A Man With A Plan.7

NEED HIM SO BAD OML

harrystyles: Love On Tour. St. Louis, MO.

02: Barbie's Dreamhouse.

Joel Miller x f!bimbo!reader. previous. series masterlist. next.

02. Strawberry Lemonade.

warnings: reader stares at joel a lot and finds him hot as hell, reader is dramatic as hell (might be annoying to some), explicit thoughts, suggestive, sarah is alive and 12 years old here, reader thinks she's a homewrecker, not beta read.

summary: you just can't help but gawk at your hot contractor who's working for free, thank god the view is free too. but a revelation makes you question if you're lusting for a married man.

reader's outfit is the blue one of the dolls from the barbie movie (this one under)

You had settled on the couch on the second-floor balcony with a glass and pitcher of cold lemonade and a few snacks, while Joel was up on the roof, using a ladder to climb up to the edges.

There was no mistaking his experience— he made little noise at all, moving around the structure as if it were just another Tuesday. Despite his hardass appearance, he was a very skilled worker.

He eventually climbed down from the roof and headed inside, taking a second to catch his breath before spotting you upstairs.

He was immediately thrown off by the adorable dress— especially the heart detail. But he knew it was rude to stare, so he did his best to keep his eyes on yours.

"That… was actually a lot quicker than I thought it would be," Joel said, clearly pleased. "I should have the rest of the replacement shingles put on in no time at all…"

"Are they pink?" you giggled.

"They're white but I painted over the roof last time, I'll just paint over em' some other day."

"I got some snacks for us. I tested the fridge and it was working too." you poured him a glass of lemonade. "Here, cool off."

Joel took the drink. The cool liquid was very much appreciated after all of that hard work. He took a few swigs from his glass before he looked you over again.

"Thank you…" He nodded, clearly still unable to tear his eyes away from your dress. "Where'd you stay last night?"

"I found a nearby bed and breakfast beside a gasoline station. At least they didn't question why I was all dirty when I checked in." you giggled. "So, what's next?"

"Hmm… the plumbin'. I’m assuming it hasn’t been fixed." Joel's brow furrowed slightly. “The main shutoff doesn’t work very well, so if there’s a leak, you won’t be able to do anything about it. That’s pretty much a priority.”

"Oh, right. Um... so what do we do?"

"Well, we’ve got to find the shutoff for now," Joel said as he set his drink down. It was clear he hadn’t done much plumbing in his life, but from the times he had worked on it, it was also clear he was quite skillful when it came to repairs.

"Follow me. The main one should be in the basement, from what I remember."

"Alright! Lead the way."

You follow Joel as he headed down the stairs into the basement— it was pretty cluttered down there, with lots of old junk strewn around. As he made his way across the room to the back wall, he grabbed an old flashlight and turned it on.

"Hopefully, the shutoff valve ain't coated in any rust," he muttered. "But if it is, might be tougher than expected…"

Sure enough, he found the right valve, but it was covered in that awful orange rust and was completely stuck. He frowned as he studied it.

"Oh… that ain't good. This could be a problem…"

"Oh no... what do we do?"

He looked at you and shrugged.

"We could apply some WD-40 to it and hope that loosens it up. But that’s a long shot. In all honesty, I think we’re gon' need to hire a professional plumber to come in and see what can be done about this."

"Well, uh..." you trailed off. Joel watched as you fidgeted with your fingers as your body grew stiff.

Joel could tell that you were trying your best not to worry, but he really couldn’t come up with any alternative. As much as he hated to ask, he really didn’t think there was another way around it.

"I'll cover it. Don't worry."

"Thank you, Joel." you put your hands behind your back and smiled cheekily at him.

In the course of the next few weeks, Joel hired workers from an electrician to install the chandelier and fix the wiring, to plumbers to fix the plumbing issue. With his own money, nonetheless.

"Thank you, seriously, Joel..." You stared up at the pink jewels dangling off the chandelier in awe.

Joel chuckled softly and was about to respond, but he paused, realizing just how many times he’s heard those same words in just a few weeks.

"You don't have to thank me so much, you know. This was nothing"

"I mean, giving thanks is always a basic human thing." you smiled and placed both of your hands on your hips. "Appreciation can do amazing things."

There was another pause. He shrugged and smirked. "I mean… are you always this appreciative?" he asked, trying to hide his smile.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno, I've just never known anyone who can be this appreciative, you know? It’s definitely not something I'm used to hearing…"

There was another pause as he was contemplating what to say.

"It’s just that… you're never gonna make me feel bad for it or anything, right?"

Your shoulders dropped and you tilted your head to the side. "Why would I?"

He sighed.

"I dunno. It's just that most people I know like to take advantage of or make me feel bad for what I do for them. You know, like always makin' me feel like I should do more just because I'm helpin' in the first place. But you don't ever act like that, and… well, I dunno. I guess I haven't been used to it."

"Why would they do such a thing?" you looked offended, furrowing your brows.

"I've always just been surrounded by assholes. I guess it's what's really normal for me. But with you… I mean, the difference is staggerin', isn't it? I guess I'm just now realizin' just how shitty most people that I've known actually are."

You smiled and walked towards him. "And how many people did you offer to fix their house for free?"

He laughed as he thought about it.

"Never before have I offered something like that. Usually, it's more like helpin' 'em fix their car or somethin' like that. So honestly, this is new territory for both of us. Though, even then, you're still much more appreciative than just about anyone I’ve ever come across."

"But I do promise," you held out your pinky finger with a wide smile. "I will pay you back soon."

For some reason, the pinky finger was funny to him. Maybe it was just that you were so genuinely innocent in your promise, or the contrast between how serious of a situation this could potentially be and you being so playful. He took your pinky finger and wrapped his own around yours. He looked you over.

"Do you swear? Because if you don't, there's about to be hell to pay. I take pinky promises quite seriously."

"That's so fun! I always keep my promises."

"I know you will. So this right here is a sign of a promise. And I trust that you will be able to keep that promise, so I don't need you to repay me right away."

"I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die."

He laughed and nodded, his smile growing as he squeezed slightly harder around your pinky. "Okay then. Just remember, you break this pinky promise, and I won't hesitate to let you know just how disappointed I am."

You let out a giggle after letting go of his pinky "Ooooh, I'm so scared."

He laughed as well.

"I think you should be! I'm not usually one to joke around when it comes to stuff like this." he chuckled again. "But just so you know, even though I'd be pretty angry, I really wouldn't have it in me to stay mad at you. You know that by now, right?"

"Why?" you batted your eyelashes at him "Is it because I'm preeeeetty?"

He was trying really hard to suppress his smile and hold back from laughing.

"It is indeed because I think you are pretty…. But I can't deny the fact that you've also become really good at pushin' out my buttons. Even if I really should be furious 'bout all the money I spent on this house, you make it tough not to just smile back at 'cha and forgive ya."

"I know, I'm sorryyyy..." you clasped your hands together and dramatically knelt down in front of him.

He chuckled. "Well, I really mean it. Your personality is one of the most refreshin' personalities I've ever come across in a long time. And I never would have even met you if it weren't for this house and Mags. That has to count for somethin', right?"

"Sentimental value?"

"Yeah, exactly. It's like the universe knew I needed someone like you in my life. Who knew a house could actually lead to a meaningful relationship… I definitely didn't see that comin'."

"The world works in mysterious ways." you shrugged. "Keep up, old man."

Joel laughed louder. There was something about you calling him an old man that he loved, even though he should be offended.

"Watch it, before you start makin' this old man feel his age. My body is just now startin' to fall apart on me, don't give it a reason to start fallin' apart faster than it already is!"

The both of you laughed. You got up from the floor and fixed your dress "So, is there anything else the house needs?"

Joel thought for a moment, finally coming to the realization that the house was probably good for now. It'd definitely need some more work on the interior in time, but at the least, it was liveable.

"Honestly? No, I don't believe there is. I think this house is good for now. I'll keep doin' my check-ins every few weeks or so to make sure that everythin' is alright with the house, but besides that, there's really nothin' more we need to do here."

"So..." you fiddled with your fingers. "What do we do now?"

Joel shrugged. "I'm not sure. I guess we just have ourselves a nice, long moment of standin' here and being proud of the fact that we've both survived the experience of trying to renovate this damn house. It’s a miracle either of us has our sanity still intact."

He laughed as he leaned up against the wall of the dining room.

"You know, you've spent a lot of time here. I've never even seen the inside of your house." you giggled.

"You know you're not wrong, I was here almost every day for weeks on end." his eyes trailed off as he thought and sighed. "I guess I should invite you over sometime then, right? It's not nearly as interesting as this house, but I'm sure you'd love it."

"My house is pink. Big deal." you rolled your eyes and walked towards him, leaning against the kitchen wall "You know every nook and cranny of my house, of course, I deserve to know yours."

"It's only fair."

"Indeed."

You kept staring at Joel. He had some beads of sweat falling from his scalp to his face, and god did he look hotter than hell. You felt like a Victorian lady seeing an ankle.

"Are you single-" your question got muffled by the sound of the doorbell, and turn your head towards the door "Coming!" you said.

You walked towards the door and swung it open, greeted by a young girl. "Hi, is my dad here?"

Your brows furrowed. "Dad?" who could possibly-

"Sarah," Joel said from behind you. Your head immediately snapped towards him and your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. "Have you met my daughter?" he asked you.

You blinked twice. "I-I don't think I have."

You really had no idea he even was a father... or even considered, married.

Sarah looked around the room in awe, her eyes trailing all across the furniture and her expression changing several times as she looked.

"Did you fix this house all by yourself?" she asked Joel, her eyes wide.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. I rebuilt this whole house pretty much myself— minus the plumbin' and electrician work, which I had hired some guys for. We still have to go through planning on each room, but it's almost done." he pointed towards you. "She's still thinkin' about what to do with all these rooms."

Sarah's facial expression changed to a small smile as she giggled. She turned her head towards you. "Daddy tells me a lot about you. He says you're so nice. The nicest lady he's ever met. Was it all true?”

You were still in a shocked state but you shook your head a bit and gave her a smile. "Why don't you be the judge of that?"

"You're really pretty..." Sarah stared in awe at you.

"Hey, didn't you say you gotta pick up your Girl Scout cookies today?" Joel looked at his wristwatch. "We gotta hurry if you wanna start sellin' 'em tomorrow."

"Oh, right!"

Joel and Sarah waved goodbye to you as they walked out of your house, and you stood there on your porch questioning everything.

"He's... married?" you closed the front door and walked up the stairs, slowly and dramatically. You tried to think of the signs that he was married. Ring? You didn't even notice! Well, not counting the times you stared at his large fingers and imagined them inside of you...

"Oh, god..." the realization hit you. You entered the main bedroom and you fell to your knees. "I'm a homewrecker!" you cried out.

tags: @danaispunk @buckybarnessweetheart @skysmiller @joelsflannel @sweetenerobert @clownd1ck @jhiddles03 @schwytie @femmeanonymelives @redemie @pedropascal-whore @hello-shirousa @survivingandenduring @sk-e-le-ton-s @urbrazysimp @amyispxnk @clownd1ck @livingdeadmaria @joeldjarin @blood-suckerxoxo @reallylovereading

(tags are open! just reply to be added. reblogs are appreciated!)

Do you ever read a really questionable fanfiction or a spicy love story and think "what the fuck did I just read"

ᴏꜰꜰɪᴄᴇ ꜰʀᴇɴᴇᴍɪᴇꜱ ᴀᴜ ✦ ᴊᴀᴍᴇꜱ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ

you foster a hot and cold relationship with your desk buddy, James, until things start to change, and you both fail to ignore your new feelings. fem, sfw you and James have to share a bed you slip outside of the office you offer the very first olive branch James defends you from a coworker James assures you that you’re pretty James pretends you aren’t cute at karaoke you faint at the office you realise James isn’t fully insufferable you fall asleep on James’ shoulder James forgets why he doesn’t like you you buy James a new smiski for his desk you come onto your period unexpectedly James accidentally calls you lovely you and James get stuck in a lift James hates when people flirt with you James jumpstarts your car, you ogle James is upset when others treat you badly you call James ‘Jamie’ for the first time James antagonises you into a kiss you and James hide your feelings James takes you out for coffee

thank you for the feedback on the first 2 parts, i really appreciate it <3

okay so, these are the options i have so far. i'd really like to make the last part of this mini-series with content that y'all would like. If you'd like to see other stuff, pls comment them or send them through requests if you want to do so anonymously :)

these options include angst, fluff & smut.

minors/ageless blogs dni

MILLER'S GIRL ✎ SERIES MASTERLIST

Chapter Two: Delusions of Fantasy

Chapter Summary: Settling into the semester, you find yourself in an unsuspecting position with your professor, meetings that shouldn't feel so secret but do and an assignment that may change the course of things for the better...or much worse. [5k]

[student/teacher relationship, age gap, no outbreak, power dynamic]

Chapter Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, professor!joel miller (his teacher persona is v different from outside of the classroom, so if he seems slightly ooc....close your eyes), dom!joel, sub!reader, reader is a little obsessed with joel (and delusional), mentions of infidelity (not by joel), sarah doesn't exist here, background tess x joel, inappropriate relationships/actions, talks of literature and lots of random writing topics, more dream smut that translates into writing, gratuitous descriptions of mr. miller's body and personality, joel is conspicuously toeing the line of lusting after a student while reader is very obvious, some unspoken sexual tension

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↝ other fics | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec

You weren’t sure when days would begin to blur, pulling all-nighters to finish assignments that you kept putting off until the absolute last minute. But, the small coffee shop on the edge of campus has become your pseudo-home, early mornings and occasional nights when you need the extra energy boost or focus. 

There was a perfect little nook in the corner of the coffee shop that was hidden behind a wall. A small alcove that was usually empty—at least, it was when you tried to use it. And you find yourself there on a lonely night, crisp autumn air biting at your skin as you slip into the coffee shop. It’s mostly empty at this hour and you order your usual drink of choice before you’re slipping around the corner with your coffee in hand, startled by the sight before you.

“Oh, shit—Mr. Miller—” You stammer, stepping back awkwardly as you almost run into his arm that is flipping a pen between his fingers, his gaze flicking up to you curiously.

He’s just as surprised to see you here, but ultimately, it makes more sense in retrospect.

He had a house, an office (both here on campus and at home), but he preferred a place like this, surrounded by the smell of coffee and the gentle ambience. He could’ve gone home to Tess and gave up grading and preparing assignments, but that didn’t sound appealing either. He finds the more he’s in Tess’s presence, the worse his thoughts wonder.

That maybe escaping to the coffee shop would push you from his mind, but here you were, in the flesh, and Joel couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

He offers a curt nod, polite. Part of him expects you to just…go away. But, he has the idea that he’s probably taking up your usual study spot. Before he entertains the idea of leaving, you take a seat silently in the chair across from him, holding up your hand.

“No, it’s fine—you don’t have to leave or anything.” You tell him assuredly, opening up your laptop as you settle into your spot, eyes connecting with his over the edges of your screen, his expression looking a little more jaded than your own.

You were exhausted, but he was exhausted and upset. You couldn’t be sure at what, but there was the glaring fact that he was here, nearing midnight, when he could easily be at home. You didn’t question it though, finding that if you wanted to, you could wear him down enough to talk.

“So,” After a long stretch of silence and his silent typing away at his keyboard and you still staring at a mostly blank screen, knowing you wouldn’t be able to get much work done with him around, thoughts and eyes wondering curiously, “I read those books you suggested.”

Ah, right. The email he’d sent on a whim. A lapse of judgment after the fact, seeing how it could be misconstrued, knowing it could be viewed as inappropriate.

The thoughts he was having were inappropriate, but even then, he knew he would never entertain it. And shit, you’re still looking at him, expecting some type of answer.

“Did you enjoy them?” He asks simply, no elaboration or asking for much.

 Just a simple yes or no.

There’s an angst that settles in your gut over his acknowledgment of the email, nodding quietly.

You had, truthfully. It was a few poem books he said were his favorites, and you could see where your interests intertwined, finding that the tone in the poems he enjoys reading is what you also enjoy reading.

Angst, dread, intense feeling that was hard to ignore.

And truthfully, Mr. Miller was impossible to ignore.

“I read them the other night,” You add, pulling up a half-finished assignment from your English course, “you’ve got…good taste.”

Joel chuckles quietly at that, easing slightly in his seat. Part of him was worried, even if his intentions were in the right place, that things may be misconstrued. He breaths out a sigh of relief he didn’t realize he was holding in.

“I figured you’d enjoy them.” He smirks slightly.

You feel your cunt clenching at the subtlety, crossing one leg over the other as you find a hauty comparison to his words, thought flashing through your mind.

You’d gone to bed with the words of the poems on your mind that night, but the voice wasn’t lacking in tone or voiceless—in fact, it was his voice. His words as he pumped one, two, and then three fingers into you over his desk, hands clenched into his shirt as you held onto him like a lifeline, only surfacing back to reality just as you were about to come.

But, he didn’t need to know that.

And you didn’t need to know how desperate he fucked himself into a lonely fist when he was pent up from work (which was more often than not, lately) with the image of you on his mind.

He’s never had thoughts like this and he can’t comprehend why—part of him wants to blame Tess and her choices and the stress it has put on his marriage. But, Joel has been checked out for a while and this, even though only in the confines of his mind, feels like an even worse betrayal.

“You should send me more.” A soft sip on your coffee as you stare flirtatiously over the rim of your cup—cool it, you tell yourself. But, it doesn’t work.

There’s a small twitch in his face, the deepest hint of a smile saying—yeah, I’ll challenge that—but it quickly fades. 

“Just…if you want to,” You add, playing things subtly, carefully, “if that’s okay?”

Joel knows he shouldn’t entertain the idea, but he sees the genuineness in your expression, beyond his attraction toward you. You had a desire to write and share and feel—he could respect that. He nods slightly, pressing his laptop closed and gathering his things slowly.

“Alright—give me a couple days,” Joel bargains, “Anything you prefer?”

You shake your head innocently, wishing he would recommend his own literature. You wanted to see how deep his ego ran, if he had the nerve to be so bold. “Anything you like, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it too.”

It was an understatement.

And the accidental coffee shop mishap doesn’t end there. In fact, it quickly grows out of control, beyond your own intention—this was natural, no coaxing needed.

–

Joel hated how much he craved your presence outside of work, in this stupid fucking coffee shop—but like his dependency to schedule and caffeine, he finds you become a normal occurrence and it throws him out of wack when you’re not around.

Luckily, you never strayed. You were there every night, even early mornings when he had to take a retirement for the night—you didn’t need to pry, you knew. He’d twist a nervous hand around his wrist that slowly trailed to his ring finger, fingers flexing anxiously. He had to be home, he didn’t want more problems. Even if this was somehow helping him work through his inhibitions, he still had a responsibility.

And Joel knows the time he’s spending with you could be misconstrued, but he does it out of a genuineness to further your interest and desire into literature if anything. He’s met with many students after hours—though, not to this extent. And always within the grounds of school, either in the classroom or his assigned office, nothing beyond the border of allowing a personal connection.

He was bending rules for you and he couldn’t help it.

There’s so much you learn in the short month or so that this drags on—Joel likes black coffee, no add-ins or sweet touches. He fidgets a lot, fingers constantly twisting at the watch on his wrist or scratching at his slowly regrowing stubble when he had just shaven a day or two prior—you start to notice the small blank patches in his beard because of it.

He seems so unsuspecting and normal—maybe that was what drew you in. You couldn’t really pinpoint it anymore. There was a point where the secret admiring morphed into open admiration and maybe Joel should’ve stopped it there. But, it made him feel good.

It made him feel wanted. And that was his first real mistake he made with you.

Allowing it.

It never breached anything inappropriate, but he’d notice when you would track the movement of his hands, rubbing over his face or neck in exhaustion, arms stretching over the back of his head after a long period of sitting down, hunched over in the small sanctuary you two had constantly found yourself in.

Mr. Miller was fair in that he never helped you with his assignments. He wasn’t there to give you a leg up or help you out in that regard, he knew you were capable. Competent. But, he fed your desire for him and literature by asking about your own interests and melding them his own, curating your time together in the small cafe with topics you could both find yourself getting lost in.

It was easy to lose track of time with him. And very irresponsible.

Joel does notice your longing glances and subtle twitches in your face when he does certaIn things, moving his body in a way that accentuates his strong form—he wasn’t toned necessarily, but he was broad, large, and he wasn’t amiss to how his own shirt clung to his body or how well-tailored his slacks were. He liked things to fit well. And you appreciated that so much.

But, beyond your own disappointment, things never cross that line.

He never makes a comment or threads the line of touching you, his hands always aware of their placement around you—and maybe he was just being respectful and was terrified to lose his job, but you can see the flex of his fingers when you remove your sweater or lean in to close to him, his eyes dragging along the slope of your neck, nostrils flaring in response at how comfortable enough you feel to just lean in.

He’s foolish to think this wouldn’t mean anything to you, but he allows that thought to stray from his mind and continues, too attached to these meet-ups like they were his own form of free therapy, beyond the dreadful marriage counseling he was going through.

It wasn’t working, but this was.

And he thinks that it is partly because it’s you and not Tess.

In fact, he knows it’s you.

The emails continue for weeks, days upon days of trading back responses and links—and really, everything is telling him to stop. Everything.

The guilt. The fear. The anger.

Yet, he never tries.

-

Joel can feel you breaking out of your shell little by little, more engaged in the group setting of the classroom the more time he’s spent with you one on one. He doesn’t want to initiate a responsibility in it, but he can since the familiarity and comfort when you speak–even if it's mostly directed at him.

Truthfully, you didn’t have a problem speaking in front of the class, but if it filled Mr. Miller with a sort of pride, you weren’t going to deny that.

You try to ignore the way he speaks your name, calls on you and beckons you to speak with a raise of his eyebrows, arms crossed firmly over his chest–and your eyes draw to his stomach, following along the soft slope and over his groin and you see his thighs tense as he crosses his legs too, one gently over the other as he leaned against his desk.

You smirk slightly, feigning a look of innocence as your eyes drag to his face, answering his question mindlessly—something about how to capture dialogue properly and even Joel can see that you’re not fully there, mind elsewhere.

It wasn’t hard to surmise where, but he ignored it. For now.

But, it wasn’t until the day was nearing the end of your class, head buried in your laptop as you copied your handwritten notes down into a document for later, knowing absently that he was perusing around the room but trying to ignore his lingering presence every time he glanced over at you.

His hands surround your chair before he announces himself, flimsy plastic creaking underneath his grip.

“Mr. Miller.” You address pleasantly, typing idly away at your keyboard.

He speaks your name gently, a reverence in his tone that allures fondness, a smile creeping on his lips. 

“Any questions?” He asks curiously, brow furrowing in confusion, “On the assignment—“

He points blindly to the board, eyes still locked on you as your head turns toward the board, down at your notes, then back at him.

“I mean—not really?” You sound unsure, “Write something fantasy, make it interesting—“

He can feel your interest waning, seeming rather nonchalant about the topic, like it would be an absolute breeze and wasn’t worth the wasted energy. But, he’s challenging you.

To what, you weren’t sure.

Joel clears his throat, grip tightening on the back of your chair as he leaned over subtly, chest crowding around the back of your head, examine the notes you did have type out before his eyes dragging back toward you, and you can’t ignore his gaze, chin turning up toward him and your eyes soften as they connect with his.

“But, specifically—dreams.” He clarifies, “Sometimes your best ideas can come to you in a dream—so think of it as journaling them but, expanding…bringing it to life.”

Dreams…

You’ve had enough of them in preceding weeks to last you a lifetime, all including him.

“Bringing it to life…” You echo his words, mincing the words on your tongue as the idea flusters your mind, a small nod from Joel in response.

Of course, he had no idea the extent of how deep your mind wandered, but his words were edging too close for comfort, like he had the faintest idea.

There’s a brief moment of self awareness as his eyes drag to your lips, tongue dampening them as you soothe the chapped skin, nodding absently.

“I think—I think I understand what you’re saying.”

Mr. Miller smiles then, whether fake or not you couldn’t tell, “Good—feel free to, uh—“

Email him.

You see him hesitate to force the words out, chuckle awkwardly as he leans away, breaking the built up tension between you both.

“Yeah, yep.” You laugh softly, infectiously as you turn your attention back toward your laptop, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Thank you, Mr. Miller.”

He pats your shoulder softly and squeezes, the only point of contact he ever allows himself, never letting his touch linger or stray because he knows—if he broke that point of contact and wandered elsewhere, he wasn’t sure he could stop.

-

You tap mindlessly at the edge of your keyboard, laptop resting wobbly in your propped up legs, start to type a word before quick erasing. Mind flicking through baseless and boring ideas, wondering how easily you could muster up a fake dream and amaze Mr. Miller with your lackluster writing skills—just lie, it wasn’t that hard.

You feel your mind wandering then, head hung back against your pillow as you stare at your ceiling, his expression etched into the back of your mind, eyes wandering along the dip in your cupid’s bow and the less than subtle lick of your lips that you offered in return. 

This couldn’t all be in your head.

You sigh, heavy and thick, but the soft ding of a notification on your laptop pulls your attention.

On the other end, Joel sits anxiously at his desk, foot tapping insistently against the hardwood floor, still fully dressed from work sans his tie that laid slack on his desk.

It wasn’t even a fully drafted email, rather a precursor to beginnings of an improper, but casual conversation. He tried to keep an open line of communication with all of his students, but when you don’t show up at the coffee shop that night, too burdened with the idea of just what you were going to write—he worries. 

‘Are things coming along? Didn’t catch you at the cafe tonight.’

You stare blankly, unsure how to respond.

It felt…odd, starting a conversation over email.

Of course, you didn’t have any other means of communication, so this is what Joel was forced to devolve too, tapping nervously as he awaited your response.

‘Having trouble actually—any suggestions?’

Part of you craves to hear his voice—and selfishly, he does too. And Joel knows the moment he offers the information up, he’s going to regret it. But, he does.

The house was empty, thankfully. Tess was working later than usual and Joel couldn’t be bothered with the semantics, finding himself straying further and further from this bed every night. His office was his new sanctuary, bad back be damned—he would choose the couch over a bed with her, knowing she still judged him for the choices she made.

A phone number is attached to the email that follows, ‘I’m free, if you want to talk through it.’

Your heart desynced from its usual rhythm for a brief moment, nearly fleeing your body if you hadn’t felt it so deeply in your chest. You couldn’t—this…it couldn’t be all in your head.

You quickly type the number into your contacts, hovering for far too many minutes over the call button, wondering if it mattered how you looked—if he would judge. You didn’t appear much different, but you were in your own comforts, vulnerable. And as much as he appeared here in your dreams, the reality of him being this close was startling.

You bite thoughtfully at your bottom lip as you prop your phone against the screen of your laptop, a blank document open behind the calling screen as you went through with your hesitation and attempt to connect the call, chin resting against your fist as you waited, eyes wandering aimlessly around the room.

When the familiar tone blares of the call going through and Joel is suddenly appearing on screen, you’re not sure why you followed through with this in the first place—even if he was the one who insisted it by offering up the information.

He looks slightly more disheveled across the screen, still dressed in the outfit you saw him in earlier, his tie gone, a button or two undone, and he’s definitely allowed his fingers to run through his usually quaffed hair, a curl falling freely over his forehead, his phone seemingly propped up in a similar manner as you can see most his upper body that wasn’t hidden by his desk.

“So, what’s the issue?”

He jumps right in, which isn’t surprising.

You feel the sense of familiarity in your usual conversations, like you were almost there in the room with him—you couldn’t imagine how exhausted you looked or seem currently, but you push the thought from your mind and hoped it didn’t cross his, that he wasn’t harping on your similarly disheveled appearance in his mind.

He seemed as if he genuinely wanted to help.

You hated it, wishing he wouldn’t drag things out.

If he wanted you, he could have you.

Instead, it felt like he wanted to—or rather needed to keep you at a distance, just out of reach for his own good rather than yours.

“Just…wondering, I guess.” You look down briefly, feeling his curiosity through the screen as you pick at a frayed thread in your blanket. “How—how detailed are you asking?”

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be so loud that it feels like…too much?” Joel feels like he may not be making complete sense, but he tries. “Do you have a few dreams you remember well that you feel the need to jot down, that you can morph it into something tangible?”

The way he speaks so eloquently, even beyond the guise of his profession, never gets old. Maybe it is a habit he’s formed, speaking and teaching for so many years that he can’t force himself out of that mode—but maybe he was also allowing it to be a barrier, that if he let his guard down too much that you might sneak in and find a way to pick at him and allow yourself to get comfortable.

He couldn’t do…comfortable. But, this—this he could manage. It allowed for a clear divide between student and teacher. Professional and casual, even if he didn’t hand out his phone number to people so willingly. 

“Um…yeah,” You nod slightly, mind filtering through the filthy thoughts of him over you, breathing a deep satiating desire for relief into your body, lips on your body, fingers buried deep inside of you, bringing you right near the precipice before you’re being ripped away from the glorious fantasy, “there’s a few, I guess.”

“Do you wanna share?” His eyebrows raise inquisitively, his hand disappearing off screen to bring a clear glass to his lips, half-filled with a dark brown liquid.

Tequila, maybe? Whiskey? 

His lips curl around the edge of the and he sips, ice clanking inside of the glass as he awaits your response.

You shake your head hesitantly, smiling slightly, “I think the whole point is to surprise you, right?”

He chuckles softly, “I suppose.”

“Maybe…some vague advice, if you have any?”

Joel sets the glass against the desk a few inches off screen, thinking quietly. Eyebrows furrowing deep as he contemplates. Hard.

“Don’t hold back,” He starts, staring mindlessly off into the distance as he speaks, “be—be authentic and try not to limit yourself.”

“So, no sparing any details?” You ask teasingly and he smirks at your playful tone.

“Why would you do that?” He asks unknowingly of the thoughts on your mind, “You’re a beautiful writer, don’t discredit yourself.”

It tugs at something deep inside of you, a subtle frown forming on your face as you nod in response. “Thank you…”

“Hey,” There’s a gentle utterance of your name that has your eyes connecting fiercely across the screen, “I mean that.”

You’re silent, at a loss for words. It wasn’t for lack of knowing what to say, but how to say something—how to extend your appreciation. But, you figure that may translate better through writing, brewing over the idea in your head.

“Mr. Miller—“ Your mind lingers on unspoken words and thoughts, begging to be spoken, but the faint creak of a door in the background on his end has you both shooting to attention, a shared understanding as he scrambles slightly.

“If you run into any road blocks, just send me a message, okay?”

You nod, cut off by his sudden eagerness to end the call—feeling you just got caught doing something horrible, a shunning on the horizon.

You sleep that night with a fresh revelation on your mind, smothered by the feeling of special treatment that Mr. Miller was offering, wholly committed to your own delusion and it fuels and stokes that fire effortlessly. And the vivid scenes of your dream flow onto the page the following morning in perfect detail:

It starts off innocent, a bland tale of forbidden love or…something thereof, playing at the idea that this wasn’t supposed to be. Two parrying forces that yearn for the other but can’t find the courage to jump or take that leap—full of dread and hesitance and intensifying that idea. 

Until, there’s a major implode of tension.

A sudden snap on the male character that resembles Joel so much it is unsettling, down to the subtle mannerisms as he takes in the characters appearance and words throughout, slowly describing yourself in a way that isn’t…obvious. But, it is heavily implied. 

There’s a sudden confession of desire, not love, but a definite yearning that is mostly mutual, leading into a fantasy of filth. Debauchery personified in a way that feels inappropriate to write for a college assignment but is therapeutic for your mind.

His hands wander with a restrain that reads as worried—unsure of what the other character expects, but the moment your lips connect all bets are off, clothes rapidly disappearing amongst the confines of the male’s vaguely described quarters, laid over a flat surface. His bed or his desk, the detail is omitted, but he crowds dream you in and devours, capturing your mouth in another heated kiss, hands wasting no time as they slip over your cunt, beyond the sacred barrier of your underwear and inside of you like he’s done this a million times before.

In your mind, he had. But, that was beyond the point.

His fingers work you over expertly, your own hands wandering over his strong frame, biceps flexing underneath your touch as you describe a distinct feeling of stubble as he decends and you feel the texture against the inside of your thighs, underwear disappearing at some point you can’t remember before his mouth is latching into your cunt without hesitation, feeling the warmth of his mouth so vividly it almost startled you awake at the time, the distinctness of his voice echoing in your mind, biting your lip to stifle your desperate moans.

“Don’t hold back.” He echoes, a distinct line of dialogue that sticks out in your mind as you type it into the document, feeling your inside twist and clench at the fleeting memory of his voice.

You come against his mouth with a shout, fingers twisting into his horrible disheveled hair, just long enough that you can secure a good grip before you’re pulling him upright, tasting the slick of yourself on your tongue as you kiss him.

It’s all a dream, after all. 

You take your own liberties, playing up the descriptions in a way that feels sinful, but you do it anyway. You finished the assignment in a few hours despite the ability to extend it over a few days, not bothering to wait as the idea was still fresh in your mind as you typed it out.

You don’t even hesitate to send the assignment once it is finished, fully confident in your abilities and Joel’s echoing encouragement.

It may have been the best thing you’ve ever written.

-

Joel is blissfully unaware of the debauchery awaiting him in his inbox, busying himself with the endless list of divorce attorneys in the state, wondering if he should really go through with this—ending his marriage, starting anew and cutting ties with Tess. He isn’t sure, really.

He isn’t positive about anything in his life anymore. 

He sips gingerly at the steaming cup of coffee, his second of the night as he switches between his browser and a separate page of assignments he was concocting for the rest of the semester, specifically tailoring some around your own interests. He couldn’t explain why he was putting the effort in, why there was genuine concern—but he wanted you to succeed, if anything.

You don’t see him at first, he wasn’t hidden away in your usual spot, but he’s tucked away in a quiet corner near the back of the cafe, and you almost decide to ignore him and give him the space he seems like he craved, wondering if he had already read through your essay, but he nods at you subtly when he catches your gaze, a quick look up from his computer as you grabbed your coffee order from the barista.

Come here, he beckons silently.

You cross a single arm over your chest and press the lid of the cup to your lips and sip, gentle are careful steps progressing his way as you stop, hip pressing against the edge of the table. He looks at you, friendly and innocent, like he hadn’t offered up his phone number without precautions or asking, handing out the final line of connection that sealed the deal for you. This wasn’t just…help. It had to be more.

“J–Mr. Miller,” You catch yourself, finding his first name almost slipping from your lips, too close for comfort but he doesn’t seem to catch it, “reading through the assignments?”

You’re curious, but silently hoping he hasn’t crossed yours yet. Or, if he had, wondering if he was calling you over for that very reason—he wouldn’t express his thoughts in the coffee shop though, he couldn’t. If he lies, you can’t see through it.

“Uh, not yet, giving that a couple days,” He shakes his head, closing out of the browsers and shutting his laptop, “sit?”

He’s extending the invitation, hand gesturing toward the empty seat.

You bite back the smile that creeps on your face and take a seat, pulling at the sweater that covers your body, the cold chill creeping into the cafe as the bells to the entrance ring.

“Did you ever figure out what you were struggling with?” Joel asks curiously, still painfully in teacher mode, much to your dismay, “I didn’t hear from you, so…”

“Oh, um,” There’s an excited fluttering in your tummy, hesitant to debrief him on the details, but you nod, “yeah—just took a little bit of thought and the words started flowing.”

“Well, that’s good,” He offers politely, “I’m glad I could help—if…if I did.”

“Of course,” You smile more confidently, “You always do.”

If he only knew.

His eyebrows furrowing subconsciously, staring at his watch as the numbers creeped closer to midnight, his mind heavy with thought he wouldn’t speak out loud. So, you ask.

“Are you okay?” You utter softly, knowing it was the instance either of you have ever made the effort to ask—through countless meet-ups and secret conversation, feeling a need to keep it all hushed—it never occurred to you until you’re saying the words out loud. “You seem…irritated.”

Joel laughs bitterly, a soft chuckle that radiates in his chest. “Who isn’t?” He challenges, seeing the familiar look cross your own face, “Sorry—that’s—”

Joel looks away briefly, feeling that confiding you was a line he couldn’t cross, even though he’s blurred just about every other one in existence. 

“I don’t mean to pry,” You shrug, “but I figure—it doesn’t hurt to ask?”

He’s withholding and you can see it, clock it in the way he checks his phone screen—a few missed calls and a text but you can’t read out anything other than the name. Tess.

Tess Miller. Got it.

“Did you get your assignment turned in then?” He asks curiously.

You nod shyly, twirling the cup slowly on the table, eyes drawn away from him despite how starkly he glared at you, hands cupped in his lap underneath the table. If you scooted closer your knees would knock together and you fight the urge to do so.

Joel notices the way you curl inward, a subconscious act that always denotes something simmering beneath the surface with you. He was used to your forwardness, your inability to respect personal space to a degree that…didn’t necessarily bother him in the way that it should. And he hates how his cock twitches at the sight of you glancing away, intimidated by his eye contact for once in the few months he’s gotten to know you.

There’s a creeping thought edging its way into his mind, an urge to force your wandering gaze on him, coax you into trusting him, wondering just how easy it would be for you to comply with his will, if it would take any fight on your part at all.

“Good, I’m excited to read it.” Joel replies honestly, a genuine smile finding its way onto his face, “I’m always lookin’ forward to what your mind thinks up.”

He may be asking for more than he bargains for with that.

“Well, I’ll see you on Monday then?” You confirm, feeling the need for a quick escape, things getting entirely too close for comfort, “Hopefully with a perfect score?”

Joel smirks knowingly, “Don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He teases.

Unfortunately, you were yards if not miles ahead. 

Beyond saving.

And Joel had no idea.

BEST SERIES EVER GO GIVE IT A READ !!!

You’re Losing Me Part 13

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖯𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽…𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽?

A/N: this is a hanahaki au. WC: 4k This is like 80% James w/ a little Remus sprinkled in there but I promise the next part will have more Moony content!

“Moony!”

Remus jolts when a pillow hits him right in the face, opening his eyes with a tired groan.

“What the fuck?” He complains, sitting up in bed.

“It’s time to get up, mate.” Sirius says, snickering at the unamused glare Remus gives him.

“Did you have to be so aggressive?” Remus sighs, whacking Sirius with the pillow when his back is turned.

“Oi! Watch the hair!” Sirius shouts. “I’ve just done it! And you slept right through your alarm! It woke us all up and you were still snoring, so yeah, I did have to be aggressive.”

“I didn’t hear my alarm go off?” Remus mumbles to himself before giving his friends a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Sirius assures. “None of us had set an alarm anyway. If it weren’t for you, we’d all be fucked.”

“What were you dreaming about?” Peter asks curiously as he tries to get the wrinkles out of his shirt.

“What?” Remus asks.

“For the first time, possibly ever, you slept through your alarm.” Peter reminds him. “It must’ve been a good dream.”

“Yeah.” Remus says, mind once again going back to the kiss you shared the night of the Yule Ball. “Yeah, it was.”

“So what was it about?” Peter presses.

“Are you guys seriously standing around talking about your dreams right now?” James asks in an annoyed huff as he exits the bathroom. “We have far more important things to discuss.”

“Like?” Peter asks cluelessly, fastening the final button on his shirt.

“Y/N! Obviously!” James shouts.

Peter flinches at the loud outburst before getting back to adjusting his tie, sharing an amused smile with Sirius as he does. Across the room, Remus sighs in annoyance. This is all James talked about during dinner last night, and when they got back to their dorm. Remus thought the conversation was over. Clearly he was wrong.

“Prongs,” Sirius groans as the boys finally start to make their way to the great hall. “This again?”

“Yes!” James insists. “Yes, this again! I’m telling you, something is wrong!”

“Why?” Sirius asks, clearly having had enough of James’ theatrics. “Because she didn’t immediately fall into your arms? Because she pushed you away when you kissed her?”

Remus stumbles on his feet and looks at James with wide eyes.

“Kissed her?” He repeats. “You…you kissed her?”

“Yeah?” James says, giving Remus a funny look. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No!” Remus denies. “When I got here, all you guys kept talking about was how cold Y/N was to Prongs. None of you said he kissed her!”

“Oh.” All three boys say in unison before they start talking over each other.

“Well I did.” James confirms.

“That’s what happens when you don’t ride the Hogwarts Express with us, Moony.” Sirius chastises. “You miss things.”

“It completely slipped my mind.” Peter says honestly, giving Remus his typical clueless smile.

“Prongs, you’re my best mate; but you’re driving me crazy with this.” Sirius admits.

“I can’t help it!” James groans, running a hand through his hair. “I just don’t understand. I-I love her... How could she be so cruel? It was like she didn’t even recognize me…”

Remus turns away at the confession while Peter and Sirius share a concerned look.

“Mm-mm.” Peter shrugs, frowning in discomfort when Sirius elbows him.

“Maybe she was messing with you?” Sirius offers.

“You think?” James asks softly.

“She had to be.” He insists. “You know, like…payback for all you put her through-“

“I didn’t know!” James defends before sighing. “You really think it’s a prank?”

“Come on, Prongs. This is Y/N. Your friend. Your best friend. She’d never purposely be cruel to you. I’ll bet that the next time she sees you, you guys laugh about this whole thing.”

“Yeah.” James nods hopefully, smiling at Sirius. “Yeah, you’re right!”

With that, the marauders finally make their way into the Great Hall. Remus does a quick scan of the room; and when he doesn’t see you, he takes a step back.

“Aren’t you coming, Moony?” Peter asks, having noticed his friend no longer beside him.

Remus does a pathetic attempt of digging through his bag before pointing over his shoulder.

“I actually forgot my…something.” He lies. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

Peter nods his head before running off to join Sirius and James. Remus immediately turns around and starts heading back to the common room, turning his head this way and that every time he passes a corridor, desperately trying to find you. He has so many questions.

Why did you kiss him on the night of the Yule Ball? Why did you leave him without so much as a goodbye? Why didn’t he hear from you once during holiday? What’s going on with you and James?

Upon reaching the portrait hole, Remus considers waiting in the common room before changing his mind and choosing to wait outside, lest you think he’s trying to ambush you. Remus, lost in thought, doesn’t even realize you’ve arrived until you literally appear right in front of him.

“Morning!” You shout with a beaming smile, coming to a stop right in front of him.

Remus, who had previously been digging through his bag, if only to give himself something to do, looks up at the sound of your voice and immediately has the wind knocked out of him. This is the first time he’s seen you in weeks and you look amazing. Gone is the weak, frail girl he spent the previous term taking care of. The girl standing in front of him now is beautiful; with shiny, bouncy hair, full cheeks, and a radiant smile. There’s a warmth to you now, a twinkle in your eye, a skip in your step. You’ve changed- for the better, of course. It’s like you were…reborn during holiday. Remus doesn’t even realize how long he’d been staring until you anxiously tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Are-are you not happy to see me?” You ask timidly.

“No…I mean yes!” Remus corrects, shaking his head at himself. “Of course I’m happy to see you! Are you kidding me? Come’ere”

Remus grasps your wrist and pulls you into his chest before wrapping his arms tightly around you. You let out a surprised squeal before hugging him back. Remus’ hold on you gets the tiniest bit tighter, and he presses a kiss to your head before pulling back. He cups your face and smiles fondly at you.

“How have you been? Are you doing okay?” He asks softly, eyes roaming over your features, as if it’s the first time he’s seen you. Perhaps it is.

You nod, bringing a hand up and placing it over his.

“You sure?” He presses, causing you to squeeze his hand affectionately and giggle.

“Moony, I’m fine.” You assure, smiling up at him. “Missed you.”

Remus huffs at that, though he can’t lie that his heart flipped at the confession.

“I missed you too, love.” He replies, “More than you know.” He adds softly. He doesn’t mean to, but it slips out. His eyes widen the tiniest bit, registering what he’s just said; but he changes the topic before you’re able to comment on the slip up. “Come on. Breakfast is waiting.”

You nod excitedly, turning around and falling into step beside Remus. He wants to ask you about the kiss. He wants to ask you about James, but now isn’t the right time; so he simply lets it be, content to be by your side once more. For the first time in weeks, he feels whole.

Reaching the great hall, Remus looks over at you and smiles softly. You’ve been going on and on about some action movie you went to see during the break. Apparently you loved it so much you went to the cinema a total of six times, dragging your poor parents along for most of them.

“Oh my god! And then he does this super cool move, where he does a sharp U-turn? But when he does the turn- for fucks sake.” You cut yourself off.

“What? What’s wrong?” Remus asks.

“Why is he here?” You ask with a frown, nodding your head at the table. Remus follows your gaze and looks back to you with a confused frown.

“Who? James?” He clarifies.

“Don’t tell me you’re friends with that creep.” You whisper as you both look at the table. Sirius and Peter wave at you, and you smile and wave in return. However, when James looks at you, you look away, frowning at Remus.

“It was a misunderstanding.” Remus tries to reason, even though he himself doesn’t know the full story.

“Misunderstanding or not, I don’t want to sit next to him.”

“What about Padfoot and Wormtail? Don’t you wanna sit with them?”

“Yeah.” You groan. “I guess I can be in his general vicinity for a few minutes. But sit next to me!”

Remus nods his head and you let out a grateful squeal, grabbing onto him as he leads you to the table. Remus looks at your hand placed on his arm, before looking at you with a bashful smile.

“There she is!” Sirius exclaims when you finally join your friends.

“Hello gentlemen.” You greet, sitting down with a smile.

“Hi Y/N.” James says softly, shifting nervously in his seat.

You look at James and nod your head with a forced smile before immediately looking away, finding your plate of food much more interesting than it actually is. James looks at Sirius with a frown and he shakes his head, silently telling James to let it go for now. Which he does! For a while. He’s able to make it fifteen whole minutes before he starts, effectively interrupting the conversation you and Peter were having.

“So where were you during holiday?” James asks, causing you to look up from your pancakes.

“Mm?” You hum while you finish the bite you just took.

“Holiday.” James repeats. “Where were you? I wrote to you every day…I thought you’d write back at least once but I never heard from you…”

“Why would I write back?” You ask with a confused laugh.

With that simple question the table goes quiet. All four boys share a concerned look before turning to you.

“Y/N.” Sirius laughs, because surely you must be joking. “That’s James.”

“Right… Well I’m gonna start heading to Charms. You coming?” You ask, standing from your seat and grabbing your backpack. James starts to gather his things before you stop him in his tracks with a single word.

“Moony?”

Remus chokes on his tea before quickly setting his cup down and looking at you.

“Are you coming or not?” You ask, staring down at him with a smile.

Remus shares a confused look with the boys before nodding his head at you.

“Yeah.” He agrees, grabbing his bag as well. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He shares one last confused look with Sirius, Peter, and James before following after you.

“Still think she’s just messing with me?” James asks Sirius, watching with sad eyes as you and Remus exit the great hall and turn left, disappearing from his line of sight.

“Nah.” Sirius shakes his head as they all start to gather their belongings. “You’re right, mate. There’s something going on.”

“Yeah, but what?” Peter asks, taking a large, final sip of his juice.

“I don’t know.” James shrugs helplessly as they start to make their way out of the great hall. “But I’m gonna find out.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You walk into charms and follow Remus to his seat. He sits down and starts rummaging through his bag while you squat, resting your head on his desk as he gets all his supplies out.

“Hey,” you whisper at him. “What’s your last class today?”

“Ancient runes. Why?”

You bite your lower lip before smiling mischievously at him and Remus is once again taken back to that night- that kiss.

“Do you wanna skip and go to Hogsmeade?” You ask.

“Sure.” Remus nods. The first day would most likely just be a review of what they went over before break, so it’s not like he’d be missing anything important. “I’ll tell the boys to meet us at the usual spot.”

“Actually, I was hoping it could be just us?” You clarify.

“Oh?” Remus says, brows furrowed.

“Just this once?” You plead with a pout before smiling at him. “I missed my Moony.”

Remus feels his heart stutter in his chest when you refer to him as yours. He can’t fight the goofy smile on his face as he nods.

“Okay. Sure.”

“Yeah?” You ask with hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.” He confirms.

“Okay, cool.” You smile at him. “It’s a date.”

Remus’ eyes widen at the word. You smile at Peter as he takes his seat next to Remus. You stand up, prepared to take your own seat only to groan when you see James sitting in the row in front of you.

“Oh, you gotta be kidding. Wormtail, switch seats with me.”

“No.” Peter refuses, sinking further into his seat.

“Come on.” You plead.

“Why?” Peter asks skeptically.

“Look who’s sitting in front of me!” You whine, jerking your head to the side. “I don’t wanna sit with him. He’s weird.”

“Good morning, class!” Professor Flitwick greets as he enters the room. “I trust you all had a good holiday. If you could all settle down so I can start taking attendance.”

“Y/N, please.” Remus begs. “Just for today. We’ll talk about this later.”

“Ugh, fine.” You concede with a roll of your eyes. “But if he tries to kiss me again, I’m drawing my wand.”

Remus nods his head.

“And getting a restraining order.” You add, causing Peter to snicker.

“Fair enough.” Remus agrees with a chuckle.

You begrudgingly walk to your desk, dropping your backpack on the table before falling into your seat. You start pulling your supplies out, only to groan when your parchment rolls off your desk. James, having heard it hit the ground, picks it up and hands it back to you.

“Thanks, Jeremy.” You nod at him.

“It’s James.” He corrects with a frown.

“Whatever.” You shrug.

Sighing, James turns around and faces the front once more. He doesn’t try to talk to you again, no matter how badly he wants to. It’s near the end of the lesson when James, and just about everyone else, gets the shock of a lifetime.

Professor Flitwick, having wrapped up the lesson a bit earlier than expected, decided to let everyone talk amongst themselves until class was over. You’re doodling on the margins of your notes when someone comes to a stop beside your desk. You look up and smile when you see Lori, a girl you had tutored the previous year, standing in front of you.

“Y/N!” She greets excitedly. “Look at you! You’re glowing!”

“I am?” You ask with a confused smile. Sure you feel different, but you didn’t think you looked any different.

“Yes!” She confirms with an enthusiastic nod of her head. “You look so happy and healthy and- and full of life!”

“That’s because I am!” You tell her with a smile of your own. “I’m all better now.”

You’re so absorbed with the person standing in front of you that you don’t even realize nearly everyone in the room has stopped talking, desperately trying to eavesdrop on your conversation.

“Really?” Lori gasps, eyes widening. “Does that mean the guy…he loves you back?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” You reply with a careless shrug of your shoulders. “But even if he did, it’s too late.”

That sentence causes the marauders to share a concerned look.

“I got the surgery done during holiday!” You exclaim, biting your lip in an attempt to hide your smile.

James’ heart drops at the announcement.

“You did?” Someone sitting behind you asks.

“Uh-huh.” You nod, turning around in your seat to face them. “I’ve got a big ol’ scar going down my chest to prove it. It’s very hot.” You joke, causing a few classmates to laugh.

Sitting in front of you, James finds it difficult to breathe.

“Were you scared?” Lori asks softly.

“Well sure,” you nod, giving her a kind smile. “But I didn’t wanna die. I mean…you saw me… I was getting worse and worse. At the end of the day, he just wasn’t worth it.”

“Prongs…are you alright?” Sirius asks softly, whispering so as to not draw attention to his friend.

“Fine.” James nods, smiling tensely at his friend, desperately trying to keep it together.

“Are you su-“

James stands abruptly from his seat, grabbing his backpack before rushing out of the room. Sirius stands, prepared to go after him, only to stop when Remus shakes his head.

“Give him some space.” He mouths from his seat a few rows away.

Sighing, Sirius nods, sitting back down and rubbing his temples.

“I thought seventh year was supposed to be easy.” He grumbles to himself. “This whole situation’s fucked.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

After Defense Against the Dark Arts, the marauders all convened in their dormitory for an emergency meeting. Well, the marauders minus Remus, convened in their dormitory. But to be fair, they didn’t have time to track him down in a time like this! They trusted him to find his way eventually. And sure enough, he comes rushing in only a few minutes after them.

“What’s all this?” He asks, breathlessly, clearly not expecting to run into anyone. “What are you all doing here?”

“Waiting for you!” Peter exclaims. “Sit down, we were just about to get started.”

“With?” Remus presses, still completely lost as to what he’s just walked into.

“With our meeting!” James stresses. “To talk about Y/N. Figure out what’s going on and you know…set up a game plan of some sort.”

“Now?” Remus asks, glancing at his watch before heading to his trunk, trying to find something acceptable to wear. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I have plans.”

“You have plans?” James repeats incredulously.

“Cancel them.” Sirius says simply.

“I can’t.” Remus repeats.

“Why not?” He fires back.

“Because they’re with Y/N!” Remus admits, releasing a shaky breath before turning to face his friends.

“You have plans…with Y/N?” James asks softly.

“What plans?” Sirius interrogates, crossing his arms as he stares at Remus.

“She wants me to go to Hogsmeade with her…”

“Just you?” Sirius asks, to which Remus nods.

“Just me.”

“Why?” Peter finally asks.

“I-I don’t know.” Remus shrugs.

“This is great.” James says, getting everyone’s attention.

“It is?” Remus and Sirius ask at the same time.

“Yes!” James assures them. “Brilliant actually. Think about it, guys! Who was by her side the whole time she was sick?”

“Moony?” Peter guesses.

“Right.” James nods, “So who do you think she trusts the most right now? Who would she spill everything to? Who would she let pick her brain?”

“Moony!” Peter repeats, more confidently this time.

“Moony, you could be our man on the inside.” James tells him eagerly. “Go to Hogsmeade. Find out what happened. What really happened. Then come back and fill us in.”

“I don’t think this is such a good idea…” Remus trails off unsurely, toying with the jumper in his hands.

“Don’t think, just go!” James insists, pushing Remus out the door before throwing himself onto his bed.

He groans in discomfort when he feels something jabbing him in the neck. James pulls it out and sits up when he sees it’s a letter from his mum. He rips it open, wondering what’s so important that it had to be delivered straight to his dorm instead of the owlery.

“Hello love.” James reads out loud. “I found this tucked into the back gate while tending to the garden. I think it might be that letter you were waiting on this whole time. I’m sure by now you’ve probably already discussed whatever was written inside, but I figured I’d send it to you anyway! Love, mum.”

“What is it?” Peter asks curiously, sitting down on his bed as well.

“It’s a letter from Y/N…” James says, taking in the weathered envelope. He rips it open and pulls out the parchment inside, unfolding it gently before holding it up.

“Well?” Peter presses. “What’s it say?”

“I don’t know.” James sighs, shaking his head as he puts the letter down. “I can’t read it. I’m scared.”

Sighing, Sirius stands and holds his arm out. James gives him a grateful smile before handing him the letter. Sirius clears his throat before reading.

James,

In case you haven’t figured it out yet, it’s you. It’s you I’m in love with. I’m sure that right about now you’re hating yourself for not realizing sooner, and blaming yourself for everything I went through… Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. I don’t blame you for any of it. And you shouldn’t either.

I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell in love with you, and I don’t regret it. I don’t regret any of it. It was worth it. You were worth it. And I would have happily died loving you…if only I loved you a little more.

The thing is, the thought of dying terrifies me, Jamie. The thought of leaving you behind, of never seeing you, or Peter or Sirius or Remus, it keeps me up at night. You guys are my best friends, the most important people in my life. I can’t leave you. Which is why I’ve decided to get the surgery.

“Fuck.” James sighs. “Y/N, why didn’t you wait for me?”

Sirius gives him a sympathetic smile before continuing to read the letter.

I’m afraid you’ll get the short end of the stick. I’ll come back in January and I won’t love you anymore. Hell, I won’t even remember you. But I’ll be alive. That’s enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

I’ll apologize now for whatever the new Y/N does. I imagine she won’t particularly be nice to you. She'll probably tell you off and roll her eyes whenever you look in her direction. She’ll make her disdain for you apparent. She might even raise her wand against you. Don’t take it personally. That’s only because she doesn’t remember you. She doesn’t remember loving you, or being loved by you. Go easy on her, yeah?

From where I’m standing you have two options. If you don’t love me back, then you have nothing to worry about. You can carry on loving Lily and you won’t have to think twice about me. I don’t remember you, remember? Don’t feel bad and please, in the name of Godric, don’t feel guilty. All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy; even if that wasn’t with me.

If, however, by some stroke of luck you do happen to return my feelings, I am so sorry. I’m sorry because what I’m about to ask you to do is going to be incredibly difficult… Jamie, you need to let me go.

“No.” James says immediately, angrily shaking his head. “Fuck that. I won’t do it.”

Sirius huffs in amusement. James and Peter look at him questioningly before he points to where he left off in the letter and continues.

I’ve known you my whole life, James. I know what you’re thinking. You’re probably reading this letter, shaking your head defiantly, saying you won’t do it. So that leaves you with one last option…

Somehow, you have to get me to fall in love with you again. And you’ll have to be quick about it; because if you do love me, when I come back in January you’ll be the one with unrequited love. And wherever unrequited love is, hanahaki is not far behind.

I don’t know how, but I’m sure you’ll be able to pull it off. After all, you already managed to make me fall in love with you once before- and you weren’t even trying that time! This time around should be easier, right?

I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but I’m still here. Don’t give up on me, Jamie. I’m still here…somewhere.

Sirius carefully folds the letter back up and hands it to James.

“So….” Peter trails off.

“What are you gonna do?” Sirius asks, leaning against the wall.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m gonna get her back.” James says with a determined nod.