#Reader throws a shoe at Remus | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cosmal · 1 year

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𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

summary — you and remus lupin have become really good at stealing each other away from parties.

or but if you're too drunk to drive and the music is right, she might let you stay but just for the night....she might want a kiss before the end of this song.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, modern!au, friends to lovers, absolute idiots in love, mutual pining, oblivious!reader, oblivious!remus, drunk!reader, drunk!remus, alcohol consumption

note — this is inspired by lovers rock by tv girl!!! i think this is the longest thing i've ever written. I do very much like it as of right now. that'll probably change in a week.

word count — 12.4k

“Thank Godric, you’re here,” Mary groans from her position on the front porch, Marlene leaning into her side. Both are clearly enjoying a cigarette away from the din of the party. You can tell what type of night it’s going to be already. Not that you’ve arrived two hours late anyway.

“I’ve never seen you so happy to see me, Mary,” you giggle, crossing the threshold of Sirius’s front lawn, careful not to trip on his collection of stolen garden gnomes.

“I’m always happy to see you, lovely.” She extends her hand, the cigarette between her lovely red nails on offer.

“You know who’s going to be even happier?” Marlene coughs, as you take the smoke thankfully, taking a few calming puffs.

You pretend like you have any idea who she’s referring to, “Jamie? Haven’t seen him in a while. Miss that boy,” you laugh, voice strained through the thick smoke you exhale.

“No, you idiot.” Mary pipes up and you hand the smoke back, “Remus. He hasn’t shut up about you all night.”

“That’s if he’s sober enough to even notice you’re here,” Marlene laughs and so does Mary. You smile, small enough to not show how happy you actually are that you get to see him. It’s been too long.

“He’s drinking?”

“Absolutely hammered. We were hoping you’d get here earlier so he wouldn’t drink too much. Please go look after him.” Mary throws her arm around Marlene and she snuggles in closer. They both look content enough to fall asleep right there in the cool summer breeze.

“I’m sure he’s doing okay.”

“I’m sure he will be when you get inside.”

You move to toe your shoes off at the front mat, kicking them away so they’re not a tripping hazard.

“When has Sirius ever done that at your house, Y/N?” Mary laughs, looking down at your socked feet

“Oh, no. This is for me. Don’t want to get my shoes dirty.” You laugh when you grab the handle of the flyscreen, swinging the door open.

The girls’ laughter becomes a distant murmur when you enter the kitchen, met with mostly everyone sitting around the dining table. A deal of cards in everyone’s hands, and piles of coins and sweets sat in the middle.

James and Lily laughing and glowing under the downcast of the orange lighting, appearing to seemingly be winning. Sirius and Frank having their own side bets, throwing coins around before both calling tails. Then, there's Remus. You try to ignore the hitch in your breath when your eyes land on the sandy-haired boy.

He really does look drunk, eyes droopy but still bright when he hiccups a laugh at something James says. A quiet, airy chuckle that has his mouth creasing and eyelashes kissing his cheeks. A smile so pretty, you have to fight your own.

His head is propped up on the table by an elbow that looks like it’s about to slip off the edge, so you sneak up behind him and place your hand against his arm to stop him from falling face-first into the wood.

He looks up at you, a little startled for a second, and you can see the moment it clicks in his head when he realises who he’s looking at. He smiles, all surprised but content and you melt. The last time you had seen him was only for the third time ever at another one of Sirius’s parties. You hate to admit that the only thing you look forward to now is when you receive an invite from your workmate and you have another excuse to see his lanky best friend.

“Y/N! When did you get here?” Sirius chants, flicking his last remaining coin at Frank. He shoots him a well-deserved glare.

“About thirty seconds ago,” you smile.

Sirius looks down at your socked feet and frowns, “You took your shoes off again. How many times do I have to tell you, you don’t have to do that.”

You roll your eyes, “You’re gross, Sirius.”

Remus looks down too, the top of his head pressing into your side, a crush of his curls tickling the bare skin of your arm and you almost shiver. “Cool socks.” Is the first thing he says to you. You giggle.

They’re a dark cornflower shade, moons scattered across the material at random. They crease when you wriggle your toes, “Thanks. Got them from mum for my birthday.”

“She has good taste.” He moves off of you, slouching down in his chair until his knees are pressing Lily’s legs.

His head lolls backwards, neck bared under the warm light. You think you feel dizzier than he does. Even when he squeezes his eyes shut.

“What have you done to him?” you laugh, hand flat against his forehead to brush away his loose hair. He keens, sighing deeply under a hiccup.

“He’s very awful at poker,” James laughs, flicking a pastille across the table. You look at his high pile, and then Sirius and Franks’ which are almost of equal height. Then you look in front of Remus, the table almost bare. You laugh.

“We like to play a little differently,” Franks states over the rim of his bottle.

“Basically, you take a shot every time you lose,” James says, sober as ever. You think maybe he hasn’t lost yet.

“And Remus has lost every hand,” Sirius adds to the chime of details.

“Have not!” Remus finally pipes up, finger pointed at James instead of Sirius, too distracted staring at the ceiling. “Frank lost the first.”

“Anyways, Moons. You just lost and I think you owe us another.”

Remus groans, but sits up to reach for the bottle of Sambuca sitting in the middle of the table. You gently swat his hand and push him back into his chair.

“I think you’ve had enough,” you say, turning to place the bottle on the kitchen bench, along with the empty bottles.

“C’mon, one more,” Remus giggles, making hands for the bottle in the air. A child, you think.

“Yeah, Y/N! One more!” Sirius agrees, smiling boyishly.

“You’ll make yourself sick,” you chide with a small frown. Remus slumps against you, much defeated. He might fall asleep on you if you stand there any longer. You poke his cheek where it’s pressed into your clothes.

“He already is sick.” Sirius is smug when he speaks and you fret about what else he’s about to say, “Sick in love.”

You laugh. Could’ve been worse. But it still has your heart skipping in your chest. You really do hope Remus shares the feelings you hold for him. But then again, Remus is drunk and Sirius, is well, he’s Sirius. Despite the name, he hardly ever is.

“Boo. Awful.” You frown in faux offence, ignoring him when he winks at you. Sickening, really.

You lean down so your mouth is in line with Remus’s ear, “You wanna go lay down?” You realise you’re in quite a predicament. Coming over to parties to see Sirius’s best friend. Looking after him when he’s drunk. You’d hoped he would do the same.

“Please, no sex in my house,” Sirius states, standing to grab another drink. James guffaws.

You roll your eyes, “He’s drunk.”

“So, you do want to have sex with him?” he adds.

You almost choke on your tongue, “No, it’s just. He- Stop it.” You have to stop yourself from saying something wrong. It wasn’t a lie, you did want to. But you wanted much more than that.

“Leave her alone,” Remus chides, leaning back off your stomach. “You’ll scare her off and I’ll never see her again,”

He was right, his friends did intimidate you. But you’d hoped it would take more than not yet warming up to them to get you to never see Remus again.

Remus stands and you’re surprised he doesn’t stumble when he takes your hand to lead you away from the table and out into the lounge room. You poke your tongue out over your shoulder when you hear James make some sort of crude comment to Frank. Lily smiles warmly at you as an apology.

He sits down with all the gracefulness of a baby elephant and you have to bite back a laugh. He looks up at you, pretty eyes all droopy and a lopsided smile, and you feel like you’ll never come back from these feelings ever.

Before you can overly admire him for too long, he’s patting the space next to him with a floppy hand. “C’mon.”

You oblige probably too willingly, flopping yourself down next to him with a small oomph, your thigh pressing into his. He shuffles down the lounge to rest his head atop your shoulder, neck craned a little to reach it. You can’t find it in yourself to mind. His face is warm and it presses into your collarbone that’s peeking from out the top of your shirt. His light stubble tickles your skin and it’s weirdly soothing. God, you know you’re in deep.

“You smell good.”

You breathe in subconsciously, “You do, too.”

Under the strong scent of stale beer and sambuca, you can think you can discern a hint of his cologne. Woody and something like cinnamon. Mixed in with the light scent of his laundry detergent, like fresh linen and lavender. He's dizzying.

“I smell like beer,” he groans, hand finding its way between both of your thighs, your skirt tangled in his fingers.

“You smell nice,” you laugh.

You watch the doorway where James gets up to turn the dial on the vinyl player. The current song now loud enough to be heard where you’re sitting.

Humming along, you say, “I love this song.”

Remus gawps, “Me too. S’my favourite, actually.”

Remus having the exact same favourite song as you makes your head spin. “No way.”

“Yes way.” he smiles. If he were soberer, you’d gush to him over this. It’d have to wait.

He shifts his head from your shoulder and startles for a moment, eyebrows raised, “I didn’t even ask if you wanted a drink.” You get whiplash from the change of subject.

You sigh, very amused at his intent to be nice to you, despite being half-cut, “I’m okay. I wasn’t really planning on drinking tonight.”

He frowns, wrinkles his nose and you want to kiss it. God. “Why did you come, then?” The fact he thinks you came to get drunk and not just to see him makes you want to laugh.

The smile you’re still trying to fight every time he speaks makes your cheeks ache, “To see Sirius.”

He frowns even more and you think he wants to shift away from you. He roughly scratches at his face and you almost regret messing with him.

“Sirius?” He hiccups.

“I’m kidding.” You poke his bicep, “I came to see you.”

There’s a silence and then Remus is breaking out into one of the biggest grins you’d ever seen. You’d have the decency in you to blame it on being drunk. Nothing else.

“Me?” He hiccups, again. You place your hand atop his thigh and trace the thick seam of his pants.

“Yes, you.”

His smile dials back but doesn’t fade and his face relaxes. He leans down to place his head back against your shoulder, cheek all smooshed.

“Oh.”

“Oh?”

“Thank you.” he hums, hooking his elbow behind yours, completely squished against you. He thinks you must be cold in a skirt and a small T-shirt. “I like it when you’re here. You make it bearable.”

You want to accept his compliment, but when he hiccups for the third time, you remember he’s drunk. “That’s a bit mean, Remus. Will I tell your friends you can’t bear them?”

Remus stiffens and you stop rubbing his leg. Drunk Remus is very gullible. Sweet, but gullible all the same.

“Stop it. You know what I mean.” He pushes further into your shoulder and you feel yourself dip down against him, head almost falling against his. You wouldn’t mind if it did, but it wouldn’t be very comfortable, you assume.

“I don’t think I do,” you tease and Remus pinches your side, which results in a stifled yelp.

“Don’t be cruel.” He strains.

“I would never.”

When you shiver in your spot, Remus wonders what your answer would be if he offered you his jacket. He thinks he should test his theory.

“Are you cold?” he asks but doesn’t move his head from your shoulder.

“A little,” you yawn. Which then causes Remus to yawn. You laugh animatedly.

“Do you,” Remus blinks slowly, eyelashes kissing his cheeks as he attempts to keep his eyes open. “do you want my jacket?”

You’re glad Remus’ head is still propped on your shoulder lest he sees the blush creeping across your cheeks. Drunk Remus is gullible. But drunk Remus is still just as kind as he is when he’s sober.

“Then you’ll be cold,” you reply, giving his thigh a squeeze. You crane your neck to look at him. He looks tired.

“Better me than you.” He moves to take it off and before he can even get one arm out, you sit forward and place your hands on his chest. Fingers twisted in his cotton shirt, your turned knee pressing into his.

“Remus, I’m okay.” You give him your most reassuring smile. Being cold is no one’s fault but your own. You don’t want to be an annoyance.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

Remus sits back, albeit begrudgingly, hands wrapped around the zipper of his jacket. The further he pushes back into the lounge, the more he looks like he’s about to fall asleep.

“Remus?” you murmur. Voice quiet under the din of the party. Sirius is a loud drunk, his laughter roaring at something stupid James is doing.

His head begins to dip into the edge of the cushion, headed for the arm of the chair. If he kept this up, he’d have a crick in his neck in no time.

He hums and you pat his cheek to encourage him to sit up. It’s bemusing how quickly he can drift off. You’re very envious. Maybe it’s just the alcohol.

“What’s up?” he murmurs in return, peeking from one eye, the other scrunched up. He’s adorable and you’re in too deep.

“You seem tired.” You poke his face this time and he beams, all warm and dozey under the mellow light of Sirius’s living room. A line of curls falling into his eyes and the apples of his cheeks a tinge of peach.

He hums again, much thicker than last. “M’not.”

You hold out your hand, all five fingers spread. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

He struggles, but pulls his hand from his lap and holds it up to yours, tangling your fingers. Palm flush against yours and much warmer in comparison. “Feels like five.” He pulls your entwined hands back down and you laugh.

You try not to shy from his actions, pretending like it doesn’t make your heart skip, and then almost stop completely when his thumb rubs circles into the top of your hand. You can feel the warmth seeping from his into your own and your fingertips tingle.

“Do you want to go home?” You twist so you’re completely on the edge of the lounge, hand still wrapped in his. You stop, “Or are you staying here tonight?”

He brings his arm up - with yours still tangled - and rubs his face with the back of his hand. Dragging you up and down. You giggle at his tired actions before pouting.

“I think.'' You can tell he’s trying to stay alert enough to hold a conversation with you.

When he wakes up in the morning he won’t remember being so tired here and will think you both had the best conversation. You’ll be okay with this. “I think Sirius was supposed to take me home, but he’s too drunk now.”

“You’ll sleep on the couch?” You frown and he blinks.

“I think I might have to.” He throws his head back and sighs. Strained and raspy.

You look at the size of Sirius’s two-seater and then Remus’s stupidly long legs. It wouldn’t work, and he’d end up with either a sore back or a worse-off neck than whatever it was he was doing right now. You don’t even really think before you say, “I can walk you home.”

Remus looks a little more alert, “You can’t sleep on this.” You prod the squeaky leather and it bounces back with absolutely no recoil. You’ll be sure to scold Sirius next time for having a horrendous couch, though enough money to buy everyone in the room ten of them. You know he won’t appreciate the exaggeration. But it’s for the sake of his friends’ backs.

“You don’t have to do that.” He sits up properly now and tries to situate himself to look convincingly comfortable. “I’ll make do.”

“It’s no big deal.” You shrug. “I’m walking home anyways.”

Now he’s sitting forward, his knees pushing into your leg and you almost stumble off the seat, grabbing his arm for purchase. “You just got here.” He almost frets and then coughs to hide his worry. He’s not very good at achieving a smooth, cool demeanour when half-cut. Not that he ever achieves it sober, he thinks.

“No, but I think you need to go home and sleep.” You look out into the kitchen that’s now surprisingly quieter. Lily looks like she’s about to fall asleep, leaning on James’s shoulder, who’s trying to play a horrible game of go fish with Sirius and Frank. Absolute party animals.

“I live too far away, anyways,” he says, leaning down to tie his shoelaces. “You’ll have to walk me home and then walk back, you’ll be walking for at least an hour and a half.” Why Remus is so afraid to suggest you can stay the night at his, he doesn’t know.

You squeeze his shoulder as he struggles to loop his lace through his fingers. He decides to go for the simpler, bunny-ear option. “That’s okay. You can stay at mine. I only live ten minutes away.”

When Remus sits back up after tying his laces too tight, his face is pink.

Remus Lupin has never been one for sitting comfortably, ever. With long, lanky limbs, he always has his legs sprawled out and his arms thrown over something. Anything he can take up comfortably, with enough space to spread, he’ll sit willingly.

On one hand, he’s thankful you convinced him not to sleep on Sirius’s couch. He didn’t need a repeat of New Year’s. Though, on the other hand, he could’ve made do.

Nothing was like sitting in your bedroom. He wouldn’t say he was uncomfortable, though deep down he was a little, a pit of anxiety creeping up his chest. He felt like he had little room to move - despite you owning a double bed - because he didn’t want to look stupid. He could take up space and not notice it.

Remus has trouble not taking in every detail he can in your room. Like your little trinket dishes filled with miscellaneous items, signet rings and seashells. The stuffed rhino toy in the middle of your pillows that you had told him - shyly at that - was named Clarence. Not before giggling at the poster of Twilight that you swore had been there since you were young. Your current read splayed open on the end of your bed, along with the stack of records in a blue milk crate in the corner, were things he promised himself he would ask you about when he wasn’t half tipsy and could hold a proper conversation.

In his admiration, one that was making his anxiety spread into warmth that seemed to be seeping from his bones. He’s too busy pretending like he isn’t taking in every small detail one shouldn’t when they’ve only known someone for only a month, and doesn’t notice that you’ve changed.

He looks over at you, in a pair of shorts littered with tiny daisies and a shirt that almost eats said shorts. Your hair pulled back and your face still sort of wet from where you obviously washed off the day's grime, causing the hairs around your face to curl. He doesn’t know if it’s the fading alcohol that’s causing him to hiccup even more, or if it’s seeing you all fresh and content from being at home that has his breath catching.

Remus Lupin is still a little drunk but he is also quite clearly growing to like you even more. That doesn’t change. He thinks he's done everything backwards. Meeting you, then seeing you now but too inebriated to say something redeeming, and then seeing you in the comfort of your own home before he even gets to ask you on a date. He also thinks he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Remus?” Your voice is as calm as you look when you speak and he melts.

“Hm?” He blinks, shaking his head.

“You okay?” Warm light washes over you and paints you amber as you patter across the room, the moon socks that are still on your feet pressing into the white fabric of your rug. “You’re not feeling sick?” He thinks he should blame his daze on a fake sickness, but he doesn’t want you to worry even more, so he decides against it.

When you press the back of your hand to his cheek, that’s only warm because he’s a little overwhelmed, not because he’s feeling poorly, he can’t find it in himself to hold your gaze. “I’m okay.”

“I was saying I don’t think I have any clothes for you to change into.” You remind him after it felt like you were talking to a brick wall a minute earlier.

Remus pushes his hands into the rough material of his black jeans. He doesn’t see himself sleeping in anything else. “That’s okay.”

“You’re not going to sleep in those are you?”

What else would he sleep in if you have no other clothes? “Uh.”

“You wear boxers?” you grin.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He wishes he was still a little drunker so he could blame his bumbling words on the effects of downing half a bottle of sambuca. Now he’s realising that’s just how he sounds when he’s overwhelmed by you.

“Sleep in those. I don’t mind.”

Your confidence, and your confidence only, is how he ends up pantless and under the covers of your bed. He doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. You have a lovely way of making him feel at ease. He thinks that’s why he likes you so much.

You smell different than earlier in the night when your shirt tickles his arm. Like fresh face wash and night creams, and maybe even roses. He’d hate to think of what he smelt like in comparison to you. Probably still like beer, and maybe like sweat. He should’ve asked if he could’ve showered. That might’ve been too much, he’s definitely overthinking.

“You’re very quiet,” you say into the dimness of your room. He’s lucky your bedside lamp is so muted, lest you see the goosebumps raised over his skin and how his cheeks haven’t returned to their normal colour since he crossed the threshold of your room.

“M’thinking,” he returns, just as quiet. It feels wrong to disturb the calmness blanketing the room.

“I can tell.” He can hear you grin, “What about?”

He swallows and he wouldn’t be surprised if you heard it, “You.”

You huff a small laugh and push down into the pillow behind you, “Me?” Your voice is a little strained, and not louder than before. Maybe even quieter.

“Yeah. Thinking about the next time I’ll get to see you.”

“You haven’t even left yet and you’re thinking ahead to the next time we’ll see each other,” you tease, getting comfortable underneath your plush quilt and sheets. Probably too much for a summer night but there’s still a chill in the air, flowing through your open window.

“I’m just hoping I won’t be so drunk,” he admits, hating how he still actually does sound drunk.

“Hopefully,” you smile, “But that’s okay, we can blame it on James.”

“If only I wasn’t so shit at poker,” he laughs in a strained and animated voice, trying to hold back a yawn.

He finally gets comfortable, hands fisting the sheets around his body and head balancing restfully against the plush of your ivory pillows.

You can see his eyes flutter in an attempt to stay awake. You think it’s endearing but you also think he needs to sleep. “Remus,” you say, firm but caring at once.

“Hmm?” he mumbles, eyebrows pinched.

“You should sleep.” You push itchy locks away from his forehead and he sighs at the caring touch of your fingers.

“Don’t wanna.” He scrunches his nose, “I think I’m finally sobering up. Wanna talk t’you.”

You smile at his absolute urgency and think he’s adorable. Truly. “Please, sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“You’ll be here?” This, you actually laugh at.

“Of course, Remus. You’re in my room.”

He closes his eyes, eyelashes kissing the freckles of his cheeks and his tired, darkened skin, “M’kay.”

When you wake up in the morning, almost midday, Remus plagued by the effects of alcohol, you too content to wake whilst being next to him, you both have separate texts from Sirius.

Your own chat log reads, aren’t U glad you came out? You don’t reply, not wanting to encourage him in any way.

Remus’s phone, on the other hand, reads,

uncle pads has a ring to it don’t you think? xxxx

He does in fact reply, too used to Sirius being a twat.

Nothing happened. Ur disgusting and I hate you.

what do U mean nothing happened?

I was drunk. She helped me basically stumble home.

U both stumbled. in her sheets.

Fuck off. Idiot.

Neither of you mention any of Sirius’s messages to each other the entire morning. Too busy enjoying each other's company.

The week spent after Remus had drunkenly stayed the night, you could pleasantly, though maybe even with a smidge of embarrassment, admit that he was all you thought about since.

It was a new feeling. You’d never felt it before. The endearment, but also the nerves, of realising you actually like someone. Some days it made your cheeks ache from smiling, and filled your chest with warmth. On other days, the warmth cracked your chest open, an aching chasm pleading to be filled and a head clouded with apprehension.

You were eager and scared all at once. But you were happy either way because Remus made you feel things. Good things.

You had spent the morning, forcing him to eat something, telling him it would make his hangover feel much better. He’d argued for no longer than two minutes before agreeing. Saying, who am I to argue with a girl like you?

“Like me?” you’d replied, mouth full of half-eaten pancake, pushing his own plate across the marble of your kitchen bar.

“Smart,” he smiled, picking at a blueberry, “Pretty.”

And after it was your turn to babble like a fool, he’d eased you open. Asked you about the record collection in your room (he was proud of himself for remembering). You’d rambled off your favourite artists, a lot similar, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he didn’t give you his number before he left.

And he did. Wrote his number on your hand as you stood at your doorway and he thanked you for breakfast. And for walking him home, drunk. You kissed his cheek and watched him press his fingers into his skin until he rounded the corner.

You wrote the number down on a piece of paper, magnetising it to your fridge as soon as you shut the door. Though your hands were sweaty - obviously because you were around Remus - and the last number had smudged. Was it a 3? Or an 8? Or a weird looking 5? You couldn’t tell and told yourself that was a problem you could deal with later.

It was later. A whole week later and you still hadn’t called him. If it was due to your nerves or the fact you had a missing number, that was your business only. You left the last space blank, the empty spot a blinding reminder of your stupidity. You’d just have to try every number until you found Remus. It would take no more than ten attempts.

Numbers zero through four were all wrong numbers. You were only met with a piercing tone before the line went dead. When you got to five, you were met with, what sounded like, a grumpy old lady. You tried to hang up straight away, well aware it wasn’t him, but she screeched and persisted that if she had a prank call one more time, she would phone the police!

Turns out, it was a 6 after all. The lovely tone of Remus’s voice rings down the line and you sigh in relief.

“It’s you.” Your voice is airy and Remus isn't sure he knows who it is.

There are only a handful of people who have his number. His friends, most of them called and checked in regularly, except Mary, who's always one to stop by instead. His parents and his neighbour had it too. But he seriously doubted the latter, unless his flat had been ransacked.

And then he remembers he'd given it to you and he laughs. All these thoughts happen within the span of two seconds. He hopes it's you, he's been anticipating a call all week. He was beginning to maybe think you didn’t actually want to hear from him. That he'd embarrassed himself in his drunken stupor. But then he remembered how nice you were to him.

You’ll make yourself sick.

“It is?” he laughs, still hoping it is in fact you. The image of his flat turned upside down, the spot on his mantle where his small TV is, now empty, flashes across his mind.

“Remus. It’s me!” you chirp and he pushes his phone closer to his ear as if it’ll make him hear your pretty voice even clearer.

”Me? I don’t think I know any me’s” he teases, fighting back an eager smile. Teasing you could be fun. Could become a constant. He’s imagining the warmth of your cheeks, and hopefully a small smile.

“Y/N,” you correct and he can almost hear the roll of your eyes.

“Oh. I know an Y/N,” he smiles, leaning against the lip of his kitchen bench. “She’s very pretty,” he pauses, wanting to drag it out, “and she’s super-”

“Remus,” you plead. Half wanting him to continue, half wanting him to stop to save your phone splitting in half where you’re holding it too hard. “Stop.”

Hearing your smile isn’t enough for him, “Super cool. Actually probably way too cool for me and…”

Remus sighs, very happy with himself.

“You done?” you ask.

“Maybe.”

“You’re a nuisance.”

Remus decides to not argue, you’re half right anyways. “I’m sorry. What’s up?”

You pause, thinking. You’ve forgotten why you called him for a moment. Too happy with just listening to him talk. You think you could do it all day if he let you. “I was wondering if you were coming out tonight? Drinks?” You feel silly asking now. It was drinks for James, he’d gotten a promotion, but of course, Remus is coming, they're best friends.

“Are you?”

You grin, “Yes. Yeah, I am.”

“Great. Me too.”

The excitement you feel when you know you’ll be seeing him again is palpable. Giddiness mixed with a number of nerves is always there whenever you think of him. He makes you feel like a schoolgirl again and you know he’ll be the cause of your undoing.

“Great.”

A face-splitting smile erupts across Remus’s features. If only you could see each other.

The amount of time you spend getting ready in the afternoon for James’s get-together is silly. After what's an almost stupid amount of time rustling through your closet to find something, the final thing you settle on you hope isn’t stupid. A red skirt that ends mid-thigh, a white tee and a leather jacket. Boots that you hope actually do your legs justice, not just how they look in the mirror.

You know exactly why you're making such a fuss with your appearance. Spending an extra amount of time making sure loose hairs are sprayed down and a fresh coat of nail polish that's applied probably a little too late before you make your way out your front door.

You think that maybe if you didn’t know if Remus was attending or not it'd be a lot easier on you. Or maybe worse. God, you're a mess. You just really want to make him like you.

Arriving at the pub a little early is probably a bad idea in the long run. You greet James and Lily with equal delight. You hadn’t seen them since his shindig at least two weeks ago. Sirius, pint in hand, greets you loud enough to let the entire pub know of your arrival. Frank and Alice are absent. In-laws. You feel as though you had finally found the perfect group of friends.

James had told you that Remus was probably going to be late.

Which gives you too much time to down an inappropriate number of vodka-cranberries, much to Sirius’s delight. Pressed into a corner booth, settled next to James and Sirius who have now also transitioned to fruity drinks.

When Remus finally arrives, the sun now set, you're at least five cocktails deep. The pub is a little loud now, though you’d never struggle to hear any of your rambunctious friends. They're probably half the noise. You're a giggling mess, warm from the effects of alcohol. You feel ridiculously happy like you expected to, but you haven’t even seen Remus yet.

When you sip back the last dregs of your drink, the rim pressed into your nose, determined not to waste a single drop, your eyes finally settle on Remus who's selfishly been admiring you from afar. Your eyes light up like a delighted puppy and he has to bite his tongue to stop himself from smiling like an idiot.

He walks to the edge of the table, wet and sticky wood pressing into his jeans and he grimaces. “Finally he arrives,” James cheers, mojito raised in the air.

“Moony! Looking as ravishing as ever, my boy!” Sirius cheers with equal flare.

Remus ignores both of them with a tiny smile, too used to their words it’s like second nature to ignore them. “Sweetheart,” he smiles at you and you light up even more.

“Remus! You’re here.”

Sirius gets up and slides along the wall to make room for Remus next to you, “He looks ravishing, wouldn’t you say, Y/N? Good enough to eat,” he repeats

“I am hungry,” you admit with a giggle as Remus settles down next to you, only enough room for a sheet of paper to fit between your thighs.

“Having a good time, lovely?” Remus gestures to the empty glasses taking up the table in front of you. Your lips are stained red and he has to lick his own.

“Amazing!” You lean into his side and your hair tickles his neck. Your warmth seeps through Remus’s skin and he doesn’t have a single problem with how close the two of you are sitting. He’d be kidding himself if he said he did.

“I’m glad,” he says, hands settling atop the table.

“Are you?” You blink, eyes bright and welcoming. He has to avert his attention to your nose instead. Feeling as if you’d swallow him whole.

“I am now,” he grins.

Distracted, the half-empty glass in your hands spills when you twist its stem a little too quickly. A puddle of cosmo seeps into the half-polished tabletop and you cringe.

“Oops.” Quick to act, despite how sapped you feel from the cocktails, you grab a too-big handful of napkins from the dispenser in front of you.

With little to no flare, you push the entire pile of paper into the split drink and probably make it worse. The napkins almost turn to pink sludge and you only spread the drink further. A cold, sticky mess.

Remus laughs and grabs your wrists, pulling them up from the mess, “What have you done, hmm?” He puts your hands in your lap and you slouch, defeated.

“Accident,” you huff. You watch Remus’s hands swipe across the table, much better at cleaning up your mess. Like it wasn’t even there in the first place.

Upset that your drink is now empty, when Sirius isn’t looking, too distracted talking quidditch with James, you reach forward and snatch his mojito. Cheering internally, too happy with yourself, you sip slowly.

“He won’t be too happy with that,” Remus laughs, pushing the serviettes to the side.

You shrug, pushing further into the leather of the booth seat, “Accident.” you repeat.

Remus chuckles. You scull back the last of Sirius’s drink and Remus braces his hand on the skin between your shoulder blades, with a gentle “Take it easy,”

You turn to him and wipe the line of drink from your chin with the back of your hand. Smiling before gently slamming the now-empty glass back to the table, a ring of condensation splashes across your palm.

You wipe it across Remus’s leg unthinkingly and he wrinkles his nose. A dark stripe up his thigh. He takes your hand by the wrist again and grabs another napkin. Dabbing your palm gently and you act unaffected by his attentions when you trace the water on the table with your free hand.

“Am I the one who’s going to be doing the babysitting, tonight?” Remus counts the glasses that hadn’t been collected yet. Five. Six, now counting the one you stole.

You nod, gleefully.

“Saves me, then.” Lily takes another swig from her Pimm's, very happy. James presses into her side and throws his head back.

“Merlin, I’m tired.” he huffs.

“Boo. No fun,” you pout, eyeing only his third drink that he hadn’t touched in way too long, “You drink too slowly, that’s your problem.”

He snorts, “I don’t have the drinking problems, lovely.”

You gasp, hand to your chest, sticky fingers pressing into your skin, “Just because I’m having fun!”

You notice the beginnings of a frown across Sirius’s face, clocking the glass in front of you, green to your past pink drinks, “You little sneak.”

You pout, “Okay, I’m sorry, let me get the next round.” You move to stand and when you’re upright, the room spins. You grab Remus’s shoulder for purchase and he grabs your forearm. His grip is grounding, flesh between his slender fingers.

“Okay, let me get the drinks,” he says, standing. The love-hate relationship you have with his height hurts sometimes.

“No, let me.” You rummage through the purse over your shoulder, through sickles and spare tampons, and pull out a measly fiver. You hold it up to him with a frown, paper crumpled in your hand.

Remus chuckles and places his hands on your shoulders, “Sit.”

You do what he says and ignore the warmth in the pit of your belly.

As Remus stands at the bar to wait for the drinks, he turns to watch you with a content smile on his face and a warmth spreading up his chest until it begs to swatch his cheeks. He watches as you cover your face with your hands, giggling madly at something James is telling you.

He thinks his heart is messing with him when it skips in his chest. When you throw your head back, neck bared and your eyes squinted, your shoulders raise like it’s the funniest thing you’ve ever heard (it could be but he doubts it), he thinks his heart has an actual fault. Almost halting completely when your eyes meet his and he thinks he’s been caught, but you smile contently and he has to look away before it jumps out his throat.

He knows he’s truly done for.

He returns with a tray of drinks, mojito’s for his friends and a pint for himself, a packet of crisps pinched between his teeth. If he doesn’t choose to drink cocktails with everyone else because he wants to be sober to keep his eye on you, that’s completely his business.

He places the drinks down, a hum of thank yous and cheers follow, he opens his mouth to let the crisps fall into your lap. You startle and look up at him, bemused.

“You said you were hungry.” He smiles.

You beam, hiccuping what he thinks is thanks.

“Where’s my fuckin food?” Sirius calls, voice very clear above the din of the pub. He throws a cube of ice at Remus and misses.

“Up your ass.”

Sirius goes to reach for a crisp and you clutch the foil bag close to your chest. He doesn’t try again, thinking you might bite him. “Fuck, I need a cig.”

He stands and stops Remus from sitting as he climbs over you. Squeezing past with almost zero care. You laugh, he seems hangry.

When he almost steps on your toe, “Look out, you prat.” Remus scolds.

“C’mon. Outside.” Sirius drags him away before he can even protest.

“You gonna ask her out, or what?” Sirus leans against the wall of the smoking area and flicks his ash.

Remus groans, “Don’t say it like it's easy or some shit.”

“Is it not?” Sirius laughs like it’s obvious. Remus envies his natural charm some days. He wished it came easy to him.

“No. She doesn’t like me like that.” Remus toes the gravel beneath his boot with a crunch. Watches as it skips across the ground and to the firepit. A distraction from the scolding that he’s expecting he’s about to get from Sirius.

Sirius coughs on a thick exhale of smoke, pushes himself off the wall. “You’re fucking with me, right?”

“What? No.” In some delusional, fucked up way, no, Remus is fucking with Sirius. Not since 7th year, anyways.

“She's mad about you,” Sirius laughs around the filter of his cigarette, “It’s sickening really. I mean she’s gotta be half dumb or something.” After another exhale he flicks more ash to the ground.

“Fuck up.”

“Whatever.”

There’s a beat before Remus says, “She doesn’t feel that way about me.” His head rests against the red brick behind him and wishes it would swallow him up. He wishes this was easier.

“What, you think she wears her best red skirt for people she doesn’t love?”

He lifts his head and glares at Sirius, “You really are a fucking twat, you know?” He steals the cigarette from between Sirius’s fingers and ignores his grunt as he inhales deeply. As deep as he can until Sirius swats his hand.

“I’m fucking kidding.” He takes it back, grimacing at the butt of what’s left.

“Still a twat,” Remus grunts.

Sirius flicks the orange filter to the ground and squashes it under his leather boot. “Seriously, Moons. Make a move already, it’s starting to get sad.”

He sighs, and Sirius almost wants to slap some sense into him. He doesn’t, remembering how he’d reacted last time he did. “I can’t. I’m not ruining anything.”

He decides to pat his shoulder instead, a gentler approach, “You’re a miserable sap.” He squeezes his sad friend, “She likes you, a lot, and she’s really good for you, y’know?”

“She is, isn’t she?” Remus sighs, lovelorn and dizzy, “Fuck, she’s so amazing. I don’t know what I’m gonna do. Have you seen her when she laughs? Fuck sakes.” He has to stop himself before he rants too much.

The both of them start to make their way back into the pub. “Alright, put your fucking cock away.”

Remus opens the door to the bar, “Get inside,” he laughs.

“If you don’t make a move soon, fuck I might.” Remus’s face goes slack and he pushes his dickhead of a friend towards their table with a little too much force. He stumbles with a hearty chuckle.

Left alone in the middle of the bar, a little incensed, he turns to look around and spots what looks like your aforementioned red skirt, standing in front of the claw machine.

Bemused, but more intrigued, he beelines for you with slow strides. When he stands behind you he places his hand to your shoulder. You turn around and smile warmly. You’re standing, more like swaying, with both hands inside your purse.

“What are you doing, dove?” he asks and squeezes your shoulder. You push back into him, probably for the stability you lack. He braces you with his thigh behind yours.

“You smell like a chimney.” You wrinkle your nose and he laughs. It reverberates through your chest and you have to blink away the way it makes you feel. Sleepy.

“Sirius is a horrible influence,” he says with an equally wrinkled nose.

“I’m looking for a coin,” you answer his question, looking back down into your purse. “Want to win you something.” Remus’s heart swells tenfold.

Before he can pull one from his pocket as an offering, you bend over and tip your entire purse to the paisley carpet, contents spilling everywhere. Wizard money, bright pink tampons, chapsticks and gum wrappers sit in a pile and Remus steps back with a disgruntled sigh.

You turn and crouch down to sort through everything, Remus looks down and gawps for a second. Half amused, half displeased. He bends down with you and helps as well.

“Do you think it'll take sickles?” you question, moving bandaids to the side. It’s looking like a lost cause.

Remus shakes his head with a laugh, “I don’t think so, honey.”

You frown.

“Here,” He handles a few items and places them in your purse, “I’ll help you clean this up and I’ll win you something, hm?” Remus thinks you’re a bit like Mary Poppins with how much stuff you have. He’d say this to you because you probably would understand the muggle reference, but you seem too upset over your lack of coins.

“Was gonna win you some chocolate,” you laugh, picking up more stuff.

The last few items fall back in with little organisation and he stands. You take his outstretched hands and let him gently tug you back up with a ruffle of your hair.

He pulls a coin from his pocket and slots it into the machine. You stand around to the side with your hands pressed to the glass like a little kid. The flow of colours washes you fluorescent as you point to a cherry ripe in a perfect spot.

He grips the joystick and moves it to where he thinks it hovers right above it.

“More to the left,” you say with your finger smooshed against the machine.

“You’re drunk,” he says before he pushes the red button on top of the stick, not moving it to where you’d said.

You laugh as it doesn’t even graze the chocolate. Claw coming back up with nothing. “Whatever.” He has two more chances at grabbing it and he’s determined.

The second time he does listen to you but still misses by the width of a hair. You both hold your breath as the claw gets lowered for the final time. You bend over to get a better view and watch as it gets picked up, not cheering until it gets dropped in the chute.

You clap as Remus cheers, taking the chocolate thankfully, opening it immediately with a crinkle of red foil. “Thank you, Remus.”

“Anytime.”

You break the chocolate in half and offer him the bigger portion. You both stand there, chewing on cherry and coconut and chocolate. You look at your sticky fingers and the worst of the after-effects of six cocktails suddenly hits you in a wave of nausea. Not enough to make you want to throw up, but enough for you to groan and grab your stomach.

“I think I should go home,” you whine, placing your half of the chocolate back into the wrapper and into your purse, probably just to melt and make a mess. A later problem, you think.

“Feeling okay?” he asks, turning to check you over. Etebrows pinched in concern already.

“I think I had too many cocktails,” you laugh, weakly at that.

“How are you getting home?” he asks.

You laugh, having flashbacks to your last encounter. “That’s my line.”

“It’s a good one.”

“I don’t know how I’m getting home,” you say.

“I’ll call you a taxi.”

You sigh, “That’d be lovely.”

After saying goodbye to the rest of the group, after they’d moaned about your fifteen-minute disappearance with Remus, Thought you’d gotten stuck in the cubicle! James had laughed. Drunkenly, you’d missed the joke. Remus had smacked him up the back of the head. But now, the both of you were making your way to the front entrance.

Remus has to drag you out the door, holding you upright as you stammer and trip on things that aren't there.

“Be careful,” he tuts, holding you closer under his arm.

“There was a frog!” you explain, very much exasperated.

“No there wasn’t,” he laughs.

“Was so!” you strain, fisting his shirt behind his back, sure to stretch the cotton.

“You just want me to hold you tighter.” He’s smug when he says it and can’t really help it. He has Sirius’s words ringing in the back of his head.

You stop at the gutter and kick a stone with your boot, “Maybe.”

Your knees ache, wanting nothing more than to crouch down to the ground. You think it would probably be a bad idea. Though with sore knees and a spinning head, bad ideas turned to the best.

You pull yourself from Remus' hold and bend your legs to crouch in the gutter. Remus’s eyes blow wide and he looks down at you. Not again, he thinks.

Before he can ask what you’re doing, thinking you've passed out, you look up, “Head rush,” you giggle with a huff of air. He sits down next to you, knees almost pressed into his chin.

Remus tugs your knee so you turn towards him, legs pressed together. He keeps his large palm over your thigh because being crouched in a gutter leaves little to the imagination to the drunks walking past and he’s not going to ask you to get up if you’re dizzy.

“You okay?” he murmurs.

You rest your head on his shoulder much like he had the last time you saw him. He hopes he had more care than you do with your cheek cruelly smooshed into his skin. “I’m just a little drunk.”

Lucky for Remus, before he thinks you’re about to fall asleep on his shoulder, your taxi is pulling up. He helps you stand, opens the back door and ushers you in.

Listening to your murmur of thanks Remus before he clicks you in.

“What’s your address, dove? So I can tell the driver.” You give him your address and he passes it off.

Before he can close the door for you, you grab his wrist.

“When can I see you next?” you ask brightly. Hopefully.

“Call me when you’re not hungover,” he laughs, brushing his fingers across your arm. Your grip hardens.

“You’ll answer?” He almost laughs again at how drunk you sound. Of course, he’ll answer.

“Of course, sweetheart.”

You lean across your seat, seatbelt pulling taut as you press a kiss to his cheek. Warm and buttery-soft just like last time, but maybe even worse now that his feelings for you are stronger. It burns.

“Thank you, Remus.”

“That’s okay, lovely.”

You in fact did call Remus, a couple of days after your night out. Expected, you were hungover so you waited a day after to talk.

Remus hadn’t really been expecting you to call him, despite how eager you seemed, he had talked himself out of believing you had any feelings for him. Like he’d imagined it or something.

So, when his phone rings, he’s not expecting it to be you at all. He answers with a sigh, thinking it’s James or Sirius.

“What do you want?” His voice is void of any excitement or joy you’d been selfishly expecting. You were also expecting a more welcoming greeting.

“Remus?” you say, and his hand stills in his cupboard where he’s distractedly putting clean dishes away.

He shuts the cupboard’s door a little too abruptly and cringes, clears his throat so he can speak, “Y/N! Shit, sorry. Hey.” He cringes even more at his stupidity.

“Expecting someone else?” you laugh.

He nods like you can see him, “Yeah, sorry.” He swallows and tries to fix himself, “How are you?”

“I’m good,” you say with a little sigh, “Really, really good.”

“That’s great!”

“Yeah, how are you?” you question.

Remus’s voice goes quieter, “Amazing.” Then there’s a small beat like you’re both thinking, “So, what’s up? Everything okay?”

In his mind, his stupid, paranoid mind, there’s a possibility that all you’ve done is pocket-dialled him. Or, accidentally pressed his name in your contacts, maybe mistaken the name Moony for Mum.

Is his name Moony in your phone? Or is it just Sirius’s friend? God, he wants his thoughts to shut up.

“I wanted to ask you something!” When it sounds like you actually want to talk to him, what almost feels like relief washes over him. Paints him bright as he settles on his sofa, beaming like a schoolboy when he says,

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah!” Your excitement is dizzying. “Are you free this weekend?”

He has to swallow before he speaks, eagerness bleeds through his skin. His foot taps and he picks at a loose thread on his battered shirt. “Yeah, I am.”

You chirp a happy noise, “Awesome! Cool. Um, there’s that gig on at The Red Lion if you wanted to come?”

Remus doesn’t see himself as a cool person and it definitely doesn’t show when he says, “Yeah! I’d love to.” in a tone pitched higher than normal.

“Great. I think Sirius is coming too, I told him about it the other day and said he should invite the others. I wasn’t sure if he had asked you yet.”

Oh.

Remus feels like the biggest idiot ever. You weren’t asking him out, why would you?

He leans down between his legs until all the air is forced from his lungs, he covers the receiver with his hand and groans, long and suffering in self-pity.

Is coughing to clear your throat and hide your disappointment a good thing? Because his voice is a little squeaky when he replies. When he sits back up his head spins. “Sounds great.”

He hears some shuffling on the end of your line before you say, “Amazing. I’ll see you then. Sorry, gotta go. Bye Remus!”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

Remus has about thirty seconds of wallowing in self-pity before his phone is ringing again. He wants to shove it in between his sofa cushions and forget about everything. But he sees Sirius' name flash up on the screen so he answers.

“Moony!” Sirius’s voice pierces the phone line and Remus cringes. “Remus, my good friend.”

“Did you just get lucky or something?” Remus gruffs.

“Huh?”

“You’re too happy. Calm it down.”

Sirius groans, “You’re so content with being miserable, Remus. Just because you can’t get your dick wet.”

Remus wished his stupid friend could see the displeasure on his face, “What do you want?”

“You’re free this weekend, aren’t you?” He questions and Remus hums a yes, expecting to hear the exact same question you had just asked him only three minutes ago.

“Well, you, me, the gang, and a few pints at The Red Lion. Sounds like a plan?” Remus detests his friend's happiness. Or envies it. He feels miserable and doesn’t think Sirius is deserving of his lack of enthusiasm just because you didn’t ask him out.

“Yeah, Y/N already asked me,” he replies.

“Well, don’t get too excited.” Sirius huffs a laugh.

“No, sorry. It’s just I thought she- never mind. Sounds good.”

“Awesome. I’ll send you the deets.”

Remus almost laughs, “The deets? Wait until I tell Marls you talk like that.”

“Shut up.”

“Bye, Sirius.”

Sirius hangs up before he can.

Remus spots you before you do, again. Watches where you lean against the bar on your tip-toes, talking to the bartender about something. He’s making you laugh and he feels the stupid need that it should be him instead.

He does what he always does; walks up behind you and presses his shoulder into your back. You chirp and turn around. Then, your eyes do that thing that they always do that makes him bite the inside of his cheek. They squint, confused, and then light up when you realise who you’re looking at. Remus could swear that they sparkle, but that’s just something he imagines in his lovesick head.

“Remus!” You smile, mouth upturning until the apples of your cheeks swell. You wrap your fingers around his bicep and pull him into your side. He lets you, willingly.

“Y/N,” he says probably a little too quietly for the setting. The pub is starting to fill quickly while the band does sound check, the general hubbub of the patrons mixes in with the strumming of guitars and the feedback from the mics.

“You’re all wet,” you giggle, pressing your fingers into the underside of his arm.

“Yeah, it’s starting to rain out there,” he says.

“You walked?” You frown, pulling your hands from his arm. He can still feel where your fingers were wrapped. A burn against his wet skin.

“From the bus stop.”

“You know there’s this thing wizards can do, I’m not sure if you heard of it. It’s called disapparition,” you quirk, mouth upturning into a teasing smile.

Amused, Remus says, “I don’t usually like muggles to watch someone appear out of thin air.”

You reach forward to grab some napkins from the dispenser on the bar, probably too many. “I would’ve picked you up,” you say matter-of-factly.

He doesn’t reply, just stops still when you reach up to brush away the damp hair from his eyes. There’s water bunching in his hair and falling in tiny beads down his face, over his top lip. You laugh when he licks it away before you dab across his forehead and then his cheeks.

“I missed you,” you say, bunching the paper into a ball.

Remus smiles, too hard he thinks. “You saw me last weekend.”

You think he might be teasing you, though you’re not sure. You feel like you’ve overstepped. Demure, your eyes widen at your error. “Sorry,” you laugh, airy and quiet.

Remus pokes you in your side, “I missed you too,” he laughs.

You nod your head and bite your lip. You feel eased. But embarrassed in the first place. Scrunching the ball of damp napkins in your hands until it pinches. Still, you’re overjoyed.

“What are you drinking?” you ask, splaying your hands over the bar, leaning where it comes up to your chest. You try to ignore everything. The way Remus is making you feel, the busy pub that’s teeming with rowdy people.

“Not sure,” he quirks, eyeing the taps at the end of the bar. “What about you?”

“I think I might just stick to squash,” you laugh knowingly.

“You’re on it tonight,” Remus laughs, splaying his fingers around your shoulder.

“I’m not having any repeats of last week.”

“Damn,” he pouts, “Drunk Y/N is cute.”

You warm, “Drunk Y/N is messy.”

He squeezes you, a funny pinch. “I think you can be both.”

You lean into his side while he orders your drinks. His hand doesn’t move and you don’t want it to. It’s warm and grounding and feels too good to be true. How touchy he is and how you love it. You imagine a world where he doesn’t just touch your shoulder. Imagining what he’d do if you were together. How ruining he would be.

Distracted by his grip on your arm, before you can even reach into your purse to grab your money, he’s paid.

“Remus,” you scold, pushing yourself off the bar.

“Dove,” he smiles, placating. He grabs both of your drinks, in one hand, fingers twisting. The other snakes down to grab your hand to guide you through the crowd of people.

“Stop paying for my drinks.” Someone bumps into you and Remus digs his elbow into your side to stop you from tripping. You smile thankfully.

You let him weave you through patrons, your hand flexing around his until you get to your table. Once you've sat down, he says, “Sorry, didn’t think a fiver would cover it.”

Faux scolding, you shove his arm. “I have more money on me this time.”

“Good,” Sirius pipes up, “you can buy me that cocktail you owe me.”

“I’m sorry, Sirius.” You act like it genuinely does upset you. Though the thought of how you acted when you were drunk last week, is worse. “I’m a really annoying drunk.”

“Sirius is being dramatic,” Remus sighs, leaning back against the booth. He throws an arm behind you, pressing it up against the wall. You stay sitting forward, not sure if it’d be too much to lean into him. Despite him making the first move. “You got your cocktail.”

“Yeah, you bought it,” Sirius faux scoffs. It’s hard to believe that he actually cares about a stolen mojito, easier to believe he’s determined to tease you until you die. “Doesn’t count.”

“I’ll buy you a cocktail if you really want me to, Sirius,” you lilt, happy to get him to shut up. It works when Remus shoots him a look you don’t understand. Sirius bites his tongue and sits back in his seat.

By the time James and Lily get back from the bar, the band has started their set and you’ve had enough time to think too much on whether or not you should lean into Remus’s side. His weight behind you feels like a magnet. The more you want to pull away the stronger the urge is to just give up and fall against him.

Much like everything is with Remus. The more you allow yourself to think you really do like him, the harder it is to keep to your regular ways. You’ve never allowed yourself to be so openly affectionate and loving towards someone without second-guessing every single thing you do.

Not that you don’t. Every time you speak to him, touch his arm for too long or allow yourself to wrap your own arm around his back, there’s that voice in the back of your head that’s screaming at you. Telling you that you’ve let your guard down too much for a boy you’re not even sure likes you as much as you do him and you’ve embarrassed yourself.

It’s totally overwhelming and constantly feels like a back-and-forth battle. Because, sure, it's no secret anymore to anyone who isn't Remus, that you like him. You just wished it were easier.

As if he can hear your head reeling, or he’s just noticed how quiet you’ve suddenly become, he nudges your leg where it’s crossed with his own jean-clad one.

“You okay?” he asks. His face is soft. Too soft for your dismissive and relentless thoughts to ebb. It’s suddenly painful to even be looking at him and you’ve only been around him for no less than twenty minutes. He’s always had that ability.

The nod you give him is unconvincing and your smile is even worse. His eyes flicker and you open your mouth to speak before he can, “Yeah, jus’ thinking.”

“I can tell.”

“You can?”

You chance another look back at him and regret it instantly when he’s smiling like he knows something you don’t. “Yeah.” He nods, “You’re making that face you always do when something’s eating at you.”

Hating being read for filth, you turn to take a sip from your drink, filling your mouth with your straw lest you say something stupid. You drink it too quickly, and once it’s down to its last dregs, your head aches. Brain freeze. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to distract yourself when you say, “What face?”

“Your lips part and your eyebrows pinch. Sometimes I have to double-check you’re not crying.” Remus is a lovely, horribly attentive boy. And if he keeps saying things like that, things that let you know he does actually pay attention to you, you’re not going to last. When you said you wondered how ruining he would be, this isn’t what you had in mind.

Remus says something to you again, but you don’t catch it. The band transitions into a much louder song and his words fall on deaf ears. You do, however, catch the look he shares with Sirius again over your shoulder.

Confused, you suddenly think fresh air would be better than to pain yourself through whatever’s happening around you. “I’ll go get that mojito,” you mumble.

You weave yourself over Remus’s lap, careful where your shoes and hands land, careful to also ignore where he stables you with his own hand on the back of your knee. You try to make it discrete as you beeline for the bar, taking a small turn to head for the back doors.

The warm air cast from the setting sun slowly dwindles away and you cross your arms over your body, leaning against the railing to the left of the smoking area. When the door shuts behind you, the music from inside slowly dies down and you’re grateful to be the only one out here.

The fear you have been feeling throughout your entire friendship with Remus does its best to claw its way up your throat. Makes your breathing staggered and your palms itch. You suspect if you spent any more time with him inside you would’ve only embarrassed yourself more than you feel like you already have. Best you do it out here instead.

The muffled music slowly grows louder when you hear the door open and you pay it no mind. Not until there’s a hand on your shoulder. You flinch and turn around, pushing yourself against the railing.

“Shit, sorry. Just me,” Remus smiles, pulling his hand from your shoulder.

“Remus,” you breathe, hand to your chest, “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he frowns.

You pause. Trust him to notice your departure. You hope he doesn’t ask you any questions, you don’t expect yourself to hold anything in anymore if he soothes you over.

“You okay?”

Fuck sakes.

“Um, yeah.” You nod. Remus moves to your side, arm pressed up against the railing and you follow him. Turning so you’re face to face.

“You sure? You just kind of up and left.” he laughs weakly, stopping when he notices you don’t join in.

“Sorry,” you apologise.

“What for?” he asks kindly. You once more detest his kindness and his ability to get you to open up.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, leaning further into the railing and it rattles, “I’m being weird.” You’re not opening up like you’d expected, though the words you want to say to him are at the back of your mind, where they were once pushed away, slowly crawling forward. If he keeps looking at you like that, they might spill.

“You’re not.”

“I am. I’m thinking too much and it,” you heave a calming breath. You want to tell him how you feel, not ramble, “it hurts.”

“Hey,” He traces a line over the hinge of your elbow, “what’s going on in that head of yours, hm? Care to let me in?”

You swallow, “That’s the problem. I can’t find the words.”

“That’s okay.” He squeezes your arm, “Take your time.”

His gaze is soft though it still burns where it’s settled over your face, his grip on your arm is worse. Still, it’s grounding. You blink and take a few calming breaths.

The door opens up again and the band’s music spews back outside. It’s the same song that was playing the night you sat on Sirius's couch and you’d freaked about how it was both your favourite. In some cheesy, cliche way, you take it as a sign.

“I’ve never been one for showing, let alone telling someone how I feel about them,” you begin, “I’m not sure if that’s the most obvious thing ever, or if I’ve gotten really good at hiding it but…”

Remus is smiling widely, more smug than anything. It makes you nervous and you advert your gaze to the ground. Over the ash-strained brick tile under your sneakers, “Stop looking at me like that or I won’t be able to finish what I’m trying to tell you,” you sigh.

“Like what?” he asks like he’s oblivious. Like his mouth isn’t now upturned into the slyest smile.

“That!’’ Your face grows warm and you have to press the backs of your hands into them. You can feel the thrumming of your heart in your fingertips.

“Sorry, you were saying,” he chuckles.

“God, where did you get all this confidence from, Remus?” you ask, a little dazed. Maybe it’s the setting or the fact you’re both finally sober together that brings out a different side of him, though you can’t be sure.

Remus shakes his head, “I’m sorry, you just look so cute when you get flustered.”

Your mouth parts, a shocked, demure gasp slips past them. Gawping, you say, “You’re not drunk, are you?” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but it's the first time it feels different.

“Not this time. For once,” he laughs knowingly.

“Right,” you pause. Taking in a shuddered breath. In what world you would ever expect this to be easy, you’re not sure. You’re also not sure that doing this with Remus makes it easier. Easier, because he makes you feel secure and appropriately worked down to tell him anything; harder because it’s him you have to let your emotions go with. It’s him you have to let know of your heartachingly, sore feelings you have. He can’t just be there on the sidelines guiding you through it.

Remus watches you slip away into your shy, quiet self again. He can almost hear your thoughts reeling, “God, you’re worse than me.”

You giggle nervously, all pitched up and light, “You make me nervous,”

He steps forward and if your eyes weren’t stuck on the ground, you wouldn’t have noticed it. He’s smooth. “Do I now?” He hooks a knuckle under your downwardly pointed chin and gives it a tap.

You look back up, catching his gaze, “I hate you,”

“No you don’t,” he says matter of factly. Like its the most obvious thing ever. You’re sure it is.

“I don’t?” You blink slowly.

He closes the gap between you some more and suddenly you’re overwhelmed by him. The smell of his laundry detergent, something familiar and heady, mixed in with the cologne that you swear follows you home. Where the toe of his boot almost touches your sneaker and where the sleeve of his sweater catches on your bracelet because he’s as close as possible. Though you still think he’s not close enough.

His voice mixes in with the same song that’s playing inside and you can barely hear him when it builds to a crescendo and he says, “You weren’t about to go on some rant about how you love me?”

“Remus…” you murmur, quieter than the thumping of your heart in your chest,

“No?”

You bite your tongue, but it does nothing to stop you from saying, “God, yes. Just- kiss me, please.”

“What?” he asks, more shocked than you’ve been this entire interaction.

“Kiss me, Remus. Before the song ends.” You lean into him, up on the balls of your feet and pull your hands between your bodies.

Face to face, lips hovering over yours, he murmurs, “You sure?”

“Completely,”

It’s the last thing you say before Remus kisses you so hard, so deep, that you forget how it was even possible to form words in his presence before now. Snakes his arms around your back and holds you so close your shirt rides up until your skin presses into the soft material of his sweater.

He tastes of stout, a weird mixture against the lemon on your tongue. You can’t find it in you to mind when he hums into your mouth. A desperate, pleading sound that has you squeezing the flesh of his hips. Compared to the reserved and diffident relationship you’ve held with Remus up until now, the kiss you share is nothing alike. It’s passionate and heated. Longing.

The song ends and with a final tug of your bottom lip, he pulls away panting. Eyes skipping over your face, a little glassy and bouncy. “Fuck,” he murmurs.

Tugging on the hem of his sweater, you say, “What?’' with a light chuckle.

“If I…” Remus has to compose himself lest he says something embarrassing. Completely forward. “If I knew kissing you would’ve been like that…I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“I think I’ve wanted you to kiss me for a really long time,” you confess, giddily rocking back and forth on your feet. Canvas sneakers crushing into the ground.

“Yeah?” he hums. Smugness still ever present.

“Yeah.”

“Thoughts on me kissing you again?” he asks, still not letting you go where you’re held against his torso.

You look over his shoulder, “I think if you kiss me again, Sirius’s jaw might fall to the floor.”

Remus turns and spots Sirius and James almost pressed to the glass window. James doesn’t look as pleased, shoving a crumpled note into Sirius's palm. Turning back to face you, he rolls his eyes, “I think they had a bet going.”

“Should we give Sirius his money’s worth?” you giggle.

“I’m going to kiss you. But, not for Sirius.” Remus says, “Only because you look insanely beautiful right now and if I don’t do it again, my brain might go numb.”

“What are you waiting for then?”

“Nothing.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x female reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x yn #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin oneshot #marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader

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shiftermia · 8 months

Text

— an idea was born

james potter x reader

where james needed your attention and chose the fun way- for him

a/n: no warnings just fluff, you’re welcome, A

It was the beginning of another year at Hogwarts and luckily on that Saturday morning, it was warm enough to hangout at the Black Lake.

Students were littered about everywhere in tank tops, shorts, and their swimsuits.

And some of those students were you, your friends: Sirius, remus, Peter, Lilly, and Mary, and your excessively annoyingly hyper, lovable boyfriend, James.

Why was he annoying? one may ask, because he was currently tugging on your hair trying to get your attention.

You were laid out under the big willow tree by the black lake with Lily and Mary in front of you, and the rest of the Marauders sat next to you with James piled on top of you.

“Darling,” he whined, “m’ trying to show you this,” he tugged your hair again with his head nestled under yours.

“And I’m trying to have a conversation,” you gestured to Lily. “The hole in your shirt can wait,” any other day you would’ve just made a noise of acknowledgment and told him something but since it was a sunny day, you were hot and sweaty. Him laying on top of you also sweating, was not helping whatsoever.

He whined as you went back to your conversation and tried turning your head towards him with his nose. “Poppet, c’mon”

You glanced to Lily with wide eyes and a grin, “what?”

He looked up at you with those wide brown eyes, “pay attention to me.”

You nodded, now looking at him, “i am paying attention to you.”

He huffed dramatically and rolled his eyes, “y’know what I mean.”

You ran a hand threw his messy curls and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’ll pay attention to you in a minute, go talk to the boys.”

He flopped down further on you, “ugh I don’t wanna talk to them, wanna talk to you!”

You simply stared at him adoringly, “in a minute, Jamie.” You turned back to Lily and felt him huff against your sweaty neck. “Sorry, anyway as I was saying…”

James tuned out your conversation with Lily and glanced towards his friends. Remus was reading, Sirius was sneakily hexing first years, laughing his arse off, and peter was trying- and failing- to finish his divination homework.

He looked away from his friends and looked around and saw a boy throw a girl in the Black lake. And thus an idea was born.

He suddenly got up, grabbing your attention as he did, and removed his wand, glasses, and shoes from his being.

“What’re you doing, James?” You asked exasperated, staring up at him.

He shrugged innocently, crawling over you, mindful of accidentally hurting you. “Nothin’ just getting comfortable.”

James wrapped his arms around your waist and look the liberty of acting as his was going to lay down again. Once you started talking to Lily again, he took his mark.

He suddenly lifted you up, causing you to let out a squeal and laugh. Once you noticed he was running full speed towards the Black Lake, you started hitting his shoulders.

“No! James No! I’m still in my clothes!” He ignored your futile attempts and laughed wildly, struggling to hold you, as you were trying to get him to drop you.

With a shout from both of you, one of dismay and one of excitement, James jumped in the lake.

Once you both resurfaced, you hit his arm. “It’s not funny, now I’m soaked!” You shouted with a slight laugh at the end.

You couldn’t hold it back when James was struggling to stay afloat from his loud belly laughs.

#70s #james potter x reader #james potter blurb #james potter one shot #james potter imagine #james potter x you #james potter fluff #james potter drabble #james potter x fem!reader #james potter #lily evans #the marauders #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

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twenty-thirty-two · 1 year

Text

Restless

Poly!Marauders x female!reader

Warnings: mention of nightmares, brief description of mini panic attack (nothing too detailed), reader has hair that can be braided (doesn’t necessarily mean straight)

a/n: long overdue! I’m not too happy with how I ended this, had the right idea but can never figure out how to wrap it up :,)

Please understand that because I am 18+, I do not want minors on my page or reading my work

I also do not consent to my work being reposted on other sites, translated or copied

Nightmares

They’re your minds way of telling you that you’re not safe, even when you’re asleep

The sudden drop of your stomach was enough to wake you. Rather jolt you awake. You laid there, staring up at the ceiling trying to gather your thoughts and even out your breathing. Nightmares plague your nights, not one day passes where you’re not awakened with the memory of loved ones dying, or indescribable monsters attacking. No matter what it is, it’s after you, relentlessly.

Despite being recently awakened, you couldn’t remember what it was that scared you in the first place. You just felt this daunting feeling and now you’re awake, laying next to Remus, who is blissfully none the wiser of your current situation.

You debated waking him, he’d gladly stay up and hold you until you’ve drifted off in his arms.

That’s the issue- he’d do it without a second thought. You’d feel too guilty about waking him from his current slumber.

You sat up slowly, pulling your knees up to your chest. You run your hands over your face in frustration. Looking over, you see Sirius and James, entangled in one another’s arms, soundly sleeping.

Their serenity brews a feeling of jealousy in you. How you wish that was you.

You grab a nearby cardigan (you’re not even sure whose it is at this point) and slip quietly out of the dorm. You don’t even know where you’re going or how long you’re going to be out but you needed to get out of there.

Back in the dorm, Remus, half-asleep, throws his arm over to your side of the bed in order to pull you closer.

Upon hitting the empty side of the mattress, he lazily patted the area in search of your warmth. In a sleep-ridden haze, he became increasingly aware that you weren’t in bed, opening an eye, he peaked around to look for any sign of you. When he didn’t see you or your shoes, he assumed you were in the bathroom, and that seemed to calm his mind enough to go back to sleep.

You found yourself outside, breathing in the cool air of the night. A light breeze surrounded you, now ever so grateful that you brought some coverage. Ultimately, you decided that a midnight stroll around would be your best hope.

Wrapping the beige-color cardigan tighter around your body, the welcoming scent of James’ cologne overwhelms your senses. You fiddle with a loose thread on the left sleeve, no doubt the work of Remus during late night study sessions long after everyone else is asleep. The barely noticeable, yet, clear as day stain near the end aisle of buttons brings you back to the day when Sirius and James had a butterbeer drinking contest, the golden liquid dribbling down either side of the boy’s mouth, ultimately staining the cardigan, the rambunctiousness of the event was enough for Remus to chastise the aforementioned boy, going as far as to continue shoving drink after drink while you kept encouraging James.

The moon, acting as a guiding light as you make your way through the dark grounds. After some time aimlessly walking through, you decided to make your way back to the boys’ dorm.

For some reason, tonight was just one of those nights for Remus, when he simply could not get comfortable. The soft mattress has become a bed of stones, he hypothesizes that the floor would be much more comfortable at this point. As he’s dramatically throwing himself to face your side of the bed, he feels your side to be cold. This causes him to immediately sit up, messy tussles of hair standing in all directions. He throws the blanket off of him and sets out to the common room where he supposes you’d be.

Just as you’re welcomed into the common room, you’re startled by Remus’ sudden presence.

“Where’ve you been, bunny?” He pulls you into his side as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his chest.

“Can’t sleep.” He manages to make out the muffled words and sighs.

“Had me worried when I woke up and you weren’t there.” You mumbled an apology that would’ve resulted in a quirked eyebrow and quick scolding.

He ushered the two of you up to the room and back to bed. Sleep didn’t come easy for you that night, and when you finally did fall asleep, you jolted awake every so often. The same feeling you get when you’re dreaming that you’re falling. You knew that sleep was very important to Remus, always making sure that none of you stay up late and always making sure to get an early start to your morning, much to James’ dismay.

After what felt like a lifetime, you managed to drift off. Not long before you’re awoken by screaming and Sirius shaking you awake. You can hear Remus calling your name and a caressing hand on your head. You’re quick to realize that the screaming is coming from you. Your heart beating erratically and suddenly feeling like there’s not enough air in the room. You try to sit up but the most you can do is prop yourself up onto your elbows as sobs begin to escape from you.

To your left, you see Sirius running into the room with a glass of water and some cookies, shoving them into Remus’ hands. You’re looking at the situation in front of you but you cannot seem to focus, everything is too loud, too bright, and too overwhelming.

“Y/N/N? I need you to take some deep breaths for us, honey. Here, feel my heart- In and out.” Remus is sitting next to you, attempting to direct your breathing but you can only see straight ahead, hand limp in his hand.

James’ anxiety always skyrockets whenever one of you is in distress, he finds himself never doing enough despite having done the opposite. He’ll often look to Remus for instructions but always finds himself trying by one’s side bringing in his own form of comfort.

Sirius remained stoic, scared out of his mind for you; he didn’t know what to do, internally kicking himself for not jumping into action right away. He wanted to hold you- close to his chest and hide you away from all the pain in the world.

After another couple of minutes, A single tear slipped out, the sudden wet contact against your skin startled you. Your eyes drifted between the boys, a mix of worried, scared, and overall concern pales their faces. Teary eyes lock with James, his eyes full of sympathy and kindness. One after another, tears flow and a sigh of relief is released from your lungs.

After a beat, Sirius is the first to speak.

“What happened, bunny?”

“Haven’t-” A hiccup escapes

“Haven’t been sleeping well- nightmares.”

James leans forward and places a delicate kiss to your forehead, his hand cupping your face.

“How long?” Remus’ head cocked a tad to the side.

“‘Dunno, while maybe.” You mumbled. He taps your chin to get you to look at him.

“Know you’re tired, but I need you to speak clearly, honey.”

“I don’t know, few days?”

“Is that why you weren’t in bed last night? Y’had a nightmare?” You nod.

“C’mere.” Sirius holds out his arms and you crawl right into them

“This can’t continue, you know.” You nod.

“Siri’s right, Y/N/N, you need hours of uninterrupted sleep, running on 10 hours of sleep throughout a span of a few days isn’t healthy. Tomorrow, we’re going to see Pomfrey, see if she can give you something for the time being.” Remus smiles halfway as he notices that James has pulled you away from Sirius and begun braiding your hair.

The rest of the time the boys spent doting on you, making sure you were satisfied. You were hungry? Sirius brought you a plate of fruit. Thirsty? Remus made you a warm cup of tea. Need affection and cuddles? James practically pushes the two out of the way to plop himself beside you. They felt for you, they really did, nothing was worse than seeing their favorite person in the world in misery and not being able to do anything themselves. They’d take away all of the misery and pain at the drop of a hat if it meant that you were safe and happy all the time.

#poly!marauders x fem!reader #poly!marauders #poly marauders #poly marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin x reader #james potter x reader #mel writes

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thatdammchickennugget · 13 days

Text

Damsel In Distress

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - your run takes an unexpected turn when you attempt to rescue a motionless figure in the lake, only to find out that he is not only not in need of your help, but also really handsome

warnings - fluff, teasing, mention of drowning, muggle!reader

wordcount - 3.1k

a/n - this is inspired by a reddit story I found

As you jog along the familiar path beside the lake, the crisp autumn air fills your lungs with each breath. The rhythmic pounding of your feet against the earth is the only sound, aside from the occasional rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Lost in your thoughts, you round a bend, and your eyes catch sight of something odd out of the corner of your vision.

There, in the water of the lake, floats a figure, motionless and eerily still, the only movement the light bobbing of the small waves. Your heart lurches in your chest as you come to a sudden halt, your eyes widening in shock. Without a second thought, you sprint towards the water's edge, adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You realize the figure is a man, lying on his back with his arms floating limply by his side. You couldn’t make out much more, his face being turned away from you. Bending over the wooden fence running between the forest path and the edge of the shore, you cup your already shaking hands around your mouth to yell, already fearing the worst.

"Hey! Are you alright?" you call out, panic edging your voice as there is no response, no movement. With a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you realize you have to act fast. You swiftly strip down to your underwear, discarding your clothes in a messy pile on the grassy bank and throwing your shoes somewhere behind you.

Without hesitation, you hop over the fence, take those last couple steps down to the shore and plunge into the cool water. Your limbs churn through the water, propelling you towards the motionless figure. You curse yourself for swimming so slow, upset at your body for straining under the effort as you rushed to reach the figure.

But as you draw closer, taking a moment to look up instead of focusing on pushing forward, you see him. He's not drowning. In fact, he's treading water effortlessly now, watching you with a perplexed expression.

"Um, are you... okay?" you pant as you slowly come to a halt, waves lapping at your face as you kick your feet hard to stay afloat, feeling the awkwardness of the situation settling over you like a heavy blanket.

“Yes,” he says in a deadpan voice, nodding in response to your question, his expression unreadable as he watches you with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. You feel a rush of embarrassment wash over you, realizing the absurdity of your impromptu rescue attempt.

Quickly turning to leave, you hope to escape the awkwardness of the situation, only to freeze as you spot three more heads bobbing in the water nearby. Your heart leaps into your throat as you realize you're not alone. Panic sets in, and you scramble to come up with an explanation for your impulsive actions.

The boys exchange knowing glances, their amusement evident in the twinkle of their eyes as they watch your flustered reaction. The one closest to you, his dark hair a wild mess from the water and his glasses speckled with drops of water, grins mischievously, while another one with his long hair pulled back into a messy bun shoots you a wink that sends a shiver down your spine. The mousy looking one furthest from you, quieter but no less amused, chuckles softly to himself.

"Uh, what are you guys up to?" you blurt out, your cheeks burning as you desperately try to make sense of the situation.

"Training," Spectacles answers with a smirk, his tone teasing as he watches your reaction, exchanging a look with his friends.

You furrow your brow in confusion, trying to piece together the puzzle of their presence in the lake. "Are you lifeguards or something?" you inquire, feeling a mixture of curiosity and apprehension. That was probably it. They were lifeguards running thrills and you just ruined one of them.

Manbun lets out a bark of laughter, his grin widening at your assumption. "Something like that," he replies cryptically.

You nod slowly, though the pieces still don't quite fit together in your mind. "Right, well, sorry for the interruption," you mumble awkwardly.

But before you can make your escape, you catch sight of movement in the water. The man you thought needed saving is swimming towards you, effortlessly gliding through the water with practiced ease.

As he reaches your side, you can't help but staring at the sight of him, sleek and confident in the water while you struggle to keep your head above the surface. You catch glimpses of faded scars littering the skin of his chest and neck, but your gaze momentarily fixes on the more prominent one on his face, starting at his left brow and running all the way across his nose and to the curve of his jaw.

"Need a hand getting back?" he offers with a playful smirk, extending his arm towards you.

You shake your head, determined not to make this anymore awkward than it already is. They are already more than amused by you, no need to make yourself look even more pathetic. "No, I'm good," you reply, forcing a smile despite the churning flutter in your stomach.

But he doesn't seem to take the hint, continuing to move beside you as you swim back towards the shore. You become acutely aware of how hard you're breathing, your lack of swimming skills making each stroke feel like a herculean effort. Still, holding your head up high as you made your retreat, you tried to stifle your heavy pants. Suddenly, the urge to stop and just let yourself sink to the bottom of the lake to drown yourself rung out in your mind.

To your horror, a small giggle escaped you, the absurdity of the situation finally settling in. In a last attempt to seem unbothered by what had transpired, you joke, “You are lucky you weren’t actually dying because it would have taken everything I have to drag your sorry ass this far.”

"Are you sure you don’t need any help?" he laughs, his voice light and teasing as he matches your pace effortlessly. "I could always tow you back, you know."

You grit your teeth, refusing to let him see just how much you're struggling. "I'll manage," you reply through clenched teeth, pushing through the water with all the determination you can muster up.

He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your discomfort as he continues to swim beside you. "Suit yourself," he remarks, speeding up to overtake you, still keeping an eye on you over his shoulder.

And as you finally reach the safety of solid ground, gasping for breath and dripping wet, he is already standing on the grassy edge, offering you a hand with a playful grin.

"Quite the adventure, huh?" he quips, his eyes dancing with amusement as he helps you out of the water. You try to ignore the way his eyes rake down your body, feeling insecure in your dropping wet sports bra and snoopy themed panties.

You can't help but roll your eyes at his comment, though the corners of your mouth twitch with the beginnings of a smile. "Something like that," you reply, unable to deny the thrill of adrenaline that still lingers in the air.

As you hastily gather your clothes, the weight of embarrassment still heavy on your shoulders, you muster up the courage to turn towards the group of boys, the other three now treading water not far from the shore. Their amused smirks and twinkling eyes only intensify the churning in your stomach, but find yourself trying to make amends anyhow.

"Um, hey," you begin, your voice wavering slightly as you address them. "I just wanted to say... I'm really sorry for interrupting. I, uh, didn't mean to cause any trouble."

The man with the scar offers you a reassuring smile, his expression surprisingly understanding. "Hey, no worries," he replies, his tone gentle. "No harm done.”

You nod, grateful for his understanding, but you still feel the need to make it up to them somehow. "Well, how about this," you blurt out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them. "I'll treat you guys to a drink at the pub tonight. My way of saying sorry for ruining... whatever that was."

The boys exchange surprised glances, their lips twitching with suppressed smiles. You resist the urge to slap your forehead. What are you thinking, inviting these men out after making yourself an utter fool in front of them. To your horror, they seem to consider your offer seriously.

Manbun nods, grinning up at the one with the scar, who was making it hard to keep the colour from your face as he stood beside you, his tones chest in clear view. "Sounds like a plan," he agrees, his grin widening. "We'll hold you to that."

"Great," you reply, trying to maintain a semblance of composure even as your voice comes out slightly higher pitched than you intended. "So, The Oak & Ale tonight?"

They all nod in unison. "Sounds good," Spectacles confirms, his smirk widening. "We'll see you there."

With a final wave, you turn to leave, eager to put as much distance between yourself and this embarrassing encounter as possible. But as you jog back home, the weight of your impulsive invitation hangs heavy on your mind. What have you gotten yourself into?

ੈ♡˳

Later at The Oak & Ale, you find yourself nursing a drink at the bar, nervously glancing around as you wait for the group of boys to arrive. You brought along your friend, who can't contain her excitement about meeting the "hot guy" you attempted to rescue.

She nudges you playfully. "So, spill the details! Was he as dreamy up close as he was in the lake?"

You roll your eyes, trying to play it cool. "Oh, please. It was all a misunderstanding. He probably thinks I'm a complete idiot."

She laughs, not buying it for a second. "Come on, don't be so hard on yourself. You were just trying to help. He probably thought you were adorable. One day this will be the perfect story to tell when your children ask you ‘mommy, how did you meet dad?’”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. "Please, you read way too many romance books. Trust me, the impression I made won’t have anyone falling in love with me. I'm just hoping to get through this evening without any more embarrassment."

But before you can dwell on it any further, the door to the pub swings open, and in walks the group of boys. Your heart skips a beat as you catch sight of the man with the scar, now thankfully fully clothed as he trails behind his friends towards the bar.

Your friend nudges you excitedly. "Is that him? Wow, you weren't kidding. He is totally hot."

You shoot her a glare. "Keep it down, will you? I'm already mortified enough as it is."

The first one to reach you is Spectacles, tall and handsome with messy black hair and a mischievous grin. He extends his hand towards you.

"Hey there," he says, his voice smooth and confident. "Sorry again, about earlier. We didn't mean to startle you. I’m James by the way."

You take his hand awkwardly. "Uh, no problem," you stammer, trying to compose yourself as you tell him your own name and introduce your friend. "Nice to meet you, James."

He flashes you a charming smile before gesturing to his friends. "These are my mates. That's Sirius," he says, indicating the one with the wild, dark hair who's already scanning the room with a playful smirk. "Peter," he continues, nodding towards the quieter guy standing beside Sirius.

Finally mentioning to the man who had been occupying your thoughts all day, he continued, “And your damsel in distress over there is Remus.”

Remus shoots James a playful glare before turning to you with an apologetic smile. "Ignore him, he’s been hassling me about it all day and has trouble realizing how unfunny he is.”

You shake your head with a cautious smile. "No worries. It’s nice to meet you all."

As the conversation continues, you find yourself able to relax a little in their company, their easy banter putting you at ease. When it's time to order drinks, you make good on your promise and treat them to a round, earning grateful smiles and a chorus of thanks.

As the night wears on, Sirius eventually asks your friend to dance, and James and Peter follow suit, leaving you and Remus alone at the bar. You exchange a shy smile, both of you still feeling a bit awkward after your earlier encounter.

"Sorry again about earlier," Remus says, his voice soft. "I hope we didn't ruin your day or anything."

You shake your head, offering him a reassuring smile. "Not at all. It was definitely an interesting start to the day, but I'm just glad everything turned out okay."

Remus nods, his expression grateful. "Well, thanks for being so understanding. And for the drinks, of course."

As you take a sip of your drink, you glance over at him, taking in the soft brown curls falling into his eyes and the way the soft lighting of the pub brought out the warmth in his eyes, feeling a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. "It was the least I could do," you reply, trying to keep your tone casual. "Besides, it's not every day I get to attempt and rescue a mysterious stranger from the lake."

Remus chuckles softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's one way to put it. Though I have to admit, you definitely made quite the impression."

You feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his comment, but you try to play it off with a laugh. "Yeah, well, I tend to make a scene wherever I go."

He smiles, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "I don't mind a bit of excitement now and then."

The warmth of his smile sends a shiver down your spine, and you find yourself drawn to him in a way you hadn't expected. Emboldened by the alcohol and the comfortable atmosphere, you lean in a little closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper.

"Between you and me," you say, a playful glint in your eye, "I think you would have enjoyed being rescued by me."

Remus's smile widens, shifting a little closer to you as well. "Maybe just a little."

You share a quiet laugh, the tension between you easing with each passing moment. It's a relief to find that Remus is just as easy to talk to as he is to look at, and you find yourself enjoying his company more than you expected.

As the night continues, you fall into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, discussing everything from your favorite books to your most embarrassing childhood memories. With each passing moment, you find yourself growing more and more fond of Remus, his easygoing nature and quick wit making it impossible not to smile in his presence.

"So, what's the most adventurous thing you've ever done?" he asks, his voice low and teasing as he leans in ever closer.

You tilt your head, a mischievous glint in your eye as you match his playful tone. "Well, attempting to rescue a 'drowning' man in my underwear definitely ranks up there," you reply with a smirk.

Remus chuckles softly, the sound like music to your ears. "I have to admit, it was quite the sight," he says, his gaze lingering on you with a mixture of amusement and something else you can't quite identify.

You feel the heat crawling up your neck but you refuse to look away, holding his gaze with a newfound confidence. "And what about you?" you ask, eager to keep the conversation going. "What's the most adventurous thing you've ever done?"

Remus leans back against the bar, a thoughtful expression crossing his face as he considers your question. "Well, going to school with these blokes meant getting in new kinds of trouble every day," he says, a playful grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "One time we managed to convince the whole school to dress up as our headmaster for the day.”

You can't help but laugh at the mental image. "That sounds like quite the adventure," you giggle, impressed by Remus's mischievous streak.

He nods, a fond smile playing on his lips. "It definitely made for an interesting day, that's for sure. And even though we ended up with a month’s worth of detention, it’s moments like those that I'll always remember."

Your hand itches to meet his where it is resting on the table only inches from yours, the warmth of his smile infectious. "I know what you mean," you say softly. "It's the unexpected moments that always seem to stick with you."

Remus's gaze softens, his eyes locking with yours in a way that sends a thrill of anticipation racing through your veins. "Exactly," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I have a feeling tonight might just be one of those moments."

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words, a rush of excitement coursing through you at the thought of where this newfound connection might lead. "I think you might be right," you agree, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face.

Before you know it, the pub is starting to empty out, the last few patrons stumbling out the door with drunken laughter. You glance at Remus with a hint of reluctance.

"I guess it's time to call it a night," you say, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice.

Remus nods, his expression mirroring your own. "Yeah, I suppose so. But hey, maybe we could do this again sometime? Without the impromptu lake rescue, hopefully."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you nod. "I'd like that. Just let me know when you're free."

As you exchange numbers and make plans to meet up again, you can't help but feel a sense of excitement for what the future might hold. Who knew that a chance encounter by the lake could lead to something so unexpected? But as you say your goodbyes and head out into the cool night air, arm in arm with your friend as you gush about the night you had, you can't shake the feeling that this might be the beginning of something truly special.

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luveline · 3 months

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hi honey bun! i was just having a thought about someone coming home after a night out, a little drunk and sleepy, just crawling into bed with the reader? n maybe trying not to wake her w cuddling and such? 🥺 im so indecisive and couldn’t choose between peter or one/poly marauders, but please also feel free to disregard if it’s not the one for you! kisses xx

Sirius tries to tell them to be quiet, but James is so drunk he’s going to wake up amnesiac and Remus isn’t far behind him. Sirius has a kinder buzz, opening and then closing the door for his idiots begrudgingly. “Shush. You’ll wake her.”

“She should be awake I miss her so much I’m gonna throw up,” James says, all in one breath.

“That might be the Guinness,” Remus laughs. His cheeks have gone pink. Sirius thinks it’s the cutest Remus has ever looked, and he gives him an affectionate smile that’s returned tenfold.

“Be quiet,” Sirius says. A yawn comes suddenly. “Go sit down and have some toast or something.”

“I definitely will throw up then,” James groans, bending over in the middle of the hallway.

Remus, despite being similarly belligerent, starts doting on him. “You okay?” he asks, bending down with a similar sigh of pain. “Come on. I’ll make you a– a glass of water.”

Sirius has spent the night with them, so he loves them, but he misses you too much to stay. He chucks his shoes vaguely in the direction of the shelf and starts up stairs. The walls move under his hand and the bedroom door proves hard to open, but he sees you and forgets that he’s drunk. You’re laying on your side curled into a pillow, arm curled around, one leg sticking out of the quilt.

Sirius pulls the blanket back gently, remembers he’s wearing jeans, changes out of the jeans, and slides into bed in front of you. He slowly, slowly, pulls the pillow from your arms, wrapping his arm under yours and behind your back, the other just shy of your face. Beautiful girl, he thinks, a little woozy from having suddenly changed directions.

You mumble and hug him weakly, fingertips tickling his side.

“For fuck’s sake!” James says somewhere downstairs. “What is this?”

“Water, Jamie,” Remus says, quieter. “You can’t have anything else, don’t be–” A sound and a laugh. “No, kissing me won’t change my mind.” More laughing.

Sirius tugs your hand up to smile into your palm.

“Home?” you mumble.

“Mm,” he hums, eyes closed and heavy but his arm awake behind your back, pulling you closer to his front. “I told them to be quiet… didn’t listen.”

“You…” you’re still stuck in the throes of sleep, and forget you’re talking. Sirius laughs a huff and you blink. “Okay?”

“Yeah. Everything was okay. Next time I’ll stay home with you,” he promises, rubbing his nose into your cheek.

“I liked being alone for a bit, but… missed you in the end.”

Footsteps start up the stairs. “Sorry for waking you up,” Sirius says.

“S’okay. Make them be nice to me.”

That’s easy. As the door begins to open, Sirius pulls you right into his chest, as close as you can possibly be, and shushes you gently. Remus’ laughing swiftly ends, and James says, “Oh no, what’s wrong?” in his softest tone.

James climbs over the bed still in his shoes. Remus grabs him before they can touch the sheets and takes them off, and then James crawls up behind you and hugs you, Sirius’ arms included. “Hi… my angel.”

You ignore him with a disgruntled whine.

“Sorry we were so loud.”

You whine again.

“Do you want Remus instead?”

“No. I don’t not want Remus,” you clarify. “I’m not mad at you. Stay here.”

Remus falls rather drunkenly in behind Sirius, forcing everyone to move over. You look for him in the tangle of arms and blankets, everyone Sirius loves rammed into one bed and exhausted.

“Is anyone in the mood for a kiss?” James asks.

“Too tired,” you mumble.

“Too far away. Make it up to you in the morning,” Remus says into Sirius's shoulder. Sirius is having a hard time following the conversation, distracted by the smell of your perfume and all the skin pressed to his.

James sighs forlornly. “Fine.” A pause. “Sirius?”

He snores.

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moonstruckme · 6 months

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Hi! I'd copy-and-pasted this request into my doc to write it, but now I can't find it in my inbox! I don't think it was anonymous, so if this is your request and it somehow got deleted, I'm very sorry! Thank you for requesting, apologies for the wait, and hope you like it <3

hi love!!! Congratulations on 1,000 followers!!! I absolutely adore your writing and if your requests are open I’d love it if you could right something about poly marauders with a reader who’s non-binary or gender fluid. Maybe they just got together and the reader hasn’t came out to them yet or something. Idk you get all the writing freedom, of course if you don’t want to write it’s totally fine!!! Thanks anyway 🫶💗🫶💗 xoxo

cw: marauders unknowingly misrepresent reader's pronouns+gender

poly!marauders x nb!reader ♡ 1.1k words

“Sirius, no.” Remus rubs at his temples. “I will not mar you with a tattoo gun you bought from some bloke on the street.”

“Oh, don’t be such a wuss,” Sirius complains, sitting spread out on his bed. “It'll be fun, you can all do it!”

“I’m on board,” James says from his own bed. He’s levitating his shoes about the room idly. “Hey Pads, can we draw anything we want?”

Sirius ponders this for a moment. “If you do a dick, it has to be small, and I’m putting an arrow with your name next to it.”

James’ smile fades, and he lets the shoes drop. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know,” you say to Remus, looking up at him from your chosen spot on the floor of their dorm. “It’s his body, I say let him cover it in shitty tattoos if that’s what he wants.”

“Yes!” Sirius hops down from his bed to throw an arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your cheek. “That’s what I’m talking about, that’s my girl!”

You’d begun to glow at his over-the-top praise, but you dim at the last bit. Sirius must feel it; he looks over at you quizzically as Remus says for the fifth time, “That’s fine, but I won’t have anything to do with it.”

“Well, it’ll…” Sirius’ eyebrows furrow as he continues to watch you. You try to bury your discontent where he can’t see it, but once he catches a whiff of melancholy he becomes a dog with a bone. The levity slowly leeches from his voice. “It’ll be more fun if you all do it…Sorry, sweetheart, is everything alright?”

You don’t want the attention, but you can’t bring yourself to lie. “I didn’t mean to distract you,” you say softly, shoulders hunching forward. “Keep going.”

“No, that’s alright.” His slender fingers squeeze at your shoulder like he can tell you need the comfort. “It’s not actually important. What’s on your mind?”

You want to tell him. You want to tell all of them, you have for weeks, but is there ever a right time? When the boys had first asked you out, it felt too abrupt to say anything, like you were making a big deal out of nothing because they didn’t even know you all that well. But now you’ve turned serious faster than you could’ve seen coming, and they feel like they do know you that well. And the longer you go without telling them, the more like you feel like you’re keeping some dirty secret.

You should have just corrected them the first time they’d gotten your pronouns wrong. Each time feels like someone’s chipping away at your heart with a toothpick, the pain lessened by your surety in their good intentions but still very much there. It’s almost worse, now, to be on the precipice of falling in love with people who you don’t feel really know you, and it’s all your own fault.

This isn’t how you’d imagined the conversation coming about, but it might be the best chance you get for a while.

“I, uh.” You clear your throat, unsure if you should move out from under Sirius’ arm for this conversation but really not wanting to. “I don’t…listen, it’s not your fault, but I don’t really like it when you call me your girl.”

Sirius lets his arm drop to look at you properly, hurt flashing across his features. You take his hand, selfish thing that you are. “I mean it, it’s really not your fault.” It’s more plea than promise. “It’s just that I don’t—I don’t really see myself as a girl. I’m sorry.”

You watch confusion take hold in Sirius’ expression before letting your eyes flit to the other boys. James looks tentatively like he’s beginning to understand, and Remus’ face is carefully controlled. He leans his elbows on his knees, looking down at you.

“What do you mean by that, honey?”

You know the endearment is meant to soften the question, but you get all tense around the middle anyway.

“Just that…” You swallow, and James offers you a small smile of encouragement. “I don’t really see myself as any gender. It’s…it’s called nonbinary, I don’t know if you might’ve heard of it before? I’m really sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

“Hey, that’s alright.” James kicks a foot out from his bed, nudging your leg gently. “I’m really glad you told us, angel. Thank you.”

You try to return his smile, chewing your lip.

“Merlin, I thought you meant you didn’t want to be our girl,” Sirius sighs, bumping your shoulder with his. “That would have been unacceptable. You can be our something-else, though, if you like.”

This is going well, you tell yourself. They’re being as kind as you’d always expected. Still, you don’t feel like they fully understand what you’re so clumsily trying to tell them.

“I get it if this changes things for you,” you say, and when you lean away from Sirius’ touch, he doesn’t chase you. “I know this is…you signed on for a girlfriend, not this.”

The gentle smile drops from James’ face. His eyebrows twitch together uncertainly. “We…what? No, we didn’t…we didn’t ‘sign on’ for anything like that. We signed on for you.”

“Darling,” Remus says, in that careful, measured voice that you can’t decide if you should be nervous about, “I don’t know a lot about this, so correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the point that you’re still you? You’re just telling us how you’d like to be treated and understood, right?”

You take a second to run over his words in your head before nodding.

Everything about Remus has gone soft, from his eyes to the gentle uptilt of his mouth. “Then James is right. Nothing has changed. I mean, we can make any changes to our relationship that make you more comfortable, but nothing about how much we care for you is any different.”

“And look around you, sweetheart.” Laughter livens Sirius’ tone. “It’s not like any of us are only dating girls.”

A smile tugs at your lips. “That’s a good point,” you mumble, and he laughs, arm reclaiming its spot around your shoulders.

“Yeah, I actually do make those sometimes,” he teases. “Listen, gorgeous, I don’t think anyone here has a problem with you being whoever you are. Just tell us what you like to be called, and we will. And if there’s anything we do that you don’t like,” he adds, giving your shoulder a little squeeze, “you can tell us those things too.”

James nods, emphatic. “Exactly. We want to support you, angel. Thanks for telling us, but just keep talking to us when you can, okay?”

You have to bite down on your lip to contain the full scope of your smile. “Okay,” you promise him, overflowing with a gratitude that feels a lot like love. “Thanks. You guys are too sweet to me.”

Remus makes a pfft sound. “Dove, I cannot believe that is your standard for sweetness. You’ve set the bar far too low.”

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hauntedwitch04 · 1 year

Text

You can call me Daddy

Rockstar! Remus Lupin x Reader

Words: about 1.8k words

Warnings: smutty remmy, sexy rockstar, dirty talk and remus fucking lupin that is alreadya a warning himself.

Author's note: I'm writing something like five fanfiction at the same time, but I had this idea and I couldn't not write this down. I love the idea if the Maraurders as a band (like I think they are preatty much the copy of the Maneskin that I LOVE so...) and I LOVE BASSIST REMUS, so here for you our sexy Moony

Requests are open I Ask

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You still don't know how the with your friend managed to get into this party, but you know for sure that this is a night to remember.

Through some friends of hers, she managed to find out that there was going to be a birthday party of some super-rich celebrity at a mansion in Los Angeles, and after some research and figuring out where it was, we managed to get in, making believe that we were up-and-coming Versace models and that we had been invited to the party at the last minute and had not been put on the list. The guard looked at us carefully and then let us through, and you couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. As soon as you walked in you looked around and couldn't hold back your astonishment.

The mansion is beautiful, huge and full of lights and smoke machines that create a magical and surreal atmosphere. Music and people fill the room until you almost burst, but you can't help but move in time to the music as the alcohol flows through your veins. You down drink after drink, without realizing it, the important thing is to have a good time.You find yourself dancing back to back with actors or singing songs at the top of your lungs with important TV hosts, before you realize that all this crowd and the air heavy with smoke, sweat and alcohol is suffocating you, so you nod to your friend that you would go outside for a moment to get some air.

You walk over to the nearest French door, which overlooks a hidden part of the garden. As soon as you are outside, you lean against the wall and can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. You stay a few seconds in the silence of the night, taking advantage of the cold that seems to surround you after the incredible heat that the bodies inside that room were causing. You smile, thinking that at least here you can find a moment of peace, until you hear a voice.

"Did you run away too?" A boy asks, and you suddenly turn around and see him there, a little further away from you, also leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his lips. You can't really see his face, but you can tell he's a good-looking guy, tall and muscular as thin as he may look. He's wearing skinny jean pants, a Pink Floyd T-shirt, and a black leather jacket, with stupidly overdressed shoes.

"Yeah, the situation was becoming too suffocating." I shyly confess to the faceless boy.

"I understand you. I hate these stupid parties full of people, the situation always gets out of hand, and before long someone will get hurt, if it hasn't happened already." He complains.

"How come so if here?" You ask curiously, aided by the courage that alcohol brings.

"My friends dragged me along. If it were up to me, I would have spent this evening in a completely different way." He confesses, throwing his cigarette to the ground after taking one last drag. The smoke comes sensually out of his mouth, and you can't help but tighten your legs at that gesture, praying that he hasn't noticed.

"And how would you have spent the evening?" You whisper in a sensual tone, not knowing where all that brazenness really came from. You're not usually such a straightforward girl, especially when it comes to flirting with strangers.

"Well sweetheart, I would for example have a couple of ideas on how to spend a night with you, but they are too vulgar for an angel like you." He says moving closer, but still remaining in the half-light. I feel his breath close to my face and can't help but hold back a groan at the impure things those fingers could do on me.

"Do you really think I am an angel?" You ask as you move closer in turn, so close that your lips are almost touching. For a moment you think about how impossibly beautiful this situation is, a few hours earlier you were lying on the couch at your house eating chips and watching your favorite show and now you're at a party full of celebrities and now you're flirting with a guy definitely out of your range, and he's playing along with you. Life is truly full of surprises.

"Oh no you darling look like the purest of all angels, and I love girls who look innocent but are real demons in bed." He continues, moving closer , kissing your neck gently, leaving you the time and space to say no, but you don't want to say no, you want him and you want nothing more than to drag him to the nearest surface to fuck until you are voiceless with all the moans you will emit.

"Well I could always give you a demonstration." You answer as he continues his attack on your neck, and you run your hands through his disheveled hair.

"How can I say no to such a beautiful girl." He says pulling away from you. "But not here honey, there are too many people who would hear you shout my name, and that is a pleasure that is granted only to me." He continues, leading you toward the exit. In a sobering moment you manage to remember your friend and tell him you were going inside to warn her. He nods and tells you he would be waiting for you by the gate. Quickly you go inside and immediately find your friend intent on making out with a fairly tall blond girl. You quickly approach her and tell her that you would not be going home with her this evening. She looks at you and smiles before yelling at you to be careful and use a condom, but you are already far away and in response you raise your middle finger at her.

You see him at the gate on a blazing black motorcycle with a helmet for you in his hand. You put it on and cling to him as you get on the bike, as your excitement about what is about to happen rises and you can't help but get wet.

A few minutes pass before we find ourselves in front of the doors of a huge building. Quickly he gets out of the vehicle, having parked there in front, and we run to the entrance. The boy, still wearing his helmet, waves to the doorman, who waves back, and quickly we get on the first elevator we see. He crushes the twenty-first floor as you take off your helmet and realize something.

"My name is Y/N." You say confidently, looking at his face still covered by the black helmet. "I never told you my name." You go on laughing.

"You don't know mine either." He counter laughs as well, patting my arm, and you can't help but laugh at the situation.

"Of course fate is strange I went from lying on my couch in my pajamas to getting drunk with my friend to fucking a stranger." You say as you move closer to him, kissing him on the neck, gripped by a jolt of courage.

"And do you regret it?" He asks with a half groan.

"Not by a single second." You whisper, continuing to leave marks on his neck, as he had done to you at the party.

As soon as the elevator stops you realize you are already in his apartment. You quickly get out and he drags you toward the bedroom, taking off his helmet and throwing yours on the couch in the hall you pass as well. As soon as you reach the room his lips glue themselves to yours and a power struggle begins between the two of you. Clothes fall off like autumn leaves and suddenly you both find yourselves naked lying on the soft sheets of the bed.

"Remus, my name is Remus." He says panting as he kisses your breasts, reaching down. "But you can call me Daddy, angel." At those words you can't help but let out another moan, which you would be ashamed of if you were sober enough, but your mind is too clouded with pleasure.

His lips find the most delicate spot on your body and attack it like a child sucking on a lollipop, and the moans that seemed too loud before seem like whispers compared to those coming from your lips now. His fingers enter your vagina not too gently, and instinctively you cling to his hair, pushing his face between your legs.

"I knew that behind that angel look was the most beautiful demon." He says, returning to kiss your lips after making you orgasm, with still your taste on his lips. "What do you want honey, you have to tell me or I don't know how to help you."

"I want you, all of you." You say panting, while still recovering from the pleasure you just received. " I want you to fuck me so hard I can't walk straight tomorrow."

"Your every wish is an order princess." He says in a whisper before entering me with his huge cock. The pleasure you feel right now, you thought did not exist.

You continue fucking until dawn, rolling up on yourself and in the blankets, orgasm after orgasm. You fall asleep at sunrise in the arms of the unknown boy.

You wake up after a few hours, alone in bed, hearing the sound of a shower running in the next room, realizing that your lover has gone to take a shower. Still sleepy and sore from all that sex you reach for your phone in your jacket pocket and see thirty missed calls from your friend and at least fifty texts always from her.

Immediately you call her, thinking something serious has happened, but as soon as the phone stops ringing you hear her screaming in your ear.

"Do you realize what happened last night?!?!" She shouts like a squawking hen.

"I thought you didn't mind, you said you were okay with it." Confused reply.

"I didn't resent it, but do you realize who you slept with?"

"With...Remus?" You say, unconvinced by your answer.

"Yeah with Remus freaking Lupin! The fucking bassist of the Maraurders!" Your friend says excitedly, but you're already no longer listening as she goes on to tell how she found out, all your mind can process are just two words: oh fuck.

#remus lupin smut #remus lupin au #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin x reader #bassist!remus #rockstar!au #band!marauders #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader

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starstruckmoony · 1 year

Text

new year's day.

masterlist

pairing - james potter x reader

summary - the aftermath of a party at your flat with james.

trope/tags - lots and lots of fluff

word count - 1.6k

warnings - none

after parties such as the ones organised to celebrate the new year, no one expects to get woken up at seven in the morning by abba blaring from the gramophone. but weirdly enough, those things do happen. and more often than not, james potter is the one behind them.

the onset of loud music pulled you out of your rather pleasant dream that you had no intentions of ending so soon, and you slipped off the couch and onto the floor with a resounding thump. displeased groans came from the rest of your friends who were scattered around the living room - in armchairs, on the floor, at the window sill, you name it.

"merlin, what the–" sirius peeked his head from the behind the couch, and then disappeared again. then came a grunt from who you assumed was remus. those two must have fallen asleep on the floor.

"jamie, it's too early for this." lily sat up in the armchair, rubbing her tired eyes and covering her mouth as she yawned.

"has anyone seen my shoes?" mary peeked her head from behind the bathroom door. she had woken up a bit earlier than the rest of you. james shrugged, you shook your head no.

"your shoes? where's my sock?" peter replied in distress while he searched around for his lost sock.

"is that glitter?" you stared at the shiny mess on the floor in scepticism, and james hummed in response. you weren't bothered enough to ask who brought it, you knew.

it was an interesting sight to see... to an extent. everyone looked a mess, some more than others. and your flat was in a state that was no better than your friends. glitter and polaroids on the floor, empty cups and ale bottles, cigarette ash on the table, sirius' shirt thrown across a chair, and oh, mary's shoes under the couch.

it was one of those classic the party was great (but everything hurts and i think i'm gonna throw up on your carpet so i should better get going) situations. so, one by one, your friends left. you didn't mind, of course, you would have probably done the same if you were to attend one of their parties, but the nice thought of having somebody stay to help you clean up was occupying your mind. it seemed a bit too good to become true, which is why you were shocked to find that james was, somehow, still there.

"thought i could help you clean this mess up." he shrugged with a sly smile, and you simply could not hide your own. that was only one of the many reasons why you fell for james, and his strange thoughtfullness and heartwarming care for others, despite his cocky personality that often made people want to catapult him straight into the black lake. one would think lily would have stayed, but you assumed james had something to do with that. and especially after that cheek kiss he gave you after the clock struck midnight. it wasn't a proper new year's kiss by any means, but it was there, and it was significant enough to make you dwell on it.

"magic or no magic?" you shook your head no. no magic.

"right then, where do we start?" he began pacing around, his eyebrows becoming increasingly furrowed as more and more bottles and glitter unveiled from different parts of your living room.

"uh..." you trailed off. you did not want to start, that was the problem. but someone had to do it, and you were unfortunate enough to have it be you, "let's collect the bottles first." you said thoughtfully, and made a quick run to the kitchen in search of a plastic bag. you dug a few up from the drawers, and then handed james one when you returned.

with him helping you, getting it done was much was much easier and quicker, and you swiftly moved onto wiping the tables and picking up the polaroids scattered all over the floor. you snorted as you took a better look at one of them, the memories from last night flooding your mind. it was a rather interesting picture of a sleepy james on your couch, with you and sirius on either side of him, making ridiculous faces while most likely not sober.

then it was time to mop up the glitter, which was much more nightmare inducing than you had anticipated. it just would not go away, no matter how many times you brushed your broom over it. james noticed your struggles, and got rid of it with a simple flick of his wand. you shot him with a faux angry glare, just to have him shrug with a cocky smile.

you spent about two hours clearing out the living room, and were left with two full trash bags in the end. lowering down the amount of your usual alcohol supply suddenly started seeming like an option.

the only thing you had left was doing the hilariously large pile of dishes in your sink, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't think of just casting a spell and letting the dirty plates clean themselves.

"bloody hell, how much cake did we have last night?" james questioned, not really expecting to get an answer, slightly flabbergasted at the amount of dishes you and your friends managed to dirty.

"i stopped counting when i lost my second plate after going for a third slice." you scratched the back of your neck awkwardly. james wordlessly rolled up his sleeves and turned the tap on, watching as you did the same with yours.

a comfortable silence filled the kitchen, the only source of noise being the water running. you thought about flicking some of the bubbles into his face multiple times, but always stopped yourself in fear of ruining the calming atmosphere you managed to create. but it was simply irrestible. somewhere near the end, when most of the dishes were already washed, you decided to act on your distracting thoughts, and splashed water into his face.

"oi!" james' countless hours of quidditch training sometimes came in handy with things other than the said sport. the man was able to think faster than most people you knew, so he immediately flicked some of the soap bubbles from his hand towards you. you mirrored his actions, and then he did it again. it didn't take long for it to turn into a playful fight between the two of you. in mere seconds, bubbles were flying around in the air, your sweaters became soaked, but you were too lost in your little game to let it stop you.

you dodged getting water thrown in your face rather successfully, and bolted out of the kitchen when james reached for you. laughter rang through the entire flat as he chased you around, jumping over armchairs and almost tripping over your tiny sofa. but he caught up with you eventually. his arms locked around your waist, and he swiftly turned you so that you were facing each other.

you laughed in surprise, feeling your face beginning to flush as you realised that he had no intent of taking his hands off of you anytime soon. if that's how he wanted to play, then fine, you could do it too. you locked your arms behind his neck, biting back a giggle when a light shade of pink covered his cheeks.

james was never too secretive about his feelings for you, his ridiculously large ego and amount confidence simply would not let him do that, but you hadn't ever given it much thought. until now. his eyes trailed over to your lips, and you followed the way to his with your own. he then looked back up at you, as if he was asking for permission to kiss you with that shy glance.

you considered teasing him a little at first, but then gave into your desires, kissing him before he was able to process what was happening. you often imagined what it would be like to kiss james potter, never, ever thinking that it would actually happen. and it was doing things to you.

he responded to it without hesitation, slightly tightening his grip you. he kissed you with so much care, like it was his way of showing you that he has been wanting to do it for quite a while now. and it was pretty easy to tell, judging by the way you could feel him smile against your lips. you pulled him closer, if it was even possible at that point, causing a little grunt to erupt from him. the noise drew giggles from both of you, but you had no plans of pulling away from him just yet.

it was when you were forced to pull apart for air that you stopped, laughing as if these were your first times kissing somebody.

"you could've easily done that hours ago." you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

"oh merlin, i know," he shook his head, but didn't seem too disappointed with himself. you squinted your eyes at him curiously, "but i think i like it better this way." he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, smiling foolishy at you.

and yeah, it kind of was better that way. he may not have had the courage to actually kiss you when the clock struck midnight, but he remained determined to do it, one way or another. and then, well, he did, and sharing those little moments with him in the past hours of the morning most definitely seemed better than any new year's kiss anyone could have ever given you.

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter drabble #james potter headcanon #james potter imagine #james potter one shot #james potter blurb #james potter fanfiction #james potter fluff #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era #the marauders

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mybutcheredtongue · 3 months

Text

I'll Love You 'til the Grass Around My Gravestone is Deceased

harry potter timeline sirius black x fem!reader

CHAPTER SEVEN (see full series list here)

1992

You stand in front of a gravestone, the cold winter air biting at your skin and making you sniffle. You glance at the small bouquet of flowers you've left at the foot of the stone: lilies.

In front of you, the grave of Lily and James Potter.

Most weekends during the year are spent at Hogwarts, walking the grounds, working, etc. But on Hogsmeade weekends you choose to visit different people. Alice and Frank, your parents, Lily and James.

You kiss the tips of your fingers and press it against the stone, silently wishing them peace and hoping that they didn't see you trip over Dubh yesterday and bang your head against your bedframe, causing you to go pester Madam Pomfrey for some ointment.

You leave, apparating to Hogsmeade and walking back to Hogwarts. You're a little cold as you walk, but delighting in the crunching of snow under your shoes, delicate snowflakes slowly falling to the ground.

Hogwarts in the winter is your absolute favourite. It's so beautiful, with the blanket of soft snow on the ground, snowflakes fluttering in the air, and the Black Lake still and frozen. Your favourite is the joy it brings the students — running outside, laughing, throwing snowballs at each other and making snowmen...it reminds you of your school days.

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

1974

"Anyone up for a friendly snowball fight?" James asks the group, and you grin excitedly, glancing at Lily and Alice.

"Yes, definitely. I vote boys against girls!" You announce, eyeing the four boys suspiciously.

"What? That's not fair, they've got an extra person!" Alice protests, but you wave her off.

"And we'll still mop the floor with them. Let's go!" you take off at a run Alice and Lily quickly follow after you as they move away to set base.

The boys scamper away to a safe zone, Sirius and James building their lines of defense while Peter and Remus wave their wands to create snowballs, though Remus' are uniform and spherical and Peter's are looking much more ovally and tend to vary in size.

Alice rushes to fortify a wall, while you and Lily make your snowballs. You craft a particularly big one with your own two hands, intending to levitate it with your wand and hit Sirius square in the face.

Both teams duck below your makeshift bases, eyeing the opposition.

"Are you ready to start?" James calls loudly across the gap.

"Yup!" you yell back, two snowballs ready in your hand.

Chaos then ensues. Snowballs fly from every direction, and nearly every player gets pelted in the face by one at some point or another. You're determined to win over Sirius and you both eventually end up advancing out from the safety of your forts to attack the other. You levitate the large snowball you had made and throw it towards him with as much force as you can put behind your wand.

Sirius deftly dodges it, laughing as he does. You groan in frustration before getting hit with another snowball from the boy and you yelp, running towards him. You chase him around the grounds, caught between breathing and giggling as you desperately throw snowballs at him to no avail.

Curse his stupidly agile hips.

Once you're at arm's length from his back, you claw at the air closest to him and manage to trip him over, making him face-plant into the snow. You burst into laughter, looking down at his angry, snow-covered face as he looks back at you, and then, to your horror, he grabs your hand and tugs you down so you fall into the snow too.

"You idiot!"

"Hey, you're the one who ran after me, you mad woman!" Sirius retorts with a grin, snowflakes dancing over his sharp features.

"Listen, listen...don't hate the player, hate the game," you say, holding a finger up as you breathe out.

He scoffs, chuckling, "Yeah, yeah..." you lay on your backs on the soft snow, the winter sky already beginning to darken above you.

You sense Sirius turning his head to look at you, and you turn and smile at him, raising your eyebrows. "Take a picture, Sirius, it'll last longer."

Suddenly there's a loud click above you, and you move to see Bitsy, the house elf, standing over you with a camera. You and Sirius are well acquainted with Bitsy. She's always very chatty and loves it when you sneak into the kitchen.

You immediately sit up, Sirius following suit. "Bitsy?"

Bitsy grins, her big brown eyes scrunching up. "Picture!" she squeaks, eagerly handing you a moving photo, showing your interaction with Sirius mere moments ago.

"Bitsy, what are you — "

"Bitsy has found a camera, young mistress! Bitsy enjoys taking pictures! Look, look, see what Bitsy has taken!"

She pulls a tattered bag out from the bag of her pillowcase dress, shoving it into your hands. There are many, many photos in the bag. Most are of the kitchen, the other house elves, a few of what look like Bitsy's thumb, and of course, Bitsy herself. There are some other areas of the castle photographed, including one with a poor unknowing couple snogging in the background.

As you look closer, you recognise long, messy black hair, defined cheekbones and a chiselled jawline...

"Oh my — Sirius, you're in this!" you exclaim, laughing as you show him the photo. "Getting some action, are we?"

Sirius snatches the photo from you, bringing it closer to inspect and furrowing his eyebrows. "Wait, hold on, that is me..."

You burst into a fit of laughter and Sirius just scoffs, looking away from you haughtily. "Don't act like you're not jealous, love."

You roll your eyes, pushing him away from you. "Oh, fuck off. You wish."

♡*⁠。♡*⁠。

1992

"Happy Christmas!" You greet to those sitting at the table cheerfully on Christmas morning. The Great Hall is decorated beautifully with candles in the air, a large wreath on the door, the twelve Christmas trees up with twinkling lights and colourful baubles...it's wonderful. Thick streamers of holly and mistletoe are also strung alone the corridors. Not long ago, you remember Sirius pulling you under every mistletoe he could find in the castle just as an excuse to kiss you during school.

Even Dubh is in the Christmas spirit, happily following you down to the Great Hall, occasionally playing with strings of tinsel and streamers. Christmas Day is one of the few days were the Great Hall is not as full of students as it usually is, so she tends to be more keen to follow you down. Professor McGonagall quite likes her.

Of course, there aren't many at the table today. There's yourself, Dumbledore, McGonagall, Snape, Sprout, and Filch, along with six students, Harry, Ron, and Hermione among them.

"Crackers!" Dumbledore says enthusiastically, offering the end of a large silver one to Snape, who takes it reluctantly and tugs. With a bang, the cracker flies apart to reveal a large, pointed witch's hat topped with a stuffed vulture.

Dumbledore swaps the witch's hat for his wizard's one at once. "Tuck in!" he advises the table, beaming around.

You help yourself to some turkey, hearing Snape click his tongue beside you disapprovingly at Dubh, who's currently holding herself up against his chair and looking up expectantly. "You could not keep your incessant pet in your chambers?"

You fake pout at the greasy man, tutting. "Aw, Severus, she likes you!"

Snape scoffs, shooing Dubh away with a wave of his hand.

The doors of the Great Hall open again, and Professor Trelawney enters, gliding towards you as though on wheels.

"Sybill, this is a pleasant surprise!" says Dumbledore, standing up. You raise your eyebrows at her appearance, hardly expecting the all-wordly seer to bother herself with such a gathering. Or at least, that's what she tells you every year.

"I have been crystal-gazing, Headmaster," she says in her mystical voice, "and to my astonishment, I saw myself abandoning my solitary luncheon and coming to join you. Who am I to refuse the promptings of fate? I at once hastened from my tower, and I do beg you to forgive my lateness..."

"Certainly, certainly," says Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. "Let me draw you up a chair — "

He draws a chair from mid-air with his wand, which revolves around for a few seconds before falling with a thud across from you between Sprout and McGonagall. Trelawney however, does not sit down; her enormous eyes moving around the table and she suddenly utters a weirdly soft scream.

"I dare not, Headmaster! If I join the table, we shall be thirteen! Nothing could be more unlucky! Never forget that when thirteen dine together, the first to rise will be the first to die!"

"We'll risk it, Sybill," says McGonagall impatiently. "Do sit down, the turkey's getting stone cold."

Trelawney hesitates, then lowers herself into the empty chair, eyes shut and mouth clenched tight, as though expecting someone to smack her clear across the face. You'd nearly want to for the time she told you your hair would be grey by the time you turn 35 and that you'd lose your hearing within the next year. She told you that the first year you started working here.

McGonagall pokes her spoon into the largest tureen. "Tripe, Sybill?"

Trelawney ignores her, instead looking around once more with wide eyes and saying, "But where is dear Professor Lupin?"

"I'm afraid the poor fellow is ill again," Dumbledore responds. You felt most disappointed when you had seen the full moon scheduled, hoping to at least be able to give Remus his Christmas present today. "Most unfortunate that it should happen on Christmas Day."

"But surely you already knew that, Sybill?" McGonagall says, eyebrows raised. You bite back a laugh, catching McGonagall's eye and giving her a small smile.

Trelawney gives her a cold look. "Certainly I knew, Minerva. But one does not parade the fact that one is All-Knowing. I frequently act as though I am not possessed of the Inner Eye, so as to not make others nervous."

"That explains a great deal," McGonagall says tartly and once again you have to bite your lip to stop from laughing. There was a reason she was your favourite teacher at school, and there's a reason she's your favourite colleague now.

"If you must know, Minerva, I have seen that poor Professor Lupin will not be with us for very long. He seems aware, himself, that his time is short. He positively fled when I off red to crystal-gaze for him — "

"Perhaps it was because you don't foretell many positive things, Sybill. Last time you crystal-gazed for me you told me I was going to trip over my own shoes and land at the bottom of the Astronomy Tower," you chime in and Trelawney just wrinkles her nose at you.

"It has not happened yet! I see a great deal of pain in your future," she replies snippily. "You would do well to air on the side of caution."

You give her an exaggerated smile. "Thanks!"

"I doubt," Dumbledore says in a cheerful but slightly raised voice, which puts an end to the conversation, "that our dear Astronomy Professor nor Professor Lupin are in any immediate danger. Severus, you've made the potion for him again?"

"Yes, Headmaster," Snape replies.

"Good," Dumbledore says. "Then he should be up and about in no time...Derek, have you had any of these chipolatas? They're excellent."

The first-year boy goes furiously red on being addressed directly by Dumbledore, and takes the platter of sausages with trembling hands.

The rest of Christmas dinner passes semi-normally, as you dive into a chat with Professor Sprout about Christmas traditions you had as children. Then, when most are finishing up and full to the brim with good food, Ron and Harry get up first from the table and Trelawney shrieks loudly.

"My dears! Which of you left his seat first? Which?"

"Dunno," says Ron, looking uneasily at Harry.

"I doubt it will make much difference," says McGonagall coldly, "unless a mad axe-man is waiting outside the doors to slaughter the first into the Entrance Hall."

You nearly choke on your drink and can't help the laugh that escapes you. Professor Trelawney looks highly affronted.

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

Later that evening, you're sitting in your office, Dubh nestled in her bed, as you fill out the crossword at the back of the most recent edition of Astronomy's Articles.

There's a knock at your door and you toss the magazine on the desk, standing up and going to open it. Outside stands Professor McGonagall holding a long brown package.

"Minerva! Is everything alright?" You ask and she glances down at the package.

"May I come in?"

"Of course, of course..." You open the door wider for her to enter, gesturing for her to sit down as you take your seat behind your desk. She lays the package on your desk, looking at you through her horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Ms Granger approached me after dinner today, claiming Mr Potter had received this package this morning," she tells you and you nod.

"There was no card, no note, no message of any kind with it," she continues. "And I believe I may know who it was sent by."

"Who?"

She pulls back the paper, revealing a beautifully crafted broomstick, with an untouched handle and pristine bristles. Ingrained on the side is the word 'Firebolt'. It looks like it cost a fortune.

"I believe it was Sirius Black."

You look back at her incredulously. "Sirius? Why would Sirius send Harry a broomstick?"

"Perhaps it is jinxed? I'm going to bring it to Rolanda and Filius and see what they make of it," McGonagall responds.

You suck your lip, thinking intently as you look at the broomstick. "How would he even have bought this? There's no way he'd have been able to access his vault. Surely the goblins wouldn't be too keen on letting him into Gringotts?"

"You have no way of telling?"

You shake your head, shrugging. "Well, they do allow me to access it...but it has been so long since I last opened it that I wouldn't even notice if anything was gone. There is quite a lot of money in it."

McGonagall hums thoughtfully, sighing. "The goblins do not tend to abide by wizarding rules."

You nod. "I suppose you're right...but yes, get the broom checked. It's better to be safe than sorry."

McGonagall looks at you for a moment, as though reading your expression and you chuckle, waving her off. "I know what you're thinking...but we both know what happens to the minds of those who've spent time in Azkaban. Best to get it checked, just in case."

She nods wordlessly and you smile cheerily at her, moving to grab a teapot and two cups. "Tea, Minerva?"

She smiles. "Yes, that would be lovely. I do believe we have quite a lot to catch up on."

⁠✧⁠*⁠。✧⁠*⁠。

->-> read chapter eight here!

→ all kinds of interaction are appreciated! ♡

#sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #the marauders #marauders #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #angst #angst with a happy ending #fanfic #fanfiction #hp

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