “Probably didn’t get my hands on it till much later, I guess. But it’s like it was made for us. For you.” He hands you Just As I Am by Bill Withers, but you still don’t get what he’s saying. He sees your confused look and chuckles. “Second track,” he hints. Your eyes land on “Ain’t No Sunshine.” 

“Sunshine”: Remus’s nickname for you for years. You had Sirius to thank for it actually. He’d said you and Remus were like yin and yang. And since you all already called him “Moony,” you had to be “Sunny.” The other three of you cringed at the sound of that, so he tried “sunshine” instead, conceding it was close enough, and it stuck. Over the years, Sirius and James used it less and less, Remus more and more.

“It’s your song,” Remus urges, knocking his shoulder against yours. “There literally can’t be sunshine when you’re gone because you are sunshine.” He sounds too excited, and it’s adorable. 

“You sound like Sirius saying he’s serious,” you tease. He just laughs and takes the record back.

“Whatever, grumpy. It’s an epic song, and you know it, and now it’s yours, and I don’t care if that’s cheesy.”

“I love it,” escapes you, teasing tone gone. His eyes snap to yours, and he looks at you warmly.

“Alright, sunshine,” he whispers. A beat. “Wanna listen to it?” he asks, voice almost normal again. You nod gladly then go back to the sofa as he sets it up.

Remus soon comes back and joins you. He grabs the spliff from between stacks of snacks you’d prepared for the afternoon then looks over at you.

“Ready, sunshine?”

“Mhhm.”

“You do the honours.” He hands it to you and grabs the lighter. Rather than handing that to you too, he lights it for you as it dangles from your parted lips. 

You take a long drag, feeling it enter you and welcoming it. You cough lightly as you exhale slowly. You are no novice but are still always a cougher. Remus still always giggles when you do, but it’s never mocking. He has a glass of water ready for you, knowing you well, always looking after you. You trade him the water for the spliff, which he proceeds to hit with equal enthusiasm and less wheezing.  

You pass it back and forth for a little while. It’s strong stuff and just three hits in, you feel it engulfing you. The settee feels softer; the music sounds better. 

“Ain’t No Sunshine” is playing, and in your dazed state, you’re sure this is going to be the peak of the album even if it doesn’t coincide with the peak of your high. You close your eyes, and you can feel the music on your skin. 

Remus chuckles next to you, and your face turns to him.

“You look so stoned right now,” he explains, giddy. 

“That’s because I am,” you laugh. Once you start laughing it’s hard to stop; once Remus joins, it’s almost impossible. 

You chat easily, observations and jokes from both of you greatly benefitting from the induced assistance. Remus has a revelation about your listening to HI-fi while high. Your mind is blown multiple times at how deep the lyrics are. 

“They’re all talkin’ at him, but he doesn’t hear a word they’re sayin’, Moons! Not a word! I should do that,” you tell him as if it’s the most urgent thing in the world. He cracks up. “He’s so right, you know? Gotta keep the sun shining through the pouring rain, you know?”

“Uh-huh, I know, sunshine, I know,” he just laughs at you.

“You have such a nice smile, Moony,” you observe, dazed just as much from the feelings perambulating through your system than the pot doing the same.

“Yeah?” he asks, exaggerating it till he’s all teeth and squinty eyes. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “It looked funny upside down over there,” you remember. “Watch!” 

You flip over on the sofa till your feet are up where your neck should rest and your head is dangling off the edge where your knees would normally be. You smile up at him. Remus doubles over laughing with you, bringing his face much closer to yours as he leans into it. 

“You’re right. Looks funny,” he tells you much more softly than you expected after his cackling. He watches you intently then brings a hand to your upside down face. He traces your features lightly, and it’s warm and tingly. His long finger travels down your nose, across your eyebrows. 

“C’mere,” you whisper to him.

“Where?” he whispers back, his voice a gruff chuckle again. 

“Down here!” you whisper-yell. 

You pull his shoulder down and start kicking his legs up as he contorts until you get him in the same position as you. You end up side by side, upside-down on the sofa. 

Each of you giggles at the other as you steal side glances. Your faces, pulled the wrong way by gravity, softened more than normal by the smoking, look even goofier through your incessant giggles and pointless efforts at holding those back.

You listen, and laugh, to at least a whole song like this. You kick each other’s feet throughout. As one of your kicks brings you closer to Remus, he rolls over to tickle you. You laugh so loud you can’t even hear the record over it. 

“Stop, Rem! Stop!” you plead. “I’m already too dizzy.” 

He keeps it up a moment but soon takes pity on you and helps move your body the right way around, his strong hands manipulating you easily. 

“Alright, dizzy. Enough upside-down,” he says as he fixes your now crazy hair. 

You just nod and shift closer to him. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he shuffles to a comfortable height for you, laying his own head on yours. 

A primary reason you enjoy getting high with Remus: you both get snuggly. You’re touchy normally, even more than most best friends you’ve seen, but not overly so. When you’re high, it’s overly so. But it somehow doesn’t feel weird. In fact, it feels wonderful. 

So, it feels wonderful, not weird, when you absentmindedly reach over for his hand. He gives it to you easily, and you begin caressing it. 

“Your skin is so soft, Rem.” You pull his hand closer to you, bringing it close to your face, looking it at like you’ve never seen a hand before. Remus takes the opportunity and quickly grabs at your nose playfully. You giggle at this as he responds to your initial comment.

“In between all the scars maybe.” He sounds matter of fact. There’s a lot less pain in his voice now when he talks about them than when he did in your younger years. You look forward to the day when you hear no pain there at all. 

“No, the scars too,” you correct him gently, and you bring your thumb to a scar that runs from the top of his hand up to his forearm. You trace it with reverence, and he shivers at your touch. You know for a fact you’re the only person in the world he allows to touch them. You’re so grateful for his trust, and in this moment, your emotions heightened, your inhibitions lowered, the vibrations of the music moving through you, you feel the need to tell him so. 

“Thank you for letting me touch you, Moony.” 

Remus has been watching where your hands are connected until now, but at your words, he looks into your eyes. He just looks at you for a long moment. You can’t tell how long, time elongated and indeterminable in your current state, but you’re completely comfortable to sit in it through its entirety, looking straight back at him. 

Eventually, the softest grin blossoms on his face. You mirror it. 

“Thank you for not being afraid to,” he whispers. You genuinely don’t understand. 

“Why would I be?”

“You know what I mean,” he tries to explain. He looks down in shyness but back at you before continuing, “Maybe ‘afraid’ isn’t the right word. Maybe it’s ‘disgusted’ or something…” 

His voice is fading to a low whisper by the end, like the louder the words are the truer they’ll be. 

Without hesitating, you tell him the truth: “Remus, you’re the least disgusting person in the world. You’re beautiful.” He grimaces like he can’t believe you, so you go on. “You are.” 

You turn your body even more toward him, bringing your connected hands to your almost shared lap and bringing your other hand to caress his cheek. 

“Silly Moony. You’re so sickeningly beautiful,” you chuckle. Your hand runs up through his hair. “This hair is ridiculous,” you inform him, tousling it. He leans into your touch like a content puppy. “These eyes.” You trace circles around each of them, first skimming his eyebrows then looping around. “They’re the easiest thing in the world to melt into, no pot needed.” You feel them crinkle as they smile into your compliments. “This nose.” You trace it slowly. “These lips,” you say more softly. You feel his gasp when you touch them then feel nothing, his breath held as you trace them. “And your scars,” you say with some finality. You trace a prominent one across his face. He closes his eyes while you do, opens them again when you reach its end. “You beauty isn’t one to be ruined by scars, Remus Lupin. Your beauty is the kind that incorporates the scar and makes that beautiful too.” 

Remus squeezes your interlaced hands. Your faces are so close to each other that you could see his eyes moisten as you tell him all this. He closes them before full tears form and moves his face that tiny bit closer till his forehead rests on yours. You nuzzle his nose, and he nuzzles yours back. 

“It’s so quiet,” you whisper, breaking the silence — noticing the silence. You didn’t notice when the album ended.  Remus just hums in response. 

The silence is loaded but peaceful. You don’t want to pressure him into having to say something back after you let yourself get so intense with him. It wasn’t about what he said back; it was about his understanding how you saw him, how you hoped he would see himself. 

So, with his eyes still closed, you give the scar that runs across his nose a light kiss, do the same to another larger one across his jaw. Then you bring your head back to his shoulder, snuggling into him to mark the end of the moment, no further pressure necessary. 

Remus shifts his body closer, as close to you as possible. He brings his arm around your shoulders without letting go of your hand. He’s holding you close, and your arm crosses your chest to keep your hands intertwined. He kisses the top of your head — new, sweet — then rests his own there again — familiar, warm. Your thumb absentmindedly strokes the back of his hand. 

You sit together in the quiet a long while. You close your eyes, breathe Remus in, let his body, his presence envelop you then just bask in it. Everything feels pleasantly heavy — the air, his body where it touches yours.

You settle into him, and without your noticing you’re doing it, your hand on his stills. 

“Don’t stop,” he whispers. 

“Hm?” you need to ask, unsure what he means. You look up, and he looks down, and your faces are a breadth away from each other. 

“I liked how you were touching me,” he whispers. “I always like how you touch me,” he adds like a secret. 

He brings his hand that’s not holding yours up to your face. First, the backs of his fingers brush lightly over your cheekbone then he rests his hand there. His fingers hold your jaw; his thumb caresses your cheek. Like you tend to do, you lean into his touch. 

His gentle, soothing touch flutters your eyes closed. Your inability to see his face makes it less scary to respond, “I always like how you touch me too.”

“Yeah?” he sighs, his hand holding you a bit more tightly, his thumb coming down to graze your bottom lip. You nod slowly, his hand moving with your head.

“Do you ever think about other ways we could touch each other?” he whispers. Your eyes fly open at this and land on his: lidded, dilated, gazing into your own. 

“Do you?” 

“I asked you first,” he giggles. “And I’ve already told you a secret today. It’s your turn.”

“What secret?” Your voices are still soft, whispering even though there’s no need for quiet other than your intimacy demanding it. 

“About my crush.” 

“I had a crush on you too,” you tell him. “So now we’re even.”

“That’s not fair, sunshine,” he smiles. You smile back. 

Then, after a moment, like he can’t help it, “You did?” 

“Of course I did.” 

“What happened?” he echoes. 

“Nothing,” you confess. 

His eyebrows furrow, unsure how to interpret this. His eyes hold hope and trepidation at once. 

“I got to know you… And we became friends…” you continue. His expression falls, and you’re pretty sure you recognize this look as disappointment. But you go on, “And it made me love you all the more.” 

You’re ready to read his expression closely this time, but you don’t get the chance before he’s kissing you, before you’re kissing back. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ NSFW beyond this point ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s slow. Deliberate. His lips push on yours; his arms bring you closer. His tongue teases your lips, and though they part in response, his tongue traces them rather than push in. You whimper at the feeling of it, and he moans at your reaction. He breathes you in, covers your whole mouth with his, devouring the sound, devouring you. 

Now his tongue enters your mouth, exploring, playing with yours. You’re not sure whether his movements are slow or whether they just feel slow because you’re still high. You are sure you have no desire to speed any of it up. 

You bring your hands to either side of his face, holding him gently but pulling him to you. He follows easily, and when your chests are almost flush, you trace your hands down to his shirt and pull him on top of you as you lean back, lying down on the sofa.

You keep kissing a deliciously long while then Remus goes beyond your lips, kissing along your jaw leisurely. He mouths at your skin, licking, nipping his way unhurriedly down to your neck. Here he languidly runs his tongue along the length of your neck, kissing your pulse point, nipping behind your ear. 

Everywhere he touches is buzzing, and you shiver at the sensation. When his breath blows cold air on your now wet skin, you shiver even harder, your body shuddering against his above you. He chuckles into the crook of your neck and continues. 

After another while of his working his way down, he has to pull the neck of your shirt down to reach further. You bare your neck to him, loving his exploratory path. 

When his mouth leaves your skin for the first time in several minutes, your impulse is to immediately pull him back to you.

“Let’s take this off,” he whispers sedately, gruffly, tugging at your top. 

You pull it off and don’t waste time unclasping and sliding your bra off as well. Remus looks at you, dopey and delighted, but without further ado, pushes your chest so that you lie back again. His hand stays on you and begins lazily kneading your breast as he brings his mouth back to you.

He kisses the base of your neck and continues his previous ministrations across your collarbones. He seems to be on a mission to trace the entire surface area of your skin with his wandering mouth, and you have every intention of letting him and enjoying every long second of it. 

As he makes his languorous way down your sternum, you arch your back, pushing up into him, and bring your hands to his messy hair, holding him close. You scratch and tug, needing somewhere to release some energy, every part of you he’s touched left humming warm and electric. He groans into your chest, and you’re certain you feel the vibrations move through your skin, across your chest cavity, and into your heart, where they ricochet within it, making it beat faster. 

“Remus,” you whine adoringly. He hums into your skin again in response and speeds up his southward trajectory just the slightest bit. 

His face comes between your breasts, and he runs his teeth down the valley, then licks his tongue up the same path. You shake a little, and his hand squeezes your breast tighter. The other one he mouths across until his tongue traces a slow, wet circle around your nipple. This shoots a hot, jolting current straight from where his mouth is connected to you down to between your legs.

He’s gentle for a while, moving back and forth between your tits, often agonizingly slowly, his hands kneading at your chest all the while. Without your expecting it, though, he bites one of your hard, sensitive nipples and tugs lightly. You squeal and push your chest into his mouth. He keeps going, switching as he fancies between rough and tender. 

At a bite of the side of your breast, you rut up into him, and the movement has you feeling how wet you are. You’ve never been this wet before before direct stimulation. 

Remus holds your hips down to the sofa but moves from your chest to your stomach. His roaming mouth proceeds at its perfect, maddening pace. It meanders to your ribs, down your sides, not following a straight path down. 

Once he eventually reaches the threshold of your pants, he looks up at you. 

Remus looks higher than you’ve ever seen him before. He looks elated, in awe. 

“I want to spend hours and hours on your body like this,” he tells you, nuzzling his face into your lower stomach, kissing it as he detaches from you.

“Remus,” you whimper, running your hand into his hair and inadvertently thrusting your hips up. He chuckles, still sounding high, but his voice is as low as you’ve ever heard it.

He takes your trousers and underwear off in one efficient but slow tug. He pulls his shirt off much faster, and you touch all his skin you can reach before he’s repositioning himself.

Your thighs feel cold now uncovered, but it’s nothing compared to the sensation of fresh air on your soaking cunt. As you adjust your body, you feel a thick wetness drip from your entrance down to where your arse meets the sofa. You feel the coldness of that wetness even more as Remus pushes your legs further apart to position himself between them. 

You’re completely sure you’re wetter than you’ve ever been before, but you’re not sure if you could possibly be as wet as you feel, thinking the high could be heightening your sensation of it. You’re worried it’s too much, worried you’ll put Remus off. 

“I can clean up a little if —“ you start, but you’re cut off by Remus diving in, running his flat tongue slowly, firmly up from the base of your puddle up to your pubic bone. A strangled, prolonged gasp functions as the end of your sentence.

When Remus licks you again, your thighs shake on either side of his head. You feel him laugh into your cunt, and this time you imagine the vibrations shooting all the way up your body, following the chaotic roadmap his mouth left lingering across it.

Remus pulls back from you and rests his chin on your pubic bone, looking up at you. 

He informs you simply, “You taste delicious, darling.” He looks drunk on it. 

“Everything tastes better when you’re high,” you tease.

“Then I’m really going to enjoy this,” he smiles. “But I’m pretty sure you’ll get me high just by letting me do this other times.” 

“Other times?” 

“Well, yeah…” he giggles. His eyes bore into yours even though he’s the length of your torso away. “I though this was a first, not an only…”

“Good.” You sound giddy. “Just checking.”

“Silly,” he shakes his head at you. You thrust your hips up and laugh at the expression he makes when you bump his face, like he’s dazed. He squeezes your thigh harshly where he’s holding you. 

“Behave, sunshine. It’s feeling dangerous down here.” 

“I thought you were enjoying it.” 

“I am.” A bite at your hip. “And I’m seriously getting the munchies, so just…” You don’t understand the end of his sentence, the words muffled against your skin as he starts eating you out.

It’s heavenly. High as you are, in love as you are, you think you’re on cloud nine. This gets you wondering where such an odd expression even comes from. It seems so random. 

“Moony?”

“Hmm?” is grunted into your cunt.

“Why do you think it’s called being on cloud nine?”

He pulls back. The whole lower half of his face shines in your slick. 

“Why are you thinking about that right now? Am I that bad at this?”

“Bad? It’s amazing.” You ruffle his hair in your groping hands. “Which is why I’m on cloud nine, which is why I’m thinking about that right now. Your hair is as soft as clouds, Moons.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Am not,” you giggle.

“Are,” he teases.

“Can you keep going now? It felt so good. Your mouth is ridiculous.” You thrust your hips up at him again.

“Ridiculous and bossy,” he complains, but he’s smiling hard, and before you can even think of a retort, he does as you bid. 

His mouth takes its time between your legs. He spends eternities teasing you: mouthing at the tops of your thighs, licking up your bikini line, nipping at your clit without giving it the attention he knows you want from how loud you whine every time he gives it the slightest graze. He loves all over your vulva, not leaving any part untouched, unworshipped. His tongue fucks into your entrance languidly; it swirls there. He licks your labia, sucks on it, gives the same attention to your clit when you moan loud enough. He travels back and forth, seemingly enjoying all of it too much to stick to any one attention too long. The next time he lands on your clit, he prolongs it.

Your legs shake; your back arches; your whines grow loud before turning strangled, and Remus takes his cue to reserve the relaxed approach for later. He picks up his pace, gripping your thighs tightly and shakes his whole face into you, alternating between licking and sucking rhythmically at your clit. You cum hard, and it feels like it goes on for minutes. 

With your eyes closed, you truly feel like you’re floating, your only anchor to the world Remus Lupin where you feel his body attached to yours. 

You’re laughing in pleasure, and the laughs turn to pants as you slowly, slowly come down. You love coming down to an already high baseline, and you giggle at the sensation of relaxing into a still heightened state. 

It suddenly strikes you it feels like it’s been years since you talked to Remus, heard his mellifluous voice, and you startle your eyes open searching for him. 

You see him immediately. He’s gazing at you with equal parts ardor and adoration, but when he sees your expression, his shifts to concern. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, my love?” He rushes to hover just above you. His face is close to yours again, though it’s scanning all over your body. His hand holds your face gently, his other arm holding him up. “Did something feel bad? Does something hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m fine, Moons, I’m fine,” you rush to reassure. “I just missed you,” you explain.

“Missed me?” His eyes shoot to yours. “I’m right here, love; what do you mean you missed me?” He can’t help a subtle giggle, and his adoring expression takes back its rightful place on his beautiful face. 

“I just thought I hadn’t seen you in too long.” Your hands caress his face, thread through his hair. “Or heard your voice…” 

“Hmm,” he hums, leaning into your touch. “I’m right here. What do you want me to say?”

“Anything,” you smile. 

“I love you.” 

You’ve heard them before, but never like this, and they’re the best words in the world, in the universe. 

“Remus,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him. He tastes intensely of you, and you laugh into the kiss. “I’m sorry I got you so… so slicky.”

“I don’t mind,” he chuckles. “Means it was good, right?”

“Beyond. ‘Good’ is like… like one colour out of a whole rainbow for how that just felt.” 

He’s beaming down at you and kisses you again, lingering there. 

When he finally separates from you, his caressing thumb comes to wipe some slick at the corner of your lip. You grab his hand and kiss each of his fingers lightly. Then you lick down his long index finger, your tongue finding and following a scar up his hand to his wrist.

You look into his eyes, and he’s staring at you, transfixed. 

“I was thinking about your fingers when you were rolling the spliff.” 

“Yeah?” His voice is a desperate sigh. 

“Yeah.”

“What were you thinking about?” 

“How beautiful your hands are. How they’d feel touching me… How your fingers would feel inside me…”

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You wanna find out?”

“Yes,” you moan. 

“Get them nice and wet for me, and I’ll show you.” They’re already lingering at your lips, but he slowly pushes them in. You welcome them enthusiastically and lazily suck on them, swirl your tongue around them.

“Fuck.” His voice is low. “Fuck, I want to feel everything there is to feel with you.”

“Mmm,” you nod, your mouth still full. 

Remus takes his fingers out, kisses you, and lets his mouth stay on yours as his fingers trace down your chin, your chest, your stomach steadily, leaving a wet path. When they reach between your legs, you squirm in anticipation. 

He rubs a couple of tight, slow circles on your clit. You’re so sensitive, and it feels amazing. You mewl into his mouth where it still hovers just above yours. 

“Ready, my sunshine?” 

“Mmhhmm.”

Remus pushes two fingers into you ever so slowly. You release a low, slow whine the whole time he takes to press in. He gives you gentle kisses, eating it up. When his fingers are in to the hilt, you wonder how you didn’t feel devastatingly empty every moment of your life before this one. When he adds a third, you’re sure you will every moment after.

You clench purposefully around him, and he moans into your mouth. Closing your eyes again, it’s the easiest thing to let yourself be consumed by the sensations, by Remus. 

When he curls his fingers inside you, you clench again, this time automatically. You grip his hair and clutch his back, your arms pulling his body close to yours. 

The spot he starts massaging feels like it’s a blazing fire, but everywhere else you’re connected, your chests, your mouths, is scattered scalding embers.

You’re savouring every second, every sensation, already feeling another high building but relishing in the time it’ll take to get there. 

You run your hands down Remus’s back, feeling the bumps of his scars, the grooves of his defined muscles. For the first time all afternoon, you feel a desire to hurry… 

You start moving your hips to meet his rhythm, eager, even more than for your own climax, for your turn to take your time on him. 

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus x reader #remus x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin smut #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #sirius black #james potter #marauders fluff #marauders smut #remus lupin oneshot #friends to lovers

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

almost done with a new remus fic! hope i get a chance to finish it up tomorrow

and for the james requests i’ve gotten, i do hope to get to them, but the bunch sitting in my inbox feel like longer stories i’d take a while to write, and it’s a busy time; i’ll try my best though! thanks always for requesting, and if i don’t write it, it doesn’t mean i didn’t like it! it’s really just a question of circumstance

🫶

#remus x reader #remus lupin #marauders #marauder x you #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #james potter x reader #james potter

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

giggling and kicking my feet at how well you wrote my last comfort request 😁

i forgot to add my emoji the last few times i sent requests but it’s alright, again, i love your writing so so much. you have to be my favorite author on tumblr. i hope your writing gets even more recognition🙏 thanks a bunch!

-🎀

yay! so glad to give people something to giggle and kick their feet at thank you truly, what a touching thing to say!! thank YOU

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hii! welcome back!! i love love love your writing:)

i’m not sure if you’ve written something like this but the reader is stressed over studying for an exam, she’s in the library until very late at night when one of the marauders (i can’t decide who, you can choose!) finds her dozed and trying to force herself to stay awake. then he finds out she hasn’t been eating properly. then he asks “are you okay?” and that’s what it takes for her to break down into tears? sorry if this is weird! i’m usually a silent reader. so mostly just a lot of angst and comfort, then fluff? thank you for taking time to read this! it’s okay if you can’t write it!

thank you so so much again! so glad you requested 😊 really hope you like it!!

pairing: Remus Lupin x reader word count: 1.4k description: fluffy; i left it up to you a bit at what stage you read their relationship

All the words finally made sense. It was like a puzzle. And it all fit together just like this. Or wait was it a different way? Should you go back to that first thread or follow this new one? Wait what was the first one again? There were some words. You couldn’t remember the words, but you knew how important it was that you put them in the right order…

“Sweetheart…”

What?

“Sweetheart…” you hear again.

You open your eyes and see a bunch of crowded words on parchment right in front of you. You realize you’d fallen asleep on your notes, that they’d bled into your stress dreaming. 

“There you are.” The voice is warm and gentle. You know it.

“You fell asleep, love. It’s late. Thought it was weird I never saw you come back, so I came to look for you.” 

“Remus?”

“Yeah, pretty girl. It’s me. Wake up.” 

You sit up, and Remus adjusts your hair and jumper for you as you rub at your face. 

“I was studying.”

“I know,” he chuckles. “But I think you need some rest now, don’t you?”

“Don’t I need some rest, or don’t I think so too?”

Remus laughs softly. 

“Too clever for your own good. Get out of study mode, lovely,” he tells you, bringing his hand to your head and scratching your scalp playfully.

You lean into it on instinct, loving his touch and his comfort after a long, lonely day in the library. Remus had wanted to study with you or at least keep you company, knowing how stresses out you were about this upcoming exam, but you told him he was too distracting and you’d find him later. That must’ve been many hours ago. 

Remus notices you shifting into his touch, and he slides his whole body closer to you. 

“Hey, you okay?” he whispers. 

“I..” you start, thinking “I’m fine” will come out automatically as it always does. But it gets stuck in your throat. It gets stuck on a lump there that is making itself more and more felt. 

“I…” you try again, but this time your voice completely cracks. 

“Hey, hey, come here, sweetheart. It’s okay,” Remus responds, bringing you into his embrace. He holds your head to his chest, wraps his other arm around you, caressing your back. 

You immediately start sobbing. 

“It’s alright,” he keeps repeating. He holds you close and pets you more intensely. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble through panting breaths into his jumper. 

“It’s okay,” he says quickly in his warmest tones. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. I’m just sorry I didn’t come look for you earlier.”

“Ugh, I’m so embarrassed,” you admit, pulling back and wiping your face with your sleeves, not feeling brave enough to look him in his warm brown eyes. “You shouldn’t need to take care of me. I should be able to do that myself. I just got a little carried away. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much over this exam.” 

He shakes his head gently at you and brings his hands to either side of your face, lifting it to look into his and caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. 

“There’s nothing embarrassing about caring a lot, Y/N. You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t,” he smiles adoringly. “And there’s nothing wrong with needing people, love. I’m happy to be here for you. I just wish you’d let me.” 

You nod slightly and manage to keep his gaze. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. 

“No more of that. You don’t have to be sorry, okay?”

“Okay…” 

“I mean it, Y/N,” he says with a gentle firmness only Remus could deliver. 

“Okay,” you say more certainly. 

“Good.” 

He kisses your forehead quickly then goes to pack up your stuff. As he’s stacking your notes, your stomach makes a low rumble. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more embarrassed. 

“When’s the last time you ate?” His tone is chiding but teasing. 

“We had that pie…” 

“With me?!” he startles. You nod. 

“Baby, that was ages ago. Come on, we’ll find you something.” 

Remus takes your bag, just tssking at your pathetic objection as he adjusts the strap on his shoulder. He takes your hand, and you walk out of the library together. 

You walk in silence, but just Remus’s presence next to you gives you a quiet peace you’d definitely been missing. You lean your head on his shoulder the rest of the way, and he can’t stop his subtle smile the entire time.

When you get to the common room, he sits you down on the sofa, rubbing your shoulders dotingly and kissing the crown of your head before standing straight up. You’re confused why he’s not already sitting next to you. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” You pout at his words. “I know, I’ll be quick, sweetheart; I promise.” He turns to go then turns back to you. “Those notes better still be stuffed in your bag when I get back.” He points a finger at your bag then at you, and you giggle and nod. He wags his finger a bit in emphasis, staring at you hard, then turn and bounds up the stairs toward the boy’s dormitories. 

It’s a mere couple of minutes later you hear him bouncing back down, but you’re confused to hear multiple sets of footsteps. You turn and see Remus walking back toward you and Sirius walking toward the door. 

“Hi, Y/N/N,” says Sirius. “So needy, aren’t you?” he teases then is out the door. 

“Where’s he going?” you ask Remus as he settles in next you. 

“He’s going to sneak into the kitchens for us.” You go to object, but Remus softly places his fingers on your lips. “He’s happy to, lovely. No matter how much he denies it, Sirius is a sweetheart.” 

“I know he is, Rem, but I really hate being all this trouble. All over a little exam.”

“It’s a big exam and very little trouble. We’re your friends, Y/N. When are you going to let us be here for you as much as you’re here for us?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper honestly. You look down and are mortified to feel on the brink of tears again. Godric, you really did need some sleep.

“Hey, don’t cry,” Remus starts, but quickly adds, “Or do, if you need to. Just do what you need to do, and I’m here, okay?” 

He’s the sweetest person alive, you think, and you throw yourself into his arms. He chuckles at your affection but returns it immediately. You shift till his arms are around you, and you lift your legs into his lap, which he lovingly welcomes, pulling you close. 

“You’re really kind, Rem, you know that?”

 “Am I? Not doing much really.” 

“I’ll start letting you help me with things when you start taking my compliments,” you say through a strained, tired smile. 

“I’ll work on it,” he cedes.

You sit in silence together, the fire crackling nearby, Remus’s hands caressing you, and you find yourself dangerously close to sleep. Your eyes feel really heavy, keeping them open a struggle in vain. 

Remus feels you tense up every once in a while before slowly relaxing into him again. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers into your hair. “Just rest, okay? When Sirius gets back, we’ll have something to hold you over, and then I’m sending you to bed.” 

“I don’t wanna go to bed.” You sound like a little kid, and he chuckles at you. 

“You have to rest, Y/N. No more studying tonight.” 

“I wasn’t gonna,” you say, your voice slurred with sleep. “I don’t wanna go to bed because I want to be with you.” Even in your sleepy state, you register Remus tense slightly at this clarification. 

“You’re the only thing that’s relaxing, Rem,” you go on. Your exhaustion is making you honest, your lacking the energy to over-think and filter. “You’re so warm and sweet, and I like how you care about me… and how you smell.” You nuzzle into his jumper. 

Remus is quiet, but he squeezes your body against his. Then softly, before you fall asleep, you hear his whisper, “Yeah, I care about you, darling. Adore you actually. More than anything.” A beat. “Okay, sweet girl. If this is how you’ll fall asleep, I’ll hold you all night.” He kisses your head again and adds, “I’ll hold you for forever if you’ll let me…”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fluff #remus x reader #remus x you #remus x y/n #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #sirius black

[lizard-on-a-window-pane]

hi gorgeous!! The way you write james has me thinking non stop about him for days (i need him fr) so on that note, can i please get a request where reader gets jealous for some reason and he doesn’t notice at first cause he only has eyes for her but she kind of gets clingier and a little grumpy so he talks to her and just lots of fluff and cuddles? Thank you <3

thank youu! comments like that make me want to be writing all the time really hope you like it!! sorry i got a little carried away length-wise

a confession among friends: getting called my boyfriend's sister actually happened to me once and i was soo pissed lmao

pairing: James Potter x reader word count: 4.1k (not completely proofread)

Boy-friend

You weren’t much in the mood for a party. No matter how many times Sirius clarified that it was only a “get together,” it was a party. Still, James had wanted to come, and there’d been plenty of times he’d come out because you were the one who felt like it, so you were happy to try to make the most of it. 

James comes up behind you now, surprising you and tickling you with no warning. You break out in full laughter but contort to smack him away. 

“Stop! stop!” you half laugh, half yell. 

“Alright, shortcake, but if I catch you looking grumpy again, you’re gonna get it,” he replies cheekily, giving you a playfully accusatory squint. “Shortcake” wasn’t your favourite of his nicknames, but it had stuck after one night the boys had had way too much to drink and way too much fun making fun of you for being the shortest of the group, not bothering with your contention that it wasn’t fair since you were the only girl.

“I was not looking grumpy.” 

“Given I’m the one who could see what you looked like, not you, I think my word counts for more here.” 

“What are you two on about?” Sirius interrupts, wrapping an arm around James’s shoulders in their typically brotherly way. 

“Was or was she not looking grumpy just now?” James asks.

“Was,” Sirius nods affirmatively.

“Whatever, you losers,” you roll your eyes at them. “Anyway, if I’m looking bored” — you glare at them before either corrects your word choice — “I feel justified in blaming the host of the party,” you smirk at Sirius.

“It’s not a party; it’s a get t—“ 

“A get together,” you both finish for him. 

“Yes, yes, we know, mate,” James laughs. “Lots of people in your flat for a ‘get together,’ don’t you think?” 

“Well, I’ve just made lots of cool friends recently. Thought it’d be nice for them to meet each other,” he shrugs.

“Always so generous,” you tease.

“‘Course,” he shrugs. “How else are you two annoyingly romantic recluses going to meet anyone new? You never leave your flat.”

“We do so,” you try, but it sounds damningly defensive. You cringe before Sirius can pounce and add, “Well, we’re here now aren’t we?”

“Fair. Glad you’ve graced me with your presence, L/N,” Sirius smiles.

Just then a small toy football whizzes past Sirius’s head. 

“Oi!” he yells, turning towards the source of the projectile. “No indoor football!” Then he grins his characteristically wolfish smile. “Not before I get to pick teams! I am host after all.” He grabs you by the wrist, dragging you with him. When you begin to object, he just shushes you with, “Weren’t you just complaining about being bored?” 

James comes too, no dragging necessary. You’re surprised to find Remus, usually so responsible, in the midst of the ball game crowd. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, and he chuckles, shrugging and telling you, “It’s Sirius’s flat. Do you think we’d even be able to tell if something got damaged?” He looks around at the messy space. 

You all start what was initially some kind of football game, but it just devolves into a drunken monkey in the middle situation. 

You get stuck in the middle, for frustratingly longer than most. It’s not fair Remus is so tall, and James so athletic. When you’ve finally had enough, you jump at James when he catches the ball, wrapping your arms around him, not even going for the ball.

“Hey!” he yells as he’s laughing. “Ref! Foul!” He shakes you loose, not without a fight from you. “That’s not the game,” he chides you. He lifts the ball high, and you make the mistake of reaching for it, obviously having no chance. “Gotta try better than that.” He hasn’t stopped laughing as you jump up and down like an idiot.

“I give up,” you announce, winded but smiling slightly.

“Such a sore loser,” he teases, ruffling your hair a bit and giving you a gentle playful push. 

“Whatever,” you push him back. “I’m thirsty. You want anything?”

“I’m good. Catch up in a sec.”

“‘Kay.”

He throws the ball over your head at a ready Sirius as you weave your way to the kitchen. 

You lean on the counter, drinking some water. You look back over toward your silly boyfriend and best friends, who are still playing the game, but your view is mostly blocked by a couple of girls who are also watching the shenanigans. You don’t mean to eavesdrop, but they’re standing very close to you. 

“He’s so cute,” says one of them, a strikingly attractive girl in heels that make her a whole head taller than the other girl. 

“Why am I not surprised? You have such a specific type,” laughs her friend. 

The gorgeous girl just shrugs, owning it with no shame. 

Having witnessed your fair share of such reactions, you automatically assume they’re talking about Sirius. You just smile and roll your eyes, used to it. 

Soon the boys are over the antics too even though the game continues without them, and they come get some water as well. James stands next to you as he downs his glass. He bumps his shoulder against yours, a common gesture between you. 

The girls turn toward your group now, and the especially pretty one says, “Thanks again for inviting us, Sirius. If I’d realized it was going to get so… physical” — she emphasizes the word seductively, as she nods back to where they had just been throwing the ball — “I wouldn’t’ve worn such high heels.” She kicks her foot back a bit, as if to show the heels she’s blaming, but you don’t miss her turn into it, showing off her (amazing) body.

Sirius just grins knowingly, unfazed. 

“You could always take them off,” he suggests nonchalantly. 

She giggles and retorts, “But they look so good on me.” 

You can’t help but think it’s incredible people actually just talk to each other this way. You feel like you’re watching a movie, sure you’d never feel bold enough to say something like that unless the other person knew it was your line. You’d never been particularly good at flirting, and getting together with James since back at school, you hadn’t had the need in a long time. Even with James, though, you’d never talked like this, not back then, not now. You were glad you didn’t feel the need; everything just came naturally when it came to James. He used to make you nervous from how much you liked him, sure, but for years, you’d become completely comfortable with him. The closest you came to flirting was your quite frequent teasing, but you teased Sirius and Remus as well, and they you. 

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to your friends?” The girl’s question breaks you from your thoughts, drawing your gaze to her. Her gaze, you come to find, is not on Sirius, but on James. Directly, aggressively on James. 

Oh god. Maybe it wasn’t Sirius after all. 

“Oh, how rude of me,” Sirius says, typically theatrical. “Lads, this is Jules and…” Jules introduces her friend, but you miss her name as a group of people near you laugh loudly. “And these are my best mates, Remus, James, and Y/N,” he gestures at each of you in turn. “We go back to our school days,” he adds kind of adorably.

“Oh, how cute!” says Jules. 

Ok, not that adorably. You cringe internally at her then feel a bit guilty for disliking this girl for very little reason. Well, maybe there was a reason… but it wasn’t one you felt often.

She hasn’t stopped staring at James the whole time, and you steal a glance at him now. He’s pouring himself more water, quite unaffected. He looks at her only when she addresses him directly. 

“You were so good at… whatever you all were doing over there,” she giggles. “James. It was James, right?”

Oh please. She obviously remembered.

“Yeah,” James smiles, wiping some water that had condensed around his glass. “Thanks,” he chuckles and shrugs. “Not much competition, though,” he adds teasingly, shoving Sirius on one side of him and splashing your face with the water droplets lingering on his fingers on the other.  

“Oh don’t be mean,” she says exaggeratedly, playfully hitting his shoulder. 

You are not a fan of how angry such minimal contact makes you. 

“I thought you put up a really good fight against someone so tall and clearly athletic,” she says to you, looking back toward James at the end of her sentence. 

James just laughs lightly and, turning to you, bumping your shoulder, asks, “What do you think, shortcake? You think you put up a good fight?” His tone is all teasing. 

“You two are too cute,” says Jules. 

Weird angle for her obvious flirting, you think. 

“Is this your sister?” she asks, pointing between the two of you. 

Oh god. You are simultaneously mortified and infuriated. 

Sirius breaks out laughing, saying, “I told you I bet other people play siblings or dating with you two when we go out.”

James starts saying something, but just then, the ball from the continued game hits the counter right next to you, knocking over a bunch of water glasses and startling you all.

“Alright,” Sirius chuckles. “Maybe enough with this shit.” He grabs the ball and goes to toss it in a closet. James goest to dry his arm where it got splashed. Remus starts cleaning up the mess. A loudly apologetic bloke you don’t know comes over to help.

The slight chaos has moved the conversation away from what was just happening, and you have no idea how to clarify things without being incredibly awkward. 

His sister? What the fuck? Did this girl really not mind being a total bitch to get what she wanted or, worse, did she actually think you were siblings? Did you look like siblings to the rest of the world? Should it bother you so much if you did?

You’re reeling, and start thinking back to what could’ve given her that impression. Your stomach sinks at the realization of so much playful bumping, hair ruffling, and the like. You can’t remember kissing James once tonight. Maybe this isn’t out of the ordinary, with your slight aversion to PDA, but not once? You realize also how many of your gestures toward James you’d also done toward Sirius. How much they behaved similarly not just with you but with each other. Oh god. Were you that sisterly? 

You panic, reach for a kitchen towel, and start drying your damp boyfriend, getting way too close and speaking way too loudly when you say, “Let me help you with that, baby.” 

James is a little taken aback. You never call him baby. In fact, though his calling you pet names is common, the reverse is rare. You usually stick with “Jamie” … or some dumb teasing insult like “loser.”

“Uh, it’s fine,” he chuckles confusedly. “Wasn’t that much.” You nod and put the towel down. “You okay?” he asks. 

“Fine,” you say too quickly.

You glance toward Jules to gauge her reaction, but she’s busy also drying off, her friend having gotten the worst of it, and you’re not sure whether she heard you.

“Wanna go sit down? I’m tired,” you tell James, dragging him by the hand, which you don’t let go of even after he’s clearly following you, back to the living room. 

You pull him down to the couch, where you proceed to sit way too close to him despite there being more room on your other side and wind your arm under his as you continue to hold his hand. You kiss his cheek as he settles in. 

He’s smiling but asks, “What’s with you, love?”

“Nothing,” you say, but your voice sounds off even to you. You kiss him again, and even more confusion seeps into his smile. 

You’re trying to think of something “couple-y” to do but come up with absolutely nothing, an awkward air arising between the two of you as you squirm. You literally cannot remember the last time you felt awkward with him, and now you add feeling guilty into the mix. At your insecurities, at your jealousy, at his slight discomfort, you’re not even sure at what, but it’s awful. 

“You sure you’re alright, sweetheart? You’re all tense, and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost circulation in my hand at this point,” he chuckles. You notice your grip is vice-like. 

His tone is light, but yours is not as you snap, “I’m just holding your hand. I’m your girlfriend; that shouldn’t be weird.”

His smile fades quickly as he answers, “Uh… I didn’t say it was weird, Y/N. Just too tight?” It sounds like a question, but that’s probably just because he seems very confused overall. 

“Right. Sorry.” Your voice is much softer now as you let go of his hand. 

“It’s fine. Obviously. I just… Um…” He’s searching for what to say, wanting to comfort you but unsure what you even needed comforting from. He opts for just reaching for your hand again, straining a smile though his eyebrows remain in a confused furrow.

“You wanna go disorganize Sirius’s beloved record collection?” he asks mischievously.

“No, not really,” you say softly, not feeling like a prank right now even though you usually did. 

“Um, ok.” James looks a bit awkward. “You hungry?”

“No.” 

“Right.” A silence. “Let’s just sit here then,” he says, probably a bit more sarcastically than intended. 

“Is that so bad? Do we always have to be doing something for me to be fun?” you shoot, standing up. “Why don’t you go find Sirius or Remus, James. I’m sure it won’t even make a difference.” You turn away angrily, but he follows you up quickly and stops you. 

“Whoah, what’s up, shortcake?” he asks, eyes wide. 

“Don’t call me that. It sounds like you’re teasing your little sister.” 

You see something in his eyes at the word “sister,” but you turn and keep trying to walk away before you have time to really analyse it.  

James is following you but he has to weave between a group of people you managed to avoid, so you get to the bathroom before he catches up. He knocks a second later. 

“Y/N? Can we talk please?” You don’t say anything. “Come on, Y/N. Let me in. Or you come out.” You lean against the door but still don’t say anything. 

“I just want to know you’re okay,” he says more softly this time. 

“I’m fine,” you say, softly too. “I just need a second, okay? I’ll be out in a minute.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, just give me a minute.” 

“Alright, love, but just come back quick, alright?” 

You’re not even really sure what you’re doing in here. You just need to collect yourself, you guess. You fiddle with some stuff on the sink then find yourself looking in the mirror. 

An ugly thought arises, and you hate it, trying to push it away. It comes back anyway. 

She’s much prettier than me… 

That distorted inner voice doesn’t stop there. 

And better at being a girl.

“You’re being ridiculous,” you whisper out loud to yourself. “Completely ridiculous.”

You wash your hands even though you haven’t used the toilet, shaking your head, your gaze fixed on your hands. Then you go back out into the party. 

James is across the room, talking to Remus, but staring at the door you just came out of. As soon as he sees you, he pats Remus on the shoulder, saying something quickly, and starts moving toward you. 

He’s stopped in the middle of the room by a perfectly manicured hand on his chest. It’s attached to Jules, of course, and your glare hardens. You’re too far away to hear what she says to him, her hand lingering on him. 

James shakes his head a bit at whatever she’s saying, his eyes coming back toward you quickly. He gives her a glance again and a nod then his hand comes to her shoulder. You’re eyes are glued to where they connect, and so your gaze follows the motion of James’s hand gently pushing her body aside. A moment later, it detaches as he continues walking toward you. You haven’t moved when he reaches you.

“Hey,” he says simply. 

“Hi,” you return. You look away from his face, shy and confused about what to tell him. 

His hand gently guides your chin back up, and you lose yourself in his beautiful eyes for a second. He gives you his warmest smile, and you give him a pitiful but sincere one back.

“You wanna talk about what the hell just happened?” he laughs lightly. 

“Isn’t it obvious?” you try. You’re not sure you want it to be, but you’re too embarrassed to explain and would take any option that meant you didn’t have to. 

“Actually, it wasn’t,” he chuckles. “When you got weird, I thought it was just because you didn’t want to come tonight,” he starts. “But I still didn’t understand the specific… I don’t know, kind? of weird you got.” His lips quirk into a teasing-adjacent smile here, but your face immediately contorts in embarrassment. You cover it with your hand, but James quickly removes yours with his. “Hey, hey, no, sorry. I’m sorry. It’s alright, lovely.” He caresses your hand he’s still holding. “I’m not teasing, okay?” He smiles at you, and you just keep watching him, but your face relaxes a bit. “Then,” he exhales dramatically, “Remus asked me how you reacted to that girl flirting with me right in front of you then calling you my sister.” He grimaces. 

Thank God for Remus, you think, the only emotionally aware man you’ve ever met.

“I hadn’t noticed the first part, sweetheart,” James adds. “The flirting part, I mean. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I mean, she didn’t know I had a girlfriend — clearly — but I would’ve just told her I did if that ball hadn’t hit us.”

“She was really into you,” you say before thinking, unsure where that’s supposed to take the conversation. 

“Was she? Huh.” He sounds slightly amused, but you know he’s acting to amuse you. 

“You really couldn’t tell?” you ask him. There’s disbelief in your voice, but you’re smiling a bit at him. He takes a step closer to you.

“I mean, I guess in retrospect, it makes sense,” he says honestly. “But I guess I’m out of practice,” he laughs. “And more importantly, I don’t care who’s really into me because I’m really into you, you silly girl.”

You exhale, your heart warming and most of your heavy emotions leaving you. You squeeze his hand, and shaking your head at yourself, bring it to rest on his chest. James chuckles into your hairline, kissing the top of your head and holding it close, his fingers interweaving into your hair.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, your mouth squished against him. 

You can feel him shake his head since he’s resting it on yours.

“No need,” he smiles. “I’m sorry. Was quite daft.” You laugh into his chest. You wipe away a tiny tear you’d been about to shed then rest your hand on his chest. The image reminds you, and you jolt upright, looking into his face again. He looks startled but amused. 

“What?”

“What was she saying to you? Just now?” You nod toward where they’d been talking. He laughs a full laugh. 

“She was telling me we should ditch this get together and go to her place.” He wiggles his eyebrows goofily. 

“Jamieee,” you scold, smacking his chest. He grabs hold of your hand and holds it to his heart, thumb caressing the back of it. His other hand still at the nape of your neck. 

“She was telling me,” he leans in conspiratorially, “‘sorry for not realizing your girlfriend was your girlfriend,’” he chuckles again. “I guess your little show worked afterward.”

“And what’d you say?”

“Does it matter?” It’s not harsh; he’s all warmth now. Knowing him, you realize he probably just doesn’t see the point of lingering.

“I just want to know,” you say.

“I said I didn’t care and it was fine or something.” He shrugs. “Can’t remember my exact words. Had more important things — a more important person — on my mind, to be honest.” He smiles at you. You smile back. 

“I love you,” you tell him. 

“I love you too,” he replies with a laugh as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “So much,” he adds, a bit more seriously, and kisses your forehead.

You just stand there, close to each other, your head back on his chest, his arms around you, for a few moments.

Then, leaning back to look at his face, you ask seriously, “Do you really?”

He looks confused by your question, its sincerity. “Of course I do. I adore you. You don’t know that?” His question has more than a tinge of hurt under it. 

“No,” you chuckle. But before he can get the wrong idea, you quickly continue, “Of course I know that.” You smile earnestly, and he seems comforted. “I mean, do you really not care? That she couldn’t tell I was your girlfriend?” Your voice grows softer and softer as you ask, and it’s a mere whisper by the end.

“No, sweetheart,” he smiles. “I don’t. I know. And you know. Who cares what other people think?”

“I did,” you scold yourself. “I’m sorry I got so weird. I just… I got really insecure about being just like Sirius or Remus to you. I know I’m just one of you in some ways —“

He cuts you off, “Yeah, baby, you’re one of us in some ways, but not in every way. The four of us, we have something special,” he nods. “But the two of us, we have something special too.” He tightens your embrace. “Seriously special. Yeah, we’re… what? friendly? sometimes. But, darling, you are not like Sirius or Remus to me.” He brings his hand to your face, caressing your cheek. “For starters, I don’t want to kiss Sirius or Remus, and they’re pretty good looking blokes,” he jokes. “And I don’t want to tell them about every single thing that makes me smile — just a lot of them — and about everything important in my life. I don’t need to make sure they’re happy and safe absolutely all of the time. I don’t feel warm and happy to be alive every time I look at them, and I don’t love cuddling with them at night, waking up to them in the morning. Not to even mention the other things that happen in that bed…” Now you laugh too.

“Yeah,” you nod, getting convinced.

“Yeah?” he pushes. 

“Yeah,” you say certainly. 

“Good.” 

You hum a warm assent.

“Now what do you say we ditch this get together and go back to our place?” 

You roll your eyes at him but laugh as you nod. 

“Yeah, let’s go home.” 

He’s nodding as he shifts his arm across your shoulders, kissing the top of your head and continuing to hold you close as you walk toward Sirius and Remus to say goodbye. 

“Leaving already?” Sirius complains, teasing you about being antisocial and lame. 

“Sorry, mate, but I really want to cuddle up with my girlfriend right now, and this doesn’t seem like the best place for that.”

“Ugh, so cheesy, Prongs. Just leave already,” he says, feigning disgust and pushing James away. 

“Good night, gorgeous,” Sirius tells you, kissing your cheek carelessly like he’s done a million times. Similar words, similar gestures, yes, you think, but they don’t feel the same at all. You smile.

“Good night, Siri,” you say. You and James hug Remus too. 

James puts his arm back around you as you go to leave. You smile up at him, then, mischief in your eyes, you push him away and walk faster. 

“You’re all sweaty, Potter. Gross.” He laughs and play chases you all the way out the door. 

Once you’re on the other side of it, enveloped by the welcoming quiet privacy of the night, he catches up to you and pulls you to him. You resist for only a moment, your laughter intermingling with his, then you melt into his embrace.

“C’mere, gorgeous,” James huffs, kissing you ardently. “Can’t wait to get home with you,” he whispers before kissing you again.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter oneshot #james potter fanfic #james potter fluff #james potter angst #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #established relationship

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couple days late, but love this

happy womens day to everyones favorite woman

#happy international women's day

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so, i started writing this fic, and i think i'm going to continue it, but i would love to get some reactions to the idea i had so much fun adapting a romcom to the marauders in my 10 things i hate about you fic, then i was rewatching life as we know it for the first time in years and was surprisingly still into it and thought it could be a fun one cos of some of the parallels, so here is the set up:

in an au where voldy is destroyed, sirius never sent to azkaban, and reader and sirius have to raise harry together after james and lily die even though they hate each other... initially ofc

pairing: Sirius Black x reader word count: 1.9k

You’re surprised to hear a knock at your door this late. Exhausted after another Order mission, you resent whoever is on the other side of it. When you open it, lowering your ready wand just behind the door with an exasperated sigh, the feeling heightens. 

“What the hell do you want?” you ask a smirking Sirius Black leaning on your doorframe. 

“What kind of a greeting is that, love?” he retorts seemingly unfazed.

You say nothing, glare harder. 

He rolls his eyes and begins, “Dumbledore wants you to tell me about your mission. He has something he wants me to do soon — won’t tell me what exactly yet, you know how he is — and he thinks whatever intel your mission provided will be relevant.” 

“Can’t it wait till tomorrow? I’m exhausted, Black.” 

“He told me to come tonight,” he says firmly, shrugging. “Look, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be here, but there are more important things right now than resting” — he gestures to you — “or keeping good company,” he finishes, gesturing at himself.

“Oh I’m bad company? Have you met yourself? And you’re one to talk about important things, Black. All you ever do is joke around. And —” you go to continue, but he cuts you off, gently pushing his way past you and into your flat.

“Choose a line of attack, L/N. You’re rambling.”

You groan but follow him into your living room. He’s making himself comfortable, putting his boots up on your coffee table to settle in. 

“Fucking hell, Black,” you whine as you kick his legs off. “I know there’s a war going on, but I’d prefer for my home not to become a pig sty, thank you.” 

“Leave it to you to worry about shit like this now,” he sighs, rolling his eyes at you for the second time in mere minutes.

His critical comments are nothing new. The two of you had gotten into it over nothing since your school days, your best friends eventually getting together doing nothing to make you hate each other less. Lily had been your best friend since first year, James his. 

With your current exhaustion, even this little comment had you practically seething. Knowing him, though, you knew anything you said back would just give him more ammunition to mock you somehow. So, you just stood and stared angrily at him. 

“Well?” he looks at you infuriatingly nonchalantly. “The faster we do this, the faster I’m out of here.” 

“Fine.” You sit next to him begrudgingly and relate the events of the last few days to him, falling into “official” mode the only thing that made dealing with Sirius Black any easier.

~

This message wasn’t right. There was no possible way it was right. It had to be wrong. A mistake. A trap. A cruel joke. Anything but the truth.

You’re standing there, staring at the spot where a fellow Order member’s Patronus has just vanished after delivering its message to you. Your jaw is slack, your eyes wide and quickly brimming with tears. Tears at the mere idea that your best friend and her husband were dead, not the reality. It couldn’t be reality. 

After what might have been several minutes, though your mind is stuck, your body moves to action and heads immediately to Order headquarters. 

When you get there, you’re surprised at how many people are here. Such gatherings are usually reserved for the most important of meetings only; it’s too dangerous to have so many members together in any one place, lest the enemy find out and root out what little resistance remains. 

Oddly enough, it’s in crowds like this that you most notice the absent. You miss them when you are alone, too, of course, but there is something about looking around and not seeing Marlene’s beautiful — even if haunted toward the end — face amongst the others. Not feeling Dorcas’s head coming to rest on your shoulder. Not hearing Alice’s sweet giggle at something Frank has just whispered to her, bringing joy even in the darkest of times. Their voices are devoid of joy now, shut away at St. Mungo’s. 

Lily can’t be gone too. Please not Lily too. 

You’re not sure how to gauge the expressions of your friends and comrades around you. There is such a strange intermingling of emotions lingering on their faces. James and Lily couldn’t be dead if there was a look of such relief on Emmeline’s face, if Elphias was busy chattering away to a few other members. 

But then you see him. You see Sirius Black, and you know.

He’s sitting in a corner. He isn’t crying. He doesn’t look sad. He looks hollow. There aren’t tears in his eyes because his eyes are dead. 

You gravitate toward him without thinking, and when you’re close, his empty eyes meet yours. Sirius stands. You look at each other for a long moment, understanding crossing between you, and without a word from either of you, you embrace.

A few long, shaky breaths later, with Sirius Black’s warm, firm arms around you, you break down. You can’t see his face from where you have yours burrowed into his chest, but his arms tighten around you as your sobs shake your whole body. He holds you through the entire episode, until your body has drained itself of all the tears it could possibly produce in this moment. Only when you’ve been still for a minute does he loosen his grip, stepping back slightly.

You already know the answer, but you ask anyway, “Both of them?” He just nods. You immediately follow with, “Where’s Harry?” Fear shoots through you at the thought, but before you lose yourself in it, Sirius grabs your shoulders and says, “Harry’s fine.” Another bout of fear oozes through your body, but this one is slower, eerier. It takes you a moment to discern its cause: it’s Sirius’s voice. It’s never sounded like this before, and you hear in its dullness a pain you’d think unimaginable if you weren’t feeling it too. 

You nod slowly and ask where your godson is. Sirius tells you he’s with Remus. 

“What’s going to happen to him?” you whisper. 

“I don’t know,” he responds. “Dumbledore said he’d talk to us once we were both here.” 

~ 

It’s much later in the night, almost morning you reckon, when you find yourself and Sirius sitting across from Dumbledore, finally alone. He’d had to handle a million and one things already, the scope of the night’s events incomprehensible to your grief-stricken mind. 

Dumbledore doesn’t wait at all before saying, “I am truly sorry for the loss you both have experienced tonight and will continue to experience for the rest of your lives. The loss of someone so close is a loss from which one never truly recovers.” 

You both nod, saying nothing, and he continues. 

“I’m certain both of your main concern at this point is Harry. Firstly, let me provide you the comfort of informing you Harry is perfectly safe. How exactly, none of us know, and perhaps will never know. But young Harry survived Voldemort’s attack tonight, and somehow destroyed him in the process. Harry is currently with Mr. Lupin, but you can sort for yourselves how you wish to go about the transition in the following days. I have not spoken to either of you about it personally, but I imagine, given the arrangement, that you will be moving into the Potter’s home in Godric’s Hollow?”

You’re sure your face betrays your utter confusion, and on instinct, you look to Sirius for some sort of clarification. The look on his face tells you he’s as lost as you are. 

“Arrangement, sir?” you finally manage after some awkward silence.

“Yes. It was Lily and James’s wish that in the event of their deaths, Harry should be raised by his godparents.” He looks between you and Sirius. “You, of course.” 

A pregnant beat. 

“I’m sorry, what? ‘You’ as in who? ‘You’ as in me? Or him? Not ‘you’ as in us?” you ramble. 

“‘You’ as in both of you, yes. You and Mr. Black.” You give a mirthless chuckle. 

“There must be some kind of misunderstanding, sir. We,” you gesture unnecessarily aggressively between you and the man sitting next to you, “are not together. We’re not a couple; we’re not even friends; how are we supposed to raise Harry together?” 

“There is no misunderstanding. And I do feel the need to add that this is in fact one consideration in bestowing — and accepting — the role of a godparent, I’m sure you know.”

You turn toward Sirius, who is just sitting there completely dumbstruck. You smack his chest and urge, “Say something, for Godric’s sake.” 

“Ummm… I… Well… I… She…She…,” he looks to you briefly, “I and… and she… I and she… she and I —” He can’t string even a phrase together, and Dumbledore gently raising a hand mercifully puts an immediate stop to his ridiculous attempt.

“It is unfortunate that your friends did not discuss this decision with you before its effect was rendered necessary. I imagine they dreaded such a conversation and suspect they never found it the ‘right’ time. However, I am certain it was what they wanted. After all, it was at my behest that they made a decision at all. Few of us ever want to think about our own deaths, but when I realized what danger the Potters were in, I knew it was a necessary consideration. I am devastated to have been proven correct.” Dumbledore was always calm and collected, but you know him well enough to know he meant those words.

“If you choose to reject this arrangement, we can see about other options. Though, as I have said, it would be going against his parents’ wishes. There is of course his aunt and uncle, the Dursleys I believe they are called. Alternatively, there are orphanages for such occasions, but they are dreadful places, and I would wish that fate upon no child, especially if he could be raised with family.” 

“The Dursleys aren’t his family,” you say immediately, a strength to your voice that had not been there in the entire conversation thus far. Dumbledore looks at you. “They’re not, sir. I’ve met them. They’re horrid people. They hate wizards and witches, were terribly cruel to Lily. I can’t imagine how they’d treat her wizard son.” You grimace at the thought. “They’re not his family… We are.” This sits heavily in the room for a moment, and it is Sirius who speaks first. 

“We’ll take care of Harry,” he whispers. His voice is quiet but certain. “We’ll figure it out.” He looks to you inquisitively, and you nod. 

“I’m gladdened to hear it,” Dumbledore says. “You don’t have to stay there long term, but I imagine it will be good for Harry to be in a familiar place as he adjusts to such change, so I will have him brought to his house in a few hours. Can you collect yourselves and meet him there?” 

You both nod; he adds a curt, “Good,” and before you know what’s even happened, you’re left sitting in a room with Sirius Black, a man you’d always hated, a man who is suddenly your co-parent to Harry. 

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfic #marauders #marauder x reader #marauders fanfic #harry potter fanfic #life as we know it #romcoms #angst #fluff #enemies to lovers

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is anyone else excited ben barnes has grown his hair out again cos it reminds them of sirius black?

#or is it just me #ben barnes #sirius black

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Maybe wedding headcanons for Vernon Roche and Ciri (witcher), please?

hii, sorry but i don’t write for these characters; thanks for requesting though, and i hope you request something else at some point or enjoy other stuff i’ve written!

p.s. for anyone: i’m always happy to receive random requests on the off chance i do feel confident enough in knowing / being into the characters to give it a go (but no promises obviously)

#requests open

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9. public Maybe for Roche/Ciri?

hii, sorry but i don’t write for these characters; thanks for requesting though, and i hope you request something else at some point or enjoy other stuff i’ve written!

p.s. for anyone: i’m always happy to receive random requests on the off chance i do feel confident enough in knowing / being into the characters to give it a go (but no promises obviously)

#requests open

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ahh i loved it! thank you for writing my request!!<3

-🎀

yay so glad you liked it! thank you for requesting🩷