Dumpyrosie - Tumblr Blog

women in uniform 😍

kitten i'll be honest daddy isn't sure he's cut out for full time employment

i have a question:

during the class reunion ep. in season 1, a bunch of pictures of the team were flashed on like the screen during the rememberance speech thingy (pics / spoilers under the cut). are there hd copies of the pictures online somewhere? because i am just a girl that needs would like a copy of the tai and nat ones please 😔😔.

let the light in

¬ summary: spider!lottie saves you from a criminal. established relationship but reader doesn't know she's spidey yet :) ¬ warnings: cursing, gun mentions (nothing happens), slight violence + injury. gn!reader ¬ word count: 2.5k.... i swear this was supposed to be a drabble

it’s a quiet night tonight. 

well. as quiet as it can get in the city that never sleeps. but you’re not necessarily in the city — you’re on the outskirts, waiting for a bus back home — so it's way calmer. you were visiting a friend, got a little carried away (see: watching three bad horror movies instead of just one), and now you're definitely gonna have to wait a while until you can catch a ride to the city. 

you sigh, sitting down on the bench. you wish you had lottie there to keep you company, but she had to stay behind and study for an upcoming biochem test. you curse her for being such a responsible student and you curse nyu for existing, and then you take out your phone because you should probably shoot her a text.

at the bus stop now :) see u soon, you write. 

you don’t expect her to reply quickly, considering that she usually leaves her phone in the other room when she wants to focus on something. you’re surprised to see her read it immediately, type for a few seconds, then disappear again. you’re about to ask her about it when she calls you instead.

“hard at work, i see.” you say in lieu of a greeting, and you can almost hear her eyes roll.

“i’m taking a break. don’t be a brat.”

“why’d you call?”

“i wanted to hear your voice. i miss you.” 

you chuckle. “it’s been, like, six hours. you’re ridiculous.” 

despite your teasing, you think it’s cute — and she knows that. she knows how easily you melt at her sweet words and soft smiles.

“well, i also wanted to talk with you while you wait. you know, make sure you’re safe. i don’t like the idea of you being out alone so late at night.” she argues.

“and that’s very sweet of you,” you say, smiling. “but there’s literally nobody here. you don’t have to worry about me, you should go study.”

she groans. “but this lesson is so boring. and i’m only revising now, anyway. it’s not that important.”

“lottie.”

“fine… but if you get kidnapped, don’t blame me.”

“as if you could do anything about it all the way from our apartment!”

“i would think of something.”

and you open your mouth to tell her to just go already, but your words die in your throat as you feel something hard and cold pressed against your back. the next voice you hear comes from behind you, not from the phone, and it's much deeper and rougher than your girlfriend's. 

“hang up. right now.”

fuck. did you accidentally manifest getting kidnapped? you're frozen in both fear and indecision, bar your shaking hand. was that a gun or a knife? you want to tell lottie to call the police, but you're also afraid of what the man would do to you if you did. what if he kills you anyway? fuck, fuck, fuck. 

“baby?” you hear her confused voice at the same time as he shouts: “i said now!”

you want to tell her you love her before you end the call, fearing that you might never get another chance, but you find yourself too paralyzed to speak. instead, you press the button and drop the phone, hearing it shatter as it hits the ground. you know she knows anyway. 

the man speaks again, and you realize his voice is muffled by what must be a ski mask. “give me all your money. come on.”

you shake your head, eyes welling up. “i don't have anything on me, i swear.” 

“don't make me hurt you. just give me your fucking wallet.” 

“please,” you somehow manage to say as you show him your pockets are empty. “i already told you, i don't have my wallet with me.”

“and i don't believe you. what about your bag?”

you feel your heart rate picking up as he gets more aggressive in both his tone and actions — you're going to have a bruise with how strongly he's pressing his gun to you. if he doesn't actually pull the trigger, that is.

you slowly reach for your bag. you really don't have anything valuable in there, besides headphones and a water bottle. maybe he'll be satisfied with just that if he's particularly thirsty. 

you open it up and shift it vaguely towards where he's standing. “see? no money. please just—”

you're interrupted by a sudden thwip sound behind you. weird sound for a gun to make, you think, before you realize it's not the gun that you heard, but rather what grabbed it. a thin, but seemingly firm, spiderweb-like fluid, swiftly tugging it towards—

spider-woman. holy shit. 

“have you ever considered getting a job? it's this thing where you contribute to society and get paid, instead of mugging innocent people at night.” she says, tossing the gun aside. 

your mind is still racing, but you have the common sense to step away from the guy. it's only when you turn to look at him for the first time that you realize he doesn't need a weapon to be able to hurt you — he's massive. and now, it seems, pretty angry too. 

“not you again,” he growls. “mind your fucking business.”

she jumps down from the tree she was in, elegantly landing a few feet away from you. her gaze doesn't leave him, however. 

“the safety of people who live here is my business.”

he scoffs. “what are you gonna do, then? arrest me?”

“something like that.”

he lunges towards her before she can make the first move, looking ready to strangle her. she's too quick for someone like him, though, and she dodges every punch he tries to throw her way. you assumed she'd immobilize him with the web or something, but then again, what do you know. maybe she's just too busy trying not to get beat up. 

they spar for a minute or two, the guy holding up better than you thought he would. you should probably run away or call the police (scratch that, she just stepped on your phone and you swear you heard a crack! in between all the grunts and hits), but you're so captivated by the whole situation that you can't look away. it's not every day you get to see spider-woman up close. 

she kicks his side and manages to shoot the web into his eyes while he's catching his breath. he winces and swears loudly, stumbling back. he's scratching at it, and you can tell it's very tough to get it off. 

“oh, fuck this!” he exclaims before she can do anything else. 

still functionally blind, he starts running away, slamming against you in the process. he's clearly not impacted by it because he just continues running off, but you are. it was too forceful for you to stay on your feet, and in a flash, you're on the ground, dull pain in your head from hitting the bench. 

“ow…” you mumble, reaching to touch the back of your head. 

you feel blood under your fingers. great. you think about telling spider-woman to call the ambulance before she goes to catch the bad guy, but she's hurrying towards you before you even have to ask. you can't see her face, but you can tell by her voice that she's worried. 

“are you okay?” she asks. “oh, god, is that blood?”

you hum in response, starting to feel a little dizzy. your eyelids suddenly feel heavier, too. 

“no, no, don't pass out. talk to me. what do you feel?” 

you blink a few times, trying to stay awake. “i don't know… i feel dizzy. and in shock. and it hurts.”

she sighs. “i know, but you can't fall asleep, okay? please. you'll be okay, i just have to get you to a hospital.”

“aren't you going to run after him?”

“that guy? no, i'll just find him later,” she turns to look at your bag. “do you have any tissues or something? we should apply pressure to— you know.”

“no,” you shake your head. “it's fine, i'll just…”

you try to get up, but you soon realize you didn't just hurt your head. you feel sharp pain in your ankle, too. you're not entirely sure you could stand up if you tried. 

spider-woman notices, and she seems even more concerned. “it's not fine. i'll carry you.”

“you can't exactly swing around if your hands are occupied.”

“then i'll walk,” she retorts, inching closer so she can look at your head. “are you sure you don't have anything we can use for that?”

“positive.”

she looks back into your eyes. “you're bleeding a lot.”

she's still for a few seconds. you wonder if she's finally considering the logistical nightmare that would be carrying you to a hospital. you wonder if she's just going to give up leave you there, bleeding and unable to move. 

then, she takes a deep breath and removes her mask, pressing it firmly to your wound, and you wonder if you've gone insane, because the eyes you make contact with are lottie's, and there's no way that isn't a hallucination, right? 

you don't get the privilege of processing this information, though, because the pressure is painful and makes you feel lightheaded again, and soon enough, you pass out. 

— 🕷 —

your eyes sting when you finally open them. it's too bright in the room, both because of the sunlight and because of how… white and clean everything is. 

so she did get you to a hospital. 

you sit up, beginning to register the dull pain that's still present in the back of your head. you look around, and there she is — curled up on a chair beside your bed, blissfully asleep. you smile at how cute she looks, but then you remember last night, and your smile is replaced by a tight feeling in your chest. 

she can't actually be spider-woman… right? 

you clear your throat, not really willing to wait to find out. you hope the conversation you're about to have will be less confusing than the thoughts floating around in your head. 

“lottie?” you call out. 

her eyes immediately snap open, then widen when she realizes you're up. she shifts in the chair, clearly nervous. 

“oh my god, you're awake. how are you feeling?”

“i'm fine.” you pause. “how are you feeling?”

she seems to stiffen. she just looks at you, as if she's trying to think of what to say. 

“you know, since that guy got in quite a few punches.” you add. 

she sighs, looking away. “i thought you were already passed out when i… when i took off the mask. your eyes were already closing.”

it's a confirmation, and you're almost surprised that she didn't try to act confused or change the subject. but it's lottie, and she's never been good at lying to you. 

(despite the fact that she hid her superhero identity from you for the whole duration of your relationship. although, in hindsight, there were a couple of times where it was your own fault you didn't connect the dots.) 

you shake your head. “no, i saw you.”

you can’t really read her; the look on her face — is it shame or relief? maybe it’d be easier to tell if she just looked at you, or said something. anything but the uncomfortable silence filling the room right now.

“i’m also fine,” she says after a few moments, “knuckles were a little bruised but i heal pretty quickly.”

you nod, relieved to hear that, ignoring how surreal everything about this is. you’re not sure which is harder to process — the fact that you had a gun to your back or the fact that the person who saved you from getting shot was spider-woman, who is actually your girlfriend. your chest feels heavy again. she finally looks at you, and you open your mouth to ask her something, but you both speak at the same time. 

“how did—”

“i’m sorry for—”

“you can go first.” you say, offering a small smile.

“i’m sorry i never told you. i wanted to, but it’s just… difficult to get the words out. i didn’t want you to worry, either, that’s the main reason. you already have enough on your plate.” a beat. “but now that you know… it’s fine if you want to break up. i lied to you, and i know it’d be stressful knowing this, so.”

your eyes widen. “what? lottie, i’m not gonna break up with you.”

and, well, you’re pretty sure the look on her face is relief now. 

“no?” she asks quietly, and your heart breaks a little as you realize she fully believed what she said.

“no, of course not. oh my god. come here.”

you shift a little to the side so she can sit next to you, and she does, albeit a little hesitantly. you pull her closer, enjoying the warmth as her body presses into yours. you slide an arm around her waist and pull her in for a gentle kiss, before putting your head on her shoulder.

“are you sure you’re not mad?” she asks.

“i guess i’m more in shock than anything else.”

she tenses a little. “i can’t believe this happened to you. i’m so sorry, i should have stopped him, i…”

“lottie.” you look up at her. “you did what you could. which, speaking of, how did you get there so quickly?”

she grins. “i have my ways.”

you roll your eyes, then close them again, burying your face in her shoulder. a few moments pass where you’re just holding each other in silence, and if you hadn’t just woken up from a coma, you would fall asleep on the spot. as it is, though, you just sit there, breathing in her perfume. 

“does anyone else know?” you ask after a while.

“not really, no. i didn’t want anyone to get wrapped up in this.”

“really? i figured you’d have laura lee as your sidekick or something. you know, have her pray for you every time you go out to do your thing.”

she laughs. “i didn’t think of that. it’s not an entirely bad idea.”

you weakly slap her on the arm. “hey, no. i’m helping you now. i won’t tolerate competition.”

“helping me? you don’t plan on getting a costume of your own, do you?”

“mmm, i was thinking more along the lines of patching you up when you get home. i like seeing you shirtless.”

she grins and pulls you in for another kiss, a little less gentle this time. she slides her arms down to your waist and you let her press your bodies together as tightly as physics allow, melting into her. you still have a lot of questions — both about the life she’s been leading behind your back and the life you two are going to have from now on — but they can wait. for now, you’re content with just getting to kiss her senseless until a nurse comes for a check up.

Regulus has a fluffy big very intimidating black cat, and everyone thinks he named it something pretentious like Caligula, Tchaikovsky or Ophiucus.

“Her name is Tilly, you stupid fuck.”

The way Nat looks when people are slut-shaming her breaks my heart because LOOK AT THE HURT IN HER EYES…

I think everything her dad has said to her is coming up in this moment. That shame and worthlessness is all over her face for a brief moment before it turns to anger. She covers up that hurt and trauma right away and goes on the defense and lashes out because she has never had the safety of being able to show her vulnerability…

STOP SHAMING HER SHE IS TRAUMATIZED AND SHE IS BABY AND SHE NEEDS SOMEONE TO UNDERSTAND THAT THERE IS SO MUCH SOFTNESS UNDERNEATH THAT ABRASIVE FRONT SHE PUTS ON

Remus betrays Sirius for a cuddle and a nap

poly!maruaders x gn!reader (but it's actually just wolfstar) | fluff | 191 words cw: none

“Look Moons, the babies are sleeping.”

Remus raises his gaze from his book to see his two lovers snuggled up with one another on the couch. James lay on his back, one arm cushioning his head and the other holding you to his chest. He’s snoring, as he does, and your head rises and falls to the rhythm of his breaths.

Remus claps his book shut and hands it to Sirius curled up beside him. Sirius’ brows furrow as if he were presented with an alien object, which- well, perhaps he was. He’s soon distracted when Remus stands from the armchair- his boyfriend whines and grabs at him- and moseys across the living room. Despairingly, Sirius watches as Remus slides his arm under James’ body and adds his own legs to the entanglement of limbs.

“Moony- Moony!” Sirius whisper-shouts, upper body splayed pathetically on the floor. “Moony come here; I’m cold; there’s no space for you anyway.”

“Nonsense.” Remus replies, as his entire butt falls off the edge of the couch.

Sirius huffs indignantly. He glares a moment before opening Remus’ book, tossing the bookmark but noting the page number. “Traitor.”

masterlist

it's me. i'm sirius.

sirius likes being kissed on his forehead.

it makes him feel appreciated and seen, something he wanted to be long time ago at his family's home. the gesture itself is so kind and warm to him, he likes closing his eyes to live through the moment.

the first time you kissed sirius on his forehead, he almost teared up.

you were smiling, a soft sound came from your lips. the movie you were watching has been long forgotten by sirius, he was busy listening your heartbeat from his place on your chest. your fingers played with his thick curls, you kept your eyes on the screen.

sirius was curled up on your side, his face was buried closer to your neck. he decided he liked the intimacy he had with you, he didn't feel shy or upset about how he wanted to be close to you every minute. he made a little sound of deep breath, your perfume covered his senses.

you looked down, pushed his hair back with gentle fingers. his eyes were closed, he looked peaceful. you leaned in slightly to press your lips on his forehead.

the kiss took longer than you expected, you took in a breath while your mouth was pressed on him. you were fond of him, you gave him a second kiss on the spot between his eyebrows. he visibly relaxed under the kiss, you saw how the wrinkles got disappeared. you kissed him again, on the same spot. sirius's hands tightened around your waist and he fell asleep with the weight of his blurry emotions.

ever since that day, you make sure of giving him a kiss on his lovely face any time you want. you enjoy the smiles he rewards you with. you enjoy how warm his skin is, how inviting. you fill the stolen minutes of a stressful day with kisses, firmly pressed on his forehead, and sirius gives in. he holds on to your waist, puts his head on your shoulder and waits for you to tell him how everything will be alright.

☆ study motivation (james potter)

+ super self-indulgent ramble because i too have just cried over an assignment i can't bring myself to work on. banner from cafekitsune

"i thought you said you had an assignment due?"

james stands in the doorway to your bedroom, toned arms folded across his bare chest.

"i do," you admit, not looking up at him. you don't even bother to lift your head from where it's resting in your hands, laptop long forgotten in front of you.

you know that your assignment is important. james also knows that your assignment is important, as you were complaining about it to him just the other day, moaning that four thousand words was an almost criminally unjust word count to request for one assignment. yet for some reason, you still can't bring yourself to work on it.

you're three hundred or so words in, and the stress is beginning to build. your mind is screaming at you to just stick it out and get your head down, but for some reason, you don't move. all you can do is worry about how little work you're doing, an infuriating cycle that you have no idea how to break.

james seems to sense your dilemma and pads into your room. he hums softly, resting his chin on the top of your head so he can scan the word document left open on your screen. an, admittedly impressive, essay plan stares back at him, accompanied by the beginning of your introduction. taking in just how complex your subject seems to be, he resists the urge to let out a low whistle or remark, not wanting to stress you out further.

you whine as his chin digs into your scalp, lifting your head in an effort to protest. james only grins.

"there, i got you to sit up, love. that's a start, right?"

"suppose so," you grumble, before wincing at your harsh tone.

you aren't upset at james, but annoyed at yourself for being stuck in a rut that should be so easy to get out of. the answer to your problem is clear: complete your assignment, and the stress will leave with it. still, the task seems impossible, and tears prick the corner of your eyes as the frustration builds.

"hey, hey, no tears, sweetheart."

james cups your face in his strong, warm hands as his thumbs delicately brush your cheekbones. he gnaws at the inside of his cheek for a moment, a tell tale sign that he's planning something, before he speaks up.

"okay, here's what we're going to do."

"we?"

"we." james confirms. "i am gonna go make you a cup of tea, because mum always told me that fixes everything."

your laugh takes a weight off of his shoulders.

"and when i get back, 'm gonna sit with you, and we'll get this done together. you already have your plan, yeah?"

you nod with a slight sniffle, and james presses a soft kiss to your nose.

"then we're already halfway there." james traces your cheek with his thumb once more before moving to stand up, chucking your chin as he does so. "give me two seconds, love."

"thank you, jamie," you say, unable to hold back a fond smile. "y'always know how to make things better."

james shrugs cheekily, sending you a wink and ruffling your hair. "what can i say, love? i'm magic."

— Annoying Serenading

remus lupin x reader

the marauders x platonic!reader

where James and Sirius decide to interrupt your precious time with Remus by serenading you both.

a/n: no warnings, just fluff, annoying Sirius and James, Peter done with their shit, and Remus being perfect. ( he’s an angry werewolf that’s also done with the two boys )

“Remus, can I borrow this when I’m done reading mine?” You asked the tall werewolf that was coming out of the shower with nothing but a towel over his slim scarred waist.

You had your eyes on Remus’s copy of Crime and Punishment. He had always preferred more intellectual books rather than your fantasy and romance novels.

Not that he judged you for it. He found it cute how you gushed over dragons and found it funny how you complained about the oblivious nature of the characters.

“course you can dovey,” he replied, rubbing a towel in his hair. “I thought you didn’t like books like that?” He asked turning to get dressed.

You sighed, putting the worn out book back on his nightstand and finally turning to him. “I don’t have an opinion on them and plus,” you pointed to him with a grin. “I’ve read Dorian Grey,” you shrugged.

Remus turned to you with a pointed look, now wearing his pants. “You said it was boring and that they used the word ‘languidly’ too much.”

You shook your head, “no, I don’t recall ever.. really.. saying that so,” you trailed off as he seemed to be looking for something.

“You must be wrong, the hell are you looking for memus?” You asked leaning off the bed and gazing down at him as he looked under his bed.

His voice was strained as he answered, “my red shirt,” he sat up to his knees and faced you. “Y’know the one with the little hole by the neck.” He gestured.

You let out a small ‘oh’ and turned to lay on your stomach, head resting on your arms and feet gently kicking in the air.

“Y’know you don’t really neeed a shirt.”

Remus leaned forward and rested his arms on the bed, leaning his face forward with a small grin. “How many times have I told you to stop taking my clothes if you're not going to give them back?”

A sheepish smile crossed your face, “as many times as you told me not to call you memus?”

“You’re wearing one now!” He pointed out with a laugh.

He stood up with a groan at his bad knees, “why do you insist on calling me that anyway?”

“I don’t know, it’s funny seeing you get annoyed by it.”

He nodded as if he was taking in your answer. “Y’know what I find rather funny?”

He crawled on the bed and you fell back as he climbed over you and started pressing chaste kissed on your neck.

“What?” You asked breathlessly, preparing yourself for more.

“This!” He tickled your sides earning a shriek of laughter from you.

“No! Stop!” You cackled maniacally as he held your legs down with his and dodged your arms that were trying to get his hands off.

“Call me my name!” He shouted and he paused momentarily to hear you.

“Memus,” you giggled, only for him to tickle you with new found enthusiasm.

Remus smiled widely and let out small laughs, contrary to your loud laughs.

“Ok ok! Remus!” You rested your hands on his bare chest and he stopped his tickling as you attempted to catch your breath.

You gazed up at him, small laughs still escaping the both of you as you stared into his pretty eyes and brought one of your hands up to trace his scar.

Remus suddenly shot forward and kissed you with such force and passion that it made you dizzy.

Your lips molded with his, his big hands went up your his shirt, and your hands busied themselves in his damp hair as his tounge fought for dominance that you easily gave into.

His large frame then nestled comfortably in between your thighs and he started moving his hips slightly, crotch rubbing into yours and unbuttoned jeans falling down.

“Merlin, you’re perfect.” He rasped.

Remus started trailing kissed down your neck, leaving darkening hickies in his wake and started sucking one under your jaw.

A small moan came from you as his grinding got progressively rougher. “Remus.”

His hands moved from your waist to grab your hands, pinning them down, kissing you— “Carry on, my wayward son!”

You both parted confused, breathing heavily at the dim sound of a radio progressively getting louder.

There'll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest.

Remus groaned in realization, letting out a loud ‘no’ and dropping his weight on top of you, burying his face into your chest.

“Don’t you cry no more!”

The door slammed open and Sirius and James sauntered into the room. Sirius playing the air guitar and James holding a large muggle radio, and Peter following, looking pissed.

Rene’s lifted his head and one of his long arms. “No! James, Sirius, get out!”

He earned no reply and you leaned to remus’s nightstand from under him and got him one of his shirts, knowing that although the boys would never judge him, he was never fully comfortable being shirtless around them.

“They’ve been at it all bloody day!” Peter snarled as Remus got off you and put on a shirt, simultaneously shouting something incoherent to the loud boys and making sure you were properly covered.

“Ahhh ahhh,” Sirius slowly rose on his bed, “Once I rose above the noise and confusion!” He sang with his arms held out at his sides on top of his bed.

James pointed to him, “Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion.”

The whole thing was very dramatic as the two looked like star crossed lovers.

“Pete, can you please get them out?” You asked sitting up and Remus threw himself backwards on the bed.

The blonde boy shook his head, “no, no! I’ve had to deal with that—” he pointed to the duo that now stood on Sirius’s bed together.

“Though my eyes could see, I still was a blind man,” the two stood holding hands with one arm still outstretched and facing you and Remus, serenading the both of you.

“All fucking day, it’s your turn!” He yelled and threw himself back on the bed with crossed arms as the two other boys jumped off the bed.

“I could hear them say, Carry on, my wayward son!” They belted out loudly.

There'll be peace when you are done

Lay your weary head to rest

Don't you cry no more

James decided to play air drums and Sirius chose the air guitar again.

“Stop it! James, Sirius! Get the fuck out!” Remus yelled gesturing to the door as you let out a breath and decided to lay back down.

Yeah, you and Remus were not continuing your activities.

Peter shook his head at the werewolf, “No, No!” He brought a rock sign with his fingers. “Rock on!”

Remus groaned loudly, “Peter, don’t encourage them! Are you bloody mad?”

Peter crawled to his knees, eyes wide, looking every bit like a mad man,“after being serenaded this morning with Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive,’ yes! Yes! I’ve gone bloody mad!”

You let out a loud laugh at that, knowing Remus slept over at your dorm the night before.

And if I claim to be a wise man, well

It surely means that I don't know

You decided to sing along earning another loud grumble from Remus. Damn them, he thought knowing that your activities would not be happening.

“But I hear the voices say,” you sang along with the two boys, James bobbing his head with yours.

“Carry on, my wayward son!” You all belted out and Peter sat back with a satisfied hum as he had successfully ruined Remus’s fun time, and slipped on some headphones to try and block out the noise.

Remus watched you three with a wicked scowl plastered on his pretty face. As you three pointed at each other with wide smiles.

“Don't you cry no more, no!” You all played air guitar this time and Remus could hear you imitate the guitar with your voice.

He finally let out a small exasperated chuckle with a shake of his head as James kneeled in front of you and played air piano with his curls a crazy mess.

all eyes on you !

jealous!perv!nat spies on u through the gym’s surveillance cameras and gets jealous of lottie ҂ smut with plot; stalking, masturbation, jealousy, clothed fingering, cum-filled strap-on use, angry fucking, dirty talking, creampie. . .﹙2.9k wc﹚

last month, natalie found herself in another serious predicament—her chronic tardiness had struck once again, with a tally of nine late arrivals in just a single month. the patience of her program's coordinator was wearing thin; nat's disregard for detentions had begun to frustrate her professors. her coordinator was on the verge of giving her an ultimatum: complete a minimum of 60 hours of community service before the semester came to a close.

however, the situation took an unexpected turn when the person responsible for monitoring the gym's security cameras during the third block suddenly quit without any explanation. coincidentally, natalie had a free block during that exact time slot. the coordinator saw this as a chance to teach her a lesson, as this particular block was when nat often hurriedly left campus before her lunchtime and returned late for her next class. it presented itself as the perfect chance for intervention. so, they offered her a deal: instead of getting in trouble, she could take over the job of the person who left, at least until they found a replacement.

at first, nat didn't like the idea. she thought it was dumb and a waste of time. plus, the fact that she wouldn't be getting paid for it bothered her. but she realized that if she got suspended, she was fucked, as it could ruin her scholarship. the only reason she got accepted into university was because she had a scholarship for playing soccer. so, she decided to agree to the deal and take on the job, even though she didn't want to.

however, her resentment and lack of interest in the job vanished the moment she took charge of the camera system during her first shift. a realization struck her: you were there. you happened to have gym class during that same block. the instant she caught sight of you through the camera feed, clad in that tank top and those notably short shorts, she promptly stowed away the sleeping bag and sleeping mask she had managed to sneak into her backpack. her focus shifted entirely to observing you.

the two of you were close. maybe not best-friend level, but definitely close enough to exchange texts almost every day and hang out pretty much every weekend. you’d probably be best friends if it wasn’t because of lottie, you’d be hers if it wasn’t because of fucking lottie. she seemed to always be around you, attending the same classes and sticking by your side during soccer practice. it felt as though natalie was receiving the leftover moments lottie didn't claim when she wasn't with you. yet, what irked her the most was  lottie’s obvious crush on you. the lingering gazes, the tender way she said your name, the subtle touches—they all fueled nat's frustration. the only thing keeping nat from beating the shit out of lottie was you; she dreaded the idea of you hating her.

today was like any other day. after finishing her second block class, nat proceeded to the security office located on the gym's second floor. positioned at the far end of the hallway, she quietly shut the door upon entering before settling into her chair. with a few clicks, she activated the surveillance cameras, and there you were—as beautiful as ever. by the moment you started stretching, nat was already unbuttoning her pants, slipping her hand inside almost instinctively. she was wearing a strap today, but didn’t feel like taking it off. instead, she maneuvered her hand beneath it and started touching herself. she observed the way you massaged your sore thighs from the previous day, the way you would bend down and display your ass to her, only her. her fingers started circling her clit faster and faster, and she started moaning out your name.

right when nat was about to reach climax, lottie unexpectedly entered the frame of the screen, giving you a warm hug. in no time, your hands yielded to lottie's as she took over the task of massaging your back. as her fingers skillfully worked to alleviate the tension in your shoulders, you tilted your head back, closing your eyes at the feeling. meanwhile, nat observed the scene with a puzzled expression on her face.

“fucking bitch,” she quietly muttered, withdrawing her hand from her pants and zipping them up, frustration and disbelief evident in her expression.

this event turned her off completely, so she directed her attention toward her phone, as she wasn’t even able to look at you right now or she would combust in anger. she got so immersed on her phone that she didn’t notice the coach pulling you aside and telling you something. it wasn’t until she looked back at the surveillance that she realized that you were gone. she checked every angle of the gym, every hallway, you were nowhere to be found—and neither was lottie. right when she was about to slam her phone against the floor, she heard a knock on the door, and then someone twisting the doorknob open.

“hey, nat!” you said enthusiastically. “how are you?” you asked her.

“i’m good,” she replied colder than usual. she was kind of aloof by nature, but she was always nice to you, so you found it a bit weird.

“uh, okay. i’m glad,” you responded, “coach lost his stopwatch, he said you have more in here?” you asked her.

"first cabinet," she remarked nonchalantly, her gaze returning to her phone.

opting not to address her peculiar behaviour, you simply went on to search for the stopwatch. you opened the initial cabinet of the desk where nat had propped up her feet and sifted through its contents until finally locating what you needed. "found it!" you exclaimed as you retrieved the stopwatch and shut the cabinet.

"i'll see you later. enjoy your security endeavors," you added, a playful smile on your face.

"sure thing," she replied, her tone casual. "and you... have fun with lottie," she added, her words laced with a subtle sarcasm that was hard to miss.

curiously, you asked, "what do you mean by that?" her tone leaving you slightly puzzled.

“nothing, i mean, you two looked pretty close in there,” she began, her gaze finally meeting yours. “rubbing your back like that and all.”

a bit taken aback, you explained, "well, you know that lottie and i are really close friends, so i'm not sure where you're going with this. and why were you keeping tabs on us anyway?"

nat rolled her eyes and scoffed, "please, spare me the innocent act. you know exactly what i'm talking about. and besides, lottie's not exactly the most trustworthy person, is she?"

you felt a surge of irritation rise within you. "what are you talking about? lottie's been nothing but a good friend to me."

"look, i'm just saying," nat defended herself, "lottie has a reputation for being flirty with everyone. you don't want to be just another name on her list."

disbelief coursed through you. "that's ridiculous," you shot back. "lottie’s just a friend, and i trust her. you're just jealous."

"jealous?" nat scoffed. "why would i be jealous? i have no interest in you like that."

"then what's the problem?" you demanded, a hint of frustration in your voice.

"problem? there's no problem," nat retorted, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "i just care about you, okay? maybe a bit too much, considering it's none of my business who you're cozying up to."

you felt a mix of frustration and confusion. "nat, you're acting really strange right now. what’s wrong?"

"oh, so now you're the expert on how i'm supposed to act?" she spat out, her voice tinged with a sharp edge. she suddenly stood up, her chair scraping back, and before you knew it, she had you cornered between her body and the desk. her eyes, which were usually warm and inviting, now held a fiery intensity.

“well, watch this,” she said, closing the distance and pulling you into a violent kiss. the suddenness of her actions left you stunned for a moment, but as her lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t help but reciprocate the kiss with the same urgency. her lips were fierce, full of both frustration and a deep, hidden longing that you hadn’t acknowledged before.

your mind raced to catch up with the sudden shift. her lips were demanding, pressing against yours with an almost bruising fervor. her hands found their way to your waist as she pulled you closer, and her tongue caressed yours, sending tingles of pleasure up your spine.

finally nat pulled away, both of your breaths coming in ragged gasps. she searched your face for a reaction, as if unsure of what she had done or what to expect from you—but you could see the desire and confidence in her eyes.

“i bet you didn’t see that coming,” she remarked with a smug tone, her expression maintaining a serious demeanour as her gaze lingered on your lips once more.

“or this,” she whispered, her face descending as she placed a kiss along your jawline. her hands glided from your sides to the edge of your shorts in a tantalizing manner. “or this,” she continued in a hushed voice, her lips planting fervent kisses on your neck. all the while, her fingers delicately explored the border of your shorts, gently caressing and tugging; your response came in the form of a soft, involuntary groan escaping your lips.

but then, as abruptly as it began, she paused, lifting her lips from your neck. raising her head, she fixed her gaze intensely into your eyes.

"or..." her voice trailed off as her hand ventured beneath the fabric of your shorts, fingers sliding in ever so slowly.

she held your gaze for a lingering moment. with your consent apparent in your eyes, she wasted no time, delicately resting two of her fingers atop your clothed clit. in deliberate, almost torturous movements, her fingers traced delicate circles, her touch sending a shiver down your spine. her face drew nearer, nuzzling against your cheek, warm breaths mingling with the sensitive skin of your neck.

involuntarily, your hips responded, aching for more friction. yet, the closer you drew to her, the gentler the pressure of her touch became, evading your attempts to intensify the sensation, leaving you yearning for more.

"harder," you groaned, your voice finding her ear.

"no," she murmured, her fingers tracing an exquisitely gentle path along your already damp cloth-covered folds.

“please,” you begged, your hips twitching as your arms reflexively grabbed around her torso, attempting to get her closer to you.

“y'want me to fuck you?” she questioned, a sharper edge to her tone compared to before.

“y–” you started, only to be interrupted.

“you want me to fuck you, just so that you can close your eyes and pretend it’s lottie, don’t you?” she asked, the pressure on your clothed center increasing, her eyes aflame with a fervent blend of anger and desire, a side of her you had never seen before.

"no, that's not—" you began, confusion etched across your face.

“yes, you do,” she said matter-of-factly, her voice husky. “but i’ll prove to you i’m better,” she declared, determination evident in her gaze.

in a swift motion, she withdrew her hand from your shorts, abruptly turning you around. her nimble fingers hastened to unfasten her jeans and underwear, letting them fall to the floor. with equal speed, your shorts and underwear followed suit.

she slowly placed her hands around your torso and drew you closer, her strap resting right against your slit. she slipped a hand beneath your shirt, one encircling your waist as the other ascended to your throat, exerting a slight pressure as she drew your body tightly against hers.

she began to give hot, wet kisses to the exposed back of your neck before slowly moving on to your ear and nibbling on it. you could only groan in response, your fingers clutching at her forearms on top of your shirt.

amid her nibbling, she shifted her gaze to the surveillance cameras, and noticed lottie giggling in the background. her hand that had been tightening around your throat now withdrew, granting her more freedom of movement. she directed your face toward hers, claiming your lips in a demanding, almost bruising kiss. her teeth sank into your lower lip with fervor as her hips ground against your slick, moist center. it wasn’t until she tasted the blood flowing out of your bottom lip that she pulled away.

“i want you to look at her while i fuck you,” she commanded, turning your face toward the monitors by gripping your jaw.

“what? no way,” you retorted, swift in your refusal.

“i’m not asking you,” she snapped, her hands propelling your body against the desk, the monitors now in clear view. "is that clear?" she asked, her fingers tangling in your hair, tilting your head to face the monitor displaying lottie. you remained silent.

her free hand descended to her own strap-on, teasingly pressing it against your throbbing entrance. lowering her body onto yours, her heated breath whispered against your ear. "i asked, are we clear?" she repeated, her voice measured and stern.

“y-yes,” you gasped, the slight contact of her length against your slickness causing your senses to spin.

“good,” she murmured, nipping your jaw gently before rising, her hand sliding to your waist and gripping it firmly, while her other hand continued to hold your head in place. without further due, she slammed her entire length inside you, bottoming out and deliciously stretching your tight walls, which were too tight for the the size of her girth.

“shit, y/n, you’re so fuckin’ tight,” she groaned as her rhythm started to build. sliding in and out of you, her thrusts made your walls clench around her with each movement. you moaned as you felt the tip of her cock repeatedly stimulating your g-spot, prompting you to arch your hips backward in an attempt to take her even deeper.

“g-go rougher,” you pleaded, your attempts to go deeper falling short of your expectations.

“rougher?” she asked, a hint of challenge in her voice. “i’ll give you rough, then.” she released her hold on your hair, her hand finding its place on your lower back. with the other hand, she lifted one of your legs onto the desk, anchoring it there as she began thrusting with renewed vigor, burying her cock deeper and faster into you, the change in angle allowing her to.

“oh— ffuck, s’ fucking good” you moaned, your words pouring out in a rush as the sensation of her girthy cock gliding against your inner walls consumed your senses.

“lottie could never fuck you this good,” she declared as she increased her pace, the sound of wet slaps reverberating against the walls of the room. “could she?” she asked, the grip on your leg tightening enough to leave a mark.

“n-no, no, she could never,” you babbled out, slurring your words as you tried to answer coherently, barely processing her words. your moans grew louder as you felt her hand travel from your thigh to your clit, skillfully stimulating it while maintaining her deep thrusts.

“fuck, nat, m’ gonna cum,” you cried out in pleasure, pushing your body closer to her as the climax built within you. twisting your swollen clit between her fingers, she maintained her fervent rhythm, pressing you further towards the edge. her hand traced your waist, reaching your jaw, ensuring your teary gaze remained locked onto lottie.

she began to suck fervently on your neck, her thrusts growing more urgent. “i want you to cum while you look at her,” she commanded, prompting a whine of response from you.

“tell me i’m better than her,” she commanded, her hot breath teasing your neck as she marked it. “say it,” she insisted, pressing her fingers harder against your jaw while intensifying the pressure on your clit.

“you’re… you’re better,” you stammered, nearly incapable of coherent speech, a tear of pleasure tracing your cheek.

“better than who?” she teased, intensifying her suction on your neck.

“than lottie— better than lottie,” you finally admitted. that was all she needed to hear before sliding her tongue into your mouth and kissing you roughly, her tongue exploring your mouth deeply. her thrusts grew more aggressive, and as she reached her peak, warm streams of cum filled your tight walls, making you cry out in pleasure. your walls clamped down so tightly around her girth, that it was nearly impossible for her to continue thursting.

she remained there, her cock resting inside you as you both regained your breath. several minutes passed before she rose, removing her cock gently from within you and smoothly pulling up her pants, fastening them securely. at the same time, you managed to straighten up from the desk, struggling to steady your shaky legs as you pulled up your shorts.

"enjoy your time in p.e.," she playfully taunted, her gaze fixed on your wobbly legs and flushed cheeks as she settled back into her seat, an air of satisfaction surrounding her.

"will do! i'm sure i'll enjoy my time with lottie," you teased, well aware that your words would stir jealousy. with a mischievous grin, you snatched up the abandoned stopwatch and dashed out of the room.

"you'll regret saying that!" she shouted after you as you made your escape.

"i doubt it, joe goldberg!" your distant voice retorted, your footsteps fading into the distance.

Call me Yours – Natalie Scatorccio

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You’re in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: NSFW, no crash!AU, cursing, arguing, jealousy, makeout session, thigh riding, slightly toxic behavior?? but it wouldn't be a yellowjacket relationship if it weren't just a little.

A/N: Is it a secret relationship?? Friends with benefits??? I don't know man but they’re horny.

English is not my first language.

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio.

There is a party going on outside, students filling the rooms of Lottie's house with loud generic music playing in the background, but the small room you two were locked in remained silent, too silent.

“See ya’ in 7 minutes, ladies!” Van's mocking voice cuts through the air, but a knife could have done the same; the blonde snorts and you roll your eyes, fixing your gaze somewhere in the darkness so you don't have to face her.

“Ugh, how old does she think we are?” Natalie hisses, you can feel her eyes on your face, even though you can't see much more than the outline of her body at the moment.

You say nothing, arms crossed over your chest and a frown covering your face, Nat tries again:

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

“I get it,” you bite, just because you know her well enough to guess that she won’t stop complaining until she gets something out of you, “I get that you don’t want to be here, Natalie.”

She must finally realize how mad you are – mad at her – at the sound of her full name instead of the nickname that always seemed to be on the tip of your tongue, because you swear you can hear her teeth chattering when she shuts her mouth.

With a growl of frustration, you let your head hit the wall with a thud. Great, your night was already being shit, the last thing you needed was to end up playing 7 minutes in heaven with the person who was the cause of your bad mood. Simply amazing.

You see, Natalie had been acting weird for days now, randomly avoiding your company and acting like she didn't know you in the school hallways and being really rude to you during practice. Now, this might even be normal and acceptable behavior from the quiet blonde if you were anyone else, but you weren't. You are her girlfriend.

Are? Were? You don't know for sure anymore given the way she's been acting lately.

Maybe it wouldn't have made you so angry – confused? Yes. Sad? Definitely, but not angry like that – if it weren't for today, for the party.

You had planned to meet Nat at Lottie's party and corner her to finally make her explain what the hell is wrong, dammit, because one afternoon you're smoking with your girlfriend and friends quietly in the basement and the next she's throwing you daggers with her glance every time you open your mouth around her. Anyway, that's what you were going to do, until you found her in the Matthews' giant kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of beer in her hand and Kevyn Tan practically throwing himself at her, keeping an arm full of spike bracelets wrapped around her shoulders and face with heavy makeup too close to hers to be considered friendly, drooling for Nat like he's always done since you've known about his existence.

Now that really pissed you off.

Who does that sad, emo, pitiful boy think he is to touch your girlfriend like that? And why is she letting him?

You think she could feel you fuming as you stared at them from the door, because the next second she lifted her head and looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights, as if she knew exactly that she was doing something she shouldn't have.

Screw it, you thought, if she'd rather act like you didn't matter anymore, then fine. You won't be standing just watching.

You turned around and only managed to disappear around the house for the next half hour before Taissa appeared with a tired frown and practically dragged you to where the group had gathered with an empty bottle, because Van and Jackie wanted to play something – 'If I'm in this, then you’re too!’ – and well, fuck.

You two have been completely quiet for almost a whole minute and that it's eating you alive; Nat has always handled silence well, you haven't.

Fidgeting with the hem of your own shirt angrily, you huff and give up on the tough act, the blonde straightens up when she hears your footsteps approaching her.

"What is happening?" Your voice comes out in a shamefully desperate tone, “Why are you acting like this with me? What did I do?"

You can see her now, being so close and now used to the dark; her fists are clenched, Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on your figure. For a moment, you think she's going to keep her cold facade and avoid your question with some sarcastic response, she most likely considered it, from the way her mouth opens and closes for a quick moment.

She turns her face to the side, trying to hide, but you can see the difference in tone in the paleness of her skin anyway. Oh, she's embarrassed.

“Nat?”

She mumbles something you don't understand, then your curiosity gives way to the anger and your hands find her face, turning it so Natalie is looking at you.

"What was this?" You ask again, softly this time.

“You called me your girlfriend.” She spits it out fast as if it were just a single sentence, rolling her eyes at your confused face, “You called me your girlfriend to everyone when we were smoking after practice last week.”

Oh, you remember that, when Jackie decided to lecture you all about the smell of smoke that lingered on her clothes after she and Shauna decided to tag along on one of your hangouts with Lottie, Van and Tai, turning up her nose and talking about how you all – and especially Nat – should stop with this habit. ‘Jackie, stop bothering my girlfriend!’, that’s what you said. Is that what made you spend a whole week grounded in the doghouse?

“...And isn’t that what we are?” You try, unsure. This conversation is not taking a very pleasant turn toward a reconciliation.

Nat bites hard her bottom lip, you can see her struggling with the next words:

“It’s just… no one was supposed to know.”

“Oh,” you mutter pathetically, sounding very much like a wounded puppy, “So that’s the problem.”

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

You can tell she regrets it the moment she says it, grabbing your hands in hers as you pull away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you meant that then?” Your initial anger and frustration return with a vengeance, you move forward until Nat's back hits a shelf in the small room.

Natalie always does this. Avoid anything that labels your relationship as real; calling your dates ‘hangouts’, not touching you when there are people around, leaving your house before you wake up in the morning, avoiding kisses and caresses that don't initiate anything sexual, calling you ‘friend’ when you can see that the whole team knows this is not all you two are.

Still, – still – she always shows up at your house when she's upset; she doesn't like it when you miss your 'hangouts'; always stays close to you wherever you are together; gets mad when she sees you talking to other girls, even if they are nothing more than classmates; leaves marks all over your body, but doesn't let you do the same, spots and more spots all over your neck that are impossible to cover. People know that you're dating, they just don't know that you're dating Natalie.

And then she gets mad at you for finally putting a name to whatever this is and starts avoiding you completely, even though it's been months since it all started and you've known each other for years.

Nat gasps when your hands find her waist with a firm grip, bringing your lips closer to her ear:

“I’m gonna make you want me to be your girlfriend.”

You swear you feel the shiver that runs through her body. Nat smells like cigarettes and mint gum and it tastes the same when your mouth meets hers.

Her arms are around your neck before she's even processed what's happening, black painted nails playing with the hair on the back of your neck like it's second nature – and it is.

The way Natalie tilts her head to deepen the kiss and bites your lip hard when your hands come up to caress the skin under her shirt says your actions are much appreciated.

The husky, needy moan that escapes your throat when you realize she's braless, palming and massaging her soft skin brings a cocky smile to her face, she sighs, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back against the shelf in satisfaction.

Nat doesn't moan, not like you do. She seems to want to hold back as much as possible, taking all kinds of reactions from you and your body, but not giving the pleasure of having the same from her. You want to change this.

You let your mouth roam from her strong jaw to her pale neck, leaving wet kisses, bites, and marks. Many marks. You bite the thin skin in different spots, soothing the bite with your tongue, hoping for the spots to form and stay there for days, for everyone to see.

You lazily slide a knee between her legs when you feel Natalie try to turn you around to take control. You usually let her do it, but not today. She squeals in surprise and pleasure, hips instantly grinding against you.

“Nah-ah, Nat,” you cut, bringing a hand down to slow the pace of her hips, “I guess you shouldn’t take anything today, or do you think I forgot about how much you paid attention to that little emo bastard earlier, huh?”

“You hate him that much, huh?” She tries to say in a mockery tone, wanting to turn the tables again, but it sounds pathetic as her voice breaks later in the last words.

“Yes,” you say easily, leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder, finding her pulse point, “He was touching you. Touching my girlfriend.”

You bite down hard on the skin when Natalie turns her head to grant access and she moans, actually moans, fuck, you did it. A full sound, loud enough to make your pupils dilate until your irises almost disappear. This, this sound, you want to hear this forever.

It's been more than seven minutes, you think, or maybe our discussion was just really quick. You wonder if you would have time to take one of her breasts into your mouth, feeling the way she rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips against your thigh, now free from your hands, when you roll her nipples hard between your fingers.

She sighs as she receives another kiss from you, much softer now, more affectionate, feeling her hand tracing circles on your cheek.

A quick, loud knock on the door startles you both, making Nat jump and bang her head against one of the shelves behind her and knock something over, “Fuck!” She screams and you instinctively reach for her head to check for injuries.

You look at the source of the knock, it's definitely not Van calling, she would have opened the door at once just to laugh at your faces.

“Girls, time is over!” Jackie's voice sings on the other side.

“Ugh,” Natalie grunts, clearly frustrated at being interrupted so abruptly, she takes the opportunity to finally take a look at the closet as you head towards the door, “Is this some kind of pantry?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Rich people have so many random rooms scattered around their houses.”

There are loud whistles and jeers as you leave, half the football team gathered in the busy room and giving you knowing looks, you give Van the finger when she points out the traces of dark lipstick on your mouth.

“Were you guys actually going to fuck in there?” She teases, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

You open your mouth to retort – probably with something stupid – but Natalie is quicker:

“Fuck off Van, stop bothering my girlfriend.”

Van gives up the provocation, raising her arms in surrender and Nat rolls her eyes as if she hadn't said anything important, but you're absolutely frozen, listening to your heart beating rapidly against your ears.

Natalie looks back when she notices you standing still and snorts in amusement at your reaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with her.

“C’mon,” she says, “Let’s go, silly, I got something to do–”

“Move!” Jackie interrupts with an anxious tone, pushing you gently by the shoulder and bouncing on her heels, “It’s our turn.”

You catch a glimpse of Shauna standing shyly behind her like a shadow being dragged to the closet and Jeff sitting on the floor with the rest of his classmates with the most confused and defeated expression you've ever seen as Nat hurriedly guides you out.

When you're about to get into her car, Natalie surprises you, grabbing your waist with her cold hands and pressing you against the door, hungry eyes fixed on your form.

“I–” you stutter nervously, “I thought we were going home?”

Natalie nods.

“We are,” she agrees, “I just have to do you first.”

Well, maybe your night won't end as bad as you thought it would.

Sunday-Side-Up; James Potter 🍳

summary: you’re worried on the morning after a hookup with your friend, James

word count: 2.3K

warnings: pg-13 smut, sexually implicit content, fem!r, beefy/gym!james, pre-relationship, getting together, hurt/comfort(ish), fluff

note: this is technically an addition to Sunday, another gym!james fic that I wrote, but u can read it as a standalone if u wish! u can find the request here

An egg simmers and pops in the buttery pan on the stove, mirroring your calamitous heart. It’s all you can look at. A rogue explosion of butter lands on the skin of your hand, but you hardly even flinch, just staring and staring at the pristine yolk in its sea of bubbling white.

Back in your room, harbored by your stuffed animals and rumpled sheets, is your good friend, James. Though you aren’t sure if you could call him as such anymore, considering the less-than-friendly activities you’d partaken in the night before.

How had you let yourself cave like that?

Outside, the sun is calmly rising, paying no mind to your frivolous human thoughts. It scores over the trees surrounding your apartment and lands sharp and warm on your cheeks. You ignore it as best you can, putting all the early energy you have into protecting the little sun you’re cooking.

Your attraction for James was never much of a secret, nor was his for you, but you always assumed there was nothing to be done about it. He’s one of your best friends and most coveted confidants, and losing him includes losing the other two of him, too. It was a silent agreement, you thought.

Until last night, of course, when he’d finally broken and asked to kiss you over a box of takeout.

“I really can’t stand to be alone with you and sit on opposite sides of the couch and pretend that that’s normal,” said James, one hand fisted over his knee. “I feel I’ve gone mad, a bit, trying to dance around this.”

You’d have liked to say you found that a little bit dramatic, but you felt the same way. Being with James was like walking on eggshells, sometimes. Even though you felt quite at home with him, there were still boundaries to maintain. You constantly had to double back, to reel yourself in before you said something too flirty or touched him longer than was necessary. It was exhausting and disappointing. You were tired of being disappointed.

So upon your permission, James had followed you to your room, and he hadn’t held back.

You can’t say you regret it, but you’re certainly worrying. There’s reasons you had boundaries in place, reasons that both you and James resisted the magnetism that pulls you together, and they’re all in the wind now.

If you lost James, lost your friendship…

Carried away with emotions, you push at your fried egg too hard, shaking the buoyant yolk out of its membrane.

“No,” you whine, gripping the offending spatula in your hand. It’s all you can do to watch the yolk seep over the crispy whites surrounding it, spilling onto the hot pan with a sizzle.

“What’s a’matter?”

Your eyes whip over to the kitchen entryway, finding James in a sick state of undress, a pair of boxers low on his hips and glasses crooked where they perch on his nose. Like he’d gotten up to find you before getting dressed, hardly remembering he’d need glasses to do so.

You tell yourself you’re projecting, returning your greedy gaze to the sad situation on the stove. James’ broad chest and muscled thighs creep into the back of your mind for safekeeping anyway.

He comes up behind you, peering easily over your shoulder to gauge what the problem is.

“I broke the yolk,” you tell him, as if it’s not obvious.

James grunts darkly, as if to agree that this is a very grave occurrence. Still, his voice is as comforting as it is gravelly when he responds.

“Well, flip that one and it can be mine. I don’t like sunny-side.”

Turning to glance up at him, you frown. “I thought you did?” You could swear you’ve seen him eat his eggs that way before.

Lips pursing in a shy almost-smile, James relents. “Well, yes, I do. But not strictly. I’ll eat whatever—‘specially if you make it.”

You turn your frown back to the pan, saying nothing. James takes the moment of silence to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling your back flush against his bare chest. The sleep shirt you’d thrown on feels thinner than the broken yolk membrane, letting all of James’ warmth strike you right in the heart. It’s almost too much for you to handle.

Correction, it is too much for you to handle.

Reaching down, you peel James’ hands off of your torso, wincing the whole way through. He backs off, easily taking the hint, but when you glance his way he looks befuddled.

“Um.” James averts his gaze to the floor, clearly knocked down by your rejection. “Have I misread something?”

“No, I’m sorry, I—“

You sigh, realizing this discussion needs more attention than you currently have to spare. In quick movements, you flick the stove burner off and move the pan to one that’s not hot, and then you turn your full effect on James.

Standing in front of you, undressed and muscled and reproachful, James looks embarrassed beyond measure.

“It’s nothing you did, James, I just—I’m not sure last night should’ve happened, is all.”

Picking at your lips worriedly, you await his response, but it’s nothing like you expect. You thought he’d turn sly or charming, convince you that it was worthwhile. James’ eyes blow wide and concerned instead.

“You didn’t want to?” The dread in his voice is thick, knocking you back with the sheer force of it. You almost reach out to comfort him, but think better of it.

“James, of course I did, yes. I wanted to.”

James’ broad shoulders relax from their anxious hunch, but his guarded posture still remains.

“What, then? You didn’t enjoy it?”

You huff. “No, James. Will you stop putting words into my mouth? Of course I enjoyed it, it was—“

You pause, trying to describe exactly how it was, but then shake the entire thought off, realizing you’re getting sidelined. James looks hesitantly amused at your clear flush, the short reminiscing enough to fluster you.

“It doesn’t matter,” you assert. “We can’t do it again.”

“We can’t?” James asks, but it sounds more like a challenge.

“No, we can’t. It’d be irresponsible. There’s a reason we held off on this, and you know it.”

“I know why I held off,” says James, and he’s stepping closer, to your dismay. “Why did you, sweetness?”

Your heart lodges in your throat, set off by his name calling and proximity. Bum pressing back against the counter, you suspect the only way to ward James off now is with a long, pointy stick, threateningly waved back and forth.

“Because,” you start, mouth dry, “it would ruin our friendship.”

A laugh booms forth from James’ throat, making you dizzy. You can’t help but watch his chest shake with it, his boxer elastic slipping ever-so-slightly lower, revealing more coarse hair and golden skin.

“Well,” James says, calling your attention back to his face, “I should hope so. I don’t want to be your friend, love. I thought I made that clear last night.”

You open your mouth and then shut it again. This time, you don’t redirect your thoughts as they amble back to the way James touched you last night, to the overwhelming sensation of finally having him, of being had.

James’ hands find purchase on the counter behind you, caging you between his arms, and you’re sure he knows exactly where your mind’s gone.

“Is that what you want, hm?” he asks, voice rasping with pure desire. “To be friends?”

You swallow. James’ heady scent is spilling over you in waves, which you typically have no trouble with, but you're not prepared for your smells to waft off of him, too. One night in your bed and he’s covered in you, head to toe. You can’t deny how much you enjoy the thought.

He’s so fit. It’s all you can think about with his tanned chest in front of your face, his big arms skimming yours. You know James likes the gym, but you never expected him to look like this.

Now that you’ve touched him, it’s like a dam broke inside you for good. It’s all too easy to reach for him, brushing light fingertips over his soft stomach and his v-line, the happy trail that’s bewitched you.

Finally, your hands push up, up, up his chest, over his pecs and shoulders until you’re looking into his expectant gaze. Had he said something?

“No,” you mumble, voice distracted. “No, I don’t want to be friends.” An incredulous laugh escapes you. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” James repeats, grinning like a child with candy.

You run your hands down his front again, intoxicated with the feel of him under your fingers.

“I guess I’m just a little worried about how this will change things,” you tell him, anchoring yourself to his waist. Pulling him closer.

“It doesn’t have to change anything, if we don’t want it to.”

That makes you smile a bit, his talking about the two of you like a pair, a unit. Still, it’s misguided.

“That’s a bit naive, don’t you think? I mean, something’s changed.” You make a point to emphasize the state you’re both in, the proximity.

James grins wickedly. “Well, that’s the good stuff, love. I only meant we don’t have to tell Remus or Sirius, at least until we’re ready. We don’t even have to go on dates, if you don’t want. We can just be like really, really good friends.”

This simultaneously makes you want to laugh and cry. Your expression settles on what is probably pensive, or indistinguishable.

“I’d want to go on dates…,” you mumble, suddenly feeling very bashful.

James’ whole demeanor seems to flip on its head. Before, he was feigning casualty, like he’d be down for anything. Now he’s all business, locked in on you.

“Yeah?” James asks, his voice unbearably tender. His hands abandon the counter for your hips, kneading the soft skin hidden under your sleep shirt.

“Yeah,” you confirm, breathless. “James, I want this to be more than sex.”

Brows furrowing, James levels you with a curious look.

“Is that what this is about? You think I only want to shag you?”

Embarrassed, you start to shrink away from his examining eyes, only to remember he has you cornered. You settle for the alternative and shove your face into the crook of his neck, groaning.

“Don’t tease me about this, James. Not this.”

“Not teasing, lovely, no. I only want to understand.” James' hand takes up in your hair, spinning it around his fingers and releasing it again and again. His voice is a calm wash now, quiet and raspy. “Is that what had you so worried?”

Reluctantly, you nod as best you can without braining yourself on his jaw or yanking your hair in his grip. James clicks his tongue.

“Can I have a look at you?”

His hand encourages your head back carefully, until his hazel eyes have yours pinned under them, like moths under a kitchen glass. Your face fits between his palms, hot-cheeked and sensitive, hoping he’ll say something to make you feel like less of a fool.

“D’you know why I didn’t try to do this before?” James doesn’t let you answer, bulldozing right through with a nervous sort of energy. “It’s ‘cause I knew I didn’t deserve you. I mean—what?”

You can’t stop your laugh. You’re doubled over into James’ shoulder again, laughing like a prick while he’s trying to be vulnerable with you, but honestly, could you blame yourself?

“What are you talking about, ‘not deserving’ me? You’re so bizarre.” You pull back from him, rosy and amused. Despite being made fun of, James seems to be in light spirits, smiling along with you.

“What’s so bizarre about it? You’re gorgeous and funny and good for me and I don’t deserve it.” He shrugs. “Anyone with eyes can see that.”

“I’m good for you, am I?” you repeat oddly, feeling admittedly tingly and giddy from his admission.

“Well, yeah, love. You make me happy.” James’ voice drops a decibel, dangerously sweet and whispered close to your lips. “Even when you’re laughing at me while I tear my chest apart to make you feel better.”

That only makes you laugh again, and this time James presses his smiling mouth over yours.

You soak in his kiss, coaxing his bed-warm body as close to yours as possible until you’re two sides of the same coin. James pushes his hands further up the back of your shirt, relishing in the expanse of bare skin there, and you take his bottom lip between your teeth in response.

Heaving a sound between a laugh and a moan, James takes his bitten mouth down your throat, laving over marks he’d left mere hours before.

You tilt your head, happy to give him more access, only to find your sorry abandoned egg where you’d left it.

“Oh, we forgot about breakfast,” you stress, reaching for the stove with no real purpose. James catches your hand to bring back to your scene together.

“Forget about it,” he mumbles into your skin, “I’ll cook you som’thin later. Right now I want you back in bed.”

You hum, easily agreeing, though you can’t help your other needs, even as James hikes your legs up and around his waist.

“A sunny side egg, please? With jam on toast?”

Laughing into your mouth, James walks you both out of the kitchen blindly.

“Yeah, pretty girl, whatever you want.”

He aims for another kiss, hot and barreling fast around the corner into carnal, but you pull back one more time before he can get carried away.

“And James?”

“Yeah?”

You can’t believe how handsome and strong he is, or that his strength and good looks are quickly becoming yours to enjoy. Splaying a wide hand over his cheek, you make sure he catches the full weight of your next statement, sweetly murmured into his reddened lips.

“You make me happy, too.”

James’ responding smile outshines the rising sun.

+

thank you for reading! xx

masterlist

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 — marlene mckinnon

Pairing: Marlene Mckinnon x fem!reader

Summary: Marlene and you are friends with benefits. Or are you?

Word count: 1.9k

Warning: angst (w/ happy ending)

As the team is celebrating their victory, Marlene has been looking for you everywhere but hasn't been able to find you. She is feeling a little tired and a bit disappointed that you're not here to celebrate with her, you two were friends you know. Most of the time. But then she finally sees you across the room and decides it's the perfect moment to surprise you with a little intimate time. Marlene approaches you with a mischievious smile. She seems a little flushed and her cheeks are a bit flushed. She gets right to the point and pulls you aside to a quiet area. You can tell exactly what she wants and your breath catches in your throat at the prospect. "I've been looking for you everywhere," she whispers, her breath hitting your neck. You feel her warmth as she pulls you close to her. You can feel the heat building up between your bodies as she looks directly into your eyes. "I have something special for you," she says, her voice trembling with desire. Marlene pulls you up against her, caressing your body in a sensual way. Her touch is soft and gentle, but also has a hint of intensity that makes your heart beat faster. You can feel her breath on your neck, your skin trembling with arousal as she looks at you with a fierce stare. You feel like you are in the presence of a force of nature, someone who can't be stopped from getting what she wants. “We should be at the party, Marls.” you caressed your hand on her face.

“And who said that?” Marlene's hands caress your body, traveling up and down and exploring every inch of you. Her fingers run down your spine, her soft touch sending a shiver of arousal through you. She is breathing heavy, her body pressed close to yours, but you feel no tension between the two of you. The pressure between you is palpable, building up and up like a wave of satisfaction about to break. "Just let yourself go and let me take care of you," Marlene says softly. Her hands brush against your skin, her touch making the atmosphere between you and her feel like a cocoon of pure bliss. You could never resist her. That’s why you were in that situation. At the beginning, you weren’t sure that you have feelings for her and you thought it was “just sex”. But it wasn’t like that. You were in love with her, but she wasn’t. You didn’t want to end this because you wanted her to touch you and make love with you, but this situation was keeping to give you pain and suffering.

Marlene kept touching you, her hands sliding across the muscles of your back, her gentle fingers caressing every inch of your body. The warmth feels intoxicating and you start to lose your train of thought, your mind filled with only one thing: Marlene's touch. Marlene's touches become more insistent, her hands sliding up and down your body, the heat between you growing to almost unbearable levels. Her breathing becomes heavier and she pulls you in for a deep kiss, her tongue exploring your mouth with a sense of familiarity that only comes from having done this a thousand times before.

"I can't do this anymore," you say softly, looking away from Marlene with a sense of regret and sadness. Marlene is taken aback by your sudden change in tone, her hands dropping to her side. Marlene stops and pulls back, surprised by your sudden change in tone. She looks at you with a concerned look on her face, her hand brushing against your cheek. "What's wrong?" she asks, her voice full of concern. You look up at Marlene, your eyes filled with sadness and remorse. You take a deep breath and look away again. "I...I'm sorry, I just can't." you didn’t want to admit that you were in love with her. Marlene was confused, her tone becoming more sympathetic as she sees the pain you're feeling. She reaches out to hold your hand in hers, her warm touch trying to give you some comfort. “I thought you wanted that..” Marlene's touch made the whole situation even more confusing. Her kindness and sympathy made it difficult for you to stick to your decision. You felt like she was pulling you in and you wanted to resist, but the warmth of her touch was so alluring, so inviting. Marlene's eyes met yours, a glimmer of hope and sadness in her gaze. "You don't want this?" she asked softly, holding your hand tighter. Marlene stares at you with an inquisitive gaze, unable to understand why you've suddenly decided to change directions. She seems disappointed as she steps back from you. She looks at you with an expression of hope and concern at the same time. When she sees the sadness in your eyes, she feels her heartbeat quicken. She doesn't know how to respond to this new development. She doesn't know if you're simply hesitant or afraid, but she doesn't want to push you away. She is feeling a mix of emotions herself and she doesn't like the idea of being rejected. As Marlene takes a step back, you feel your heart sink. You feel an overwhelming sense of sadness and regret, thinking about the wonderful times you have actually had together. The chemistry between you and Marlene has been one-of-a-kind and now, suddenly, you're throwing it all away. The thought of losing her fills you with overwhelming anguish, but you know you can't carry on like this.

“This is wrong.” you could just say that. You wanted to scream that you love her, but you couldn’t. You knew Marlene wasn’t that kind of a person. You wish she were.. The idea of telling Marlene your true feelings was unbearable. For so long, you had kept your thoughts and feelings to yourself, afraid of being rejected. You were tired of being silent and hiding your feelings. You wanted to scream the truth and show Marlene just how much she means to you. But you were also terrified of losing the special connection you shared with Marlene, one that was so unique and filled with passion and excitement.

Marlene stares at you in disbelief, her anger and fear mounting with every word you say. She feels a wave of frustration and sadness washing over her, filled with confusion and disbelief. She doesn't understand what's going on, but she knows that something is wrong. A part of her wants to lash out, but a deeper part of her is frightened by what is happening. She wants to shout back and demand answers, but she is afraid of what she will find. "What the hell are you talking about?!" Marlene's words erupt from her in a burst of fury, the frustration and rage building up inside her until she could no longer keep it bottled up. She stares at you with a look of anger and anger, her eyes bearing deep into yours. “We hooked up every damn night and suddenly you decided it’s wrong?” Marlene stares at you in disbelief, her anger and fear mounting with every word you say. She feels a wave of frustration and sadness washing over her, filled with confusion and disbelief. She doesn't understand what's going on, but she knows that something is wrong. A part of her wants to lash out, but a deeper part of her is frightened by what is happening. She wants to shout back and demand answers, but she is afraid of what she will find.

"It's not that simple," you say, your stomach knotting with a sense of fear and guilt. You can feel your face flushing with humiliation "It's not just the sex or the hooking up. I've developed feelings for you. I know that sounds stupid," you continue, your words stumbling over themselves as you stare directly into her eyes. "I know it's just casual and it was never supposed to be more than that. But I've started liking you and I don't know what to do now." You feel completely overwhelmed by the situation, your emotions running wild as you try to explain yourself to her. "You probably think I'm a fool for ever coming to you with feelings," you say, your heart pounding in your chest. "I've tried to keep these feelings buried, but I can't hide them anymore. I want more than just physical intimacy. I want all of you. I want to be your partner and not just a hookup. But i know you don’t want that, you have always been clear with me.”

Marlene listens to you, a look of shock and surprise filling her face. Her anger has dissipated and is now replaced by a deep sense of sadness as she realizes that you have fallen in love with her. She stares at you for a moment, taking in every word and processing all the emotions that you have revealed to her. Her expression changes to one of empathy and regret. She is silent for a few moments. You can tell that she is feeling a mix of emotions, her mind and heart battling with one another. She loves the idea of being with you, but she doesn't want to risk losing what she has or getting hurt in the process. She is torn between wanting to express her feelings and the fear of rejection and heartbreak.

You felt humiliated. You just wanted to leave there. “Congratulations.” you said before pushing her from you. Marlene grabbed your wrist lightly as you tried to leave, her grip not tense but enough to hold you in place. Her grip feels like a gentle embrace, not restrictive at all. "Don't go," she says quietly, her eyes meeting yours. She seemed genuinely overwhelmed with all the emotion that you have unleashed on her. Marlene: "Congratulations?" She repeats the word softly, her words filled with disbelief. "You're really congratulating me?" She looks at you with a slight grin on her face. She can't help but think how sweet it is that you're happy for her. “You’re an important part of my life, and I don’t want to lose you either. The truth is, I’ve been grappling with my own feelings, and maybe I haven’t been as clear as I should’ve been. I care about you a lot, and I’ve realized that my feelings go beyond just friendship. I love you too.”

You looked came closer to her and kiss her. The hot kiss burnt with desire and passion, your lips locked together in a passionate embrace. You can feel the heat of her breath on your skin and you want to sink into it. Her tongue slides and flicks against yours, her lips exploring your mouth and tasting the sweetness of all of your desires. The warmth of your bodies is building into a boiling torrent of excitement and you feel like you're both on the edge of something incredible. Your hearts are beating with a fierce desire to be close and to explore every inch of your bodies.

“Marls, come here they gonna make us a show! And find Y/N too!” James's voice echoes through the hallway as he calls out to them. Marlene and you break away from the intense kiss and laugh lightly as you pull away. Marlene's cheeks are flushed with a deep red hue and she's slightly out of breath. When she hears James's voice calling out to them, she chuckles lightly and then smiles at you.

“We are coming!” she responded back and grabbed your hand.

So you know your Regulus getting head for the first time? What if it’s innocent!james… Euphemia and Flemount kept him shielded from anything more then kissing so when he gets a girlfriend and they’re making out she dryhumps him… and obviously that leads to head. Thoughts? Prayers? idk i’m not good at sending asks (this is like my 2nd time istg) 😭

warnings: explicit smut, blowjob, innocence

masterlist

james’ lips taste like red gatorade. he’s practically addicted to the stuff. you can’t help but smile against his lips, hopelessly endeared. he smiles along with you, a breathless giggle escaping his throat. “what?” he mumbles.

you pull back to catch you breath, foreheads pressed together, still grinning. “nothing.”

before he can reply you kiss him again. this time, it’s deeper. you straddle his thigh, pushing his back against the wall behind his bed. he releases a surprised groan but is largely compliant, letting you take the reins.

you slip your tongue past his plush lips, exploring the inside of his mouth. your cunt throbs as you feel along the wet cavern. you can feel yourself leaking onto his jeans.

in desperate need of stimulation, you hump his thick thigh, the rough denim of the jeans offering the perfect amount of friction. your clit is engorged and pulsating, rubbing through the thin cloth of your panties.

james pulls away from the kiss, lips swollen, eyes wide and startled. his glasses are crooked. “wh-what are you doing?”

you look up at him through your lashes, pulling away from his belt buckle. “do you want me to stop?”

“um… no?”

you undo the buckle, pulling his belt out of the loops of his jeans. you can feel his cock fill and harden underneath the cloth of his pants.

“you sure?” you ask, cocking an eyebrow.

he looks a bit embarrassed now, his cheeks tinged red. “i…”

you decide to show before you ask. you slide off the bed, sinking to your knees on his bedroom’s rug. “can i?” you gesture to his pants.

he nods vigorously. you smirk at his eagerness, pulling his pants down. his boxers are bright red, little gold crowns dotted on the fabric. his bulge is pathetically prominent.

you cup the tent, needing to use both hands to cover his sheer size. you squeeze and he releases a truly indecent moan.

“you can- you can do whatever you want. just please don’t stop.” his voice is high-pitched and whiny. he already sounds like he’s on the brink of coming. the sound goes straight to your pussy.

you desperately tear away his boxers, letting his cock spring free. it’s even larger than you anticipated, and fully hardened now. his tip is red enough to rival his boxers.

you run your finger along a bulging vein and he arches his back, whimpering. “please don’t stop, please don’t stop!” he’s begging now.

his tip bubbles with pre-cum at your first touch. you reach down for his balls, sliding his shaft into your mouth. his cock jerks around inside the walls of your throat. you grind into his carpet, swirling your tongue around his length.

you gently tug on his balls. the double stimulation seems to be too much and he comes into your mouth. hot ropes of his seed shoot down your throat, filling you with his taste.

you dig your nails into his thigh, forcing him to look you in the eyes as you swallow. he whimpers at the sight of it, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Best Friend's Little Sister

Remus Lupin x Muggle! Evans! Reader

Summary: Lily Evans takes the Marauders to her muggle sister's football game where she is captain of the cheerleading squad.

Warning: The Marauders and Lily not understanding football. Sirius and James want lockers in Hogwarts. SFW, drinking, smoking, OC

A/N: I know nothing of sports or cheering so please be warn if there's a mistake. In HS, I was the one smoking pot under the bleachers lol. please like or comment below. Enjoy - L || Border Credit: @cafekitsune

Word Count: 7.4K

Unlike Petunia, you were proud of Lily. Never making her feel bad for being different. Lily had lost count on how many times you have told her that she is special to be a witch and she should be proud of it. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of letters have been exchanged between Lily and you when she started Hogwarts. You would ask her about her time in Hogwarts, asking her about how her classes were and her friends. Lily did the same, asking you how life is back home and about your wellbeing. Today Lily received a letter and she was so excited to read it since you told her last week about trying out for a new position in the cheer team at your school. Quickly, opening it she had drawn the attention of the boys around her who were talking and laughing about a prank they recently did. James looks over at Lily when she lets out a gasp and covers her mouth. Lily felt James’ place a hand on her back. He asked her if she's alright.

The boys stopped talking and looked at Lily who gave James a bright smile and nodded. “Yes, it’s my sister. She told me she was made captain and is so excited. She wanted me to go to the last game of the term. She wrote here that I can invite you guys. If you are up for it.”

Lily gave James a picture you had sent along with the letter. Sirius and Peter quickly went over to James and looked over his shoulders. Sirius let out a whistle while Peter's eyes grew wide. The photo was a regular muggle photo of you.

“Evans, where have you been hiding this lovely girl!?” Lily rolled her eyes at Sirius then took the photo from James.

“Don't even think about it!” Lily said before handling it to Remus who remained in his seat in front of Lily.

He grabbed the photo and noticed why Sirius whistled. Remus had met you before, Lily had introduced you to him. He always visited Lily whenever they were on break. Remus knew you were very different from Lily’s older sister. Petunia always gave him a harsh look and would shut the door on his face whenever he came over.

“Don’t be a daft cow.” He hears you behind the door before opening it.

“Rem Rem.” You shouted as you hugged him. Remus always smiles at the nickname and hugs you back.

“She’s captain of what?” Peter asked walking back to his seat to continue on with his breakfast.

“She’s captain of the cheerleading team at her school. She has been wanting that spot for so long.” Lily said with a proud smile.

Remus continued to stare at the photo. His eyes looking at every detail, oh how he wished the photo could move. You had a red and gold uniform with black lining on the hem. Your hair was in a ponytail and he saw the glitter around your eyes, making them pop out even more. You looked beautiful, he says to himself. You had two big red pom-poms in each hand. The smile on your face was big and it reminded him of the smiles you always gave him.

“That’s exciting.” James commented as Lily took out the tickets from the envelope.

“If you guys are up for it.” Lily said, waving the tickets in her hands. Sirius and James looked at each other with a grin, any chance they got to see the muggle world, they took it. Peter nodded before letting them know he would have to ask his parents first.

“Moony?” Sirius said, placing an arm over his friend’s shoulder. Remus looks away from the picture and nods at Lily.

The Marauders stood in front of the school as Lily thanked her dad for giving them a ride.

“It’s a bit small.” Peter commented. “Well, it’s not a castle.” Sirius said, looking at the school. They jumped when a group of guys came walking beside them. James’ eyes widened when he saw they were shirtless with red and gold paint over their chest including their faces.

“Are we safe here?” Peter asked them and Lily came behind them. “Of course, it’s a high school football game.”

“Think of how fans are for quidditch. They are the same for football.” Remus told Peter and gave him a pat on his shoulder.

“What’s football?” Sirius asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. Lily glanced over at Remus who shrugged his shoulders.

“Like quidditch but running.” Lily said not really knowing how to explain it better. Walking up to the front of the school Lily soon realized she didn't know where she was going. She hasn't been to a public school in years.

“Are you Lily?” The Marauders looked over at a tall boy with blonde hair and he wore a red and gold cheer uniform just like the one you wore in the picture.

“Who’s asking?” James said, stepping in front of Lily. James puffed his chest out trying to intimidate the boy who was taller than him. Lily rolled her eyes at James and pushed him behind her before greeting the boy. The boy gave them a smile and shook her hand, ignoring the small dramatic gasp from James and Sirius.

“I’m Chris, I'm in the squad. Your sister wanted to make sure you guys won’t get lost. Follow me.” Chris told them as he opened the front door of the school for them. He explained to them, it's easier to go this way so they wouldn't have to wait in line. Remus thanked him as Peter and Sirius looked at Chris with a shady look but soon it went away when they noticed the inside of the school. As they walked they looked inside the classrooms and looked at the papers stapled in the bulletin board.

“Wow.” Sirius said as they walked down the hallway.

“James! Sirius!” Lily called out when she noticed they were not following her. Remus looked over his shoulder and frowned when he saw James and Sirius in front of a wall of lockers.

“What's this contraception?” Sirius said, knocking on the red locker. James twisted the lock and pointed at the numbers.

“It’s a locker.” Remus told them and Peter walked over to look at it. James and Sirius look over at Remus with a curious look. “What is it for?”

Remus fought the urge to laugh. James, Sirius and Peter were pureblood, they had no idea what this was. Pushing James and Sirius back to follow Lily, he answered them. “It’s where students put their coats, books and bags while they attend classes. They use the lock to put their code to open it and lock it so nobody steals their belongings.”

“We should ask Dumbledore for lockers!” Sirius said with a nod thinking how cool it will be to have one. He always forgets his books in his room.

“Where do you guys go to school, again?” They froze when Chris asked them. Lily looks over at them with a stern face before dropping it to answer Chris.

“I’m sure, my sister told you. We go to a boarding school.” Lily said. Remus nods at the tall boy.

“We have dorms so we don't use lockers.” He added convincing Chris who looked over at Peter who was twisting the lock of a nearby locker.

“She probably did.” Chris said, shaking his head. “You guys want to see mine?” Chris asked, pointing over his shoulder at the lockers.

“Yes!” James and Sirius shouted and quickly followed Chris with Peter behind them. After 10 minutes of Chris showing them how to open a locker, they finally made it to the football field after providing the tickets to Chris. Remus stayed in the back making sure all the guys were following Lily. The stands were filled with people and students already. Chris waved bye at them and told them he’ll let you know they are here.

“It’s like a quidditch field.” James said as he looked around excited. Remus sat next to Lily as James sat on the other side with Peter. Sirius sat next to Remus in the middle of the stand getting a good view at the field.

“I haven't seen her in so long.” Lily said as she got comfortable on the metal bleachers. “Has your older sister seen her cheer before?” James asked and Lily shook her. “Petunia says cheering is for sluts.”

“I swear, Evans, your older sister hates everything.” Peter said, making her nod.

“She does but at least Y/n doesn't hate me.” Lily said with a soft tone as she stared at the field. Remus hooks Lily’s arm around with his and James snuggles close to her grabbing a hold of her hand. They knew about Lily's family and how her oldest sister always made her out to be a freak. The Marauders were happy she had you for a sister.

The game started and The Marauders jumped at the sound of the horn playing through the intercom. The people around them stood up and shouted, waving and pumping their arms in the air.

“They look so huge.” Peter shouted as the football team came running out of the field pumping their arms in the air, exciting the crowd even more.

“Oh my! She’s there.” Lily shouted standing up as the crowd hollered at the sight of cheerleaders running out. Remus stood up as well and watched a few girls do a flip as they ran in front of the bleachers.

Sirius smirks to see his tall lanky friend staring at the cheerleaders knowing who he was trying to find. Remus told Sirius on their way to Lily’s town after they left Hogwarts for break. Sirius found Remus shaving his face in the bathroom of the train.

“Oi! Who are you trying to impress, mate?” Sirius asked as he went inside the bathroom and shut the door. Sirius couldn't help but laugh at Remus who was trying to come up with a lie. Remus couldn't lie to Sirius for shit. That’s when Remus told Sirius he had a crush on you and wanted to look good for you.

“Is this why you never go out with the girls at school? And is this why, every time Lily gets a letter you get so happy when you find out it’s from her? Have you tried anything with her yet?” Remus turns red in the face and looks away from his friend. He gets nervous and Sirius can see his hand holding the razor shakes.

Sirius lets out a sigh when Remus didn’t say anything. He tells Remus to sit his ass down on the toilet seat so he can help him shave. Pushing his legs apart, Sirius gets to work and shaves the other side of Remus’ face.

“I’m just gonna say this once mate because you’re my best friend and I love you so much but you can be thick sometimes.” Remus tenses up as Sirius wipes the excess shaving cream off his cheekbone with a paper towel.

Sirius continues, “You should tell her how you feel. I’m hoping you’re not letting Moony get in between her and you because I’m pretty sure she will understand just like Lily did and if her sister is anything like her, she would love you and Moony just like we do."

“She is like Lily. Kind and smart. Dare I say more beautiful than her.” Remus said without a second thought to Sirius.

“Don’t say that in front of James.” Sirius warned jokily before heading back to his seat.

Sirius grabbed Remus by the hand when he noticed everyone sat down when the cheerleaders started to get in their position in front of the bleachers. Remus was pulled down forcibly and was about to snap at Sirius when he leaned against him and pointed ahead. Remus followed his hand and saw you walking in the front of the group. Remus hears Lily squeal beside him at the sight of you. His cheeks grew pink at the sight of you. You had a red skirt showing your legs off, Remus felt his mouth go dry at the sight of your bare thighs and legs. The sleeveless top you had on had the school logo printed on it and you wore a red long sleeve shirt it. It was tight and short showing just a bit of the skin of your stomach. Your hair is in a ponytail tied in a red scrunchie.

“I think I'm in love.” Peter said as the cheerleaders started to dance, his eyes stared at a blonde who stood next to you. James laughed, bumping his shoulder at his friend as they watched the show.

Remus saw you raising your hands in the air above your head and shouting the school name before clapping three times. It wasn't the sound of the music playing or the people around him cheering that had him mesmerized but it was the way you move your hips along with the rest of the girls to the beat of the song.

“LETS GO BABY!!” Remus hears a guy scream from the top of the bleacher as they continue to cheer.

Remus watched as Chris came behind you as the girls walked towards the rest of the guys. You came in front of Chris and he turned you around and lifted you in the air. The crowd went wild as the rest of the girls did the same. They began to clap when you turned to the side and grab your leg with both hands pulling the foot behind your head holding the position all while Chris held you up in the air. Remus grew worry when he saw you were going to come down but Chris caught you with ease, it was part of the show.

“How did they do that without magic?” Sirius asked, looking at Lily when the game began to start. Remus was too busy looking at you to listen to Lily's answer. He noticed you were talking and laughing with the team as the players started the game. Peter and James were watching in awe as the players tackled the other team pushing them to the ground with a harsh force. Lily and Remus were looking at the players running back and forth not understanding anything, they wince when one of the players tackled one while holding the ball. Half way through the game Sirius had his head against Remus’ shoulder as he took a nap with a half empty bucket of popcorn on his lap, he begged Lily to buy it for him since they don’t accept galleons.

The horn rang out loud again making Sirius yelp as he woke up spilling his popcorn on the floor.

“Did she win?” He asked in a sleepy tone to Remus, making him chuckle. “She is not the one playing, Padfoot.” James answered as the game went into halftime.

“Who’s winning?” Lily looked at the giant screen showing the count. “This school is.”

“Yay! It means she is winning.” Sirius said, picking up the bucket from the ground with Remus’ help. James and Peter were dancing around when a catchy song started to play through the intercom. Remus watched ahead at you as the girls started to shout out phrases making the crowd cheer.

“LET’S GO! LET’S GO! WE ARE THE BEST! WE CAN'T BE BEAT!”

Remus saw your eyes widen when you saw Lily. You waved at her as you continued to shout. Lily let out a squeal as she waved back at you. You were doing the usual routine, clapping your hands and turning around to shake your hips when you saw your sister. Your heart grew at the sight of your sister, she came to see you. You missed her so much. Looking to her left, your mouth dropped when you saw him. It was Remus Lupin, your sister’s best friend who you had a crush on since you were little. Quickly closing your mouth you continued with the routine but didn’t look away from him. Remus gave you a smile and you gave him one as well. You met Remus when Lily got back home after her first year in Hogwarts. He was tall for his age and nervous. He had scars on his face and you noticed he had it on his arms as well. You didn't ask him about it, you just told him if he wanted to play in the backyard. As the years passed the three of you would play around and walk around town. He always came to visit every year. Remus has always been kind and treated you respectfully. Giving you his cozy sweater or cardigan whenever you were cold or he would grab something from the top shelf for you when you couldn’t. He would let you grab a hold of his arm when walking around town knowing he walked faster since he had long legs.

You didn't know when the feelings for Remus began. You think you always liked him and the moment you realize when you really did was when Remus noticed one of your shoes had become untied while taking him to the bookstore as Lily stayed home with her parents helping them get started with dinner. He told you to lean against the nearest building and you obey. He knelt down in front of you on one leg and helped you place your foot on his knee. You couldn't help but tense up when you felt his hand on your leg. His long fingers work on your shoe laces; he looks up at you when he's done. He gives you a smile making your cheeks flare up.

“Thanks Rem Rem.” You said removing your foot from his knee. Remus doesn't move from his spot when you get closer to him. He’s too busy looking at you to notice your hand coming up to his face. He feels your fingers run through his sandy curls, something you were dying to do when he began to grow his hair out.

Before both of you could say anything, someone had cleared their throat and stood in front of them. “Excuse me.”

The older woman with a cart passed by , walking down the side walk ignoring Remus and your apologies.

That was two summers ago. You couldn't see Remus' last break since you went to cheer camp. You had written to Lily asking about him and how he was doing. You wanted to write to him. You really did but you were nervous he wouldn’t reply back. You wonder if he had a girlfriend. You didn't ask Lily about it, you were far too embarrassed. You didn't think he would ever want to be with a “Muggle.” Lily told you the term when she told you about Hogwarts and her magic. You continued to hold your stare at Remus. You couldn't look away, he looked so handsome. Lily notices your smile and your blushing face, she looks over at Remus who had a smile on his face.

“You were so eye fucking him.” One of your friends said after the routine was done and the football players started to head back to the field.

“No, I wasn’t.” You said turning around looking seriously at the field. The rest of the girls giggled before one spoke. “He got a lot of scars on his face.”

“He was in an accident.” You lied to them before looking over at your shoulder at your sister and her friends. You have only met Remus but you've heard of the rest and known their names. Your sister had told you about Remus and his wolf problem. You didn't believe it at first but you knew Lily wasn’t the type to make shit up. You were okay with it, Remus never changed, he was still the nice guy you knew and you came to term that the guy you liked became a werewolf once in a full moon. You were glad, Remus had his friends helping him during those times. You never told Remus you knew, not even that day when he so kindly knelt down to tie your shoe or when he gifted you a book.

“The guy next to him with long dark hair is pretty cute.” You just smiled at the girls gushed at your sister's friend. Lily and the Marauders stood by the parking lot of the school waiting for you to come out. James noticed how nervous Lily was as she kept looking for you over the mass of people.

“She’ll be here, dear.” James said, rubbing Lily’s back as they waited for you.

“Yeah, Lils.” Sirius said getting near her. He looks over at Remus who was looking for you as well.

“Oi! There she is.” Peter shouted out and pointed at the exit of the school. Remus watched as you walked out with a duffel bag, hanging on your shoulder as you spoke with someone. Remus smile dropped when he saw it was one of the football players. He wore a jersey with the number 6 and had his own bag over his broad shoulder. Remus can't help but notice how the player looked. The guy was taller then him, had muscles and another thing that made Remus' heart sink was the guy had no scars on his face.

He wouldn't be surprised to find out that he was your boyfriend. Cheerleaders go out with football players, that's the normal thing, Remus thought.

Lily yells your name as she waved her hands in the air. Remus saw you quickly look at them and placed a hand on the guy’s arm before running towards Lily. Remus couldn't help but smile as you threw your bag at the ground and hugged Lily. Shoving his hands in the pocket of his cardigan, he looks over at the sisters embracing each other.

“I missed you so much.” You cried in Lily’s neck. “Me too.” Lily said, pulling away to kiss your cheek.

“I brought the boys.” Lily said, looking over at her shoulder. Remus saw you smile bright at the sight of him.

“REM REM.” You called out, speed walking to Remus. Sirius and James shared a look when you wrapped your arms around Remus’ body. Remus did the same hugging you by the shoulders with both arms. Remus couldn't help but run his fingers through your hair as you looked up at him. You had taken the scrunchie out, he noticed you wore it on your wrist.

You gave Sirius and Peter a hug, greeting them. Lily introduced you to James and you immediately frowned.

“Should I kick your ass now or later?” James' mouth dropped out and was about to say something when Lily and you started to burst out in laughter.

“She told me you were a little shit.” Sirius and Peter laughed.

“How can you say that about me, Lils?” James said with a gasp not understanding it was a joke. You knew about James Potter and knew your sister liked him before she even realized it herself. You have read pages of Lily, telling you about James Potter. She wrote how ridiculous and rude he was but at the end of the letters Lily always wrote that James' hair looked cute.

“She was joking, dear.” You nodded at him as Lily gave him a kiss on his cheek.

“That's right. I'm just joking. She said far worse things.” You said making Lily shout your name. “I’m joking.” You told him before looking over at Sirius, Peter and Remus shaking your head making them laugh.

“My brother in law isn’t a little shit.” You said as you hugged James who grew red like Lily’s hair when you called him brother in law.

“Keep messing with him, Y/n. He’ll turn you into a toad.” Lily said, making you gasp then looked at James.

“Can you really do that?! Can you make me into a tiger instead?” You asked frantically as you looked at James who laughed at your enthusiasm.

“Oh my god, can you turn this guy’s hair red for me?” You asked James. “Remember, we have rules. We can’t use magic outside of the school grounds.” You sighed at her.

“That’s so dumb.” You said as Sirius walked towards you. He placed an arm over your shoulder and agreed with you.

“Wait for next year. We got you. What color tiger do you want to be?” Sirius asked, wiggling his eyebrows at you. Remus watched as you smiled at Sirius before tapping your chin as you thought of an answer. You were about to answer when he heard your name being called out.

Remus watched as the same football player came running towards you. Sirius noticed Remus’ face and tugged you closer to him. He wasn’t going to let some beefy guy with a helmet who runs over people for fun get a hold of his best friend’s girl.

“Lincoln is throwing a house party to celebrate our win. Are you coming?” You looked over at Lily and looked back at him.

“Can my sisters and her friends come too?” He quickly nodded as a green jeep drove up by them.

“Yo! Evans! Are you coming to the party?!” The driver asks you. “Yeah! She is going to bring some people.” The football player told the driver.

“You guys want to come?” You turned to them. James looks over at Lily.

“You haven’t been to a house party before, Lily. This can be a good experience for you.” Peter and Sirius agreed while James waited for Lily to answer.

“Rem Rem?” You asked as you walked towards Remus.

“I guess we can stop by for a few hours.” Remus said as you grabbed a hold of his hand. Remus looks over at Lily and tilts his head at her.

“Let's go.” You let out a squeal and kiss her cheek. “Mike, can we hitch a ride with you?” You asked the driver.

“Sure thing, love. Seb, I’ll follow you.” Mike said, looking out the window at the football player.

“Alright, I’ll be back.” Seb said as Mike parked his car in front of them.

“What about dad?” Lily asked as James and Peter got inside the car. Sirius grabs your bag from the ground, throwing it in the back of the car.

“Don’t worry. I’ll call dad when we are there.” Sirius helped Lily up in the jeep car.

“One of you guys can come in the front.” Mike said as he waiting for them to get in. Sirius looks at Remus and you, both of you are still holding hands.

“Moony! Go to the back with Little Evans.” Sirius said as he walked to the passenger seat. Mike looks at Sirius who sat beside him and shut the door.

“Moony?” Mike asked as he looked over at Sirius who sat down and shut the car door. “It’s just a nickname. Name is Sirius but you can call me, Padfoot.” Sirius said as Lily told him to put on his seatbelt but Sirius was too in enthrall looking at Mike to even listen to her.

“Nice to meet you, Padfoot. I’m Mike.” Sirius leaned back in his seat when Mike got close to him. Sirius blushes when Mike got close to him. Mike had short black hair showing his pierced ears and his eyes were light brown.

“Seat belts are important.” Mike said in a soft tone as he grabbed it for Sirius. Mike gives him a smile when he clicks it, making sure it was correctly in place and leans back in his seat.

“Rem Rem, would you mind if I sit on your lap?” Remus looks over to see Lily sitting on James lap as Peter sat in the middle.

When Remus didn’t answer, you whispered to him. “It’s alright, if you mind. I can catch a ride with someone else.”

Remus still didn’t answer and with a heavy heart you were about to shut the door when he grabbed a hold of your arm.

“Yes, you can sit down. Please do.” James snorts a laugh behind Lily’s hair as Remus practically tugs you inside the car. Remus shuts the door as you settle down in his lab. He spreads his legs to make room for your legs. Remus can smell the light scent of your body spray, he’s so close to you. The car started to move and there was a bump in the road. You were about to fall forward when he wrapped his arms around your stomach, pulling you to his chest.

“You okay?” Remus asked behind you. Your cheeks grew hot when you felt his breath behind your ear.

“Yeah.” You whispered as you grabbed his arm. Your fingers began to play with the fabric of his cardigan. He feels so warm behind you. So comfortable, you feel the roughness of his jeans against your bare legs. You hear Lily and James talking to Mike about their “boarding school.”

Remus was thinking hard as he shut his eyes. He thought of vomit, James vomiting, Peter vomiting, Sirius vomiting on Peter and James. He thought of it as he felt your ass against his crotch.

“Gross thoughts. Gross thoughts.” He tells himself.

He felt you lean back and look at him. “I did miss you, Remus.” You whispered as the window of the car rolled down.

Remus looks at you and holds you close as Mike makes a left.

“I missed you too.” Remus admits. He always waited for Lily to receive your letter so he could find out how you were. He was devastated when Lily told him you were going to cheer camp last summer. He didn’t see you that summer and he felt bad for lying to Lily whenever she asked him why he had a long face.

“You know maybe next time, I can write-.” Peter's wow cuts them off when Mike parked in front of a large house.

Remus stood behind you as everyone made their way into the house. Sirius and Peter stood close as they walked inside looking at the other students on the couch, or dancing in the living room. Some where in the corner smoking while others were in the back yard playing something Remus told them was called Beer Pong.

“Holy shit! If it isn’t the captain in the flesh.” A girl came at you, hugging you. She was a bit taller and wore the same cheerleading uniform as you.

“When Seb told me you were coming. I couldn’t believe it. He went out to get more beer for you.” You tsk at her before shaking her head.

“Christina, he didn’t have too. I’m not planning on drinking. I just wanted to show my sister and her friends who just came to visit me the party.” You said looking over Lily and the guys. Peter's eyes were wide as he saw it was the blonde he was fawning over earlier. Peter thought he was going to have a stroke when the blonde introduced herself to everyone and gave each of them a kiss on the cheek.

“Please tell your sister to relax.” Christina said, looking over at Lily.

“She never comes to our house party. Our captain is a good girl but finally she is at her first party. She needs to have a drink.”

“Peter, why don’t you help her get some drinks for us.” Peter looks over at you with a face. You gave him a wink and signaled your head to Christina. It was painfully obvious that he liked her.

“Oh yes, come with me.” Christina said, holding out her hand for Peter. Everyone smiled as Peter without a single thought, grabbed a hold of her hand and let Christina drag him to the kitchen.

“She’s harmless. I swear.” You said looking over at the kitchen again.

“Is it true then?” Sirius asked with a smirk. “You’re a good girl? You never drink?”

“Of course, she is. She’s just like me.” Lily said, walking over to you making you chuckle.

You tried your best to not look Remus. A bit embarrassed that your friends had outed you and told your sister and her friends that you were a prude and a good girl who doesn’t do anything bad.

“Yo!” Remus watched the same football player you were talking come behind you.

“Christina said you’re drinking.” Lily's eyes widened at the sight of the football player towering over them. He had a case of beer over his shoulder, showing his muscles.

“Only one, Seb. By the way, this is my sister and these are her friends.” Remus felt like he needed to drink something before lashing out when he saw Seb placing a hand on your shoulder after handing them the cans of beer.

“I want you guys to meet my boyfriend. BABY!” Remus looks up from his beer at the guy. Wait boyfriend, Remus and Sirius glance at each other as Chris from earlier comes towards them with a smile.

James saw Chris come over and give a kiss to Chris before looking over at them. “You met my boyfriend, Seb.”

Remus chuckles to himself. Seb wasn't your boyfriend. Remus liked how you interacted with them. He liked seeing you smiling and talking. He didn’t know you were quite popular. He felt childish whenever he got a little bit jealous when a guy came over to talk to you. He couldn’t help it though you were so beautiful. Of course, guys are going to come up to you. He was glad that you didn’t leave them to talk to someone else. You had introduced them to practically everyone.

Lily and James were dancing while Peter and Christina were in the kitchen, getting their seventh drink of the night. Remus can’t help but smirk when he sees Sirius and Mike leaning close together against the wall. Sirius was showing Mike, his silver rings on his fingers. Remus looks away when he sees you walking back to him with two more beers. He made room for you on the couch and thanked you when you handed him one.

“Are you having a good time?” Remus looks over at you. Your cheeks were a bit flushed and your eyes were glossy, you had more than one beer. You had a smile on your face as you played with the tab of the can. Remus bumps his knee with yours.

“I am. You?” You nod at him as he takes a sip. Remus notices as a couple walking in front of you and sat across from him and you. The girl recognized you as well as the guy she was with. The girl had bright red hair while the guy had his hair neon green. The couple were from your art class, you told him. You were talking with them when you accidently placed your hand on top of his. Remus blushed when you grabbed a hold of his hand as you laughed at them.

"Did you hear them?" Remus smiles and nods at you. He haven't heard a thing, he was freaking out on inside that you were holding his hand. He didn’t let go, he didn’t want you to let go

“To be honest, I’m surprised you’re here. You’re usually reading or in the library. Always reading that weird brown book.” Remus looks up at the girl's words.

“What?” He asked and looked over at you who was blushing really hard.

“She always has this brown book. A fairytale about these four people. They are witches or something.” She said before looking over at her boyfriend.

“Yeah, what is it again? Dude is a lion and one is a snake.” Remus frowns as they continue to speak. “You looked inside of it?” Remus felt you sit up straight.

“Only for a second, we just wanted to know what it was. You're always reading it.”

“Oh shit! I remember! They were wizards and they made this school or something.” Remus' heart dropped when she said that.

You still had the book he gifted you a while back. It was a gift he had given you for your birthday. He remembered he had bought it in Hogsmeade and wrapped it in a paper bag. He remembers the face you make when he sat beside you as you open the book. It was filled with colorful photos and all information about Hogwarts and the four founding members. You had given him a kiss on the cheek when you turned a page and saw the photos were moving.

“They have an orgy at the end?” The guy asks you with a laugh and Remus notices the awkward look on your face.

“They all die.” Remus answered a bit harshly.

“I’m going out for some air.” You said quickly getting up from the couch, letting go of his hand and walking out the back door.

You didn’t realize Remus was following you. He excuses himself to your friends and follows you. He placed his beer on the kitchen counter as he went through the back door where you went. Making your way further to the backyard, you threw your beer on the ground. You sighed to yourself, you felt embarrassed and worry. You were sure that Remus was angry at you for letting someone look in the book that he had gifted you. It would be best if no one got a hold of it, he had told you and made you promise to never show it to anyone. That book was the only thing from Remus and you had carried it everywhere with you. You had read countless times front to back. You read all the stories about the houses and the professors in it. You had daydreamed about going to Hogwarts to see your sister and Remus.

Remus calls your name out when he sees you leaning against a tree. Looking over your shoulder, he saw you were going to cry. He quickly goes to you.

“What’s wrong?” He asked as he wrapped an arm around you.

“I’m sorry. They saw the book. I know I promise you no one would look at it. Please don’t be mad at me.” Remus shakes his head as he drops his arm around you.

“It’s okay. I’m not mad at you.” You look up at a Remus with tears welled up in your eyes. Remus quickly wipe the single tear that managed to escape your eye.

“You kept the book.” Remus said as his hand cupped your cheek then slowly dropped down at your neck. His fingers touched the neckline of your uniform. You lean against him before looking down at the ground all shy.

“Of course, you gave it to me as a gift. I love it.” You didn’t say anything else when Remus brought his hand under your chin.

“It’s been years and you still read it?” You nod at him when he made you look up at him.

“Why?” He asked, looking down at your face.

“It reminds me of Lily.” Remus was going to pull away at your answer. Perhaps he thought wrong, he thinks to himself. Maybe you didn’t feel anything for him.

“I think of you too, Remus.” He comes to a halt. "I imagine what it would be like to go to school with you."

"I imagine that too." Remus admitted. "I would walk you to your classes. I'll take you to the Black Lake and to the Astronomy Tower. Then at the weekends, I'll take you out to Hogsmeade."

"I would have love that." You tell him. "Lily told me that the Astronomy Tower is usually where people go to.." You don't finish your sentence, there was no need because Remus knew. People go up there when feeling frisky.

He chuckles and rub the back of his neck avoid eye contact with you. You knew it was now or never when Remus began to stutter, trying to come up with something.

“I want to tell you something. It might seem dumb to you because I'm your best friend's little sister. I like you and before you say anything. I’m sure there are pretty witches at your school and you might have someone already but I like you, Remus. I like you a lot.” Remus felt you about to back away when he didn’t say anything.

He quickly leans down to kiss your lips, give you a peck. Sirius’ words echoed in his mind about telling you the truth.

“Remus..” You said his name softly.

“I like you too.” Remus shyly said as he pulled you into his chest.

“I like you so much that I don’t even look at the witches in school. I don’t care that you’re a muggle.” Remus said easing your insecurities.

When it was time to leave, Remus didn’t want to go. There was one last week until starting a new school year. He had begged his parents to let him stay for a few more weeks after the house party. Your relationship with him blossomed after that night. When he stayed over at the Evans, he slept on the couch. Every night he stayed, he waited up for you to quietly go down the stairs. He would bite his bottom lip to not make a noise when you straddle him to kiss him. Making out until dawn and talking in hushed whispers about his interests and yours, talking about books and movies.

When it was time to go, Lily’s father was nice enough to take me to the train station. Remus and you were behind the house away from everyone, he towered over you as he kissed you.

“Write to me. Promise me you’ll write to me.” He begs as he nuzzles into your neck.

“I will. I promise it. Once a week.” Remus shakes his head. “Everyday.” You looked at him with wide eyes and repeated it in a shocking tone.

“Your owl will get tired.” Remus shakes his head once more.

“I’ll give him treats and feed him more.” Remus said with a smile before sighing.

“I’m going to miss you.” Remus told you sadly.

“One more year and you’re out.” You whispered to him as you kissed him. You pulled away at the sound of Lily calling for him and you.

Remus wants to tell you about Moony. He really did it every time he was going to bring it out, something or someone will get in the way. He was sure that you were going to break up with him once you found out. It was crazy enough that he was a wizard but he’s a werewolf as well. Remus was deep in thought as he gave Mr. Evans his luggage so he could put it in the trunk of his car.

“Bye, Moony!” Remus' head shot up and saw you waving at him by the front door. Lily comes out behind you and waves bye at Remus.

It was a week back in school and Remus was eating breakfast when the mail started to fly in. One by one owls came flying though and dropped letters and mail to the students. Remus knew you wouldn’t write back. You knew his nickname. Moony, he was pretty sure you were smart enough to figure it out. He didn’t mention it to Lily about it. Afraid to ruin his friendship with her but he told Sirius it.

“Oh! Moony!” Sirius shouted as he watched the white envelope slowly falling down in front of Remus.

Remus looks up from his plate and stands up, reaching to grab the letter. Sirius looks over as Remus quickly opens it. Sirius can’t help but smile at the sight of his best mate looking happy as he read the letter from you.

"She knows." Remus said looking at Sirius. "And?" Sirius asked worry as Remus went back to read the letter.

"If you think being one will make me like you less. You are wrong, Remus Lupin." They shared a smile and Remus pulls out a red scrunchie from inside the envelope. Remus pulls his sleeves up so he can put it around his wrist.

Sirius turns back to his plate and raises a brow when he notices a letter next to him. Opening it up, he can’t fight the urge to smile wide when he sees it was from Mike.

Sunday; James Potter 📺

summary: you spend a lazy sunday evening with your boyfriend, James.

word count: 1.5K

warnings: beefy!james, fem!r, established relationship, lots and lots of fluff, mentions of eating

note: BEEFY JAMES 🩷🩷

The telly hums gently beside the trickling rain outside, lulling you into a swath of late-afternoon drowsiness. The cooking competition that once effortlessly held your attention is now fuzzy at the edges, the challenges blurring together into a mess of commentary. Beneath you, the sofa seems to swallow you further and further into its enticing comfort.

Distantly, you register the sound of the lock clicking in the front door, and then the push of it falling inward. Your eyes close heavily and startle open again and again, an endless fight against sleep that you’re probably losing.

Thankfully, your boyfriend traipses into the room at that very moment, giving you a reason to turn your head and shake some of the sleep from your person.

He’d popped to the gym while you vegged on the couch, and by the looks of it he’d chanced a trail run. His ebony hair sits in slick curls, dampened with rain. The old shirt he’d thrown on is tacky over his chest and shoulders, likely absorbed with an assortment of rain and sweat. It shouldn’t make him as handsome as it does.

As he tosses his gym bag to the floor, you push yourself up the sofa cushions feebly.

“How’s my gym rat?” you ask sweetly, with a tang of teasing at the corners of your mouth. James is all smiles, leaning into the silly nickname you like so much.

“Hiya, lovey,” he sighs in response, finally settling from his long trek home. He’ll run off to shower in a moment, but for now he moves to lean over the sofa back, aiming to get a good look at you. “Miss me?”

“Mm.” James kisses you once, twice, then leans just far enough away so he can see you. “Terribly.”

“Mm,” he mimics your hum as he leans in for a third kiss, and then two more to your chin. “Same for me. Couldn’t stop thinking of my lovely girlfriend, all warm and dry and falling asleep to the telly.”

“I was not falling asleep,” you insist, even as your eyes droop faintly, dry from so much screen-time.

James lets you have this, though he smiles soft and knowing as he kneads his calloused fingers into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You sit silently like that for minutes, your forehead meeting his lips in a moment of lucky structure.

“D’you need to shower?” you eventually broach.

“Hmph,” James sighs, “yea.”

Bringing a gentle hand up, he encourages your head back, displacing it to the couch once more. As if you couldn’t possibly do that yourself. It’s a simple thing, an unnecessary thing, but one that James happily does without hesitation.

“Don’t move an inch, love. Back in a tick.”

James disappears, and defying his words—though you know he was exaggerating—you shuffle to spread yourself fully over the sofa.

The shower starts, and the chefs on the screen are up for elimination. You pay hazy attention to who wins, distracted by the muffled water lapping into the tub in the bathroom, and the rain still coming down outside.

Before you know it, you’re slipping under the blanket of sleep, your mind taking each evening apartment noise for its strange sofa dreams.

+

When you wake later, it’s significantly darker outside, and the apartment is fragrant with dinner-smells. The television is playing an antique auction show quietly. You haul up and off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen where James is working.

“Hello, boyfriend,” you greet sluggishly, still wiping sleep from your eyes. A faint headache lingers that only a sofa-nap causes, so you sally up to the cabinet to start a glass of water.

James, presiding over a simmering pan of mystery sauce, preens over his shoulder at you.

“Lovely girlfriend,” he returns. “How was your nap?”

Unsure of your answer, you hum noncommittally. James glances down at you in amusement as you settle against the counter beside the stove, facing him.

“Weird dreams,” you say as a means of explanation.

“Oh, yea?” James sets his ladle down carefully and crosses his arms. You watch his arms tense against his short black sleeves, and then trace his jaw up to watch his damp hair fall over his forehead. You nod distractedly to his question.

James borrows your water glass for a quick swallow, and you pretend to be inconvenienced. You’re sure he only takes it because it’s yours and he’s been compelled to share everything with you since you started dating—maybe even before that.

Handing the glass back and retrieving his utensil, he asks, “Was I in any?”

The answer is typically yes, and today is no different.

“Mm, I think so, yea.” You squint at the ceiling, dredging your warped dreams back to the front of your mind. “We were trying to swim but we had to get a turtle back to its owner first, and then I think the owner was Bobby Flay.”

You’re laughing at the absurdity as you recall the story, and James sends you amused little glances as he stirs.

“We’re lovely for doing as much. Did we get to swim for our troubles?”

“Nope,” you say disappointedly, “the dream changed to something else after that. I don’t remember what.”

James forces a frown that you think is meant to be lighthearted.

“Rubbish,” he curses. “Day ruined.”

Despite his dramatics, James’ free hand snakes over your torso, slipping under your thick sweater to soothe the skin of your hip. You smile contentedly, headache already ebbing away from the water and his hands and the promise of dinner very soon.

“Was your shower very pleasant?”

“So pleasant,” James agrees immediately, and you can imagine the simple pleasure of hot water on rain-wet hair. It makes you run your palm up his bicep, soaking in his warm skin, his clean clothes.

“Mm. I’m glad.”

A moment later, James steps away to fish a spoon from the silverware drawer. Returning, he dips it into his stew and offers it to your mouth.

“Taste,” he says, but you’re already closing your lips around it. You’d thought it was some kind of pasta sauce, but it’s significantly more rich and spicy than expected. It’s good.

“Curry?” you guess. James nods happily. “I like.”

Giving it his own taste-test, James seems to be happy with the flavor, too. A few more stirs for good measure and then he’s flipping the burner off and thwacking the spoon over the pan to rid any excess.

He moves around like a trained professional, removing the pan from the heat and wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. Competence is always sexy, but James has a way of amping it up further, twisting the metaphorical knife of affection you’ve taken for him.

There’s no arrogance in what he does, despite how good he is at it. He’d brag for days on end about his prowess in the gym, or on the field, but there’s a dexterity he has at home, too, that he doesn’t seem interested in flaunting. It’s the happiest you see him, when he’s practicing this genius of domesticity, and it makes your chest ache.

“Thank you, Jamie,” you muster sweetly, as he ferries your bowl and his to the living room. You reclaim your place on the sofa, and James settles in beside you.

You eat in a fuzzy silence, not really paying attention to anything in particular, just enjoying the food and the company.

“Good?” James ensures, glancing at you. You hum around a bite, enthusiastic. “Not too hot, you’re sure?”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him, calf pressing against his. “I was so hungry.”

“I bet,” he agrees.

Lapsing back into silence, you both pay haphazard attention to the TV once more. When your bowl is empty, you place it beside James’ and ease back into his waiting arms thoughtlessly. It’s like pinging from one good thing to the next—out of the meadow and into the clouds. You sigh.

“I love Sundays.”

James hums his agreement, the sensation shivering up your back. He follows with a press of his mouth, just over your temple.

“Love you, dear.”

The nickname makes your lips lift. James only calls you dear every so often, when he’s feeling truly, undeniably sappy.

You tilt your head up to catch his eye, watching his expression soften the same way yours does. Twisting in his hold, you press a kiss to his strong chin, his aquiline nose—reach up to fix his glasses, just because he’ll let you.

James strokes your back like a harp, and your humming is the music. You know you’ll go to work tomorrow, and you’ll miss him all day, but for now time feels doused in molasses. The apartment—James and you included—is swimming in the thick, sweet flood of your idle words and touches, as it will be tomorrow night, as it was the night before. It’s enough to make the long weeks worthwhile.

“Love you, too, Jamie,” you say, and then it’s him lulling you to sleep instead of the cooking channel.

+

thank you for reading! 🏹

masterlist

Could you do something for cat animangus reader x Sirius where they're older like order of the phenix older during winter time and Molly makes a comment to Sirius about him having a sweet cat and when he turns to corner he finds reader cuddled up to Remus again do to his body heat and Sirius just reacts to a "really this again?"

Things between Molly and Sirius are still frosty, but the same stuff that chills between them glazes over the windows, and the winter air serves as a healing balm while everyone huddles around the fire for warmth.

The heating systems in Grimmauld Place are functional, but ancient, and it's much easier to stay by a roaring fire than to huddle by the floor vent on one of the upper levels. Sirius has insisted, as the owner of the house and as the man unwillingly cooped up inside of it for years, that he will make the cocoa, because if he goes any longer without making himself useful he will begin yearning to touch the fatally cursed objects his mother hoarded before her demise.

Molly relents, if only to keep his callused hands away from a music box that will kill him if the tune reaches his ears.

"Oh, that's lovely," The woman coos, peering at your feline form curled up on Remus's lap in front of the fire, "Remus, I didn't know you had a cat. I thought the only one we had was Hermione's, but he's orange."

"She's not mine," Remus hums, though he drags a palm flat over your head, letting you butt into it to your own liking, "She's Sirius's."

Molly's brows scrunch; surely Remus doesn't mean the dog man that stands eerily alert at the back door whenever he hears the pitter patter of little paws on the back fence-? But when the aforementioned animagus comes into the room with a tray of cocoa, she confirms Remus's words straight from the source.

"Sirius, your cat is lovely." She muses experimentally, watching the way the man's eye twitches slightly.

"Oh? And where is the little devil-?" Sirius peers around the room, and when his gaze lands on you lounging on Remus's legs, he shoves the tea tray haphazardly onto a side table with a scoff. It makes a cacophony of sounds; most of them unpleasant as glass-on-glass tends to be, "Oh, you're joking."

"Sirius, it's warm here," Remus attempts to calm the man, but it's no use as he steals a mug of cocoa and makes a break for the staircase. You're glad to see that prison never took his flair for dramatics, but he's being a tad ridiculous. Remus keeps explaining, "You're welcome to take her if you want to sit by the fire! She's just getting warm!"

"Keep her! Keep her," Sirius calls from the ledge of the second floor, "And Moony, why don't you just take the deed to the house, too! And my things, you can steal the clothes right off of my back next time."

With a huff and a flourish that are aided by his chin-length curls, Sirius turns to beeline for his room, and the slam of a door that rattles the paintings on the wall is your confirmation that your husband will be sulking until you pad upstairs and settle on his chest.

"Well, that was fun while it lasted." Remus drawls, scooping a hand beneath your belly and hoisting you out of his lap. He sets you on your feet, and you mourn the loss of the fire's warmth.

"Go humor him, love," Remus nudges you towards the stairs, and Molly watches bewildered as you begin your ascent.

"We've been having this fight for over a decade," Remus muses, sipping at his cocoa and skillfully avoiding a whipped cream mustache, "When your children aren't eavesdropping with that extendable ear, I'll tell you about the time he found her curled up in my bed instead of his."

❝time will tell.❞

[credits to the original artist of the photo!! can't seem to find their @ anywhere. title is taken from jane austen's persuasion, as was the first part.]

summary. ❝you are loved. and harry thinks there is no better description that that.❞

pairing/s. poly!mauraders x reader. (james potter x reader, sirius black x reader, lily evans x reader, and remus lupin x reader.)

word count. 9.5k.

tags. reader is referred to mum, with she/her pronouns[!], canon-typical violence [!], canon-typical deaths mentioned[!], very brief marauders as soldiers of the order[!], creepy old men being creepy[!], child abuse[!], pureblood arranged marriages, a minor character expresses wanting to die[!], Depressed and Traumatized Slytherins, the capital is important[!], themes of misogyny [!], teen boys fuck around and find out there are consequences to their actions, THERE IS ACTUALLY A LOT OF FLUFF, I PROMISE YOU, angst, children lose their baby teeth up until the age of twelve!! google said so!! not proofread we die like dobby the free elf

note. damn, i cried, you cried, we all crode. tbh, the first part was only intended as a oneshot, sdfkhdf, but when i re-read it, i thought that i could have expanded on more details,, so now here we are!! i love it more than the first part ueueue. thank you all so so so much for the kind comments :((( please please enjoy the second part to this installment!! part one

HARRY JAMES POTTER was only a few months old when you died at the hands of Voldemort — or as strangers have told him every time they ravaged his personal space and ogled at his scar. They said it was a quick death, better than what had happened to Alice and Frank Longbottom. But that was all they’ve ever said about your death. Unfortunate; caught in the wrong place at the wrong time, entirely different from the pedestal James and Lily have been put on by the wizarding society. 

At first, Harry had wondered if it was due to your blood relations, being the daughter of a renowned Death-Eater, heiress to the fortune of a pureblood House. Harry can’t even count the amount of conspiracy theories he’s read or heard to his face that it must have been you who betrayed James and Lily, and not Sirius Black. 

Even Hermione’s shared to him a theory that your death was faked to surrender your loyalty completely to Voldemort — of course, Hermione was eleven at the time, head full of books and her favorite theories, and Harry’s already forgiven her. But there’s a part of him that despises the way he’s never known the full truth about his parents, just bits of information dangled in front of him like bait for people [read: the Dursleys] to get him to do what they want, to act like the way they want. Until Remus and Sirius, you were a stranger to him, really.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

IT IS RATHER UNFORTUNATE that Madam Pince has already taken her position as the unbearable librarian at this point in time. The woman gives Harry and you a pointed look as you slam the large book onto one of the tables — to Harry’s surprise, you glare right back at her. You’re awfully flushed, however, blushing cheeks betraying the fire in your eyes; it must have been from when Remus escorted the two of you to the library; he had tried to brush your hand with his pinky, to which you had responded with a startled hiss — Remus only smiled and chuckled at you, and Harry swears he’d like to forget that entire interaction because he saw literal stars in Remus’s eyes.

Jumping back in time and potentially causing chaos? Fun. 

Meeting your parents? Definitely fun, in the strangest of ways. 

But watching them pine and fall for each other? Not so fun. 

Nonetheless, he hesitantly takes the seat across yours and watches you flip through the pages until you land on a chapter with the large, bold letters: THE CURIOUS CASE OF ELOISE MINTUMBLE — Time-Travel and Its Many Dangers. He meets your gaze with a sheepish grin, mustering a look of innocence; except the puppy dog eyes only worked when he was nine — you are not amused. 

You slide the book towards him, scarily resembling Molly Weasley when she’s miffed with the twins. “You are aware, right, that just by existing here you’ve changed the future? Your future? And, that’s not even the worst thing that could happen.” 

Harry sulks. “Yes, mum.” He prefers not to think about it, actually, it makes his head hurt. 

“Don’t call me that in public!” You whisper heatedly, looking over your shoulder to check if anyone had heard him — to your luck, the library was empty, save for a Hufflepuff that was passed out on top of his books. “The less people that know about this, the better. It’s bad enough we told Potter about you. Do you even know what you’re going to do?” 

“Considering I was thrown here against my will, no.” Harry shrugs. “And to be honest, I was just going to obliviate the people who asked too many questions.”

You reach over to smack his head, scowling.

“Ow! That hurt!” Harry rubs the sore spot as he grumbles petulantly. “This is technically child abuse, did you know that?” 

You roll your eyes. “Do you at least have a plan to get home?” 

“Of course I do,” Harry retorts with a scoff, “Her name is Hermione Granger.” 

“Hopeless.” You groan exasperatedly. “Absolutely hopeless.” 

Harry only grins in response. For a brief moment, he forgets about the present — his reality where the skies are bleak and home is where he knows the feeling of loss more than the warmth of his own parents’ embrace. He lets himself forget, and pretends he isn’t the Boy Who Lived. Just some random boy who’s pestering his mother — even if she likes to deny the inevitability of being romanced by the Marauders, (except for Wormtail because Harry would eat troll slime before he ever lets that happen.)

“Right then,” You say after your tangent — which Harry tuned out when he hears the words, be responsible. “If I’m going to help you get back home—” 

Harry’s heart drops to his stomach; as selfishly as it sounds, he didn’t want to go home just yet — not to where people just took and took from him. He’s exhausted. Still, he puts up a front of being excited to be returned to his timeline. It’s for the greater good, of course, because his existence — present or past — is always somehow a threat to the wizarding society. 

“—you need to answer this one question for me.” Your voice drops lower as you stare at him intently, lips pressed firmly. 

Harry nods slowly. “As long as it’s within reason, yeah.” 

You inhale sharply. “Do I outlive Dolores Umbridge?” 

The wince escapes Harry before he can even stop it. 

That’s all the answer you need, apparently. Your mouth hangs open in disbelief, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you slam your hands down onto the table surface, shrieking.

“That slimy bitch!” 

Needless to say, the two of you are kicked out of the library.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1970; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU ARE ELEVEN when your father introduces you to Ferguson, commonly known as Fergus, Bulstrode. He smiles at you with a leer, eyes hungrily dipping to the neckline of your dress. You grit your teeth as you hold out your hand for him to take — you almost shudder at the feel of his lips on your cheek. You eagerly take a step back away from him, hoping your father won’t notice the way you shy from Ferguson’s touch. You’re not dull, you fully understand the implications of this introduction and the way Ferguson is complaining to you about his third wife’s passing — as if you were the solution to his loneliness. Bile rises to your throat, and you shove it down with a forced laugh at your father’s jokes about Mudbloods. From across the room, Allegra Greengrass stares at you in sympathy, and you send her a glare — you do not need anyone’s pity. 

The corset your mother laced on too tight is suffocating you; this whole Yule extravaganza made for elitist purebloods is suffocating you; and yet, you smile and greet every red-lipped witch your mother introduces you to. For hours, you pretend, and you pretend. By the time the guests have left, you wonder if you have any more of yourself to give. 

You manage to convince your mother to let you slip away for the night. Without missing a beat, you rush outside and into the garden labyrinth, lest old Ferguson snatches you up for a dance and let his gaze wander elsewhere. For the first time since the sun had set, your aching feet finally find some relief. You drop onto the edge of the stone fountain as you toss your heels to the side. You begin working your fingers through your hair, ripping the glittery ribbons from your head. It’s not until you’re unclasping your necklace that you realize you are crying. Tears fall from your eyes, and they sink deep into the fabric of your dress. 

You barely hold back your sobs. Your chest heaves as you hiccup; your vision goes blurry as your fingers grow numb. There’s nothing you can do but cry. 

You’ve used up all your smiles for tonight. 

But then, the sadness turns into resentment and then turns into indignation. Harshly, you wipe the tears from your eyes as you rip a violent scream from your throat. 

You sink to the ground, perfectly polished nails digging into the soil as you gather patches of grass and tear them from the roots. You throw a handful of mud at the marble statues. You grab another fistful of mud, scream, then bash your head against the garden floor. You let out another cry, whimpering as you curl into yourself; shivering as a gust of wind brushes against your skin. Surprisingly enough, this is the most human you’ve ever felt. This is the most you have ever felt — period. 

When hiccups regress into soft sniffles, you lay on your back, watching the stars float above. As the last of your tears slide down your cheek, you lift a shaky hand to trace the constellation in the sky. It’s not a familiar one to you, but then— 

“That’s Sirius.” 

You sit upright in a snap, wiping away the wetness from your eyes as you muster a mean glare at the newcomer.

Sirius Black.

“Oh, none of that,” He tells you when you move to stand. There’s barely any emotion on his face and it irks you that you can’t figure out what he’s planning. What you don’t expect is for him to sit beside you, thereby ruining his expensively tailored suit. 

“You’ll get creases,” You scold him instinctively, nose scrunched — but your voice is hoarse; too tired to put up any pretences. “Your mother will be cross with you.” 

Sirius scoffs, laying his head on the dirt, making sure to smear his sleeves with grass stains. “Walburga can go fall in a ditch and die for all I care.”

You gasp. “That’s horrible!” 

Sirius gives you a look. “You don’t believe that.” 

You really don’t, but you don’t have the courage to admit it either. 

After a few moments of silence, Sirius asks, raising a brow, “So who was that?”

“Who was who?” You stare at him with knitted brows, toying with your fingers. You still can’t wrap your head around how weird this is — sitting with Sirius Black in the middle of your mother’s hedge maze, your once bright blue dress now sullied at the ruffles, eyes bloodshot and your hair a frizzy mess. (Sirius thinks you look cute, though; especially with your missing front tooth that peeks out every time you talk to him.) 

“Bald guy, older than Merlin himself.” Sirius makes a face. “Looks like a troll. Smells like one, too.”

A giggle flutters past your lips, and your hands fly to your mouth. You really shouldn’t be bad-mouthing your guests, but Sirius was right — Ferguson really did act like an ugly troll. You sigh, letting your arms fall to your side. “My betrothed.” 

Sirius nods in understanding. “My mother tried to set me up with my own cousin once.” 

You grimace. “Which cousin?” 

He sits on his knees to face you, and with a very solemn face, he says, “Bellatrix.”

This time, you laugh freely, throwing your head back as Sirius pouts at your amusement. “O-Oh, that’s golden.” 

“No, it’s not,” says Sirius, lips twitching as he watches you snort like a pig through your giggles. “It’s horrible. A literal nightmare. You should feel awful for me.” He pokes your stomach, and it just makes you laugh harder, eyes disappearing into your smile. “Oi. I said feel awful, not take the piss out of me.” 

“S-Sorry.” You wheeze, batting away his hand pulling at your cheek. “I just can’t imagine Bellatrix in a white wedding dress and saying her vows to you.”

“That’s disgusting.” Sirius gags. “You’re horrible, I hope you know that.” 

When you finally calm down and Sirius tickles your bare feet until you cry in surrender, the two of you lay on the grass as he points out each constellation to you. Later, he fishes a small box of sugar mice from his pocket and offers it to you, opening one for himself. “Here’s to shitty parents and the one day we get to decide our own future.” 

You bump your squeaky candy mice against his. “Cheers, Black.” 

“Will you go to Hogwarts next year?” He asks you once he’s bitten off the tail of his mice. 

You nod. 

Sirius shifts on his side, holding his pinky out to you. “We’ll be friends when school starts?”

Again, you nod, wrapping your pinky around his. “Friends.” 

The next September comes, Sirius finds a compartment and one James Potter in it. You sit with Allegra Greengrass and Endora Lestrange on the way to Hogwarts. You are sorted into Slytherin, and Sirius finds freedom and a home in Gryffindor. You play the role created just for you; you lift your nose at those beneath you, adorn yourself in custom-made silk clothing, and carry yourself with the etiquette of a pure-blooded lady. Perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, always picture perfect.

You pretend that Allegra doesn’t throw up in the evenings from the fear of getting married to a man twice her age. You pretend that you don’t notice Endora sleep-walking and begging for her mother to save her from her father. You pretend that under your blankets, in the Slytherin dungeon, you are safe. 

You pretend that it doesn’t hurt when Sirius looks at you in disappointment when you shove a Hufflepuff student to the ground for getting a higher score than you in Charms.

They call you an ice-princess behind your back, and you overhear some of the fifth-years calling you foul words as well, and no one steps in to stop them; there’s no defending a Slytherin, after all. But you are keeping your head above treacherous waters, and you suppose that is all that matters.) 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“SO ACCORDING TO THIS, Eloise was stuck in 1402 for five days until she was retrieved to the present, which means we only have four days left to figure out a way for you to get back home.” 

Harry sinks into his chair, arms crossed over his chest. The two of you had found an empty classroom to discuss your plans away from inquisitive ears. “What’s the rush?” It’s unfair, he’d only just met you, and now he’s losing time with you. 

You sigh. “Harry, Eloise Mintumble spent five days in the past and when she came back, her body aged five centuries, and she died in St. Mungos. It’s not just about altering the whole timeline, you could actually die.” 

When you are met only with silence, you close the book, frowning. “Harry? What’s wrong?” 

Harry swallows the lump in his throat, looking out the window to avoid your gaze. “What do you know about the Mirror of Erised?” 

Your head tilts in confusion. “That it shows our heart’s deepest desire.” 

“Yeah,” says Harry, nodding. “I was eleven when I found it.” 

“Oh, Harry. . .” 

It’s almost pathetic how quickly his eyes water. “Did you know, before today, I hadn’t known at all what your voice sounded like?” 

You stay quiet, and Harry sucks in a shaky breath. 

“When I looked into the mirror, I saw my parents—all of you. There I was, in the middle. You were behind me—happy.” Harry swipes a tear from his eye. “I wanted to stay in that room, stare at that mirror forever.”

“It’s—”

“Dangerous, I know.” He laughs bitterly. “Just like finally being able to meet you all here.”

“Harry, you aren’t supposed to be here in the first place,” You say quietly, eyes drooping sadly. 

“I know that!” He exclaims desperately. “But is it so selfish to just want some time? I don’t want an illusion, I want the real thing. A real family. Why can’t I have that? Bloody Malfoy gets everything he wants, and what do I have?” 

“Your friends,” You tell him firmly. “Your friends who must be worried sick that you’re gone and must be going great lengths to bring you back.” 

“I know.” Harry wilts. He’s got Remus at home, too, who probably needs him more than ever after Sirius’s death. “I know. But can’t I just have this one thing?” 

You purse your lips for a moment, brows furrowed in thought. Then, you break the silence with: “Do you want to hear a story?”

“What?” Harry croaks, peering at you through wet lashes. 

Shrugging, you say, “Stories to remember us by. I’ve got six years worth of stories and then some. I know it’s not much, and you’ve probably heard some of these already from the others in the future, but it’s better than nothing, right?” You lean against the back of your chair, glancing at the wall clock before grinning at Harry. “We’ve got time to spare, anyway.” 

Harry manages a smile, setting down his glasses before rubbing his stinging eyes with the handkerchief you offer him. He figures this is what Remus means when you’re the gentlest creature he’s ever known — just not gentle in what the world expects you to be. 

“What do you say, Harry? I give you tidbits of the past, and you tell me if you know anything about the next Triwizard champion, so I can place my bets in advance.”  

Harry snickers. “Not a chance, mum.” 

“Worth a try.” And the smile you give him is nearly blinding. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1977; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND what it is about Gryffindors and their hobby of invading others’ personal space. 

A year into dating and James likes to shove his head under your shirt, claiming he loves the sound of your heartbeat — but you know really what he wants to nestle his head in between. The amount of cashmere blouses he’s ruined is absurd! Sirius has a hobby of tracing runes on the plane of your stomach. Lily prefers it when you sit in front of her, just within reach where she can wrap her arms around you and rest her head on your shoulder. Remus tends to lag behind the group when he notices you walking slower due to your leg flaring up. He kisses the side of your head and promises to chase the pain away — sappy poetic that he is. And in the moments where all five of you are together, tucked under a wide alcove, you can best believe there is no escaping what they like to call, a cuddle pile. Limbs are tangled, kisses are shared, and confessions of love are whispered. 

Before them, you hadn’t really known the different ways to love and be loved. 

Onto the pressing matters at hand, you discover that the brazen show of affection extends to their parents as well. Particularly, the Potters. After a year, you finally caved into James’s requests for you to spend the holidays at their manor, since the others have already made a space for themselves there, and James had said it would be an honor for you to feel at home with his parents, too. Honestly, you spoil them too much — one look into his bright, wide eyes and you gave in. James didn’t even care that you brought two luggages for clothes alone; he lifted each bag with delight and with ease. 

(Remus had the audacity to laugh when he caught you and Sirius staring at James’s flexed muscles, mouth wide open. 

“As I have said, Remus Lupin, I do not drool!”

“Sure, dove, whatever you say.”)

But now, you really aren’t so sure of your decision. 

“Oh, she’s beautiful, Jamie!” Euphemia encases you in a bear hug the moment you step inside the manor. You’re engulfed in the scent of cinnamon and burnt sugar. You stiffen as she cradles your face in between her palms, smiling ever so fondly at you, cooing about how precious you look, much like a mother would — and how your mother never did. You wonder if this is what you’ve been missing all along — the thought stabs you right in the heart. “Please excuse the mess, dear, we haven’t had the chance to clean up yet, Monty and I are excited to try the recipe Lily owled to us the other day, you see.” 

“I-It’s okay,” You rasp, struggling to hold back the tears. 

“Oh, what a darling you are!” Euphemia smiles and ushers you further inside. “Come, come. The others are right upstairs. You must be tired from the train ride. It is so lovely to finally meet you. Make yourself at home, dear heart — James Fleamont Potter! Give your mama a kiss this instant! Don’t think introducing your girlfriend will distract me from the fact you didn’t owl me letters for two months straight!” 

James whines as he hides behind you. “Mum, I’m seventeen, stop embarrassing me.” 

Euphemia scoffs, hands snapping to her hips. “You’re going to be my baby boy forever, now come here.” 

With a shy smile, you step away to surrender James to his mother — you don’t understand which part of this is embarrassing; you wish for a mum who’d welcome you home like that, with unconditional love and kind eyes. James squawks and calls you a traitor, just before his mum attacks him with loud, exaggerated kisses to his cheek, leaving lipstick stains all over his face. You hide a laugh behind your palm, ignoring the way your heart pangs at the sight of their unrestrained smiles. Euphemia lets her son go after a few more seconds, cackling at the masterpiece she’s created on a grumbling James, who’s rubbing his skin to erase his mother’s affections. She hugs you once more before setting you off, telling you to meet Fleamont after you’ve unpacked. 

Just as you reach the foot of the stairs, you hear a girlish squeal, then the sound of rapid footfall against each wooden step. Lily greets the two of you by jumping off the last step and wrapping each arm around yours and James’s neck. “Welcome home, Jamie!” She captures his lips with her own before doing the same to you, cupping your cheek lovingly, “So happy you made it, princess! How was the ride here?” 

You were never a fan of traveling by Floo; it made you nauseous after, and left you with a pounding headache for hours. Without hesitation, the others offered to accompany you on the train, but you insisted they Floo ahead to Godric’s Hollow — it took a lot of convincing, but they finally agreed, (they’re not the only ones spoiled; they couldn’t refuse you, too.) With the exception of James, who wanted to be there when you saw his home for the first time. You nearly cried when you saw how well-loved their manor was; rose shrubs dipped in snow, Sirius’s motorcycle parked outside, a mailbox with poorly painted shapes, the fences covered in Christmas lights, and the amount of shoes by the door. From outside, you could hear the laughter and warm conversations. 

“It was fine,” You say in a daze.

Lily sees right through you — and frowns sadly. “You alright?” 

Were you? 

You catch sight of the moving photographs of James and you finally reach your breaking point. There’s a swell in your throat that you can’t seem to push down. There’s a photo of James, Lily, Remus and Sirius; James is in his Quidditch jersey, raising the Golden Snitch high up in the air, Remus is twirling Lily, his arms around her waist, and Sirius is holding up a charmed banner that says: Gryffindor Rules! Slytherin Sucks! Except For My Darling Angel Love Of My Life Most Beautiful And Gorgeous Perfect Brilliant Girlfriend! 

There are hints of life all around the manor. Remus’s textbooks and scarf are laid by the coffee table. Lily’s O.W.L. marks are framed on the wall, along with Dumbledore’s letters to James and Lily awarding them the position of Head Girl and Head Boy, as well as McGonagall’s previous letter to Remus that came with his Prefect badge years ago. There’s a spot dedicated to Peter, filled with a photograph of him awkwardly holding his Herbology test, one that he scored a hundred and twelve percent on. It’s a wall dedicated to them, you realize. 

Then, you find it. 

Right there, up above James’s spot, and beside Sirius’s display of beyond perfect Transfiguration exam marks, and a picture of him and Remus kissing each side of your face. 

It’s a space on that wall just for you. 

James follows your gaze and rubs the back of his head, ears tinged with a shade of deep pink. “Mum left a space when I first told her about you. I-It’s yours, you can put anything you want there.” 

“I can’t,” You whisper, lips quivering as your heart cracks into a million pieces. It’s too much. 

James blinks. “Can’t? It’s yours, I promise. Mum won’t mind. You can even hang your dumb Montrose Magpies poster and I won’t tear it down — Marauders’ honor. I can help you if you want. I-I’m not good as decorating as Lily, but I paid attention to your boring explanation of color theory and I know that you hate this shade of—”

“James, I can’t do this.” 

That’s all you say before you run out of the door. 

(And you’re absolutely delusional if you think James won’t follow you out that door and into the brewing snowstorm.) 

You hear James call out to you, but you opt to ignore him and clutch your winter coat tighter around your body, shivering in the blowing wind, trudging through the deep snow through your heeled boots — designer couldn’t help you now even if you tried. You sniff, the salty taste of your tears dripping to your lips, chest tightening with a foreign kind of pain, and the frost nipping at your fingers. You give up after a few minutes, falling to the ground with an anguished cry, hand clutching the front of your chest as you struggle to breathe. 

James reaches you in a matter of minutes, draping his jacket over you, barely flinching as the cold welts his bare skin. Frantically, he wipes the tears from your eyes, a pained expression on his face as he sees you cry helplessly. “Come on, dove, it’s not safe out here. Let’s go back home, yeah? I’m sorry for upsetting you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry — I’m so sorry, dove, please don’t cry, it’s killing me to s–see you like this.” Tears fall from his eyes, and he begins stuttering from the cold, but you can’t go back to the manor. “What did I do? Please tell me so I can fix it. I love you—I’m sorry.”

You bat his chest. “G–Go home, Jamie. I’ll just take the train back to the castle.” 

“What?” He shakes his head, grabbing onto your hands. “Y–You can’t. Not in this weather. You’ll get sick if you try to walk back to the station.” 

You withdraw from his hold as you back away from James, slipping into the ice-cold mask you know so well. 

James rises in an instant, reaching for you. “No, no, no, no, no. You don’t get to do that. Not now. Not with me. Please, just come home and I-I’ll fix it.” 

“Goodbye, James,” You tell him firmly, clenching your jaw as you look him straight in the eyes. 

He grimaces. “That won’t work on me, princess, and you know it. Don’t push me away—please.” 

“Go home, James!” You yell bitterly, pivoting on your heel as you march through the thick inches of snow, hearing Remus and Lily’s voice grow louder in the distance. “Just go!”

He grits his teeth, nails digging deep into the palms of his hand. “You’re a coward if you walk away from here—from us—right now!” James shouts through chattering teeth and stray tears. “And I hate cowards more than anything!” 

You don’t look back. 

(Later that night, James stares blankly at the fireplace, tossing twigs now and then. He’s all out of tears. Remus crosses his legs as he sits beside James and offers him a steaming mug of hot chocolate. 

“Don’t want one,” He mutters, words coarse from earlier, head turning away from Remus’s gift. “Just want her.” 

Remus sets the beverage on the ground before pulling James’s head down to his chest, gently wiping the tears from his eyes as he wraps the blanket around both of them. He presses a soft kiss to James’s hair. 

“I said I hated her,” James says weakly. “I don’t—I never will. I just hate that she’s out there spending Christmas all alone. She could be here—with us. I hate not knowing that she’s safe, or that she thinks I don’t love her anymore—that’s a bloody lie, Moony. I adore her. If anything, I don’t deserve her.” 

James finds out that he does have more tears left in him. “I miss her. Bring her back, Rem, please.”

“You’ll cry yourself sick, love.” Remus wipes each tear away. “Let’s go to bed, yeah? Mornings do have a way of bringing miracles to us.” Because after a night of excruciating pain under the moon’s command, he wakes up to sunlight, and there you all are — smiling down at him like he is deserving of love; and maybe Remus can’t fault you for running away.

You’d kiss him gently and tell him how proud you are of him for coming back to you. 

Remus only hopes you come back to them, too.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.)

“AND THAT, dear Harry, is how I humiliated Lucius Malfoy in fifth-year.” Your eyes gleam wickedly as you rest your arms on the school desk. “If he ever bothers you in your time, just mention my name—oh, I wish I could see the look on his face when he realizes I’m haunting him from my grave. Tell him, okay?” 

Harry nods excitedly. “Definitely.”

“Got anymore stories?” He asks. 

You cackle menacingly. “Boy, do I ever. Let me tell you about the one time Beckett McLaggen took me out on a date to Madam Puddifoot’s!” 

Harry grimaces. “Do I even want to hear about this?” 

“Oh, pish-posh.” You dismiss him with a wave. “You do, this story is hilarious. Now that I look back on it, Sirius was quite cross with him for the rest of the day—how strange. I wonder why.” 

Harry stares at you in disbelief. “You’re joking.” 

“I most certainly am not, Harry Potter.” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1974; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

AN EAR-PIERCING scream wakes you up in the middle of the night. You snatch your wand from under your pillow, heart thudding against your chest in fear — last year, the Prewett twins decided it was funny to break into the girls’ quarters at midnight; you get a month worth of detention for hitting Gideon with the Expulso curse and suspension from class for two weeks, while the twins get away with a slap on the wrist and have the time of their lives spreading rumors of you being a Death-Eater. 

Endora shoots up to her feet as well, staring at you in panic — then the girl screams again, and you realize it’s Allegra. 

You sigh in relief, lowering your wand before saying to Endora, “I-It’s alright. I’ll handle it.” 

“Are you sure?” Endora asks timidly, gnawing at her lip and wincing when Allegra wails once more. 

“Certain,” You respond, yawning. 

As Endora climbs back into her bed, you slip into Allegra’s side, holding her head to your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair and untangling the knots. Like most of the Greengrass women, she was of ethereal beauty — silky blonde hair, smooth and fair skin, deep blue eyes that enchant wizards and witches alike. But her cheeks have gone sallow from exhaustion, eyes devoid of any emotion, and her skin now sunken into her bones. 

“I don’t want to marry him—I can’t! He’s old enough to be my father!” Allegra sobs violently, desperate for anyone to hear her, but no one really ever hears their cries from the dungeon. “They said they’d wait until I graduated—they promised! I’m supposed to marry him this summer!” 

Your heart breaks for your friend — there’s nothing you can do but hold her until she’s cried every bit of her soul out. 

“I hate them,” Allegra whispers to you; she had been shedding tears for hours, trembling in your arms until morning finally came. 

“I know,” You say defeatedly. 

“I wish I was dead,” She replies lifelessly. “He can’t marry a dead bride.” 

“Don’t say that,” You beg as you hug her tight; afraid to lose her to the world that has worn her down. “Please.” 

Allegra sinks into her pillows, and you follow in suit, hesitantly laying your head beside hers. She stares at the ceiling dully. “The world is so, so cruel to us daughters sometimes. And it’ll be cruel to our daughters, and their daughters. When will it end?” 

“I don’t know,” You say honestly. 

Allegra hums, neither disappointed nor surprised, and turns away to lay on her side. “Pansy,” She mumbles.

“What?”

“If we lived in a better world and I married for love, I’d want to name my daughter Pansy — like the flower.”

(Later that day, you are given detention for beating Evan Rosier to a pulp. He makes a joke about dirty blood, and you snap — you are tired of laughing and pandering to the arrogant men in your life. This is the first time you publicly defy your parents, and it felt good — more than good, it was liberating. It’s like breathing fresh air for the first time. Then, you earn a second detention for storming up to the Gryffindor common room and punching Fabian Prewett in the face — because fourth-year boys had no business sneaking into the girls’ dorm in the middle of the night for some stupid prank — and you threaten him by pointing the tip of your wand deep into his neck, demanding they apologize to you, Allegra, and Endora. 

You get what you want, naturally — as princesses do. You decide then that you’re going to create a world where girls like Allegra don’t cry anymore.)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

HARRY TWINGES WHEN he hears the end of your fourth or fifth story of the afternoon — no wonder you had been so angered by his being in your room. “I-I’m sorry—” 

“Yesterday was hardly your fault,” You interrupt him. “There’s no controlling where magic brings you, not in your case. You didn’t know, but now you know. I don’t hold it against them — anymore. Fifteen-year-old boys can be stupid, and at least they’ve learned from their mistakes. You should have seen your mother — erm, Lily — she looked like she was ready to kill them after finding out what they had done. Even Molly was cross with the twins, and you know how loyal Molly is to her family.”

Oh, Harry knows.

And Hermione knows it all too well. 

“Others call us evil, conniving and cruel, Harry,” You tell him grimly, “But I will protect my own, no matter what I have to do.”

At that moment, Harry thinks he understands why some people come to fear Slytherin. 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.) 

“LOOK, LILY-PAD, the princess is drooling again.” 

You open your eyes to glare at Sirius. “I don’t drool, idiot.” 

Lily chortles as she presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Of course you don’t, princess.”

Currently, you’re lying on a shabby loveseat that is too small to hold the three of you; it’s the only furniture in the new cottage you call home, where Potter Manor was right across the street. (Euphemia was ecstatic to have you all nearby — the lovely woman was sprite for her age, but you notice the way she stops to sit and catch her breath, Sirius and James hovering over her attentively; you’re good at pretending, so you pretend that the Potters will be around forever.) Some rooms are dusty with cobwebs, walls unfinished, with the floors creak under your feet, and there’s no other place you’d rather call home. 

You’re in between Sirius and Lily; your lips swollen from their kisses, cheeks flushed and the column of your throat graced with love marks. It’s the most beautiful set of jewelry you’ve ever worn, not even burmese rubies could compare. Lily’s hand rests under your jumper, Sirius’s thigh wedged between your own. While peace blankets the three of you, James and Remus have yet to come home from their task given by the Order. 

“You need a haircut, my love,” You mumble drowsily, pulling at one of the dark ringlets — it’s gone past his shoulders now. He captures your hand and leaves a delicate kiss on your fingertips. 

Lily buries her nose in your hair. “She’s right, Siri.” 

“I’m always right.” You pout. 

Sirius, love-sick fool that he is, smiles as he tilts your chin with his finger and ensnares you in a kiss that leaves you breathless. “Course you are — our girl’s bloody brilliant, isn’t she, Lily-pad?”

“Without a doubt.”

You roll your eyes at their antics, rolling around so that your back is pressed to Sirius’s chest — they’re not fooled, however; Lily sees the way your eyes flicker in amusement and the way your lips threaten to curve up into a smile. She traces the swell of your lips with her thumb, to the dip of your nose, and to the apples of your cheek. Sea-green eyes beam at you.

“I love you,” says Lily, committing every inch of you to her memory as she wears a melancholic smile. “I don’t know who told you that you don’t deserve to be loved, but they were wrong. You are so precious to us, dove, you don’t even know how much. This right here is real — and nothing could ever change that.” 

As it turns out, you did have more smiles to give — only the happy ones; not the fake, courteous smiles that you had given to your mother’s friends in the past. You come to intertwine your hand with Lily’s, the one that had been resting on your cheek, tenderly wiping the tears that pooled within your eyes. Your heart could burst from your chest. They had a habit of wringing every emotion out of you; of making love feel real, not just a myth from a Muggle storybook. And you find, that you didn’t mind this particular habit of theirs. In the comforts of the place you call home, where you irrefutably belong, you are free to seek their arms and fall into their love, and the best part is where you get to love them right back. 

How lucky you are. 

“Let’s get married,” You blurt out, holding your breath, feeling Sirius’s hand on your waist stiffen. 

“What?” Lily gasps breathlessly. 

You smile up at Lily. “Let’s get married. All of us. I don’t care where, o–or about the rings, let’s just get married. With the war going on, we deserve s–something good.” 

Lily sobs as she nods excitedly. “Yes. Oh my Gods—we’re getting married!” 

Sirius stares at you in wonder. “Bloody hell, dove, give a guy some warning, would you?”

You grin. “Is that a yes?” 

“It’s a yes — forever.” Sirius dives in to kiss you senseless. “Couldn’t get rid of us now even if you tried.” 

“I don’t think I’d want to, anyway.” 

Right then, the rickety door slams open, and you hear the loves of your life calling out for the three of you. Followed by the heavy thud of Dragonhide boots plunking down onto the floor

“We’re home!” James announces in the entryway. 

Lily wastes no time in shooting up from the sofa and welcoming them home with quite a unique greeting:

“We’re all getting married!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“That ring is an heirloom passed down to the children in our family,” You tell Harry, pointing to the band around his finger. “It’s meant to symbolize our loyalty and duty to our House. My mother said I would have earned it only when I became a wife to Ferguson Bulstrode.” You chuckle at Harry’s perturbed grimace. “No, I didn’t marry him — thankfully. After Allegra. . . I—I. . . I couldn’t bear it. If I was going to marry, it would be on my own terms, and it would be for love, nothing less. Then, if my child wanted it, I’d give them this ring. I want to leave behind a legacy that I created. When I was younger, I’d resigned to a fate that was forcefully carved by someone else’s hand.” 

You shake your head. “I want to die being remembered by those who loved me. Otherwise, I was never truly alive.” 

Harry won’t let that happen, he won’t ever let your name be forgotten. He’ll share of your kindness to his friends, of your bravery and loyalty. Hermione will love your fondness of Muggle musicals and how you stood up to Lily’s defense in a world that ostracized her for being different. He’ll remind Remus of your love for him, that he had brought you hope in times of despair. Harry is going to make sure the world knows you had been so full of life with endless love to give. You are going to be remembered in the way Voldemort never will. 

“What do the words mean?” He stares at the writing: Tempus Edax Rerum.

You smile. “Time, devourer of all things.”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1978; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

“REMUS—THE MUGGLES ARE stuck in the telly again!” 

Remus snickers as he takes the vacant space beside you on the loveseat, now sewn up with care and spattered with knitted quilts and throw pillows — still too small to carry three people but hasn’t given out yet, anyway. He takes Lily’s legs over his lap, swiftly stealing a kiss from your lips. “It’s a film, dove, they’re acting.” 

You purse your lips. “They’re trapped inside, then?” 

Lily snorts into her tub of chocolate fudge ice cream. “Not quite, princess, it’s recorded. Movies are like moving photographs — but they’re an hour long with sounds.” 

“Oh.” You turn your attention back to the screen, back to the film Lily had been watching. You had to admit — the story of Sandy and Danny was an interesting one. “Lily-pad, she’s singing — again.” 

Sirius hushes you from where he was cuddling James on the other couch. “She’s supposed to sing, dove, it’s a musical.” 

“Well, yes,” You begin, and James groans into Sirius’s chest, “But they should just talk instead of singing all the time — Sandy’s got a lovely voice, though. I just don’t understand why Danny’s treating her like that! Truthfully, I don’t like any of Sandy’s new friends, other than Frenchy — she’s harmless. If I was Sandy I’d move on from Danny — but then again, that hair and those muscles, and his leather jacket! I can’t blame her.” 

Sirius glowers at you. “You like his leather jacket?” 

“His hair?” James exclaims in horror. 

Remus chuckles as he tucks you in his side, kissing your temple. “If I were you, dove, I’d be quiet and just watch the film.”

“Oh, no, no.” Sirius barely glances at the television as he pauses the film and stands up to point an accusatory finger at you. “Since when were you into leather jackets? Do you think those are cool? Since when? Jamie, should I get one? Let’s unpack this, right now. And his muscles, really?” 

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. “Play the film, Black, I want to see the end of their love story.” 

“I’m telling Euphemia on you!” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1976; CURRENTLY, IN THE PAST.) 

“—and then we realized that we accidentally locked Hermione in with the troll.” Harry’s arms flail about as he shares some of his adventures with you — it had only been fair. He felt like a young boy again, entering Hogwarts for the first time as he watched you listen to him intently, gasping at tale of the vanishing glass and scolding him when he says he and Ron had decided to go searching for Hermione, and by extension, the troll. 

Your eyes grow wide. “A troll? In Hogwarts? They can’t have, not unless—”

“Someone let it in—I know!” Harry grins. “You’re not going to believe who let the troll in the castle.” 

You snap your fingers, “Malfoy, the older one. I know that lump’s got something to do with this. Can’t have been Snape or Quirrell.”

“Just you wait.” Harry’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “—and so, Professor McGonagall finds us, and can you believe it? She awards us for dumb luck! Then. . .” 

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1979; ORIGINAL TIMELINE.)

IT HAD COME AS A surprise when you volunteered to join the Order of the Phoenix. You wanted to scoff at their shocked faces — was it so surprising that you wanted to protect your family? They let Severus Snape join their ranks, and you’re fairly certain that you’re a better fighter and survivalist than him — not the better liar, however, he can have that one. The week before, you and the others had an argument that lasted for the whole day. They did not want you in harm’s way, and you would rather die than stay at home, waiting idly for them to return, when you could be out there alongside them. 

(“It’s not some game out there!” Remus runs through his hair in frustration — he had always been so careful to never raise his voice at you, but this one time, he needed you to back down. “Every time you step into a raid, there’s a possibility of you dying, don’t you understand that? And even if you survive — you’ll have blood on your hands, and it does not wash away no matter how many times you try, trust me, we know.” 

“So what?” You throw your hands up in the air, equally aggravated. “I just stay here like some. . . some pet waiting for their owners to come home?” 

“Yes!” Lily angrily replies. “That is the whole point of us joining the Order — so you get to live another day. So we all have a chance at this new world without a war. Let us protect you!”

You grind down on your jaw. “You have got another thing coming, if you think I’m not going to fight tooth and nail for my future.” 

James slams a fist onto the kitchen counter. “There are horrors out there you can’t even imagine. I-It’s worse than we thought. It’s our every nightmare come to life.” 

You raise your chin defiantly. “Then we face it together.”)

Each day, you survive, and each day the five of you return home — scarred and bruised, but safe within the arms of one another. When you collapse and crumble, it is only for the walls of your home to witness. 

Now a month into autumn, you are on your first task without Sirius, James, Lily or even Remus. Instead, you are assigned by Dumbledore to Knockturn Alley along with Peter Pettigrew and Gideon Prewett. How strange time was, years ago you’d never associate with the proud Gryffindors, and now you had to trust them to guard your back. Everyone had to grow up quickly during war, even pranksters. 

The alley was quiet — too quiet for your liking. You had been on alert since the moment you apparated into the area, wand at your ready. The back of your neck prickled with goosebumps as you kept an ear out for any sign of movement. 

Peter shivers and you glance at him — he’s become far too skinny, constantly shrinking into himself out of fear. And while you want to comfort him, you keep your eyes up ahead. Still, there's a nagging feeling that you can’t quite make out. It’s different from all the other times you’ve been asked to search and rescue. 

“Don’t you feel like there’s something wrong?” You ask Gideon, eyes snapping to the flock of crows flying overhead. 

“Dunno, kid,” Gideon says, nudging your shoulder with pressed lips. “Everything about this is freaking me out. The place is too empty.” 

“I get what you mean,” You reply, swallowing your own nervousness. Without waiting for the rest, you speed up your pace. “I’ll scout ahead, who knows what’s been here before us. I don’t want to risk any of our lives, so let’s be careful. Gideon, ward the area while I check for any cursed objects, last time you almost got your arm cut off by a newspaper of all things. And Peter, could you. . . Peter?” 

When you turn to check behind you, it all happens so fast. 

“Avada Kedavra!” 

You scream as Gideon’s deathly pale body falls to the floor. 

“No!” 

You aren’t given a moment to rush to his side — someone digs their wand in the side of your neck, and you stiffen in their hold. It’s not until they hiss in your ear that you recognize the voice. 

“Rosier.” You spit, biting down on your lip when he presses the tip of his wand further into your flesh. 

“Stupid witch,” He taunts, eyes dilating with vengeance. “Where are your lovers now?” 

“Jealous?” You claw at his arms, chest heaving up and down. “We don’t have room for one more, sorry.”

“Shut up!” He pushes you to the ground in blind rage, and that’s all the opening you need. 

“Expulso!” 

Each curse you send his way lands on his cloaked body, sending him staggering backwards. With ease, you deflect each spell he counters with. You’re winning, he is growing tired, and perhaps that is why you let your guard down. 

“Accio wand!” 

The magic fizzles out, and the spell dies on your lips. As you swivel your head to find out who’s stolen your wand, you expect to find another Death Eater — except it’s Peter. Just Peter Pettigrew, quivering in his boots with tears and snot dripping down his face, your wand in his free hand. You furrow your brows — it doesn’t make sense. 

“Peter?” You call out. 

“Crucio!” 

The curse finds its home in your body — and it sinks deep into your flesh, grinding your bones until you slump to the ground, wriggling as you draw blood from your lips, refusing to let them hear an ounce of your pain. Blood trickles down your nose as you hear Evan Rosier dancing around you in glee. You know this curse well; the sound of your father condemning you gleefully echo in your head. You crawl over to Gideon — hand desperately reaching for his shirt. 

“Crucio!” Rosier grabs you by the hair and howls with laughter. “Scream for me again—Crucio!” 

It’s as though someone had begun to rip you in half. Your bones shift and crack with every uttered curse. The veins in your eyes have popped and through bloody vision, you see Peter cowering away from you.

“You—fucking—traitor,” You gurgle, throat welling up with blood that’s risen from your stomach. “They’ll—never—forgive you—never.” 

“Crucio! Crucio! Crucio! Come on, witch — SCREAM! Look at her go, Pettigrew, crawling like some pathetic worm.” 

You lay in your owl pool of blood, wearing a body that is marred and lacerated. But you see something in Gideon’s hand. I’m sorry, you want to tell him. I’ll get you home to Molly, you promise, please lend me your magic this once. With every last bit of your strength, just as Rosier directs another curse at you — one you know you won’t survive — you snatch the wand from Gideon’s hand and tear the last of your magic from your throat. 

“Defodio!” 

You wait with a bated breath as silence fills the alley; lucky to have remembered Professor Flitwick’s quick remark as to how the slight difference in pronouncing a charm could alter its effect. Rosier stands on shaky legs, a stream of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. You watch as he looks down to his chest, where a gaping hole now lies instead of where his ribcage and heart should be. As Gideon had done before him, Evan Rosier crashes to the ground. 

That just leaves one more problem. 

Peter scurries to your side the moment Rosier can hurt him no longer. “I-I’m sorry—I’m sorry. I had to. . . T–They killed my mum, they killed M–Mary, and t–they said I would die too if I d–didn’t do this. I’m sorry. Y–Your father was there, too. He said he would take you in, let you l–live if you joined us. W–We can live, t–there’s still a chance for us to survive.” 

Your fingers are bent at unsightly angles, the remnants of the Torture Curse still flowing through your veins, but your face contorts in anger as you let your hand curl around his neck. He sobs louder, and though your grip is weakening — you make sure he looks into your eyes, that he feels your touch.

“I’d rather—die.” You say through gritted teeth, nails drawing blood from his grimy skin. “You’ll die too—you’ll feel my blood on your skin—everywhere you go, Peter.” 

Peter shakes his head, now clumsily pushing his wand down to the center of your chest. “Y–You were the only o–one who d–didn’t laugh at me. N–Not like the others.” 

“When they find out—you’re dead, Pettigrew.” You laugh darkly as more blood exits your body through your lips. “There’s nowhere you can hide—you’re a dead man.” 

“P-Please die,” Peter cries out, each killing spell coming out as a garbled whisper. “Please die,  s–so I can live. I c–can’t fight anymore, I’m tired.” 

Your vision goes a hazy shade of white, Peter’s silhouette fading away to the familiar scenery of your cottage in Godric’s Hollow. 

Oh.

Dying is less painful than you had expected it to be. It’s like coming home after a day’s work. 

You just wanted to rest now. 

The world caves in on you, and you barely hear Peter’s next words. 

“Avada Kedavra.” 

(It’s past midnight when Peter Pettigrew arrives at Grimmauld Place, where it’s been altered to host the members of the Order, Lily sobs in relief and gathers him in her arms. 

You’ll feel my blood on your skin.

You’re a dead man. 

Dead, dead, dead, dead, dead, dead. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home safe — welcome home — thank the Gods you’re alive,” Lily blabbers through her tears, checking his face for any major injuries. “Merlin, what happened? There’s too much blood on you. It’s on your shirt and your face.” 

“It’s not mine,” says Peter hoarsely. 

Sirius’s gaze darkens, arms crossed over his jacket as he leaned against the wall. “Where is she?” 

Lily nods, standing on her tiptoes to search for any sign of you. “Peter? I–Is she alright? Has something happened to her?” 

Peter stays silent for a moment too long, and he finds himself slammed against the wall behind him, Sirius snarling in his face as he seizes the front of Peter’s soiled shirt. “Where the fuck is she, Pettigrew?” 

Peter begins to weep. “I–It was an ambush. None of us saw it coming. Gideon r–ran. She was taking on two Death-Eaters at once and I–I was too far away.” 

Lily collapses to the ground with a heart-wrenching scream.

Sirius growls as he drives his fist to the wall, inches away from Peter’s face. “Where is her body?” 

“It was a disintegration spell.” With Severus Snape — brought to the Malfoy Manor to be made as an example of what happens to blood-traitors. 

James pushes Sirius out of the way and grabs a hold of Peter, knocking his head against the concrete. “It should have been you—” James snaps at Peter. “If it came down to you or her—you should have saved her!” 

“W-What?” Peter stammers, eyes wide. “She chose to save m–me.” 

James sneers at him. “You should have just died.”)

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

(1996; CURRENTLY, IN THE PRESENT.) 

ST. JEROME’S GRAVEYARD had exactly one visitor. Remus Lupin sits in between James and Lily’s graves, a bottle of firewhiskey in his hand — four empty at his side. He must be going crazy. There’s no funeral for Sirius as there’s no body to actually bury, Harry is presumed missing after an attack in Diagon Alley, and your name stares back at him mockingly. He tries not to dwell on your passing — there have been too many holes, too many details left unsaid; and he knows just the rat who has all the answers. Unfortunately, Wormtail won’t come out of whatever hole he’s crawled into. Either him, or Severus. 

He sighs, rubbing the temples of his head to ease the growing pains. 

You are the first to be buried of the five. Like Sirius, there had been no recovered body to lay to rest, but they asked for a compromise instead. Your name is engraved under Euphemia’s in her tombstone, and Remus figures it’s the fitting place to leave you be — with your mother, welcoming you home with open arms. He hopes you’re at peace, wherever you are. (Because, honestly, at this point, he might just fucking follow you.) 

Remus takes another swig of his alcohol, laughing bitterly to himself. He glances at James’s headstone and raises his bottle to him. “Not even in death, huh?”

He downs the last of the drink, rising to his tremulous legs. Remus gathers the flower bouquets he had bought earlier this morning; lilies-of-the-valley for Lily, white carnations for Euphemia, forget-me-nots for you, and for James — Remus leaves a moving photograph of him and Sirius; it’s a snapshot taken by Lily during the wedding as James dips his head low to kiss Sirius. Remus thinks it’s a wonderful memory to remember them by. 

“Take care of them for me, Jamie.”

And that is all the goodbyes Remus has the strength for. 

end note. i think i was crying the whole time i was writing this part, LMAO. i should be able to wrap things up in the next one. important!! there is actually a scene i was hesitant to include, but i ended up writing anyway. it's the whole part where allegra greengrass breaks down, and it was difficult for me to decide because i knew the implications; that i had a strong underlying message in that part, and i don't want it to be misconstrued or anything. pls pls tell me if it comes off as offensive, i definitely don't want to hurt anyone. nevertheless, thank you again so so so much for reading!! if you spot a plot hole, no you didnt!! i hope the time-jumps weren't too confusing! again, thank you so so much for reading!!

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders x reader. (james potter x reader, lily evans x reader, remus lupin x reader, and sirius black x reader.)

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.” 

You blink. 

“Get the fuck out of my room!” 

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making. 

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls. 

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!” 

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze.  Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!” 

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly. 

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.” 

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.” 

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say. 

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies. 

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”  

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.” 

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—” 

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.” 

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you. 

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”) 

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—” 

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?” 

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.” 

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?” 

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.” 

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.” 

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home. 

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)  

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that. 

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”) 

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.” 

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze. 

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.” 

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much. 

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile. 

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.” 

“I know.” Harry grins. 

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.” 

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally. 

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.” 

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D’you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)  

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow. 

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers. 

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.” 

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.” 

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you. 

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast. 

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.) 

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?” 

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.” 

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you. 

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.” 

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze. 

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.” 

“Oi!” 

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.” 

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.” 

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary. 

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.” 

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”) 

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.” 

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.” 

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!” 

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?” 

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically. 

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name. 

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now. 

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?” 

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.” 

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right? 

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.” 

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily. 

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.” 

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.” 

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable. 

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced. 

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear. 

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.” 

Harry’s eye twitches. 

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.” 

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly. 

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.” 

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?” 

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.” 

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.” 

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.” 

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading. 

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands. 

“In your dreams!” You shrill. 

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.” 

Harry nods. “Is it time already?” 

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.” 

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?” 

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?” 

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.” 

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?” 

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?” 

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat. 

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.” 

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this. 

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes. 

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.” 

“One date, then.” 

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?” 

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.” 

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.” 

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you. 

“And I want to—” 

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—” 

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.  

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration. 

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases. 

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words. 

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.” 

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.” 

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.) 

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance. 

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.” 

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm. 

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.” 

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.” 

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.” 

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth. 

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it. 

He falls in love.) 

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.” 

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?” 

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.” 

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.” 

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.” 

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.” 

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

rosie, '04

☆ marauders | svt | enha | dc | tua | haikyuu | genshin | a bit of star rail | criminal minds | ouat | pjo | yellowjackets | warrior nun | gen v

☆ currently watching: renegade nell (s1, ep2); warrior nun <3 (s2, ep8); gen v (s1, ep 3)

☆ wishing and waiting for: yellowjackets s3