#regulus self insert

[crescenthistory]

hi! i have this really cute idea for regulus x fem! reader. so reader is a animagus and it’s winter time so sometimes she’ll shift into a their animal form, preferably a cat, and goes seek out warmth. but reader is also besties with remus and knows he’s a werewolf, his body temperature runs a lot warmer then anyone else so she goes to room to cuddle. when that happens, regulus immediately knows they reader is with remus and, begrudgingly, goes to gryffindor to steal reader back.

when he gets there, sirius is pouring and complains to reggie that “your girlfriend is stealing my boyfriend” and regulus snaps back by saying “well your boyfriend is stealing my girlfriend” and reader and remus are amused but their bickering but don’t care.

anon. anon. i am giving you the BIGGEST kiss, you don't even know. this is perhaps the best idea i've seen in a while and so i love you. i will be thinking about this throughout all of winter, thank you.

Words: 3k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, references to previous black brothers angst, disgusting amounts of fluff, best friends can cuddle platonically regardless of gender i will fight you on this, background rosekiller and wolfstar, childhood best friend!remus, implied gryffindor!reader, sirius pretends to be jealous but is not

Note: read more about cat!animagus!reader's shenanigans with regulus, wolfstar and james in Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat & Padfoot vs. Whiskers

When Regulus accepted Sirius’ attempt to mend their relationship, he had expected to get his big brother back in full and no more. The person who understands him best, the boy he needed to lean on – it was all he wanted to get out of it. Perhaps he expected to have to grown tolerant of his brother’s friends, but that was something he dreaded, if he at all thought of.

What Regulus had not expected was to be introduced to and fall head over heels in love with you.

Remus’ childhood best friend, the more reserved one of the bunch that he had always seen floating around with them, but whose voice he had never had to roll his eyes at, thus never interacted with. It bewildered him now how he once upon a time barely thought of you, regarded you.

Now he knew you were delightful, and Regulus was positively smitten.

It had been exactly what Regulus had never thought he would get – an easy love. Like your friends, you were open and honest and loyal to the bone, and it spilled over like honey into your relationships with those around you. Once you caught a glance of his clearly lovestruck eyes, you melted, and the puddle was caught delicately in his hands.

Since then, that is where he has held you. In the palms of his hands, close to his heart. He learned more than he perhaps wanted to know about himself during the process of opening up to you, and you showed him a patience he still is not entirely certain he deserves. But you gave him your time, your moments, your touches and your lips, and he received and received without complaint.

When the two most important people in Regulus’ life – one a fervent, natural devotion, another a sassy, passionate rivalry – were in the same hazardous circle of loud-mouthed Gryffindor friends, he eventually had to capitulate that he could no longer just tolerate them. They were family.

God, what love has cost him.

Regulus walked into his dorm room where you have spent more days than not for the past few months, and sighed defeatedly when all he finds there is Barty laying on top of Evan in some odd position that cannot possibly be comfortable.

“Hello to you too, Black. Thrilling to see you.” Barty’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but there was no menace there as of yet.

“Yeah, yeah,” Regulus grumbled as he threw his bookbag onto his bed and sat down. “You seen Y/N lately?”

“You mean since you were all snuggled up this morning? Nah.”

Regulus rolled his eyes painfully hard at his oldest friend, murmuring a soft sod off before tossing whatever was closest – his pyjama t-shirt – in Barty’s general direction, missing by a good metre. He is a seeker and not a chaser for a reason.

“What of it, Reg?” Evan mumbled, but it was distorted by Barty’s elbow being more or less shoved into his mouth. He could never sit still.

“Just figured she’d be here, ‘s all. She finished class before me.” Regulus falls down onto his bed, curls spilling onto the emerald sheets as he stares at the ceiling, picturing you there and then immediately kicking himself for being that down bad. Then reminding himself with the therapy-speech Sirius has been teaching him, love is a strength not a weakness, it’s good to feel your feelings. Yada yada. "It's been a long day."

“Maybe she got tired of your sorry ass.” Barty laughed at his own joke only to be smacked by Evan’s finally-freed hand.

“Or yours, you sod.”

“Nah, Treasure absolutely adores me.” Barty propped himself up to flash you both a grin. “See, unlike you, I’m fun.”

“Interesting word to substitute insufferable with.” Evan said, leaning his face up from underneath Barty, as if to intimidate him.

“You love me,” Barty drawled before kissing the blond soundly.

“Would you guys please stop flirting?” Regulus’ voice was closer to a groan than anything else. He pressed the backs of his hands to his eyes, seeing stars and thinking of you. Stupid poetic feelings.

“Just because you can’t keep track of your girl doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.” Barty pointed an accusatory finger at Regulus. “I would classify that demand as rude.”

“Bite me.”

“Only if your girlfriend says yes.” This time it was Evan’s turn of tuning into Regulus’ torture.

“And she would.” Barty winks at him.

This time it’s a pillow Regulus throws at them, and it lands perfectly, smack in the middle of Barty’s face.

“Oi!” He calls as he throws it back. “Either you quit it, or you throw me your jumper, it’s freezing in here.”

“You’re literally in bed, Barty.” Regulus looks at him, unamused. “Just–”

He trails off, gaze falling from Barty to the wall behind him as he pieces the puzzle together and realisation dawns on his face. The other boys seem to have caught on as they both cock their heads curiously at him. 

“Of course,” Regulus whispers, first in marvel and then it morphs into something between exasperation and disgust. “Of course.” At last, he gets a determined look on his face, slapping his palms on his knees as he sits up from bed and grabs his jumper to go.

“Excuse you, what just happened?” Barty says, increasingly louder throughout his sentence as he realises Regulus is headed for the door, thick wool jumper tucked under his arm. “Hey!”

Regulus throws the boys a look over his shoulder, smirking at them and shaking his head before shutting the door and walking off. He barely catches Evan’s “shush, you baby, I’ll warm ya” before he is out of earshot.

A man with a purpose and half a plan stalks off, beginning the treacherous journey from the Slytherin dungeons to the Gryffindor dormitories.

What is the single thing Regulus knows can keep you from him when you’re otherwise attached at the hip? The cold.

What is the one person you go to for anything and everything, especially dealing with the cold? A certain ragged boy with a wolfish smile that he knows is to be found only behind the portrait of an increasingly annoying woman.

“Password?” The Fat Lady asked, quirking a brow ridiculously high as she regards Regulus with a mutual disgust.

“Catulus leonis.” Regulus does not bother holding back the eyeroll at the ridiculous passphrase.

She looks at him a moment or five longer than she needs, almost as if considering not letting him in despite his answer being perfectly correct, before she finally swings open the door wordlessly.

Regulus mutters a harsh thank you, Pureblood upbringing having knocked some politeness into him he is just not able to forego, no matter how severe his beef – as Sirius says – with the woman is.

When he finally approaches the offending dorm, the door opens fast enough to knock some wind across his face, and he is met with a set of black curls and a superfluous frown that both match his own.

“Regulus. Thank Merlin.”

“Good to see you too, Siri. How'd you know it was me?”

"Recognised your footsteps. Now, c'mon."

Regulus pushes in past his brother and his eyes immediately find Remus Lupin’s bed. To the unaware, it would just look like the scrawny boy was innocently laying on his bed, head propped against a mountain of pillows and reading another one of his paperbacks.

However, Regulus knew better and could see the perfect girlfriend-shaped lump underneath Remus’ jumper, shielded by his arms as he held his book over his stomach.

Or, at least shaped like this rather specific form of his girlfriend.

“Hello, amour, I’ve been looking for you.” Regulus’ voice is addressed to the bump on Remus’ chest, but he looks up at him with a quirked brow and a smug smile tugging on the corner of his lips.

“Didn’t know we were on a pet name-basis, Reg. Good to know.” 

“Absolutely not.” Sirius and Regulus chorus at the exact same time, and Regulus fights back the wince at how painfully similar they are in this moment.

“Reggie,” Sirius finally whines. “Your girlfriend’s been stealing my boyfriend for the past two hours. Do something!”

Despite having a very similar sentiment settled in his own chest, Regulus gives his brother a pull yourself together look as he comes up to stand beside him, near the occupied bed. “I’m fairly certain your boyfriend has stolen my girlfriend equally as much,” he tuts.

“Whatever, just do something.” Sirius waves his hand towards Remus’ still very relaxed state with something a bit too close to a pout forming on his face.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Pads, the poor girl’s just cold,” Remus chides, with a teasing glint in his eye that clearly shows he knows his boyfriend is being dramatic for the bit and not actually upset. "Gotta help 'er out."

“‘M not jealous. I’m needy.” Sirius’ deadpan stare is not affected by Remus’ laughter nor Regulus’ barely-contained snort.

“Glad you admit it,” Regulus says slyly, patting Sirius on his shoulder twice, who immediately shrugs his hand off with a scowl.

“Like you’re any better, you slithered all the way up from the snake pit to fetch her. At least I’m open about it.”

Before Regulus has the chance to retort, Remus puts his book down in his lap and reaches out a hand for Sirius, which he immediately takes. “I told you you could come lay in the bed with us, love,” Remus murmurs and swipes his thumb over the back of Sirius’ hand.

If he did not feel the same way, Regulus would have given Sirius hell for how he seemed to absolutely soften in the sunlight of his boy. “Yeah, I know, Moons, I’m just being theatrical.”

Remus laughs once more, and this time his chest rumbling results in a distinct prrrt! coming from the inside of his jumper. Up through the collar, cheek smashed against Remus’, comes the tentative head of beautiful grey-and-white fur and slow-blinking yellow eyes, still riddled with sleep. 

“Good morning, amour,” Regulus coos, ignoring Sirius’ snort as he drops down to squat beside Remus’ bed so his face is lined up with yours.

You pur, stretching beneath the fabric, a single paw escaping beside your head through the collar as you roll over onto your back. Your eyes remained trained on Regulus, and though he knows cats can’t actually smile, he swears you were smiling at him.

“Sorry to wake you, princess,” Sirius drawls as he looks down at you from where he is leaning on the bedpost beside Remus. “But have you seeped up enough warmth for me to get my boyfriend back yet?”

You make a faux hissing sound before ducking your head down, so it’s just barely hidden by the collar.

Remus laughs heartily, setting his book completely away this time so his hand can come up to rest on your cat-form, petting you through his jumper. “It’s alright kitten, take your time.”

The exposed paw lightly hits Remus’ cheek in retaliation, and this time it is Sirius and Regulus’ turn to laugh at his expense. “Ow! I share my warmth with you and this is what I get in return?”

From the movement beneath the fabric, Regulus assumes you’re nuzzling your head against his chest in apology.

“Amour, I brought your favourite jumper of mine and promise to make you so much hot cocoa if I can steal you back. We can be in your dorm room instead of mine, it’s warmer in there, right?” A smile remains consistent on Regulus’ face as he talks to you.

Sirius pats him on the back, murmuring something about you’re so whipped that he doesn’t bother to pay attention to. 

More movement beneath the fabric, and then suddenly your ears are poking out of the neckline again – because why would you make it easy for yourself and use the big exit, when you can squeeze your way through a tight opening? You’re a cat after all.

Remus seems to be thinking the same as he laughs while you attempt to climb out beside his head, soft fur brushing against his skin and making up for the occasional claw you use for traction. 

Regulus attempts to bite back the coos as he sees more and more of you, recognising your movements as sluggish with sleep, no doubt coaxed into it by finally being comfortable.

“Thanks for today, see you again tomorrow, same time?” Remus teases, head turned towards you as you headbutt him lovingly, finally fully escaped from his jumper and standing on his shoulder. He nuzzles you back and scratches your head in goodbye.

Another prrrt! escapes you in greeting as you saunter your way across Remus and plop onto the small strip of mattress on his side where Regulus’ hands are open and ready to receive you. 

“Hi, sweetie,” he whispers as you allow him to scoop you up into his arms while he’s still squatting beside the bed. He holds you like an infant, tight to his body and securely supported. You immediately begin to purr loudly, nuzzling your head even further into his neck and shoulder.

Regulus does not bother to hold back the slight giggle as your caresses tickle him. 

“Good gods, are you two sappy,” Sirius groans, but when Regulus looks up, there is a wide grin on his face. A slightly teasing one admittedly, but a grin nonetheless.

Then, Regulus recognises where Sirius is grinning at him from – properly cuddled up besides Remus on the opposite side of the bed, arms beneath his jumper, soaking up the leftover warmth from you.

“Wait– how did you get there so fast?” Regulus’ voice is almost incredulous, stopping his greeting of you – earning him a harrumphing meow – to narrow his eyes at his brother. “I didn’t even notice you move from beside me.”

“What can I say; I am a dedicated man.” Sirius nuzzles into Remus’ cheek, not much unlike how you were mere seconds ago, albeit his involved a tad many more kisses.

“You’re weird, that’s what you are,” Regulus laughs as he stands up with you in his arms.

You turn around to look up at him with those big, slitted eyes of yours. When you extend your neck further towards his face, Regulus lifts you higher so you can give him the cat-kisses you so evidently wanted, his lips curling at your touch.

Sirius lifts a brow at the two of you. “Yeah. I’m the weird one.” 

Regulus scoffs at him, but when you continue to caress your furry cheeks against his lips and chin, it is difficult for any menace to remain serious.

“Thank you for your deviant supernatural warmth keeping my girlfriend alive, Lupin, but I’d like to steal her away from you now.” 

“By all means, Black, you’ve already stolen her from me once,” Remus harrumphs, pretending to be some scorned faux older brother but his eyes betray his facade; he is happy for you.

Regulus chooses to ignore it nonetheless.

“Brother.” He nods at Sirius. “Soon to be brother-in-law.” He nods at Remus. “We bid you goodnight.”

“Try not to undo all of Moony’s hard work by freezing her right back up with your freakishly cold feet!” Sirius calls after him as he heads towards the door. He then promptly gives out a soft yelp that indicates Remus corrected him in some physical way.

“Goodnight love, goodnight Reg,” Remus calls instead.

“Yeah, bye, doll!” Sirius adds, whispering more to himself, “he’s mine again now.”

You give out a tired meow that is so cute it makes Regulus’ heart clench with endearment. You cuddle properly up into the crook of his neck as he carries you out, softly closing the door behind him with a smile.

He shifts you in his grip so he can look down at you more carefully. “You are so unbelievably predictable. And even cuter than that again, which is saying something,” he murmurs to you and you respond with quiet meows.

He looks at you curiously. “Are you going to remain in cat form the whole night?”

Your tail twitches teasingly, your only other response is a quiet prrt as you close your eyes into the warmth of his neck again. He laughs, covering your feline body with his hands as he carries you, to keep the warmth in.

He sneaks into your dorm – thankfully often unoccupied as Marlene is with Dorcas and Mary is with Pandora – and settles you down onto your plush mattress and pillows. He undresses and gets ready for bed, while you’re resting your head on the pillow, observing him, but just before getting under the covers, he slips on his jumper.

“It’s so soft I could cry, Reggie,” you had whispered to him when you cuddled up to him when he wore it around you for the first time. “I fear I can never let you go now.”

Regulus slides under the blankets with a knowing smile, opening the hem, allowing you to creep under, chest against chest with your head poking out of the collar to rest at the bottom of his neck. 

“I'm no werewolf, but I’ll keep you warm with my love, amour,” he whispered to you in the dark, one hand combing through your fur protectively underneath his own jumper.

He swears, he could hear the little cat snort against his skin.

Regulus fell desperately deeper in love.

[colouredbyd]

Soleil

Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary:  When Regulus overhears a whispered confession never meant for him—soft words tucked between laughter and loyalty, unraveling the quiet truth beneath your friendship. In the hush that follows, the line between almost and everything begins to blur.

warnings: the most fluffiest fluff to ever fluff in any au, friends in love but in denial, childhood friends to lovers, lowkey grumpy x sunshine trope, reg being insecure, love confessions, self doubt, swearing. i love this sm.

word count: 7.3k ( im sorry ☹️)

authors note: reggie is quite literally the loml so here u go guys 🌷 

masterlist

“I just don’t get it. You two are close, sure, but how can someone like you stand someone so… frostbitten?”

Regulus Black had never been fond of listening in.

Not because he held some high regard for personal boundaries—though he might feign such principles if questioned—but because idle whispers had always struck him as painfully dull. His ears had never itched for gossip, nor had curiosity ever coaxed him into shadowed corners. If people had something to say, they’d say it. And if they didn’t, he preferred the quiet.

In truth, silence had always been kinder to him than most people ever were.

It was a habit he’d mastered long before Hogwarts—back when the walls of Grimmauld Place echoed with slurred legacies and scornful lectures. In those days, slipping away unnoticed had been a form of survival. At school, it was simply routine.

But tonight… something felt different.

Maybe it was the fact that his name had slipped past someone else’s lips.

Maybe it was the company—James Potter, Marlene McKinnon, and you—tucked just around the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room.

Or maybe it was something subtler, something aching and ancient, when Marlene’s voice laced his name with ice.

He hadn’t meant to linger. He’d only returned to fetch the worn book he’d abandoned on the windowsill that morning. He hadn’t expected anyone to be there—let alone you, laughter softening your voice like candlelight.

He could’ve kept walking. He should have.

But then—

“I think there’s kindness in him,” James said, uncertain. His voice faltered like a lantern in fog.

“I mean… we’ve barely spoken, really.” He rubbed the back of his neck—nervous, boyish. Always more heart than caution.

“Maybe he’s just not great with people?”

You hummed softly, nodding in agreement, though your gaze had grown distant, pulled by the threads of memory. You understood him far better than the others did—better, perhaps, than anyone else dared to try. That’s why Marlene and Dorcas had turned to you, curious about the boy who walked the castle halls like a ghost no one could quite touch.

You had known Regulus Black long before you shared the same classes at Hogwarts. Growing up among pureblood circles had made your paths cross more than once, though back then, he barely acknowledged your presence. It wasn’t until your fifth year that a quiet camaraderie started to bloom—quiet, not because it was secret, but because it had no need for loud declarations. A glance. A shared silence. A wordless understanding. All of it wove together like a private constellation only you two could see.

You smiled faintly at the memory, a soft huff of laughter escaping you. It was absurd, really, to think you’d somehow become the unofficial Regulus Black Expert of Gryffindor Tower. The idea would have made your younger self laugh out loud.

Because back then—when you’d first been introduced to him by a smug Sirius Black with a wicked grin and a mischievous, “Reggie, this one won’t bite unless you ask”—you never would have imagined this strange little bond forming.

“Regulus has always been… closed off,” you murmured at last, agreeing with Marlene’s earlier observation, though your tone drifted somewhere far away. Your words were less a reply and more a wandering thought, drifting like parchment on the wind.

It hadn’t been easy, not at first. Regulus had no interest in friendship—especially not the kind that came packaged with Sirius’s teasing introductions. He had been all cold stares and clipped replies, a boy carved from silence and family pressure. And you? You had simply been the unfortunate soul swept into the current of Black family drama, doomed to be one more casualty in Go-to-hell, Sirius’s grand matchmaking schemes.

Time after time, you found yourself at 12 Grimmauld Place under the excuse of “study sessions” or “family dinners” orchestrated by Sirius’s sheer willpower. And time after time, Regulus kept his distance, each glance sharpened like a dagger, each word a carefully measured offering. He didn’t need friends. He didn’t want them. And you? You were just a name on a list he hadn’t asked for.

And truthfully, you never quite knew when it shifted—or why. When, between wary glances and measured silences, something real began to stir between you. You chewed gently at your bottom lip as the thought unfurled, trying to follow the winding trail back to the precise moment when your distant acquaintance melted into something gentler, more sincere. Something you could, without hesitation, call a friendship now.

“Do you think he ever lets anyone in?” Marlene asked, a touch of disbelief in her voice—not meant to wound, only to confess her own discomfort. She never knew how to fill the silences Regulus left behind, not the way Dorcas or you somehow managed to. “It just doesn’t add up to me.”

Unseen just around the corner, Regulus leaned his weight against the stone wall, the cold of it pressing into his back as he stood completely still. This was the part where he should have left. Disengaged. Forgotten he’d heard anything at all. He should have reminded himself that he didn’t care what people thought—because he didn’t. Or at least, he hadn’t.

But something invisible tethered him to that moment. Curiosity, perhaps. Or the soft echo of his own name on your lips.

“I get that you’re close,” Marlene went on, “but how does someone like you end up friends with someone so…”

He didn’t want to hear the rest of the sentence. And yet, he couldn’t stop listening.

Her voice faltered for a second, and Regulus felt it like a fist around his ribs. He could guess what came next.

“So… cold?”

The word landed like frost beneath his skin.

Cold?

His mind latched onto it, dissecting it like a puzzle he didn’t ask to solve. Is that truly how they saw him? Was that what he looked like through other people’s eyes? He supposed he wasn’t the easiest person to read. He wasn’t known for kindness or warmth—but cold? The word clung to the back of his throat, sharp and stinging.

He should’ve walked away. Brushed it off like he had with everything else. He’d built his world out of walls for a reason. He didn’t let himself care. He never had.

So why, then, did his chest feel like it had been split open?

He was turning to leave, to forget the book he came for and the crack this moment left behind—

Until he heard your voice.

“Cold?” you echoed, and Regulus froze mid-step. There was something in your voice—an edge he couldn’t quite name. Anger? Disbelief? Something that made his heart stutter painfully in his chest.

He found himself leaning into the shadows again, listening, caught in your words like a boy drowning in a storm.

“Regulus Black is anything but cold,” you said, your voice like silk woven through fire. A laugh escaped you next, quiet and bitter. “He’s the warmest person I’ve ever known.”

His breath caught. He almost laughed—almost—but stopped himself. He was supposed to be hidden, after all.

Still, that one sentence echoed louder than the rest.

“Truly?” Marlene blinked at you, surprise tugging at her brows like she hadn’t expected the warmth in your voice.

You nodded with the kind of certainty that didn’t waver.

“Absolutely,” you said, your voice soft but steady, like morning light through a window. “There’s no one quite like him. He’s… kind. Deeply so. He just doesn’t wear it on his sleeve like most do. You have to look closer to see it.”

Around the corner, hidden behind the curve of ancient stone, Regulus stood still as the marble beneath his feet. Your voice was like a tether, pulling him back every time he considered walking away.

“Regulus doesn’t move like everyone else,” you continued gently, a smile curling at the corners of your lips. “He’s quiet, sure. Always has been. But cold?” You let out the softest laugh, the kind that sounded like wind through lavender fields. “No… not cold. Never that. He’s warm in ways most people don’t know how to be.”

Warm? Regulus nearly scoffed, but the heat that rushed to his face betrayed him. If only you knew the darkness he buried his heart beneath. If only you saw the shadows he called home. And still—still—your voice made him believe, just for a second, that maybe you did see. And maybe… you didn’t mind.

“He wouldn’t believe me if I told him,” you said with a small laugh, like you could hear his thoughts. “But it’s true. He cares in ways that matter—in quiet gestures and steady presence, in showing up without ever announcing that he’s there.”

“Ohhh…” Dorcas and Marlene echoed, their tones laced with newfound understanding.

You giggled then, all bright and unbothered, and it struck Regulus like starlight—sudden and impossible to ignore.

“He grows on you,” you promised, voice turning soft again. “Little by little. And when he does… you realize just how lucky you are to be close to someone like him.”

Regulus ducked his head, hiding the sudden flush crawling up his neck, thankful there were no mirrors nearby to betray him. He’d never been lucky a day in his life—but if you thought being near him was some kind of gift, then maybe, just maybe…

“Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), that was kind of adorable,” Dorcas teased. “How long have you known him, then? You two sound like old souls.”

“A while,” you said, tilting your head as you thought it over. “Slughorn once invited us to the same dinner—years ago. Said we were both too serious for our own good. I don’t think either of us said more than three words that night,” you laughed softly. “But… over time, I think we just started understanding each other. Quietly. Comfortably. And now… he’s someone I look up to. A lot.”

A good person? Regulus nearly rolled his eyes. You always saw the best in him—even the parts he tried hardest to bury.

“He’s always helping me,” you added, a smile blooming on your lips. “Especially when I’m struggling with Dueling, or studying late into the night. He says he does it because I ask too many questions—but I know he stays because he wants me to do well.”

Well. He couldn’t exactly argue with that one.

“And he’s a bit of a secret gentleman,” you said, your voice dipping low, like a delicate confession passed between old stone walls. A soft smile ghosted your lips. “Even when we weren’t close, he’d carry my books without asking, hold open the doors with barely a glance, pull out my chair in the Great Hall like it was second nature…”

Your words trailed off as the memories rose like stardust behind your eyes—small, quiet gestures that had once seemed incidental, but now shimmered with meaning.

Just around the corner, half-shrouded by flickering torchlight, Regulus leaned back against the cold stone, eyes half-lidded, breath caught. He’d forgotten about some of those moments—at least on the surface—but hearing them from your lips made them pulse to life again. You noticed. Merlin, you noticed.

He’d never thought of himself as kind. His mother had taught him manners, not softness. His brother had taught him rebellion, not care. But you… You brought something different out of him. With you, gentleness had become instinct.

And now, hearing you speak of it with such warmth, he found himself wondering if you saw something in him he hadn’t dared to believe existed.

Your smile deepened. “There was one time, years ago…” You laughed under your breath, as if it were still a secret.

“We’d snuck into the kitchens when the elves weren’t looking—he nabbed a chocolate biscuit from the tin. Broke it in half.” You looked toward Marlene and Dorcas, your voice softening like candlelight.

“And he gave me the bigger piece.”

The girls exchanged a glance, both catching the distant look in your eyes—the way your gaze flickered not to the past, but to a version of it you carried close, cherished. You hadn’t even been friends yet. Just two children on opposite sides of a too-large world, momentarily brought together in the dim glow of the kitchen hearth.

You’d spent the rest of that evening curled beside Tilly Toke’s Magical Mishaps, Regulus sat across the table, not saying much. But the half-cookie had meant something, hadn’t it?

The memory wrapped around you like a charm.

And somewhere behind the wall, Regulus closed his eyes for a moment, pressing his thumb into his palm—grounding himself. Because yes. He remembered it exactly that way.

“Aww!” Marlene let out a dramatic gasp, pressing her hands to her heart as if the memory had physically struck her. “He must’ve had a tiny little crush on you, darling,” she teased, her voice lilting like a melody as she batted her lashes.

You laughed under your breath, but Regulus, hidden just around the stone corner of the corridor, felt like his heart had been flung into a freezing lake.

A crush?

Was that how he came across?

His pulse thundered in his ears as panic curled tight in his chest. Surely not. All the little things he’d done—carrying your books when you complained about the weight, offering you his scarf on cold mornings, brewing tea when you stayed up too late studying—all of that was just… friendship. Wasn’t it? Politeness. Chivalry, even. Raised by Walburga or not, he did have some decency.

He tried to believe that.

But the longer he stood there, the more tangled his thoughts became.

None of it was just about kindness. Not really.

You were the only one who made the castle feel less like a cage and more like a dream. The way you laughed when he muttered sarcastic remarks under his breath. The way you hummed when concentrating. The warmth you gave off without even trying.

You were sunlight—unapologetic and golden. And him? He was the boy who lived in the shadows of dark family tapestries and colder expectations.

He didn’t mean to care for you the way he did.

But he thought of you constantly. In between potions ingredients, in the flutter of owl wings across the morning sky, in every flower you ever paused to admire. Even the Black family crest seemed to dim in your presence. His own reflection was easier to face when he imagined you smiling at him.

Gods, he was utterly doomed.

fuck. 

Regulus pressed the heel of his hand to his temple, trying to steady himself—anchor his mind back to the cold stone floor beneath his shoes and not the warmth blooming beneath his ribs. None of that meant anything, did it? All those quiet favors, the lingering glances, the moments where his hand brushed yours without needing to—none of it had to suggest something deeper.

He could care for you platonically. Couldn’t he?

He nearly scoffed at himself.

How utterly cliché. The proud, brooding boy spiraling the second he felt something tender for the girl who glowed like she’d been carved from starlight. Maybe he was just being ridiculous. Maybe you really were just friends. Friends could look after each other. Friends could think the other was breathtaking and luminous and—

Merlin help him.

Because if you were to lean in one day, maybe on the edge of a courtyard or under a soft-spoken sky, and confess you wanted something more—he wouldn’t push you away, would he?

His chest tightened. No. He wouldn’t. And that answer, so simple, nearly unravelled him. His thoughts tangled like spellwork gone wrong, and for a moment he swore the castle spun slightly beneath his feet.

“I don’t know about that…” your voice broke through the air, softer than parchment under fingertips.

And Regulus felt it—something unfamiliar and ferocious rising in his chest. Like swallowing honey and fire at the same time. It bubbled with sweetness, with something terrifyingly hopeful. His fingertips tingled, his lips twitched with the start of a smile he didn’t know he could make. He wasn’t sure whether to dread it or chase it.

“Well, you should ask him out!” Marlene said cheerfully, breaking the moment like glass on stone.

“Wh-what?” you stammered, blinking rapidly.

“I’m serious!” she grinned, nudging Dorcas playfully. “He’d say yes. You’re definitely his favorite, and have you seen the way he stares at you?”

I do? Regulus froze where he stood, blood rushing in his ears.

“He does?” your voice slipped out, barely more than a breath, tinged with disbelief and the faintest hope.

Regulus could feel it now—magic surging beneath his skin like it wanted to rise just for you.

Were you surprised? Mortified? Regulus couldn’t tell. From his shadowed post behind the half-open door, he was practically vibrating with the urge to peek out, to catch even a flicker of your expression.

If he could just see your face, he’d know exactly how you were processing all of this—whether you were laughing him off or secretly hoping it might be true.

“Oh yeah, I’ve seen him looking at you loads of times,” James said casually, like he was stating the weather.

“Same,” chimed in Marlene, lounging across the common room couch. “Honestly, I thought you two were already together when I first transferred.”

He did?

“You did?” your voice fluttered out, laced with disbelief—and something else Regulus couldn’t name, something soft and glowing.

“Yeah,” James shrugged like it was obvious. “He always sits close to you. And when he speaks—which isn’t often—it’s usually just to you. I thought it was some kind of intense, brooding flirting.”

No, you imbecile, I just don’t want anyone overhearing—

Regulus dragged a palm down his face, lips twitching with frustration. This was disastrous. He rolled his eyes and tugged slightly at the skin under them, as if it might yank him back into reality. But no—there it was, pulsing like an inconvenient truth just behind his ribs.

Of course he fancied you. Merlin, how hadn’t he seen it?

Or maybe… maybe it had always been there. Dormant. Waiting. Quietly thriving in shared glances, in the way you beamed when he walked into the room, in how his mornings never felt quite right until he heard your laugh.

That laugh drifted out now, pulling him violently from his spiraling thoughts. Light and bright, it danced in the air like the flicker of fairy lights during winter.

“No, no—you’ve got it all wrong,” you said, laughing again as you tried to dismiss the idea, but there was something dangerous in your tone. Something syrupy sweet and hesitant, like you weren’t entirely sure if you wanted it to be wrong. “We’ve known each other forever. If something was going to happen, it probably would’ve by now.”

The pause that followed was heavy. Not uncomfortable—but thick. Charged. Like the castle itself was holding its breath.

Regulus swallowed hard. His heartbeat roared in his ears like crashing waves, deafening and all-consuming. He knew he should walk away, that eavesdropping this long was borderline shameful.

But he couldn’t. 

“You say that like you want something to happen,” Marlene teased, her voice laced with playful suspicion. “Are you the one with the crush?”

Regulus felt the breath knock out of him. Every passing second that she didn’t answer made his head spin, made the walls feel closer. If he didn’t move soon, he was going to collapse right here in this hidden corridor, fully exposed in the most humiliating way possible.

“I…” your voice broke through the silence, soft and unsteady.

Regulus clenched his jaw, fighting every instinct not to lean just a little farther around the corner. If he could just see you—if he could catch the twitch of your fingers or the tilt of your lips—he might finally have his answer.

If you were fidgeting, surely it meant you did like him.

If you stood still, frozen in disbelief, then the idea of the two of you must’ve been laughable to you. An impossibility.

“I haven’t thought about it,” you murmured at last, so quietly he barely caught it.

There was a shuffle of feet. Marlene let out a thoughtful hmm, unreadable in tone, and James called out his goodbyes as he bounded off toward the courtyard to meet Sirius and Peter.

Marlene followed not long after, muttering something about borrowing Lily’s notes or charming Professor Slughorn into letting her redo a potion.

You gave a breathy laugh and waved them off with a smile in your voice. And then, once their footsteps faded into silence, you exhaled.

It trembled at the edges.

“Merlin,” you whispered to yourself, pressing a hand to your chest as you dropped onto the worn couch in front of the common room fire. “That was way too close.”

Regulus, hidden in the shadows just beyond the entrance, let his back fall against the cold stone wall.

He’d never known it was possible to be both relieved and utterly destroyed in the same moment.

Your heart was still rattling in your chest, refusing to slow after the teasing from James and Marlene. You needed to get away—away from their knowing eyes, their smug grins, their pointed little looks that made you feel like your thoughts were written across your forehead. You were certain they knew. Certain they’d seen through every flimsy deflection and quiet denial you’d offered.

Just as you were about to flop onto the couch and sink into a well-earned nap by the fire, something caught your eye: a thick hardcover left resting on the arm of the chair beside you. A neat, velvet-green ribbon was caught between the pages, and all the sections before it were practically bursting with parchment scraps and scribbled notes.

You recognized it instantly. If you didn’t already know Regulus had been buried in that book all week, the sheer intensity of the annotations would’ve given it away. No one else read like that. Not in your year, at least.

A smile tugged at your lips as you picked it up. He must’ve left it behind in a hurry. Knowing him, he’d want it back the moment he realized it was gone. You figured he had the afternoon free, so it wouldn’t take long to find him. Besides, your nap could wait.

Cracking it open to the first page marked by a slim pink tab, you let your eyes flit across the topmost note stuck inside—only to immediately become absorbed, not in the book itself, but in the way his handwriting crawled into the margins like vines. You didn’t even notice him until you were practically on top of him.

“Oh—sorry!” you gasped, stepping back from the broad figure you’d nearly barreled into.

When your gaze lifted and locked onto familiar grey eyes, your surprise dissolved into a gentle smile.

“Reg! I was just coming to find you,” you added, brightening with a soft laugh. You held up the book like a prize. “This is yours, right?”

He nodded, slowly, almost as if startled into silence. His hand brushed against yours as he took the book, and for a second he couldn’t seem to find his voice.

“…Thanks, soleil,” he managed finally, quieter than he intended.

“No problem,” you replied easily. “It was in my nap spot,” you added with a sheepish little shrug.

That made Regulus laugh, low and amused. The sound startled even him, but the grin it brought to his face was unstoppable. You tilted your head slightly at the sudden warmth in his expression, your fingers twisting together, the flutter in your chest growing louder by the second.

“Hey, I was wondering…” you began, brows knitting slightly as your courage wrestled with uncertainty.

Regulus, ever so composed, tucked the book under his arm and gave you his full attention.

“Yes, amour?” he asked, voice soft and clear, like he was ready to listen to anything—anything at all—from you.

He watched your fingers begin to fidget again—an old habit of yours—and his heart thudded heavily in his chest. That small, familiar gesture pulled at something deep inside him, something tender and terrifying all at once. You were fidgeting. You were nervous.

“Uh, ah—it’s silly—” you began, your voice hitching as you almost backed out of it. But Regulus shook his head quickly, the usual cool in his features melting into a rare softness. He didn’t want you to stop. Not now. Not when it felt like your words might change something between you.

“I’m sure it’s not,” he said, more firmly than he expected. You glanced up at him in surprise, caught off guard by the seriousness in his voice. “What is it?” he asked again, quieter this time. Earnest.

You blushed.

Actually blushed.

And Regulus felt something in him collapse at the sight. How had he not realized sooner? The way he cared about you—it was more than careful friendship. More than routine familiarity. It was this. That look. That moment. This feeling swelling in his chest like an uncontrollable storm.

“Do you remember when we were little, and my mum always made us have those awkward little tea visits?” you asked, laughing under your breath. The sound was light but edged with nerves. “She’d dress you up like a little heir to the empire.”

Regulus chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the memory. “How could I forget, soleil? You were the only thing making them bearable.”

You opened your mouth as if to explain yourself further, then stopped short. Your gaze dropped to your hands again, which were still twisting in your lap, and your smile grew quiet.

“I don’t know, I guess I…” you stumbled, your words catching on emotion you hadn’t quite figured out yet. Merlin, you hated how your voice trembled. How silly it made you feel. “Do you remember when we became friends?”

You rushed the question out, afraid of losing the courage altogether.

Regulus nodded, his expression unreadable—but not cold. There was something still behind his eyes. Watching you closely. Listening like he always did, but with his heart too, now.

“I do,” he said gently. “You spilled ink on my essay, and I didn’t hex you for it.”

You laughed at that, your eyes glinting. “That was the moment, huh?”

“I think it always had been,” he replied, voice almost too quiet to catch.

“I do,” he replied without hesitation.

“Like, actual friends,” you clarified, raising a brow, not convinced he’d thought that through. “Not just two kids being dropped off at some posh tea party and expected to get along. I mean—real friends.”

Regulus nodded again, a little smile tugging at his lips.

“I do,” he repeated, softer this time, a hint of amusement in his tone. “You don’t?”

You pressed your lips together thoughtfully, chewing at the corner of one as you shook your head slowly. Your brow furrowed as you tried to remember, and Regulus gave a low chuckle at the sight, eyes glinting with fondness.

“Well?” you asked, voice tinged with impatience. “What changed?”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember,” he said with mock hurt, tilting his head and placing a dramatic hand on his chest. “That wounds me amour, you know.”

“I didn’t think you had feelings, Black,” you shot back playfully, a teasing lilt to your voice. “But come on, tell me.”

You looked at him expectantly, eyes wide and gleaming with curiosity. Regulus found himself caught in your gaze, helpless to look away.

You always did that—held his attention like no one else ever had. But this time, there was something different. Something unspoken between the words, resting in the stillness of the air between you.

He swallowed thickly. If you asked anything of him like this, he would give it without pause. It hit him like a charm straight to the chest. That soft glint in your eyes—he wondered if he’d always missed it, or if it had only just begun to appear.

“It was right before we came to Hogwarts,” he said finally, voice quieter now, like he was unearthing something sacred. “The weekend before the train. Do you remember?”

You nodded, the memory vague but there. You’d spent a late summer afternoon at Grimmauld Place while your parents caught up with his.

You vaguely recalled teasing him for organizing his trunk with meticulous precision and muttering something about the Weird Sisters under his breath.

“I remember you sorting your books by spine colour like some cursed Ravenclaw,” you teased, grinning.

Regulus huffed a laugh. “You were sitting on the floor in my room,” he continued, tone suddenly gentler. “You brought every sweet from Honeydukes you could carry and made me try all the ones I said I hated.”

Your grin softened into a warm smile.

“And then you told me,” he said, eyes flicking to yours, “that if Hogwarts was awful, and I hated every second of it, at least I’d have someone to sit with on the train ride back.”

The memory bloomed in your chest like an old Polaroid, blurry around the edges but warm all the same.

“You meant it,” he added. “And I think… that’s when I knew.”

“When we became friends?” you asked.

He looked at you for a long moment, then gave a slight nod, lips curling into a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—not out of sadness, but because there was more to it than he could say.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “That’s when everything changed.”

“Professor let us move in a night early,” Regulus recalled, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Probably so the castle staff could have one last evening of peace before the school year started.”

You laughed under your breath at the realization, nodding. “At the time it felt like freedom. Our own space for the first time.”

“Exactly,” he agreed, eyes soft with the memory. “Feels strange thinking back now. It was just you and me in this massive castle… for a while at least.”

“I almost forgot that,” you admitted, the corners of your mouth curling up as you thought of it. The quiet corridors. The chill of stone floors under your socks. The thrill of choosing your own bedtime, your own space. “It feels like it’s always been this way.”

“But you don’t remember the first night?” he asked, tilting his head.

You squinted, trying to trace the memory like it was hidden in fog. There were flashes—wandering the halls, fiddling with enchanted portraits, a failed attempt at brewing hot cocoa with a half-working kettle you’d found in one of the old kitchens…

“You woke me up,” Regulus said, chuckling softly.

Your eyes lit up in recognition. “Oh—Merlin. Right. I couldn’t sleep and—”

“You were bored,” he supplied, shaking his head fondly. “You dragged me out of bed and made me sit with you in the common room. And then you made me watch that ridiculous enchanted Muggle film projection your dad enchanted for you.”

You snorted. “The Princess Bride is a classic, I don’t care what you say Reggie.”

“It’s too long,” he shot back without missing a beat. “And you didn’t even stay awake. I sat there like an idiot while you snored on my shoulder.”

You covered your face with your hands, laughing with secondhand embarrassment. “Okay, okay—”

“You talked through half of it,” he went on, grinning. “You said you were scared.”

The laughter softened on your lips, surprise flickering in your gaze.

“I did?” you asked, quieter now.

Regulus nodded, watching you intently.

“You said you didn’t know what Hogwarts would be like,” he continued, voice gentler. “You were afraid you’d mess everything up. But then you said as long as I was around, maybe it’d be alright.”

Your breath caught in your throat. The memory settled over you like a forgotten charm being reawakened.

“And it was,” he added softly. “Alright, I mean.”

Your eyes met his again, and there was something about the way he looked at you then—like you were the only thing anchoring him to this moment. Like he’d never forgotten that night for a reason.

“You said you were scared of failing,” Regulus’ voice dipped low again, quieter than before—almost reverent. “That… you were afraid of never becoming powerful enough to protect the people you cared about.”

Despite the memory being so old, embarrassment flickered through you now like a lit match to dry parchment. You couldn’t believe this was the moment he’d held onto all this time. Of all things, this one?

“I almost wish I hadn’t asked,” you muttered, cheeks burning, “I can’t believe I said that to you.”

But Regulus didn’t tease. In fact, his smile turned almost fond.

“Then you told me you thought I was strong,” he continued, and for the first time, there was the faintest trace of pink brushing the tops of his cheeks. “You asked if I’d help you… get strong too. Like me.”

Your eyes widened slightly. The image of little you, curled in a blanket in the Slytherin common room, whispering fears into the dim glow of floating candles, was something hazy and far away.

But Regulus? He remembered it like it had just happened.

“And then,” he added with a snort, “you passed out mid-sentence, head on my shoulder. I was stuck watching the rest of that bloody Muggle film just so you wouldn’t wake up and yell at me for skipping to the end.”

“You watched the rest of the movie?” you asked, your voice soft with wonder.

He laughed. “Every last minute.”

You blinked, stunned. “I can’t believe I don’t remember any of that.”

“You were exhausted,” Regulus shrugged like it didn’t matter, even though it clearly had. “And it was a long time ago. I never expected you to remember it… I just never forgot.”

You chewed on your lip, falling quiet as warmth coiled in your chest. That kind of memory… someone keeping it for you when you hadn’t even known to treasure it—it meant more than you could say.

But then he stepped forward.

Just a single pace, barely anything. And yet your whole body felt it—the sudden closeness, the silence that wrapped around you both like a breath held too long.

“And by the way…” he murmured, pulling your gaze up to his with ease. “I do kind of stare at you, a lot.”

Your face went red so fast you thought your ears might start steaming.

“You—you heard that?” you squeaked, mortified.

“And then some,” Regulus replied smoothly, and despite the flush still tinting his cheekbones, he was smiling. Really smiling

For once, he didn’t feel like hiding.

“Did you mean all of that, soleil?” he asked.

And this time, the air between you was electric.

Your mouth opened once. Closed. Opened again.

The conversation from earlier came crashing down on you all at once, each word echoing in your head with horrifying clarity. He’d heard it. All of it. Your rambling. Your clumsy affection disguised as hypothetical questions. And—Merlin—had he heard that last part?

“I mean, y—yeah. Yeah,” you stammered, nodding just a little too fast. “Of course I did.”

But your voice had gone breathless, barely even sound.

Regulus tilted his head slightly, gaze fixed so firmly on you you thought he might see through you completely.

“Even that last part?” he asked, stepping forward again. The hem of his robes brushed yours now, but you didn’t move back. You couldn’t.

“Last part?” you echoed stupidly, throat dry.

“Yeah,” he nodded, and this time his hand lifted—not hesitantly, but reverently—as though you might vanish if he rushed the moment. His thumb ghosted beneath your jaw, the faintest brush of contact that left you aching for more.

“You know,” he murmured, voice deep and velvet-smooth, “that bit where you said you hadn’t really thought about me like that.”

You remembered. Of course you did. It was the one part of the conversation that had clanged in your mind like a bell since it left your lips.

“You meant that too?”

You swallowed hard. His fingers were still at your chin, gently anchoring you in place, and the look in his eyes—

You couldn’t look away if you tried.

“No,” you breathed, and it was so soft it nearly disappeared into the silence between you. But Regulus heard it. He saw it form on your lips, caught the tremble behind it.

“No, I didn’t mean that.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—small, private, and impossibly warm. You watched it unfold, saw the way his eyes softened as he noticed your hands fidgeting again.

He knew.

You felt it too.

“And what did you mean to say?” he asked, and there was a raw sort of need in the question, like it had lived in him for ages, waiting to be unburdened.

Like if you said the words now, it might change everything.

Your gaze lingered on his lips.

You hadn’t meant to stare, but he was close now—closer than you ever imagined he’d dare to be. And yet he was still waiting. Still asking for the truth with a calm so controlled it nearly masked the ache in his eyes.

He wanted to hear it. And you wanted to say it. But wanting and doing were not the same.

“I meant…” you began, eyes flicking up to meet his when you realized how long you’d been caught staring. “I meant I have thought about… something more…”

The words came out in pieces, light and thin like cobwebs, hardly brave or poetic. Nothing like the declarations you’d imagined in your head a hundred times. But it was real. And yours. And when you cleared your throat and added, “But they didn’t need to know that,” with a sheepish little laugh, something cracked wide open in his chest.

“No, I suppose not,” Regulus murmured, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips—one of those rare, real ones that reached his eyes and made them glow softer than moonlight.

You didn’t feel so nervous anymore. Not around him.

“So…” you tilted your head, teasing gently. “Spying on your friends these days, is that your new hobby, Black?” Your voice was quiet, but there was laughter behind it, light and fluttering. “Bit off-brand for you, Regulus.”

He chuckled lowly, and your heart stumbled at the sound—low, smooth, and entirely unguarded.

“When else was I going to hear you say all those nice things about me?” he replied, his voice rich with warmth and something sweeter. His thumb still rested beneath your chin, brushing idly along your skin like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it.

Regulus Black had never been the touchy type. He was all self-restraint and deliberate space. But now? His touch was gentle, steady, and intentional. Like he had finally decided not to pull away anymore.

“I quite liked the part where you said I was a gentleman,” he added, the corners of his mouth quirking with quiet amusement.

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from grinning too wildly.

And then he leaned in. Not rushed, not hesitant—just certain. Your eyes widened, nearly burning from how long you kept them fixed on his. Everything about him in this moment—his steady breath, the warmth of his hand, the tender curve of his mouth—made the world shrink until it was just him and you in this quiet corridor that smelled faintly of old parchment and lavender.

“But for the record,” he whispered, and you swore you could feel every word land against your lips, “I’m lucky to have you, too.”

Your chest swelled, and your smile came freely now, radiant and soft as your fingers curled slightly in the fabric of his sleeve.

Yes. Just as you thought.

He was the warmest person you knew.

Regulus Black was the warmest person in this wide universe.

"And," he continued, his voice a shade softer, more reverent now, "you are my favorite."

You let out a breath of laughter, quiet and a little stunned, before you rolled your eyes at him. There was no real exasperation behind it. Only a fondness so deep it practically glowed from you.

"I know," you murmured, narrowing your eyes with playful suspicion. The smile you wore, though, that was sincere. Sweet and sincere and so unguarded it made Regulus feel like you had just handed him your entire heart without even realizing it.

"Must be a side effect of your staring problem."

He tilted his head slightly, guiding your chin up with the faintest tug of his thumb. His nose brushed yours.

You could feel the warmth of his breath as it mingled with yours, and just as you leaned into it, just as the world started to tilt, he paused. Of course he did. Always the gentleman, no matter how undone he felt inside.

"May I?" he murmured. His lashes dipped as his gaze flicked between your eyes and your lips, every syllable spoken like a secret. "Kiss you?"

You almost laughed from how impossibly soft he could be. You wanted to throw caution to the wind, wrap your fingers in the collar of his uniform and pull him in like you were in the climax of a dramatic novel. But your voice was trapped in your throat, and your limbs would not obey you.

So you closed your eyes.

And nodded.

Just barely.

It was enough.

His lips found yours with a grace that felt practiced, like he had been dreaming of this for far too long. And he kissed you like he was afraid you might slip through his fingers. Gentle, tentative, almost reverent.

Your body softened completely. Every piece of tension unraveled in his arms. Your hands, which had been stiff by your sides, slowly lifted and curled gently over his shoulders.

His lips deepened against yours in return, not forcefully, just sure, like he had found something precious and had finally been allowed to hold it.

His free hand, no longer gripping the book he always carried like armor, settled against your cheek. His fingers trembled ever so slightly before the tip of his index ghosted along the shell of your ear, down the line of your jaw, and back up again. Slow. Slow. Slow. Like he wanted to memorize you.

You felt like you might float away. Your heart swelled so high in your chest you were almost afraid of what would happen if you stopped.

And when you did part, it was not with loss, but with a quiet sort of awe.

Your lips still tingled. Your fingers still trembled slightly on his shoulders. Yet all you could do was smile. A real one. Warm and quiet and deeply content. And Regulus? He wore the same smile. Mirrored and soft. As if kissing you had rewired something inside him.

You did not even open your eyes for a moment, basking in it. And that made him chuckle.

"Next time," you murmured, dazed and dreamy, "I’ll let them know you are a good kisser too."

He smiled—genuinely, boyishly, almost bashfully—and leaned in to press a featherlight kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"Don’t," he whispered. "I like that being just yours."

"Will you?" he murmured with a tease laced beneath the softness of his voice.

You nodded, leaning your cheek into his hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. The warmth of his palm made you glow, even as a blush crept up your cheeks and your nose crinkled with hesitation.

"Well, maybe not right away," you mumbled, your tone sheepish now.

Regulus laughed, actually laughed. And it was the kind that made you feel like you had just discovered a hidden treasure.

His smile was wide, unguarded, and it lit up every inch of his face. The pink hue blooming across his cheeks was proof enough that whatever mask he usually wore had fallen completely away for you.

"Maybe not right away," he echoed. His voice dipped low again. Softer now and more tender.

His thumb stroked along the curve of your cheekbone, so carefully, like you were something fragile and precious that only he got to hold.

The sound of his voice, husky and warm against your lips, was enough to pull you under.

Your eyes fluttered closed instinctively. And when his lips brushed over yours once again, it was with all the careful affection of a boy who had never believed himself worthy of softness until now.

You kissed him back just as sweetly. Your fingers traced along the sharp edge of his jaw, hesitating for only a second before settling there. You wanted to pull him closer, wanted to let passion take over, but you did not, not yet. There would be time for that. You could feel it.

He would make time for you.

And for the first time in a very long while, Regulus believed in what you saw in him. He believed he could be kind, gentle, and loved.

But only because you had seen it first. Had named it. Had handed it to him freely, without condition.

He thought he should tell you, one day. That everything good he was becoming had started with you. But that could wait.

You had time now.

Time enough for him to return the favor. Time enough to tell you again and again just how extraordinary you were, until his lungs gave out and your cheeks stayed permanently pink.

Because that was the kind of future he wanted.

One where he never stopped reminding you that you were his favorite, too.

The words left his lips in a breath, a quiet confession. "Tu es le soleil qui me réchauffe."

 You are the sun that warms me up.

[dismalflo]

retreating to rain

Regulus Black x reader ✩ 3k words

summary: When Regulus suddenly pulls away from you, arguing and ignoring you, you decide to mirror his behaviour. how long can this avoidance last?

for this request here!

cw: angst with a happy ending?, Regulus doesn't deal with his feelings in a healthy way.

Regulus Black is many things. Some of them good – brilliant, fiercely loyal – and some of them not so good. Lately, it seems he’s chosen to lean hard into the worst of it: avoidant, closed off, stubborn to a fault. Almost overnight, he shut down, retreating behind an invisible wall that no one’s been able to scale.

The fight that followed shouldn’t have happened, but it did. Tension had been building for days, maybe weeks, until it finally cracked. What came out were clipped words, cryptic excuses, cold eyes, and raised voices. You knew exactly what he was doing, pulling away, keeping you at arm’s length. And you knew why. Years of being close to him had taught you the patterns, the ways Regulus handled pain or fear. But this time felt different. Sharper. Colder. Worse.

Now, he’s barely there at all. He slips in and out of rooms like a shadow, avoiding eye contact, changing direction the moment he sees you. You haven't spoken properly in weeks, and really, you've hardly even seen him. Just fragments, his back disappearing around a corner, the edge of his voice drifting through a corridor. Like he’s haunting the place more than living in it.

You see him first at the end of the corridor, all sharp lines and quick steps, his satchel slung over one shoulder, head down like he’s got somewhere important to be. It’s a lie, of course. You know his timetable. You know he has charms in fifteen minutes, and that it’s three doors down from where you’re standing. There’s no rush. He just doesn’t want to be intercepted. Doesn’t want to see you.

Which is exactly why you step out from the alcove you’ve been leaning against and into his path.

He hesitates, just barely, but it’s enough. His gait falters for half a second before he smooths it over. You can see it in the way his jaw tenses, the flicker of annoyance that crosses his face before it shutters again.

"Regulus."

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even glance at you. Just keeps walking, brushing past like you’re no more than part of the scenery. A Stone wall. A speck of dust. Irrelevant.

"Regulus," you try again, firmer this time, planting yourself more squarely in his way. “Seriously? You’re just going to pretend I’m not here?”

He veers around you with surgical precision, not so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. It’s almost impressive, the way he navigates the space like you’re nothing but air.

Your chest tightens. “You’re unbelievable.”

Still nothing. His footsteps echo down the corridor, growing fainter, lighter, until all you’re left with is silence and the low, familiar simmer of humiliation blooming under your skin.

You stand there a moment longer, watching the spot where he disappeared around the corner, feeling something inside you snap, a thread pulled too tight and finally giving way.

Fine.

If Regulus Black wants to rot in whatever self-made hell he’s wrapped himself in, then so be it. Let him. You’re done chasing after shadows. Done trying to break through walls that were never meant to let you in.

You turn on your heel, fists clenched at your sides. There’s no relief in the decision, just an exhausted sort of fury curling beneath your ribs. Bitter and brittle and long overdue.

You’ll make it simple for him.

-

Ignoring Regulus becomes a discipline, something sharp and deliberate. Like learning a new spell, it’s difficult at first, but easier with repetition. You stop aching when he enters a room. Stop scanning the corridors for the flash of his robes or the angle of his jaw. You stop checking your watch and counting the minutes until your paths might cross, because now, it doesn’t matter.

He’s nothing to you now. Nothing. Or so you say.

In the common room, you take your place in the circle of armchairs closest to the fire, the way you always have. He sits two chairs away, as he often does, silent, motionless, legs crossed and posture rigid. It’s almost normal. You don’t look at him. You laugh at something Barty says, your hand curling around the steaming cup of tea in your lap, and don’t notice the way Regulus’ head lifts just slightly, or the way his eyes linger too long.

You’ve gotten very good at not noticing.

In Potions, you partner with Mary Macdonald. She's competent, efficient, and doesn’t ask you why you’re not working with Regulus anymore. People do notice, of course but you give them nothing. When someone nudges you during breakfast and asks, “Is Regulus alright? He seems a bit off lately,” you just blink and say, “I wouldn’t know.”

And that’s the truth. You wouldn’t.

You don’t know what he does with his evenings now, or whether he still takes his tea with two sugars. You don’t know if he’s sleeping, if he’s eating, if his nightmares have returned. You’ve stopped wondering. Or at least, you’re pretending you have. It's almost the same thing.

Even when you catch glimpses of him – half-reflections in windows, the blur of his profile at the end of the dining hall – you hold your ground. You don’t let your eyes linger. You don’t allow yourself the indulgence of curiosity. You don’t break.

Because Regulus may be hurting, unraveling quietly under the weight of whatever silent war he’s waging, but he made a choice.

He chose to push you away. To make you feel small and unwanted and forgettable.

And you won’t let yourself be made to feel that way again.

-

The rain seems inevitable. The clouds hang heavy in the sky above, a promise of something cold and unforgiving. You’re already late for Transfiguration, but honestly, it’s the last thing on your mind. 

You spot him in the courtyard before he notices you, and you correct your course. A quick detour around a column, a turn of the corner, a speedier pace to your step, and you'll be out of his reach.

But no. The second your foot hits the cobblestone, there's a hand, rough and cold, seizing your arm. You know that touch.

You look up, meeting his eyes for the first time in weeks. Regulus Black looks awful. His eyes are shadowed and hollowed-out. His hair is a mess, falling too far over his forehead, his robes unkempt, like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he hasn't been doing anything except falling apart.

You want to look away. You don’t. You keep your eyes trained on him, but that deep pit of anger in your stomach is still there, sharp and heavy.

“What do you want?” you ask, softer than you should, though anger tints your voice.

He doesn’t answer, straight away. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks at you, and for just a moment, you see it. The shame. The apology, maybe. The confusion. It’s all there, hiding under that practiced mask of indifference he wears.

"I just want to talk," he finally mutters, his voice hoarse, like it’s been a while since he’s had the chance to speak to anyone at all.

You laugh, bitter and short, shaking your head. "Oh, and whatever Regulus wants, he gets, right?" You can hear the venom in your tone, and you can’t help it. It’s all that’s left.

Regulus flinches at the sound of your laugh, like you slapped him across the face. For a moment, he stands still, unsure how to react to the accusation, or maybe to the bitterness that coats your words. His grip on your arm tightens for a second, then loosens again, as though he's testing how much distance he can maintain before you pull away completely.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he says quietly.

You stand there, staring at him, heart pounding in your chest. The rain is starting to fall in light drizzles, little droplets sliding down the cobblestones, soft and relentless. You want to scream, to ask why, to demand something – anything – from him. But your voice is caught somewhere between your chest and your throat, the words tangled and useless. So, you stay quiet.

Regulus’ eyes shift to the ground, like he can’t bear to hold your gaze any longer. His hand drops from your arm, and he seems to fold into himself, his composure slipping. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I know I fucked up,” he mutters, voice hoarse, barely audible against the rain. “I know. I thought... I thought you’d be better off. And I can’t–”

You cut him off, not out of anger, but because the words don’t even make sense to you. “That wasn’t your decision to make,” you say, voice quieter than it should be, but the sting is still sharp. “I’m more than capable of making my own choices, Regulus.”

His face tightens. He looks like he’s about to say something – his mouth opens, but no words come out. He swallows hard, forcing something down that’s threatening to choke him. He opens his mouth again, but nothing. Again. A third time, and still nothing.

A fresh wave of frustration bubbles in your chest. You’ve had enough. He can’t expect you to stand here, waiting for him to speak the things he’s too afraid to say, too proud to admit. You’ve been waiting for weeks, and all this silence is suffocating you.

“I need to go,” you say, your tone flat and final. You push past him, careful not to make contact. Every step feels like it weighs a tonne, like it’s taking everything in you to turn your back on him. To walk away. It should feel good, shouldn’t it?

But as soon as you make it halfway across the courtyard, you hear his voice crack like thunder.

“I need you.”

The words stop you dead in your tracks. You freeze, caught between the weight of the words and the weight of the rain beginning to fall more steadily now, the drops slicking your hair to your neck and drenching your robes.

You don't turn around. You can't. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll shatter. But you can feel his eyes on you, burning with something you can’t quite place.

“I hate that I do,” he continues, his voice raw now, desperate. The words sound like they’re being dragged out of him, like every one of them is fighting against the pressure inside him. “But I can’t go on pretending I don’t.”

“What… what are you saying?” The words come out quieter than you expect, a little shaky, but you can’t help it. It’s like you’re underwater, and the only thing that matters now is the sound of his voice.

Regulus steps closer, but the distance between you still feels insurmountable. You don’t turn around. You won’t. If you do, you're afraid you’ll be swept away by whatever this is, and you’re not sure you can survive it again.

He runs a hand through his wet hair, clearly frustrated. The damp strands stick to his forehead, his eyes dark.

"I'm a fucking mess," he says, the words tumbling out with a force that seems to shudder through him. "Everything around us is a fucking mess. There's all these expectations being put on me, I feel like I don't know anything anymore, like I don't know what I'm doing, or where to go."

The sincerity in his voice, the rawness of his words, makes something inside you twist painfully. A part of you wants to reach out, to understand, but all you can feel is the knot tightening in your chest.

Why is he doing this now? After everything.

Anger, sharp and sudden, flickers through you. It surges up from the pit of your stomach, leaving no room for uncertainty. You turn around then, and when you do, you can’t help but raise your voice, a crack of frustration breaking through the dam you'd built around yourself.

“What does that have to do with me?” Your tone is biting, louder than you intended, but you can't help it. He’s breaking apart in front of you, and you're the one left holding the weight of his mess, of his silence. 

Regulus flinches at the sharpness of your voice, like you've struck him physically, and his eyes flicker with something that’s unmistakably guilty. His mouth opens again, then closes, his brows furrowing, struggling to hold himself together. The words he wants to say seem just out of reach, lost in his tangled thoughts.

"I–I don’t know," he breathes, hands trembling at his sides, water dripping from the end of his soaked sleeves. "But I need you to understand, this isn’t about you… it never was. It’s me. It’s always been me, and I…" His voice cracks on the last word, admitting any of this is costing him. Rarely, if ever, does he talk so openly about anything, let alone this.

You can’t stop looking at him, the mess he’s become. His hair plastered against his forehead, his face drawn, like he’s seen more than he can handle. And it hits you then, how hard he is trying.

You swallow, trying to keep the lump in your throat from choking you. “I don’t care about the reasons, Regulus. I don’t want to care anymore.”

The words sound like they’re coming from someone else, someone who doesn't know the ache of seeing him like this, standing in the rain, looking like he’s falling apart at the seams.

He stares at you, his face crumbling realising how much he’s lost, how much he’s pushed away. He steps forward in the rain, desperate, but you don’t move. 

“Please,” he says, and the desperation in his voice hits you in the gut. His voice is so raw now, jagged, almost broken. “Please don’t walk away from me. I can’t–I don’t know how to fix this, but I need you. I need you, and I don’t know how to say it any clearer. I’m an idiot. A fucking coward who pushed you away because I couldn’t face what was staring at me.”

It’s too raw, too vulnerable. But you're already too tired to be angry, too worn down by the silence and the coldness that he wrapped around himself. And yet, here he is – breaking down in the middle of a thunderstorm, looking like he might just drown in it if you don’t say something, anything.

"I’m in love with you," Regulus blurts, as though the words are being ripped out of him. His breath shudders in the rain, and you can see his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.

“I—what?” 

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder now, the words crashing through the storm. His eyes pierce yours, his whole body tense. “And I’ve always been. And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t need you when I do.”

Regulus moves again, his hands reaching out to you, tentative but insistent. He’s closer now, his chest barely an inch from yours, the rain soaking both of you.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s been building up between you both. Maybe it’s the silence that’s finally broken. But without thinking, you reach for him, pulling him closer by the collar of his damp robes.

“I hate you,” you whisper, even though there’s no venom in it. There’s something softer in your voice now, even as your hands grip him tightly to stop him from disappearing. “I hate that you did this. I hate that you made me feel like nothing.”

Regulus’ eyes flicker with pain, but his hands are on your face now, gentle and desperate, as though he’s terrified you might still walk away.

“I know,” he breathes, his lips barely brushing yours. “I know. I don’t deserve you. I never did. But I’m here now. Please, please, let me fix this.” His voice is barely a whisper, terrified.

And then, before either of you can say anything more, the distance between you collapses.

His lips crash against yours, hungry, urgent, desperate. It’s a collision of everything – weeks of hurt and silence, years of unspoken feelings. The kiss is messy, raw, as though he’s pouring everything into it, everything he’s kept locked away. You feel it in the way his hands clutch you, pulling you closer, like he needs to prove something.

Rain washes over both of you, but it doesn't matter. You kiss him harder, and he meets you with the same urgency, as if each second you’re together is a second worth fighting for. It’s not graceful or perfect..

And when you finally pull away, breathless, your forehead resting against his, you realise that for the first time in weeks, everything feels like it could be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to.”

And this time, when you look at him, you don’t look away. You let him see everything in your eyes. Hurt, anger, confusion and something softer.

“I know,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “I know.” masterlist <3

[sunskisser]

Hi! Can I request James's sister with Sirius, but Sirius for some reason thinks she has a crush on Regulus? Thx I love your page! <3

thank you for the request angel! ♡

date | s.b.

tw: hurt/comfort, teensy bit of jegulus

potter!reader, sirius black x reader

“Potter. Do you think using unicorn’s blood instead would make our potion have a more iridescent colour? Because that’s what Slughorn wants,” Regulus asked dryly, shoving the book towards you and pointing at a paragraph which looked like nothing but muddled words.

You look at the book for a moment before sighing, letting your eyelids flutter closed and leaning back in your chair.

“No idea.”

Your hands come up to rub your eyes, exhaustion overwhelming your senses. Regulus and you had spent the whole day in the library like crazed scholars desperate for a good grade on an assignment.

That was exactly what you were. You had been paired with him for a Potions project, and ever since Professor Slughorn had made a breezy comment about your potion-in-progress, it had been driving the both of you mad. Although you weren’t exactly friends, there was a mutual agreement that doing well on this project was necessary to salvage both your grades.

The past few weeks were a blur - late nights wasted researching in the library and early mornings spent in the Potions classroom.

You groan and sit back up, willing yourself to hear him out and make sense of the lines in front of you. You blink and look up for a second when something, or rather someone, catches your attention. Sirius stands stiffly a few metres away, leaning on a bookshelf and looking over at the two of you.

When you meet his eyes, he quickly averts his gaze and pretends to be browsing the books on the shelf. You immediately sense that something is wrong - Sirius wouldn’t be caught dead in the library. You notice the hard look in his eyes, the subtle look of hurt in his features.

A frown instantly crosses your face. Your friend had been acting weird lately, ever since your lips accidentally crashed onto his at a party - and none of you pulled away.

It was a nice kind of weird, in which he fumbled over his words and his cheeks would get rosy when he talked to you. But ever since you had been swept up into the busyness of the project with Regulus, it was like whatever spark that was set ablaze had been doused out.

Sirius brushed you off every time you tried talking to him, yet you would catch him silently gazing at you in hallways and classes then immediately looking away as soon as eye contact was made. It made you mad, but more than that, it hurt your heart that the one person whom you thought would last forever was starting to drift apart from you.

Your annoyance started to get the better of you, slowly bubbling into anger in your chest. You take a deep breath and slowly stand up, your chair dragging across the floor. “Excuse me for a moment,” you mutter to Regulus, sidling your way around the table.

“Hey,” you make your way over to the bookshelf and stand in front of Sirius. He whips his head around, a false look of surprise on his face.

“Oh, hey Y/N! Didn’t think I would see you here. Anyway, I was just searching for a book for Moony - I should really make my way back now, James wants me to… plan some pranks with him,” he smiles, his lips pressed together. It’s obvious how forced it is.

You open your mouth to tell him your brother was in detention, his blatant lie adding fuel to the fire of irritation in you. But before you even say anything, he turns around to leave.

Anger flares up within you and before you can even think, you’re grabbing his wrist, your fingers wrapping around it with a vice-like grip. “Sirius!” you hiss, so unintentionally loud that Regulus looks up from his books, surprised. You look over at him apologetically.

Sirius turns back around, frowning. “What?” You flinch at the harsh tone, loosening your hold on his wrist but not letting go. You inhale sharply. “Talk to me,” you say, softening. “Please talk to me. What’s going on?”

“Nothing’s going on. What do you mean?” he bites back sharply, more hurt than anger in his tone.

“Let me go.” He tries to pull away, but you tighten your grip. “No. Something’s wrong, and you’re not telling me. Why are you ignoring me? What did I do wrong?” you ask, desperation seeping into your voice.

Sirius glares at you for a moment, seeming to be contemplating something. Then he sighs, his anger melting away as he runs a hand down his face.

“Fuck, you-” he gestures with his hands. “You-“ he groans and drops his arms to his sides. “Why do you play with my feelings like this? I thought we had something! I really- really thought we had something,” he mutters, his voice cracking slightly.

You feel your heart break a little. “Sirius,” you coo, moving your hand down to gently hold his. “We do. We do have something. Why would you think we didn’t?”

Upon hearing your words, he turns to you and huffs out a humourless laugh, pulling his hand away. “Really? You really think so? Don’t lie to me. I’ve seen you with Regulus.”

Your blink, your face morphing into one of confusion as you stare dazedly at Sirius.

“Regulus? You think I like Regulus?”

He frowns at you. “Of course. Why else would you be spending so much time with him? It’s like you forgot I even existed.”

The absurdity of his words brings a small smile to your face, and before you know it, you’re pressing the back of your hand to your mouth to stifle your laughter. “Oh my god, no. No way. He’s the most annoying partner I’ve ever had to work with. Why would you think I like him?”

The crease between his eyebrows softens, and you catch a glimpse of relief in his eyes, though he still seems suspicious. “You don’t? Then why have you been spending so much time with him? Going on study dates or whatever? You’re never with me anymore.”

You huff out a sigh, realisation dawning upon you. “For the Potions project, of course. Professor Slughorn said our potion wasn’t up to the mark, so we’ve been working our asses off to fix it. I really need to do well in this to pull my average up. I don’t like your brother, Sirius.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, and you can practically see the tension leave his body. “Oh. Sorry,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair.

You chuckle lightly. “It’s okay. It’s kind of my fault, I still should have made time for you. But is this why you’ve been ignoring me? You thought I liked Regulus?” you ask bemusedly. He winces and nods sheepishly, earning a laugh from you. “Siri, have you seen the way James looks at him?”

His lips start to curve upwards, his usual playful demeanour coming back to him. “I caught him drooling while looking at Reg once.”

You giggle at that, clearly imagining your brother gazing at Regulus with heart-eyes. Sirius grins back at you, taking your hand.

“So, we’re good?” he asks, intertwining your fingers together.

“More than good.”

“Great. Because I was just about to ask you out to Hogsmeade this Saturday. If you haven’t already got plans with emo boy, of course.”

“Sirius!” you whisper scandalously, trying to sound mad, but a giggle slips out and betrays your amusement. He chuckles, looking over at Regulus who was bent over a stack of papers and furiously scribbling down notes. “You better get back over there if you wanna survive till our date this weekend.”

“Date?” you ask mischievously, raising your eyebrow. “James would approve of that?”

He rolls his eyes at your feigned innocence, one hand on your shoulder as he gently pushes you back towards your table. “I’m pretty sure your brother is too lovesick for my brother to protest against it. So yes, love, it’s a date.”

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Early Morning Love🌤️

You've ordered: white chocolate raspberry ice cream! enjoy!

"But I can't help myself, when you get close to me."

Regulus Black x reader | word count: 954 words

Summary: you and regulus share some love early in the morning🌤️

Warnings: fluffy spice? kissing/ making out, intimate touches and kisses, kinda messy writing-wise

Note: clingy reg has my heart fr💗 decided to jump on the french regulus bandwagon for this one. i used a translator for the french, so if any french speakers see anything wrong, please correct me! (translations for all french used can be found at the end of the fic)

Saturday mornings were always your favorite. No early morning classes (actually, no classes at all!), no having to rush out the door half asleep and hungry, no having to deal with the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts at god know what time in the morning. Just peaceful, comfortable sleep.

It was around 7:00 am, the early morning darkness still in effect. You were slightly roused from your sleep by the need to go to the bathroom, internally groaning in annoyance. Don't you just hate when you're all comfortable in bed and now you've gotta get up to go pee? The absolute worst.

As you moved to slip out of bed, a pair of arms halted your escape.

"Where...are you going?" Regulus muttered, his voice gruff with sleep.

You looked over your shoulder, reaching a hand back to twirl his hair a little. "'m just going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Upon your explanation, Regulus's arms continued to trap you in bed, tightening around your frame. "Nuh uh. Don't go." he grumbled, burying his face into the crook of your neck, his black curls tickling your cheek.

"Ugh. Reg...let me go."

"No."

"Regulus."

After a few seconds of going back and forth, his grip finally loosened on you. "Be quick. Don't let me freeze to death."

You rolled your eyes as his dramatic words, shivering as your feet touched the cold cobblestone floor. After making it to the bathroom, doing your business, and washing up, you finally made your way back to bed.

As you slipped beneath the duvet, Regulus's arms were around you immediately, pulling you back into his embrace.

He smelled like fresh cotton and a certain musky scent you couldn't quite put your finger on. You reached over, running your fingers through his hair and playing with his silky locks of hair.

"Mmm, that feels nice, amour." Regulus's sleepy voice mumbled. "You know, I missed you."

"When?" you mused, scooting a bit closer to capture all of his warmth under the covers. The feeling of your legs tangling beneath the duvet made you shiver (in a good way), your hands still in his hair.

"Just now. When you went to the bathroom."

"Seriously? I was only gone for like, a minute."

"A minute too long, chéri." Regulus uttered, pulling you flush against him. You gasped, a soft snicker leaving your lips at the feeling of Regulus's fingers creeping along the hem of your tank top.

You rolled your eyes, leaning in closer, almost as if to challenge him. "Your fault for being so clingy."

You caught a glint of something darker in Regulus's deep, gray eyes, his hand now trailing over your midriff. "Clingy? I'd prefer...extra affectionate."

The Slytherin boy playfully pinched at your side, making you gasp in surprise. Before you could even get a word out to scold him, his lips were on yours.

It was slow and comforting, made even more enjoyable by the fact that you were both still sleepy. The warm, sleep-ridden kiss went on for a while longer, the two of unable to stop yourselves from laughing into it.

Your hands were now tracing lazy circles over the skin on the nape of his neck, causing him to shiver a little. As you two parted, Regulus leaned over to your neck, beginning to trail a few kisses over your skin.

"Tu es si belle." he whispered between kisses, your heart going into a little frenzy as you continued to giggle.

Your sleepy laughter made Regulus smile against your neck, flicking out his tongue to tease you.

"Reggie!" you yelped, playfully tugging at his hair. in response, Regulus laughed into your skin, his fingertips now trailing over your hips.

The warm sensation of his hands trailing over your skin with such care, the feel of lips against your throat, the heat and need radiating off of his body to yours made the moment all the more enjoyable.

Regulus eventually started to trail kisses down your neck and to your collarbone, nipping at the skin. As his hands pushed up your tank top, he dove under the covers, making you quirk an eyebrow.

"What are you-ah!" you squealed in surprise as you felt Regulus's lips now marking their territory on the smooth skin of your stomach.

You pulled back the duvet to see him trying not to laugh at your reaction, his hands caressing your sides and lips planting the softest of kisses.

"Is there a problem, amour?" Regulus mumbled against your skin, playfully sucking on and nipping at your stomach.

"Ah! You little..." you lightheartedly scolded him, his gray eyes shining with mischief as he squeezed your sides. "Get back up here."

"Why?" regulus questioned, moving up to plant a kiss just below your chest and making you shiver in pleasure.

"I wanna kiss you. I miss your lips." Regulus was already making his way back up to you, chuckling softly as he connected your lips once more.

The warmth of the just risen sun peeking through the blinds coated what skin wasn't covered by your tank top. Soft, intimate touches and sweet, stolen kisses continued to be exchanged between the two of you as you welcomed the early morning sun.

"Well, good morning." you whispered, admiring the way the sunlight hit Regulus's face just right.

"Avec toi, chaque matin est un bon matin, mon amour." Regulus hummed, kissing your forehead and pulling you back into his embrace.

Were you two going to go back to sleep for about an hour? Yes. Were you two probably going to be awoken by the sound of your friends banging on the door to wake you up? Also yes.

But you'd enjoy your comfortable morning while it lasts.🌤️

___________________________________________

TRANSLATIONS:

- amour: love

- chéri: dear, sweetheart

- tu es si belle: you're so beautiful

- je t’aime: i love you

- avec toi, chaque matin est un bon matin: with you, every morning is a good morning

© m00nkissedlover, 2025

[asthronauta]

CAZA DE BRUJAS│Black Brothers – Male Reader.

Summary: A war had begun. The Wizarding World and the Muggle World were no longer two separate worlds. Hiding and scared; it was no longer possible to differentiate between a Wizard and a Muggle. People were accused shamelessly and sentenced without trial, without mercy. Looking for the slightest suspicion to light the stake. With the fear of being pointed at, and with his life in danger; one night, [Y/N] put his two children in the car and left. Fleeing from the war. Fleeing from the hunt.

Warnings: Okay, how the hell do I explain this? This is not a conventional Reader fic guys. Look, there isn't really a ship here- Reader is Sirius and Regulus' father. Yeah. Of course it's entirely platonic, Reg and Sirius are little kids here. So, that being said — Drama, Angst, A lot of Lore, Descriptions of Physical Violence, Descriptions of Death, Verbal Violence, War Themes, and I guess I'll be warning of more as the chapters go by (yeah, chapters. I have plans for this shi). Enjoy 😁👍🏻

Btw, english is not my first language so there might be some errors in my writing. I'm still learning!

Wizards had always been careful. Discreet. Hiding their abilities from those who they knew it wasn't advisable to reveal. They understood the implications of their nature; superiority, in a way. A reality that was uncomfortable for many and a reason of pride and hierarchy for others. Possessing magic, in veins or in soul, was naturally a threat to those who didn't. Like a wonderful and unfair blessing that not everyone had. Which naturally put them on a podium where there was no neutrality; just inferior and superior. Only two options; to have or to not have. Two beings, with the same capacity for intelligence but, with the supernatural ability to possess magic or not. Wizards weren't stupid; they were fully aware of this. It wasn't for nothing that families with fancy names and heavy egos kept their blood away from those who, despite possessing magic, didn't possess the bohemian quality of what ran through their veins. What they fought so many centuries to keep impeccable. Untouchable; like an infinitely valuable treasure that shouldn't be stained. Infected with something impure like Muggle Blood.

Even with the vanity of some, it didn't escape them that their abilities not only put them on top of the podium; it also made them easy targets. Despite the little faith that was placed in them under the eyes of Wizards, Muggles had proven not only to be able to prosper without magic but also that they could become dangerous. Over the years, Muggles developed a terrifying capacity of adaptability. Demonstrating that they had the ability, intelligence and ingenuity to overcome their physical limitations and surpass boundaries that the nature of their bodies imposed on them. Creating methods known by themselves as 'Science' that led them to have knowledge of which Wizards believed they were the only owners. Although this was a great triumph for non-wizards, for those who did possess magic it was nothing more than a huge warning sign.

Carrying their own wars on their backs, Muggles had proven themselves perfectly capable of killing each other. This shouldn't be a problem for the Wizarding Community except that, at the end of the day, they weren't that different from Muggles. Their magic gave them power and protection and an endless sense of superiority but, at the end of the day, it lived in the back of their minds that Muggles could kill a wizard if they didn't have a wand nearby. That their bodies were just as fragile and without magic they were at the mercy of those who didn't possess it. It was from then on that the Wizarding World and the Muggle World began to divide more and more. And, at the same time, become closer than ever.

Ministry of Magic took action on the matter and began to give the non-magicians a space in their laws, giving them rights as a method of defense for their own safety. A seemingly friendly back-and-forth that served to hide the real fear they hid under the carpet. A protection pass for themselves in exchange for protection for non-wizards. - Many Wizards did not agree with this. Seeing the Ministry's strategic actions as a sign of weakness. It wasn't entirely their fault; the great voices of the Wizarding World had taken it upon themselves not only to show Muggles as inferior creatures but also hide their true capacity, for decades. — It was 1917 and Wizards and Witches were used to dealing with Muggles as inferior beings to House Elves. It was unthinkable and scandalous that they were now being given a place in the law. And, even worse, that they had rights and were protected like any decent Wizard. There were protests and the Wizarding World was shaken that February of 1917. But the Ministry did not give in. And without giving many explanations; the Protection and Prevention project for Non-Magical Subjects was approved in the Law. As well as many others that came after. Trying to keep the interaction with Muggles at bay as if they were a lethal disease. - The Ministry tried to work quietly, knowing that the true and dangerous nature of non-magic beings would bring fear and panic to the Wizarding World. Besides, a politician would never tarnish his own campaign by showing weakness.

Wizards always hid themselves away from the Muggle World, but the subject had never been taken with the seriousness and caution with which it had since 1917. From then on, Muggles ceased to be inferior beings and became thinking beings who begun to create their own world that, in some aspects, surpassed the Wizarding one. They were clearly a threat and that was why the Ministry took the measures it took at the time. Despite that, the knowledge was not shared with the public. Hiding the technological and scientific advances of Muggles; passing them off as Wizarding discoveries. Shamelessly covering themselves with other people's wisdom because that seemed the best they could do in the face of such a growing threat. - The Ministry used to hide cases of Muggle murders of Wizards. Committing acts outside their own laws. Erasing memories of Wizards just to keep that feeling of superiority alive between Wizards and Witches. Because it wasn't convenient for Wizards to know that a Muggle could be capable of ending the valuable and superior life of a Wizard. The Ministry's plan seemed to be going well for the first few years, but it was all just a balloon that was inflated more and more, destined to eventually burst. And it did. In 1919, with the famous 'Pink House Massacre', where a powerful and ancient family of pure-blood wizards was murdered and plundered by an organisation of Muggles.

The case became famous and spread throughout the world. For the first time in history, the Wizarding World saw with its own eyes what Muggles were capable of. They went from being lower class beings to being violent, carnal, heartless but above all; intelligent. Intelligent enough to organize, plan and execute a murder. And not just a murder; but a murder of a wizarding family. ‐ It didn't take long for wizards to go from terror to hatred. The spirit of war began to grow among wizards and witches. Desiring and demanding that the necessary measures be taken to end the threat that Muggles had proven to represent for Wizarding lives. The Ministry prevented this war. Despite having everything against them, the Ministry took the reins to prevent this growing catastrophe. At this point they were getting into territory they did not know; a war they weren't completely sure they could win, so in a clever move, the Ministry avoided a war with Muggles at all costs. Remembering that winter of 1919 as 'The war that never happened.'

Despite the apparent peace that was maintained, hatred and resentment grew within the magical community, which translated into hatred for Muggle-born Wizards and those from Half-Blood families, as well as repudiation of wizards born as Squibs. Wizards went from being superior to being defensive with any issue related to Muggles. The most powerful and ancient families closed themselves off even more, dividing the Wizarding World into those who had Pure Wizarding Blood and those who didn't.

This is how the forty years of peace that were to come were lived in the Wizarding World. Even if it meant more peace for some than for others. But leaving aside the social problems; peace was maintained enough to turn a blind eye to those minorities who suffered every day. - For the well-being of Muggles and Wizards, the war had been an extinguished flame that was left in the past and that the Ministry intended to keep that way. And they did; for forty years. And the society of Wizards and Non-Wizards lived in relative peace until January 1958, when for the first time the name 'The Angel of Death' began to be mentioned not only in Wizarding newspapers, but also in Muggle ones.

Throughout history there have been thousands of famous and well-known Wizard and Muggle murderers. However, they always remained separate in their respective worlds. In 1958 it was the first time that a murderer became world famous not only in the Wizarding World but also in the Muggle one. A phenomenon never seen before and due to its characteristics the Ministry didn't know how to handle it. - 'The Angel of Death' was a wizard or witch who committed their first crime in January 1958 by murdering five Muggle children. If that had been their only heinous act perhaps the world as we knew it would never have turned upside down as it did, but that was not the case; The Angel continued to commit crime after crime and by the end of 1958 they carried on their back the weight of 118 deaths of children, women and men who all had one thing in common; they were all Muggles.

Even with the terrifying number, the Ministry would have been able to control the situation if it weren't for the fact that The Angel was not a killer who liked to go unnoticed. They didn't kill just for some kind of justice; they killed for show. They saw their murders as works to be proud of not only in the eyes of wizards, but also, and especially, in the eyes of Muggles. They did all kinds of inhuman atrocity in the most obvious, disgusting and public way possible. Like a satire. Always with a macabre touch but above all always with magic. - 118 deaths in one year didn't go unnoticed in Muggle-London and the Muggle Ministry and the Wizard Ministry were, individually, trying to catch this killer.

This case became national emergency not only because of the fact that it was a person ending the lives of others but because The Angel was exhibiting magical phenomena before the eyes of Muggles with their murders; they was showing Muggles magic and what it could do. The images, stories and tales spread like plagues and by the end of the year the Muggle World was aware that Magic was real. The Ministry could do nothing to stop or refute it. Even with every single Auror in the country erasing Muggle memories; it was impossible to evade the new reality in front of them; the Muggle World and the Wizarding World were no longer divided.

The Angel of Death was never captured. Just as they appeared out of nowhere, they disappeared the same way. Wizards and Muggles had their own theories but truth was that neither of them had any idea of even the gender of this murderer. - The crimes stopped and, due to lack of clues, the investigation was permanently blocked. But, at the end of the day, what The Angel did was much more than just murders; they left an indelible stain on history.

In 1959, for the first time in history, the Wizarding Prime Minister and the Muggle Prime Minister had an official meeting. - The opinions of Muggles, civilians and ministers alike, were divided in two; fear or hate. At first fear reigned, which only gave birth to hatred. - Fear is a human instinct, and Muggles had more than enough excuses to be terrified. They just discovered not only that something like magic existed, capable of doing and undoing with terrifying ease, but also that this ability was not equal for everyone. That some simply had the gift of possessing it and others simply didn't. That was not only unfair, but dangerous. A reality that kept them uncertain about what the other would decide to do with them. - It was funny, but Wizards and Muggles feared each other. And, at the same time, they hated each other. Wizards felt superior, seeing all non-magic beings as inferior and harmful. And Muggles not only because of fear, but also because of the humiliation that wizards perpetuated on them for not having magic. And, for some, even driven by envy.

No one could blame Muggles for fearing for their lives. For the subjugation of their entire society as they knew it. Under the power that represented something as incomprehensible as magic. Things got worse and worse. From the ashes, that thirst for war was born again; only that this time, the non-mages had the initiative. Born of fear. Born of hate. It was not foreign to anyone; neither fame nor power nor a position in the Muggle Ministry saved them from feeling fear. It was almost a hive mind decision as everyone went into defensive mode.

It was in late 1959 and early 1960 that the Muggle armies mounted their first attack. Wizards came to know that January 1st as The Beginning of the War. And Muggles crowned that January 1st as the beginning of the Witch Hunt.

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“Come on, come on, up, we have to go.”

Sirius didn't have a very clear notion of time but he knew that this was not his time to get up for Kinder. - It was nighttime. Those hours of the night where the sky turns black and the stars shine brighter than usual. He knew he shouldn't be awake at that hour because his father always scolded him and Reggie for finding them up so late at night staring out the window at the stars. Looking for their constellations.

“Dad?” He rubbed his eye, squinting, trying to see in the darkness. All the lights in the house were off; only the dim moonlight illuminated the room enough for Sirius to make out his father taking a still sleeping Regulus in arms.

“We have to go, Sirius, get up.” It was on that second time that Sirius could notice the urgency in his father's voice and face. Plus the fact that his father spoke quietly; as if he didn't want to make too much noise. The remnants of sleep in Sirius' body faded away. Eyes wide and alert now that he was in the situation. Even though he didn't understand what was happening; Sirius could tell that something wasn't okay.

His father seemed in a hurry, so Sirius caught that energy. He got out of bed, in his pajamas, stuffed animal in hand as he watched his father dress up his half-asleep brother. “Dad, what's going on?” He asked innocently. Worried. His father was fully dressed, head to toe, as if he was ready to go outside. And he looked anxious.

“We have to go, Hon, we can't stay here.” His father didn't offer much more explanation as he approached, beginning to dress him in warm clothing over his pajamas. Sirius let him, still not understanding.

“Why not?” Sirius' voice was small. Big worried and confused eyes visible even in the dark. This was their home, why they couldn't stay?

“Sirius- no questions. Okay? Just do as I tell you.” His father finished and Sirius just nodded. Still with that uncomfortable feeling in his chest. His father put slippers, gloves, a scarf and his winter lion-shaped hat on him. They were going outside. Sirius didn't know why or where but he was smart enough to know that leaving home in the middle of the night wasn't a good sign. - It was cold outside; Sirius knew it because the snowman he made with Regulus yesterday was still intact; he could see it through the window. He didn't want to go outside. He wanted to stay in his warm, comfy bed. But his father wouldn't stop, and Sirius was already told not to ask any more questions.

“Let's go. Sirius, take my hand. Don't make any noise and don't walk away.” Regulus was still asleep, now in [Y/N]'s arms. Chubby cheek pressed on his father's shoulder, oblivious to everything that was happening. - Regulus was three years old, just a few months away from turning four. But their father still treated him like a baby. - Whatever was going on, Sirius was scared. But anyways, he complied; walking over to his father and taking his hand. Letting him lead them out. But not before making sure to take Regulus' favorite plushie with him. - He knew his little brother wouldn't like to wake up without it. And as for him; well, Sirius was sure that Mr. Paws would be waiting for him at home when they got back. He was the oldest, and he was a big boy now; he no longer needed to carry his stuffed animal everywhere.

He followed beside his dad as they walked towards the front door. Small hand gripping his father's tightly. He wasn't afraid of darkness, but why did all the lights have to be off? When his father opened the door he was surprised by the difference in temperature. It wasn't snowing, nor was there a strong wind. But the gentle gust was cold and it and froze Sirius' face. - The night was quiet; particularly quiet. In fact, there was not a sound in the entire neighborhood. No lights on. Not a trace of anyone around. Just darkness and the huge houses he had to look up at. Sirius couldn't help but feel intimidated; taking a step back towards his father. But as soon as [Y/N] closed the front door he hurried them to the car, which was already outside the garage.

His father opened the car's back door for him and Sirius was quick to get in. Watching as his father sat Regulus down beside him; adjusting his blanket. He was still dozing. - [Y/N] took a second to look at his children. Sirius didn't say anything; but he always had expressive eyes. And [Y/N] couldn't stand Sirius' worried eyes. He sighed. “I know. I know it's confusing, Honey. But I need you to listen to me, okay? To do as I tell you and take care of your brother, can you do that for me?”

“Yes daddy.” Sirius said. Of course he did. He was always good.

“That's my boy.” He took one of his son's cheeks, caressing it lightly. They didn't have much time. “Fasten your seatbelts.” He closed the car door and walked around it, getting in and putting on his own seatbelt. Glancing at his children in the backseat briefly before the car's engine filled the silence of the neighborhood. A second later the car was moving and Sirius could see their home receding into the distance.

He took a moment to look around. His dad seemed focused. He had his brow furrowed in concern, eyes on the road, so Sirius didn't dare interrupt him. Reggie was asleep against the seat, breathing deeply. With his plushie in his arms that Sirius made sure to put there. He leaned closer to him, feeling a sense of responsibility to protect his baby brother and also because being close gave him a feeling of comfort. — Sirius didn't know how to count the minutes but it took a long time for his father to relax a little. Taking his eyes off the road and glancing at him and Reggie through the rearview mirror. The street was empty and the car was moving slowly when [Y/N] started talking. “Sirius, Honey... Can you wake your brother up? I need to talk to you two.” He spoke. So gentle and so soft that Sirius felt the innocent urge to fall asleep.

Reggie wasn't usually a heavy sleeper, but he was just so tired from yesterday. He played in the snow with Sirius all afternoon. Their father didn't let them play in the yard, not usually. And outings to the neighborhood park were few and far between. So little Reggie was excited. Playing and having fun until his energy ran out. By the end of the day he was exhausted, dozing through dinner and falling asleep on the couch before he even made it to bed. His dad had to carry him up to his room and Sirius made a little comment that made [Y/N] chuckle. Last night felt warm compared to this. — Regulus stirred slowly, his small face scrunching up as he was roused from sleep. He could feel his brother's hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. His small brow furrowed and he was about to complain about being woken up when he noticed that he wasn't in his bed. - Noticing the worried look on his older brother's face just after. Unease was in the air and Regulus was no stranger to it. Not even at his age. His eyes met Sirius' and then his father's. They both shared something similar; the sense of responsibility for him. Concern. Even Sirius felt it, being the eldest. And he was only five. But Reggie was too young to understand that. “Daddy?”

“Hey Honey” [Y/N] tried to give his son the best smile he had in store, which was actually a smile with worried eyes. He reached back to caress the toddler's sleepy, concerned face. He couldn't help but smile a little when Reggie leaned into it. “I have to tell you something.” He said, sighing after. How are you supposed to explain two children who can't even read yet that they were leaving home because war was after them? - Even though the war had already begun when his children were born; [Y/N] always tried to make sure his tots were unaware of how dangerous and unfair the world around them was. He knew this wouldn't last forever. And that his kids would eventually have to know the truth but, jeez, Sirius and Regulus were just that; kids. Reggie was only three. Telling them they had to run away from home because their own Muggle neighbors might come at night, break into their house and kill them wasn't something that felt good or even right to tell them. But he had, didn't he? He had because they were in more danger not knowing it. Because in times of war like these they couldn't afford to be naive. It didn't even matter being three and five years old. “...We are not going back home.”

“Dad, but-”

“No, Sirius- Let me speak.” It was painful. Not just for him; he could see it on his child's faces. Regulus looked so scared. “...I know it's hard, I know it's scary, but... we need to be strong, okay? We need to-...” His hands tightened on the steering wheel, just as his jaw clenched. He had to be honest. He had no choice. He couldn't keep decorating the ugly reality with bows and soft words. This was war; and their lives were in danger. “...Our neighborhood is no longer safe. Our neighbors-... began to suspect of me. Of my... nature. And I couldn't risk staying there. We can't go back home now. I'm sorry but that's not an option. We- We'll go somewhere different. I'll take you somewhere different. A better place. We'll be safe there, okay? Everything.. will be okay.” His voice sounded much less confident than he intended. He heard people talking about that place; a safe place to seek refuge. [Y/N] didn't trust it much, he didn't trust anyone; he had too much to lose. But it was the only option he had now. He had two children; he not only cared about his life but theirs as well. He couldn't stay there, in that neighborhood, with so many potential killers around. Not with his children there. He had to use the cards he had to try to keep his family safe.

“...I forgot Mr. Paws”

[Y/N]'s eyes softened. Oh, his sweet boy. “I'm sorry, Honey. We can't go get it back.”

Sirius just nodded. Because that's just how he was. Strong. Always trying to keep it all in. But [Y/N] knew his boy. And he could see Sirius' bottom lip tremble a little. And his big eyes become glassy with tears. Sirius was the eldest; but he was still a child.

[Y/N] reached back. His palm finding Sirius' cheek. The boy was trying so hard to hold back. “Shh” A tiny smile appeared on his face. A genuine one. A mixture of tenderness and sadness. His boys were just children. So, so young. They didn't deserve to be going through this. Sirius shouldn't have to leave Mr. Paws behind. “It's okay, baby. I-.. I'll get you a new one when we get there.” He said, but he knew his reassurance was of little use. Mr. Paws wasn’t just a stuffed animal; it was a symbol. Of safety. Of love. That couldn’t be replaced. [Y/N] was so sorry Sirius had to leave it behind like this.

The tears didn't fall. Sirius nodded, hurt but putting on a brave face. [Y/N] had no idea where he get that from, but he was so proud. “That's my boy” he smiled.

Silence fell over the car afterward. [Y/N] kept driving, glancing at his little ones through the rearview mirror from time to time. Sirius was silent. And Reggie, who lost sleep, curled up against him. He had been like that ever since the Mr. Paws scene. He held his own plushie in his arms so tightly that it seemed like the little snake's eyes would pop out. Face buried in Sirius' shoulder. - They hadn't made any comment about having to leave home. It weighed on them; of course it did. Heavily on all three of them. But Sirius and Regulus were born alongside the war, they grew up in a world where insecurity was a reality and they were always aware of that. It was sad for [Y/N] to see the painful way it was evident that his children never knew true freedom

“Fuck, damnit.” The curse came out of his mouth without thinking. He didn't want to scare the kids but he was fucking sure there were no police checkpoints in this area. That was exactly the reason why he chose this road. - He'd been in contact with Muggle World since he was a child; he knew firsthand how it worked and how to navigate it. How to take care of himself as a wizard living among Muggles. But Muggle World became more hostile since the war began. And hiding was impossible as a wizard or witch. So at some point not hiding was the best way to hide. That's why wizards, even those from great houses, lived in Muggle neighborhoods. - Muggles knew this. And so did Muggle Police. That was why they made monthly house-to-house checks in every part of the country. In every corner, in every small town, in every great mansion. Looking to 'arrest' and 'detain' wizards. That also meant there were police on every corner of every road. - But then again, sometimes not hiding was the best way to hide. And [Y/N] had no choice anyways.

He stopped the car, stifling a sigh. Trying to look as untense as possible as he rolled down the window. A policeman approached. “Good evening.”

“Good evening.” [Y/N] responded in kind. Forcing a smile on his face. He could see the officer taking a look on his children in the backseat.

“A bit late to be traveling with children.” The officer pointed out. [Y/N] cursed himself. How the hell was he going to explain that he was traveling in the middle of the night with two kids and a trunk full of suitcases? “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, I- They're my kids. We're... moving. I wanted to get there in the morning so we left at this time.” He quickly made up. Thanking himself and taking back the curse from earlier. Maybe he could get out of this one.

“...I see.” He almost sighed in relief when the policeman seemed to believe him. “Can I see yours and your children's ID?”

“Yeah, of course” he handled them quickly; having them close beforehand. - Sirius and Regulus had Wizard IDs, but they also had Muggle IDs. [Y/N] made sure of that. Plus, they were both born in Muggle Hospitals. So in the eyes of law, they were two Muggle children. And [Y/N], despite his mother being a wizard, had his Muggle ID too. He wasn't born in a Muggle Hospital; but he was registered in the Muggle General Registry Office thanks to his father; who was a Muggle.

“Very good,” The officer said. Nodding. Handing back the ID cards. “Do you mind if we check the trunk?”

“No, of course.” He said, as if he really had a choice. He was calm about the trunk; there was nothing strange in there. He had clothes, his and the children's, some food, household items that he didn't want to part with. - He regretted all the things he had to leave behind at home. Their stuff, the boys toys, the photos. Things that [Y/N] would never see again and it broke his heart. At least he knew he was saving the most important thing: his children. But he didn't hesitate to bring a photo album with him. And some old love letters.

“Okay, everything in order here.” The officer returned to his window, bringing him out of his slight reverie. He nodded. “Everything alright with the kids?” The officer couldn't help but add. It was true; Sirius and Regulus looked tense. And tired. [Y/N] would be suspicious too. Which was stupidly kind of him knowing that if he was arrested here he would be separated from his children.

“Yeah, they're fine. I had to wake them up, so they're a little tired but they're fine. I'll let them sleep on the ride.” He said. Again, the policeman seemed to believe him.

“Okay Sir. You can go on.” The officer said, leaning out the window to give the children a smile. “Get some rest, lads. It's going to be a long night.”

Indeed it will. Sirius gave the officer a stiff nod and soon [Y/N] was leaving. Sighing in relief. Thanking heaven and hell that the officer didn't check him, otherwise he would have found the wand in his coat. - For protection, he had to keep it close. The streets were not safe. And although being found carrying a wand was a sure death sentence, in these conditions, he couldn't afford to go without it either. Much less with the children with him.

The minutes kept passing and the car didn't stop. [Y/N] drove as fast as he could without raising suspicion. The streets were dark and the children didn't recognize them anymore. They were far from home; that was for sure. - Sirius stayed wide awake even though his body ached with sleep. His eyes were heavy, drooping shut at times. His father told him he could sleep, that it was okay, but Sirius didn't want to. The feeling of constant tension and danger in the car kept them all awake and alert. Sirius held his little brother close.

[Y/N] was tense. He wasn't having a good time. He was tired, too. His mind had been on alert and panicked for days, while he was organizing an escape plan from his own house. - [Y/N] knew he couldn't stay in that house after all that happen. — He moved to that neighborhood in his early twenties. The house belonged to his aunt, his mother's sister, who was a witch. She disappeared one day, probably murdered, and the house was left in his mother's name. [Y/N] moved there and lived there until now. Sirius and Regulus were raised there, and their neighbors knew him and knew who he was. - [Y/N] knew he had wizard neighbors. Or suspected so. No one trusted anyone; wizards didn't reveal themselves to other wizards they didn't have a close relationship with. But [Y/N] knew there had to be more wizards in that place.

And there was. Or, well, were. A young couple, newly married. They were murdered a week ago, discovered in some way that [Y/N] had no idea about. They were executed in the central square of the neighborhood. [Y/N] had to be there. It was frowned upon not to go and witness the executions of mages and [Y/N] did not wanted to be seen in a bad light. So he was there. - He could still remember the screams of the woman, crying as she watched her husband being decapitated with a machete. [Y/N] couldn't handle staying there for long, returning home with a lump in his throat and the desperate need to be there to protect his sons. The next day, their burned and unrecognizable bodies were still lying in the middle of the square where Sirius and Regulus were playing days before. - He knew he couldn't stay there. That he had too much to lose, that he couldn't take the risk, that he had to get out of there. So, as soon as he felt his neighbors looking at him strangely and whispering among themselves, [Y/N] began to plan how to get out of there as soon as he had the chance.

He had heard of this place. This refuge created by wizards. It was called The Order of the Phoenix. Run by Dumbledore, a famous old Minister who had been very present during the war and before. Dumbledore was the man who prevented the war against Muggles in 1919, 'The war that never happened'. And was present now too. [Y/N] didn't quite know what Dumbledore was up to at the moment. Wizarding newspapers were hard to come by but [Y/N] managed to discover the existence of the Order of the Phoenix. He heard stories of families being taken in there. The place was a refuge for wizards fleeing war. Adults, children. Families, singles. All kinds of wizards. And right now, all [Y/N] needed a shelter for his sons.

[Y/N] had no family left. He had no one to turn to. His father and mother died weeks after Sirius was born. Killed by the war. His mother, a witch, was killed like all wizards were killed; burned. His mother was burned alive at a stake in the middle of the village like they did with every wizard who was discovered. The Muggle Ministry managed to take charge of his father, putting him in prison for having married a witch. [Y/N] didn't know if he was still alive but, oh, he knew. He just knew. Muggle prisons were hostile, not just to wizards, but to themselves as well. [Y/N] knew his father was no longer alive. It was painful to know that his parents didn't even get to have a grave with their names on it. And it was even more painful knowing that Sirius and Regulus never got to met their grandparents. It was a mourning that [Y/N] continued to carry and would carry for life. Being attacked by how his loving parents were killed in such a horrible way. So dirty, so cruel. But, he was a father himself now. And he would trade the world for the moon if it meant not letting that happen to his children. He wouldn't let that happen to his children.

I know, I KNOW you guys want more but WAIT. I had to cut it there. The chapter was actually supposed to be longer but it was already too long so you'll have to wait for part 2. And, sorry for having to cut the chapter so abruptly. Whatever, DID YOU GUYS LIKED THAT?? honestly I'm so proud of myself jsjjsj 🤭 I have no idea where all this came from but I HAVE MORE. So, wait for part two. I promise it gets even better. The next chapter gets so INTERESTING. I mean, THINGS HAPPEN. Wait for it I promise it's worth it.

See you soon!

Btw, have you noticed that I'm posting more often? that's actually crazy

:P

[aisiedaisie]

hello!! I was wondering about if you'd be interested in writing a regulus black / sirius black x reader ff where reader is learning french but is terribly horrendous at it

No pressure pooks🙏

Hello hello~!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you for this idea!!! As soon as I saw this ask I knew I had to write it immediately. Now, like the reader in this fic, my French is terrible... I haven’t touched it in years— aside from the occasional Duolingo lesson— so I’m sure my grammar will be all over the place. Hopefully, it’s not too bad, but fingers crossed!

Paring: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

WC: 1.2k

How has it come to this?

You’re perched on the couch in the cozy but slightly chaotic living room of your shared flat, flanked by Sirius and his younger brother, Regulus. Sirius— your boyfriend of six months —leans forward, scribbling something onto a notepad, his dark hair tumbling into his face as he mutters phrases under his breath. Beside you, Regulus sits cross-legged with the air of a reluctant tutor, his sharp features softened by uncharacteristic patience. 

Together, they are attempting what feels impossible: cramming basic French into your overwhelmed brain before you face what you can only describe as a gauntlet— meeting the Black family matriarch.

The mere thought of her sends a shiver down your spine. 

When she found out Sirius was in a relationship—and that she hadn’t been informed— she had, predictably, thrown a fit.

The result? An invitation, that felt more like a summons, to the infamous Black family home for Christmas. As if meeting your boyfriend’s parents weren’t already intimidating enough, there was a catch: she was said to be excruciatingly, almost maliciously picky.

Sirius hadn’t minced words about it, either. “She won’t like you,” he’d said bluntly the night the invitation, if you could call it that, had arrived. “Don’t take it personally. She doesn’t like anyone.”

Which was, of course, impossible to not take personally.

So here you were, cramming vocabulary in a desperate attempt to win even a sliver of her approval. If learning French wasn’t already difficult enough, doing it under the critical eye of the Black brothers was verging on impossible.

“Non, non,” Regulus corrects gently, his tone calm but firm as he watches frustration creep into your features.

You glare at the notepad in Sirius’ lap. The word rencontrer stares back at you like a stubborn enemy, taunting you with its refusal to stick. Sirius seems to sense your despair, because he sets his pen down and shifts closer, his hand moving in soothing circles over your back.

“I’m never going to get this right,” you groan, dropping your face into your hands. The muffled words escape from between your fingers. “Spanish wasn’t this hard. Why is this so hard?”

“You’re doing much better than you think, love,” Sirius says, his voice warm and low, a balm against your growing nerves.

“She might not even say anything in French,” Regulus offers, his tone neutral as though trying not to spook you.

“But it’s her first language,” you counter, peeking at him from between your hands with a pleading look.

Sirius exhales, setting the notepad aside entirely. “You’ll be fine,” he assures you, pulling you gently against his side. You don’t resist. Resting your head on his shoulder feels infinitely better than wrestling with foreign syllables.

“Honestly, you’ll probably win over our dad faster than her anyway,”

“But it’s your mom,” you mumble, the thought of disappointing her settling heavy in your chest.

“She’s probably making a fuss because she needs something to complain about,” Regulus says dryly, his mouth quirking in a half-smile. He gestures toward Sirius with a nod. “And let’s be real... he doesn’t care about her opinion.”

You let out a heavy sigh, knowing he’s right. You’ve heard enough about Sirius’ tumultuous relationship with his parents to know their approval— or lack thereof —means little to him. Still, it doesn’t ease the gnawing anxiety in your stomach. The idea of stepping into that house, of facing her scrutiny, feels like walking into a viper pit.

“Why don’t you try again?” Regulus suggests gently, patting your knee in what you suspect is meant to be a comforting gesture. Though awkward, the effort is endearing. “It’s probably just nerves messing you up.”

You exhale deeply, then nod. Sitting here with them helps—at least somewhat—but their fluency feels like a spotlight highlighting your every misstep. You don’t want to keep fumbling in front of them, even if they’re patient about it.

“C’est un plaisir de vous re—” The words stumble awkwardly on your tongue, frustration bubbling over. “FUCK!” you burst out, dragging out the offending syllable slowly. “Rencontrer, Madame Black.”

Sirius loses it, muffling his laughter behind his hand while Regulus shoots him a sharp glare, clearly unimpressed with his amusement.

“Rencontrer,” Regulus repeats slowly, his voice calm and encouraging.

“Rencontrer,” you echo, focusing hard to mimic his deliberate pronunciation.

“Perfect,” Sirius chimes in, his grin softening as he finally reins in his giggles. “Now just a bit faster, love.”

You shoot him a look, your narrowed eyes more playful than annoyed. “I feel like I’m just free entertainment for you right now.”

Sirius smirks, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your temple. “You’re always free entertainment for me.”

“Je t’aime tellement,” he adds quickly, the French phrase rolling off his tongue effortlessly.

You roll your eyes in exasperation. “Je te déteste tellement,” you counter, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Sirius freezes, his expression twisting into mock offense. “YOU CAN BARELY SAY RENCONTRER, BUT YOU CAN TELL ME YOU HATE ME?!?” His voice rises incredulously, his hands flying up in sheer disbelief.

Regulus lasts all of two seconds before dissolving into laughter. “How do you even know how to say that?” he manages between wheezing breaths.

You shrug nonchalantly. “You two say it all the time.”

Sirius lets out an exaggerated groan, throwing his head back as Regulus dissolves into laughter again, shaking so hard he nearly falls off the couch.

“Oh my God,” Regulus wheezes, doubling over with laughter. “The one fluent phrase you know is I hate you!” His laughter turns into something closer to a breathless gasp, tears glistening in the corners of his eyes. His sheer amusement is contagious, and despite your frustration, you can’t help but crack a smile.

“Just—just don’t say that to our mom right off the bat,” Sirius interjects, fighting his own grin as he waves a hand. “If she says something awful, then by all means, go for it, but—”

You whirl toward him, eyes wide in mock outrage. “I would never!”

“Oh no, please do,” Regulus manages, wiping the tears from his face with the heel of his hand. “I’d pay good money to see that.”

“Je te déteste… you both,” you mutter, your attempt to insult them in French as clumsy as it is endearing. The effort only sets them off again, Sirius and Regulus laughing so hard you can’t help but join in.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon cœur,” Sirius teases, his voice full of affection as he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Get a room,” Regulus groans, though the lack of any real annoyance in his tone makes his words land more as a joke.

“You’re in our home,” Sirius fires back without missing a beat.

That’s it— you lose it. Laughter bubbles out of you, breaking through the tension that had knotted your shoulders all evening. Sirius smirks triumphantly at your reaction, his arm pulling you closer, while Regulus just groans again, throwing himself back against the couch with dramatic flair.

In this moment, as the three of you laugh together, the anxiety about meeting the Black family fades ever so slightly. 

It will return, but for now, there’s only warmth, humor, and the feeling that maybe— just maybe —you can get through this together.

 Hopefully…

[talesofmoony]

gender fluid sirius black

gender fluid sirius who opens up to regulus first after they reunite about his feelings of gender nonconformity, because he’s confused and a little scared and doesn’t know how to understand his feelings

gender fluid sirius who slowly becomes more open and comfortable with himself by the help of his friends

gender fluid sirius who wants to try new things (pet names, etc.) with remus, but is afraid remus won’t find them attractive. remus who already recognizes sirius’ worries and takes the lead, assuring sirius they can be his good boy or good girl and remus will love them either way

gender fluid sirius who experiments with makeup, nail polish, and new clothing through the help of reg, who has plenty of experience with it through years of being forced to present femininely at family events. sirius in turn giving back to regulus and helping him be more comfortable in his skin by giving him his first masculine haircut.

gender fluid sirius black !!!

[s0urw00lf]

Rewrite the stars

Pairing: Sirius black x reader

Summary: you and Sirius have been in love since you were mere teenagers, but life seems to have other plans for the both of you.

Warning: angst and heartbreak

AN: I hope this makes you cry because I cried writing it. This was supposed to be a song fic but I don’t know how I feel about making characters sing I feel so awkward writing it so this is what it ended up as.

Your life had been damned since the day you were born. At a young age you Sirius and regulus would sit in the garden under the stars as you rambled on about random things. “I think our lives are written out in the stars.” You said laying on your back. Sirius and regulus turned to you “how do you mean?” Sirius asked, regulus hummed along as he always does, he’s the more quiet out of the three of you. You smiled looking at the stars with so much adoration “we all have a destiny right? I believe it was written in the stars, and we just cant read it how we would if it was in a book” seven year old you said. “I think each star represents one person's destiny, that’s why some shine brighter than others”. Sirius smiled “do you think were written in the stars?” He asked, causing regulus to sit up, also wondering. You giggled “I don’t know silly, that’s kind of the point.” You said, “but, i like to think we are” you said pointing to the brightly shining row of three stars. Two closer together than the other.

Now ten years later you sat alone at the end of the slytherin table, body rigid, just as anyone’s would be these days. But for you especially, you were terrified, and the only person who could bring you out of that headspace was sitting across the room with his longtime group of friends. You stared at him, the light in his eyes made you envious, angry that your eyes no longer shone like that. But it made you happy that he got out, out of this life. At least one of you had. You and regulus hadn’t been able to, now your parents are forcing you into a marriage. You and regulus are best friends with no romantic feelings for eachother whatsoever. But your parents had not one care and had been best friends with his parents since they were young and in hogwarts themselves. The deal had been set in stone some before you were born. Except it was supposed to be with Sirius. “Your staring again” You hadn’t noticed when regulus had sat down but you were happy he broke your trance before you had the chance to humiliate yourself yet again.

“Have i ever told you how grateful i am for you” you joked, though your tone had nothing humorous about it. He filled his plate not even looking up at you “not nearly enough as you should, but yes” he answered. You huffed out a laugh “yeah well i am” regulus hummed, like he did since you were kids. You never really minded that he was quiet, more so because you were too but also because it left you alone with your thoughts. “You should eat, you’ve been doing a lot less of that lately” he said pushing a plate towards you. You sighed looking down at the plate of food you weren’t even aware he prepared. You ate a little over half of the food before you felt eyes on you.

immediately you knew where it was coming from. You looked across the room, meeting eyes with this brown ones your heart longed to wake up every morning to. You longed to be with him so bad it made your chest hurt physically. The only thing that had kept you going so far were the meetings you had in a room you didn’t know existed until Sirius caught you walking alone in the halls and dragged you to it.

He nodded his head slightly, and you nodded back. That was the confirmation that you’d meet tonight after dinner. You broke eye contact with him and looked to the darke he aired curly head in front of you who’s head was down as he read his book while eating. “Can you cover for me again?” You asked. His eyes looked up at you from his heads lowered position. Rolling his eyes he nodded “just don’t stay out as late again” he said. You smiled “regulus black you are a gift sent straight from heaven” you joked before finishing your food.

Now it’s around 11:00 at night and you and regulars were finishing your rounds around the school. Somehow (very obvious how) you both had been elected as prefects. So you had a little more freedom after the other kids went to bed. You not to subtly parted from regulus, when you reached the corridor that lead to the room you and Sirius had been meeting in.

When you arrived he was already there in all of his glory. He was sat with his head down and brown locks covered his face. You guessed he hadn’t heard you come in because hes head remained down. “Siri?” You spoke, his head immediately shot up, his brown eyes slightly wide. “Are you okay?” You asked, he nodded standing up to walk toward you. “I’m fine, love” he confirmed. Your heart soared at the nickname.

he grabbed your hand softly and just held it examining your face with soft eyes. “I- i have a crazy, probably very idiotic idea.” He murmured, you giggled “you have a lot of those” you joked lightly, “i know i do” he laughed but his expression quickly grew serious “But i want you to hear me out”

the air in the room grew tense, “Sirius what are you on about?” You asked, growing worried. There were very few scenarios where Sirius was actually serious ‘Ironic’. Worry etched onto your face, and Sirius saw that. He leaned in to kiss your forehead bringing his hands to hold the back of your head. His lips were soft and gentle as always. He pulled away but the tip of his nose was still grazing your hairline “come live at the potters with me” he said. Your heart dropped, you pulled away to see if he was toying with you. He wasn’t, his expression mirrored determination. “You must be joking” you muttered, still not believing the words that slipped through his soft lips. He shook his head “i'm not”.

you pulled away completely, turning away from him while running a hand through your hair, your heart raced with anxiety at the mere thought of it. Puting all of these people in danger. “Sirius, that is absolutely insane, even for you. I mean you can't possibly have thought this through” you stressed. He rushed toward you and quickly but gently turned you face him again. “I have i swear” he defended. You shook your head “you cant have. All of the people that would endanger. All of your friends, regulus, you, me?” You listed. “I’ve talked to James and his parents, love they miss you. I miss you” he begged. You frowned tears filling your eyes “and I you, but you know the lengths my parents will go to keep me under their control, and regulus, i can't just leave him.”

“We can bring him too” you laughed incredulously at his statement. “You and regulus have barely spoken a word to each other since you left home” you stated. A silence covered the room like a blanket, both of you not sure what to say “i would do… anything… to have you back” he murmured, his eyes were glossy and full of tears. “I would too, but i guess we weren’t written in the stars” you mumbled, not trusting your voice to speak at full volume.

At that moment you could see recognition and hurt flash in his eyes. The reminder of that night all that time ago, when he’d asked you if the two of you were written in the stars. So much had changed since then and you wasn’t sure when it all started and you hated that it had to be this way but you had to protect him.

Sirius then dropped down to his knees, grabbing bit of your hands “Y/n please. I am begging you, come with me. We can protect each other, we’ll run away and hide” his voice shook as tears flowed freely down his face. You held back a sob, tears clouded your vision and all you could see was a muddy outline of him. “There is not a place in this planet that they wouldn’t find me, if I go I’m a danger to you all and I won’t let that happen.” You cried, Sirius dropped his head against your lower stomach and cried, you felt his tears soaking your sock.

You joined him on your knees resting your head on his shoulder, and he rested his on yours. “There is nothing I want more than to spend the rest of my life with you. To have children and watch them grow up. To see them off to Hogwarts every year. Nothing.” You whispered broken.

“But we can’t” Sirius finished for you, you nodded “but we can’t” you repeated almost inaudibly. After a while of sitting in each other's embrace Sirius lifted his head from your shoulder, causing you to lift yours. You took in his broken expression. red eyes, rosy cheeks and nose, and you were sure he was doing the same to you. “Kiss me, before we part ways Sirius please” you begged, you would’ve felt pathetic begging for anyone else but Sirius was different. You were meant to be, just maybe not in this life.

He gently placed his hands on your cheeks, thumbs rubbing your skin “are you sure?” He asked. You nodded frantically, “yes just please” your tone pleaded. He nodded with a soft smile, he began to lean in and your breath hitched, you could feel your body tingling from excitement and desire. You were sure your cheeks were red from how hot your face felt. When his lips met yours butterflies erupted in your stomach. His lips were soft and you could taste hints of honey from the chapstick he wore all the time. Your lips moved in unison almost like a practiced routine. Your hands found his hair and the kiss deepened, nothing harsh you just poured your hearts into this one kiss. You pulled away, feeling your chest tightening from the lack of breath.

You both breathed heavily in efforts to catch your breath, your eyes eventually met, and the air released all tension. “I’m glad we did that,” he whispered. “Me too,” you replied with a smile.

“When this war is over and your parents are gone, I’m gonna marry you” he said. You smiled sadly, you both knew the possibility of the good winning the war were slim and your parents dying were even slimmer but it wouldn’t stop you from keeping up hope. “I should go” you forced yourself to say. Sirius frowned. He knew that this was probably your last spontaneous meeting and he wasn’t ready to watch you walk away yet but in all honesty he wouldn’t ever be ready. So he nodded “okay” he said, he didn’t fight or resist and you thanked the heavens above because is he had you weren’t sure you would’ve left. “I love you Sirius black” your voice broke. “And I you y/n l/n”

[crescenthistory]

࣪💌 = fluff I 📭 = angst I 📬 = hurt/comfort I 📜 = smut I 🪧 = humour

𖤐 regulus arcturus black

(3.8k) Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel (💌🪧: mutual pining, reg and reader in denial about their feelings are called out by friends)

⤷ (4.8k) Part 2, Still Totally Just the Fifth and Sixth Wheel, You Guys (💌🪧: the triple date to hogsmeade, more pining and denial ensues) ⤷ (6.8k) Part 3, Okay Fine Maybe We're In Love! (💌: the culmination of their feelings paired with an eventful quidditch match)

(2.6k) You occupy my every thought (💌📬: reader just gets regulus and he is flabbergasted, sunshine x grumpy dynamic)

(3k) Are you falling asleep on me? (💌: you would rather spend a late night studying in the library with regulus than be without him; he is enamoured with you for it)

(5.7k) Professional Meddlers (🪧: the girls play matchmakers with you and regulus, some hurt/comfort if you squint)

(6k) Come Running (📬: regulus is the last to find out his girlfriend is injured, feat. found family with your shared friends and madam pomfrey)

⤷ blurb about rosekiller's reaction

(5.5k) And what will come of us then? (📬📭: regulus finds reader sobbing with magical ink on her hands and is forced to confront himself)

(3k) on the tip of my tongue (💌: regulus says "i love you" for the first time and reflects on what love has been for him over the years)

(2.5k) Amour (💌📜: domestic afternoon in your own flat, you enjoy it when regulus calls you amour and he loves that you love it)

(6.2k) Matters Unspoken (📭📬💌: regulus tries to be comfortable in his new loving relationship, but then he learns of your legilimency and his trauma-response takes over)

cat!animagus!reader (aka the adventures of whiskers and shadow, feat. bsf!marauders)

⤷ (3k) Feline Touches (💌🪧: regulus knows exactly where to find you when you're hiding from the cold) ⤷ (2.4k) Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat (💌🪧: wolfstar neglect to wake you when you and reg fall asleep in cat form) ⤷ (2.4k) Padfoot vs. Whiskers (💌🪧: you and reg get revenge on sirius in cat form) ⤷ (1.7k) Where Padfoot Lays His Head (📬: whiskers comforts padfoot) ⤷ (1.3k) the furred shoulder (📬🪧: reader remains in animagus form when she has a petty fight with reg, he tries to get her back) ⤷ (1.8k) not sneeze proof (💌📬: reader keeps turning into whiskers when she sneezes) ⤷ (1.5k) sharing is caring (💌🪧: bsf!barty finds whiskers asleep in the library and brings her back to regulus, but not without demands) ⤷ (1.5k) fix you up (💌📬: regulus turns into shadow to comfort you when you get injured as whiskers)

drabbles:

(1.5k) let me see you (📜: reg is working on letting go and opening up to you; you're encouraging him)

(1.3k) he seeks a celebration (💌: suggestive, when slytherin wins the quidditch match, regulus just want to celebrate with you)

(1.3k) nothing matters but you (💌: cuddling the night before your birthday)

(1.3k) all things new (🪧💌: regulus begs his friends to be cool around you when you meet for the first time)

(2k) you could never hurt me (💌📬: soulmate au, regulus realises his potions deskmate is his soulmate and spirals)

(0.8k) jasmine bath salts (💌: regulus draws you a bath after work)

(1.1k) waiting out the storm (📬: regulus is hiding in a coffee shop after the war; you come to find him)

(1.8k) on pining and patching up in the prefects’ bathroom (📬💌: reg insists on healing reader after she gets in a fight)

(0.7k) sleep talker (💌: the first night you sleep in the same bed, regulus lets down his guard enough for his childhood habit to return)

(0.7k) letting go (💌: regulus is drunk, lovely and slowly learning how to heal and let go)

headcanons:

☆ bonding with regulus over bugs

☆ regulus x sunshine!reader

☆ black!sister!reader and barty crouch jr.

☆ regulus' nightmares (& how you help him through them)

features in:

poly!moonwater

(1.9k) What Now? (💌: your concerned boyfriends find you feeling poorly in the infirmary and dote on you)

(0.7k) hospital au (💌📬: muggle au, you accompany remus to a&e where your boyfriend works)

find more regulus in poly!bartlus in the slytherin skittles masterlist

[colouredbyd]

Wrapped In You

Regulus Black x fem!reader

summary: in which you cannot sleep no matter how still you lie, and regulus, impossibly patient for a man being kept awake, does his best to soothe your chaos. he scoots closer, cages you in, and entertains your increasingly absurd late-night questions.

warnings: sleeplessness, excessive rambling, clinginess, overthinking, reader being annoying on purpose, regulus being sleep-deprived and dramatic, ridiculous questions, fluff, silly banter, implied established relationship, no actual plot, fluff and crack.

w/c: 2k

masterlist

“Regulus?”

His voice comes back, heavy with sleep, soft and low like the distant roll of thunder on a summer night. “Yes, amour?”

“I cannot sleep.”

You flop back against the pillows with an exasperated huff, arms spread out like a starfish in defeat. The sheets are twisted around your legs, one foot poking out from under the covers, cold now but too stubborn to pull back in.

He shifts slightly beside you, not fully awake, voice slow and warm with drowsiness. “Close your eyes and try, ma belle.”

“My eyes are closed,” you say quickly, far too quickly to be convincing. You screw them shut even tighter, jaw tensing with the effort. You can feel the faint ache starting behind your eyelids already.

There is a faint sound from him, something between a sigh and a chuckle. “No, they are not, amour. You are squinting. That does not count.”

A tiny pause passes before your lashes flutter open for a brief moment, and you let out a frustrated puff of breath, telling yourself that this time your eyes are truly closed, so you sink deeper into the bed with your arms folded across your stomach, willing your mind to go completely blank.

But it does not obey your wishes.

Instead, every little sound in the room becomes painfully obvious—the ancient wall clock ticking steadily on the dresser, the soft creak of the bed as you shift your weight, and worst of all, the steady sound of Regulus breathing right beside you.

How on earth does he manage to fall asleep in mere minutes as if it were the simplest thing in the world?

His breathing is slow and rhythmic, practically a lullaby, yet somehow it only makes you more painfully aware of your own restless state.

You picture his face in the darkness, eyes closed, lips parted just slightly, the faint crease between his brows that never quite disappears, and the mess of curls pressed softly against the pillow, his expression peaceful in a way that feels almost unfair.

And then the thoughts start.

Does he always sleep this peacefully? Does he dream of you? Would he still love you if you turned into a frog? Or a goat? Could goats and wizards fall in love? What kind of goat would you even be?

The questions spiral faster, one after another, each one more ridiculous than the last. Sleep drifts further and further out of reach.

You let out another frustrated huff.

“Regulus?”

A low, sleepy groan. “Yes, amour?”

“I really, really cannot sleep.”

His chest rumbles faintly with laughter as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I know, my love. Try again and close your eyes.”

You close your eyes. Again. Properly this time, with less of the scrunched, frustrated effort from before and more of a gentle surrender to the dark, a quiet intention to will yourself toward sleep.

You inhale deeply, the breath slow and deliberate, imagining your mind emptying like a room with the lights turned off, cool and still.

For a fleeting moment, it works. There is calm, there is quiet. And then—

Is the window open?

A faint chill brushes along the bare skin of your arm and you shift beneath the sheets, the sudden awareness unsettling. The air feels colder than it should, which sends your thoughts spiralling toward the catastrophic possibilities. 

What if you catch a cold? What if the room is somehow filling with an insidious draught? You inch the blanket higher, tucking it beneath your chin with painstaking care so as not to disturb the already-too-patient boy lying beside you.

Another breath. Slow in, slow out. This is fine. You are fine.

How many breaths does a person take in a lifetime?

The thought arrives uninvited and lodges itself squarely in the centre of your mind, stubborn and immovable. You try to banish it, to focus on the softness of the pillow or the warmth of Regulus’s arms, but the question blooms and multiplies, ridiculous and persistent. 

Tens of thousands of breaths a day. Millions, surely, over a lifetime. Billions, even. And here you are, wasting perfectly good breaths by counting breaths.

You sigh, unable to help yourself.

“Amour,” comes Regulus’s voice, rough-edged with sleep but warm and teasing beneath it.

You can tell he has not bothered to open his eyes. “You are thinking very loudly.”

“I am not!” you reply, the words tumbling out with such urgency that not even you could believe them.

“You are,” he insists, far too smug for someone half-asleep.

You bury your face into his chest, as though pressing close enough might muffle the buzzing in your head and block him from hearing the steady stream of restless thoughts that refuse to quiet.

His arm tightens instinctively around you, fingers curling lightly against your back, lazy and affectionate.

You close your eyes again, this time with solemn determination. You can do this. You can sleep.

You inhale, exhale, matching your breath to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear.

The sound is soothing, hypnotic even, and for a few blissful seconds your mind begins to drift, thoughts softening at the edges.

One more breath. And another. You settle deeper against him, anchoring yourself to the rise and fall of his chest, the steady thump of his heart.

Slowly, the edges of your mind begin to soften again, thoughts growing quieter—

Why is the pillow so warm on this side? Should you flip it?

But if you move, will you wake him up? And if you do not, will you overheat and die a slow, tragic death beneath this pillow?

You lie perfectly still, caught in the throes of an absurd internal debate. Surely the consequences of a slightly warm pillow are not so dire. Surely you can endure a little discomfort for the sake of his sleep.

A soft chuckle hums through Regulus’s chest. Of course he can tell what you are thinking. He always can.

“Would you like me to flip it for you?” he murmurs, voice edged with amusement.

You let out a long, pitiful groan, burying your face against him. “I am trying so hard to sleep, you know.”

“And you are very valiant,” he says solemnly, the faint smile curling into his words.

“Hopeless,” you mumble into his shirt, though the warmth of him is already soothing something restless inside you. “I am hopeless.”

“Never, amour.” His reply is soft but certain, his fingers brushing through your hair with a rhythm so gentle you can almost mistake it for the start of a dream.

Then you feel him shift, the mattress dipping slightly as he moves. 

You had been lying comfortably on his arm, but then he scoots closer, inch by deliberate inch, until there is no space left between you, and you find yourself gently but completely caged in by the warmth of his body.

His arm shifts, wrapping fully around you now, securing you against his side as he turns onto his side to face you. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, shine faintly with fondness as he watches you.

“Come here,” he whispers, voice low and slow, the invitation unmistakable and tender.

Your heart skips its familiar little beat—the one it always does when he looks at you like that, as if the world and time could pause just to hold this moment.

Without hesitation, you wiggle closer, letting him pull you fully into the safety of his arms. His chest feels solid beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady and calming.

His other hand finds your waist, drawing you just a fraction nearer, as though there could ever be enough closeness between you two.

“Better?” he murmurs, lips brushing your temple, breath warm against your skin.

You nod, eyes fluttering shut for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, but this time softer, easier somehow.

“Much better,” you murmur sleepily, already feeling the pull of drowsiness at last, lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the weight of his arms around you.

“Good,” he whispers, voice heavy with sleep now. “Now close those pretty eyes and sleep, ma belle. I have you.”

It almost happens, truly.

You are drifting, at last, the constant hum of your mind finally dulling beneath the weight of Regulus’s arms around you, the warmth of his chest beneath your cheek, his heartbeat steady and grounding. 

Your breaths have started to slow without you noticing, your body loosening where it had been so stubbornly tense before. Sleep teases at the edges of your mind, soft and inviting, closer now than it has been all night.

But then—of course, because you cannot leave well enough alone—another thought slips in.

“Reg?” you murmur, voice thick with drowsiness but still bright enough to be dangerous.

There is a pause, a sigh so long-suffering you can feel it vibrate through his ribs before he answers, voice raspy and bone-weary. “What is it this time, amour?”

You shift slightly against him, frowning. “Can you match your breathing to mine? Your breathing is too loud.”

For a moment, he is utterly still beneath you, as if debating whether he truly heard what he just heard.

Then, without warning, he sits bolt upright in bed, the sudden motion jolting you slightly and making you blink up at him, startled and blinking in the dark.

“You want me to what?” he says, audacity dripping from every syllable, eyes barely open but glowing with that particular blend of disbelief and exhaustion only you seem capable of inspiring in him.

You clutch at his arm, tugging gently as you whine, “Reggieee… your breathing is too loud!”

He stares at you for one incredulous beat, then flops back down onto the mattress with a dramatic thud, dragging a hand over his face.

“I am so sorry my breathing patterns offend you,” he mutters, tone halfway between sarcasm and surrender.

You pout against his chest, snuggling back into him as you sigh, “I just wanna sleep.”

With another groan, one so dramatic you have to fight back a giggle, he rolls toward you, opening his arms. “Fine. Come here. Let me apparently synchronise our vital signs like a lunatic.”

You grin and snuggle close, letting him pull you in until you are pressed firmly against him, your ear to his chest.

With great, theatrical effort, Regulus begins slowing his breathing, long exaggerated exhales that make your body shake slightly with suppressed laughter. “Better?” he mutters, already sounding like a man resigned to his fate.

“Mmhm,” you murmur, trying to follow his rhythm. A few breaths later, voice soft and serious, you add, “Slower.”

Regulus freezes. You can practically feel his eyes roll toward the ceiling. “Amour… if I breathe any slower, I am going to die on this bed beside you.”

You huff. “I just want to sleep.”

“So do I!” he says, voice inching toward near-desperate. “More than anything in this entire world. Please, ma belle, I am begging you — close those beautiful eyes and sleep.“

Minutes pass. The room is quiet at last. His breathing evens out again, no longer quite so comically slow, and his hand on your waist grows still. You are both almost, almost asleep.

“Reg?”

A low, strangled groan, muffled by the pillow. “What now?”

“Do you think the Sorting Hat ever gets bored of sorting?”

For a second, there is only silence.

Then, voice hoarse with despair and disbelief, Regulus groans, “Oh my god, woman. Sleep!”

[dismalflo]

Flo, I saw this ask and thought I should shoot my shot and request this idea that had been stuck in my head. Soooo, dearest, can I request a Reggie fic or drabble wherein he was asked to babysit Draco? I just know he’d be so scared and caring at the same time. 😭🫶

thank you for requesting tally, my love! <3 this is much more serious than it should've been haha

Regulus Black x reader ✩ 1.4k words

cw: fluff, mentions of regulus' childhood

The sound of a muffled voice catches you off guard just as the front door clicks shut behind you. Regulus has never been one to talk to himself – not even when he’s pacing the floor, deep in thought. A frown begins to carve its way onto your face as you toe off your shoes and step further inside.

“Reggie?” you call out, but the silence that follows is absolute.

The living room looks like a stranger’s attempt at recreating yours. Familiar shapes in unfamiliar places. The cushions, usually arranged with an almost obsessive precision, are scattered across the floor. A trail of half-eaten snacks litters the coffee table, accompanied by the telltale shine of spilled juice. You blink at the mess.

The voice again – clearer now. It’s coming from the kitchen.

You follow the sound, and there he is: standing in front of the open fridge, shirt rumpled, hair tousled and standing in places where it looks like he's been tugging at the roots.

“Regulus?” you say again, softer now, more coaxing than questioning. At the sound of your voice, his tense shoulders drop, just slightly.

“Amour.” He exhales the word like a lifeline, turning to face you. There’s barely a moment to register this rare, almost rakish version of him before your eyes catch on the small blond child nestled against his hip, one gummy fist curled in Regulus’ collar.

Draco.

You blink. Regulus is holding Draco.

Before you can shape a single question, he’s already unraveling the explanation in a hurried string of words. 

“Cissa asked if we could babysit–last minute. I think she meant more you than me,” he says, too quickly. His voice is tight, a touch higher than usual. His eyes, normally sharp and composed, are wide and unmoored. “I was going to call you but then she just… dropped him off.”

You’ve seen Regulus face down a lot of scary things. You’ve seen him walk away from most of his family, piece together something tentative with Sirius and rebuild himself after all of it.  But this – this nervous wreck of a man clutching a toddler – is a rare and oddly endearing sight.

“Right,” you say, pressing your lips together, not quite succeeding at suppressing a smile. You step closer, now barefoot on the cool floor.

“Don’t laugh,” he pleads, already hearing it in your breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

And that’s all it takes. The laugh escapes, light and delighted, before you can stop it. It bubbles up and spills over and, miraculously, draws a giggle from Draco, who’s still tucked snugly into Regulus’ arms.

You look at the little boy, noting the way his sticky hand is practically glued to Regulus’ collar, cheeks flushed and round with sleep or sugar, probably both.

“Hi, handsome,” you coo, brushing the back of your finger across a soft, baby-plump cheek. “How are you?”

The response is a delighted babble, animated and incoherent, followed by a suspiciously adult-sounding huff. Regulus looks vaguely betrayed. You lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to the underside of Regulus’ jaw where the tension knots visibly under his skin. His breath catches for a moment, a small shudder passing through him like he’s been holding himself too tight for too long.

“Has he been fed?” you ask quietly, brushing a damp curl from Draco’s forehead.

Regulus exhales, a long, weary sigh that seems to carry the weight of the entire day. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough, “tried a bit of everything from his bag.” His eyes flicker with something soft – relief, maybe, that at least that part is done.

You reach up and place your hand on his back, just between his shoulders, and start to rub small, soothing circles. The tension there is a stubborn thing, slow to leave.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, your fingers stilling briefly, just to emphasise the point.

His brow furrows like the question confuses him. “He’s the baby,” he says slowly, like that explains everything. “Why would I—”

You arch a brow, tilting your head. “You haven’t taken your eyes off him since he got here, have you?”

Regulus blinks, caught. His mouth opens, closes, then opens again like he’s trying to defend himself but can’t quite find the angle.

 “Of course I haven’t,” he says, slightly indignant, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “What if he gets hurt? What if he chokes on something or hits his head or–or just falls apart? What if–”

A small, startled grunt stops the slow build of panic, followed immediately by a sharp tug to his hair.

“Ow–Draco, no,” Regulus hisses, eyes squeezing shut in pain as the tiny hand fisted in his dark strands tugs again with all the surprising strength toddlers seem to have.

You hide a laugh behind your hand, stepping in without hesitation.

 “Alright, sweetheart,” you murmur, and with careful fingers, you begin gently unfurling Draco’s tight grip. 

Regulus’ breathing stutters, speeding up with little rhythm, again as your touch lingers, your fingers brushing his scalp, then down the side of his face, smoothing over the tense edge of his jaw like balm.

“Deep breaths, love,” you whisper.

He closes his eyes and does as you ask, drawing in a shaky breath and letting it out slowly. His shoulders sag as though he’s just remembered how.

You wait. You’ve always known how to wait through his spirals – how to anchor him gently, without force. The panic that once clung to him like a second skin is rarer now, appearances few and far between. But when it returns, it still hits hard and sudden.

Draco babbles something against Regulus’ chest and then lets out a sneeze, his tiny limbs jolting at the sound. Regulus immediately shifts, instinctively protective.

You give him another moment, watching the tension drain in slow increments.

“Do you want me to take him?” you ask softly. “You can make yourself something to eat, yeah? Get your bearings.”

Regulus doesn’t answer right away. You see the conflict flicker in his eyes – torn between pride and exhaustion, between trust and a still bubbling anxiety.

He looks down at Draco, who is now happily smearing a faint line of drool across his collarbone, and then back at you.

You add, gently, “It’s completely up to you. Whatever you want.”

Regulus swallows. Then, quieter than before: “If that’s alright.”

Your smile deepens as you stretch your arms out for the baby. “Of course it is.”

He passes Draco over with such careful, lingering hands, like he might dissolve without his touch. You settle the boy on your hip, your body already swaying, instinctive. Draco sighs, content, and nuzzles into your shoulder.

Once he’s sure Draco’s weight is secure in your arms, Regulus lingers a moment, brushing a thumb over the baby’s socked foot like he’s reluctant to let go completely.

“Go make a sandwich, Reggie. Or heat up the leftover soup–unless that’s what’s all over the coffee table?”

He glares weakly. “Juice.”

“Mmm-hmm.”

Regulus watches you for a moment longer before turning toward the counter, finally moving to make himself something – toast, probably, the only thing he reliably trusts himself not to burn when distracted.

And even with his back to you, he can’t stop glancing over his shoulder every few seconds.

There’s something about the way you hold Draco, confident and instinctive. Your cheek brushing lightly against blond curls. The way you sway just the smallest bit on your feet, calming without thinking. And the baby, usually fussy with unfamiliarity, is content. Quiet. Safe.

It hits him harder than he expects.

Regulus has spent his life navigating things no one should have to. Tiptoeing through rooms where love came with conditions, where softness was foreign and fleeting. And yet, here you are. Patient. Steady. Effortless.

He’s seen you in a hundred different lights. But this? This is something else entirely.

He turns toward the fridge with a newfound stillness in his limbs.

Draco sighs dramatically against your shoulder, like this has all been terribly hard work for him too. You chuckle, gently rocking side to side.

Regulus pauses with his hand on the fridge door, glancing back one more time. “You’re good at this,” he murmurs, voice low and sweet.

You meet his eyes over Draco’s head. “So are you.”

He huffs softly, the closest thing to a laugh he’s managed all day. “I feel like I’ve aged ten years in two hours.”

“You’ll bounce back.” You smile, and his heart stutters.

masterlist <3

[moonstruckme]

Congrats on 1k love!!! Im so happy for you, you deserve all the love 🩶

Could i request a ravenclaw!reader who's a little volatile (i suppose like dark acadameia) that the slytherins have kind of adopted (because shes volatile not violent and they think its cute). But shes been in a relationship with Remus on the down low and they realise at a halloween party?

I imagine Remus as an angel while reader is a devil and the slytherins were already concerned by the costume but then they notice you and Remus and just loose their marbles. Barty's having a meltdown, evans im shock and Sirius is cackling because Regulus is trying to stand tall but Remus is so much bigger than him its just impossible.

Anyway, tysm for your wonderful self and feel free to twist this however fits you, love!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much! I'm assuming you meant this to be for the Fade Into You part of the celebration since it's a specific reader, and also I don't know the Slytherin boys very well so I feel like my characterization could be wayyyyy off but I hope this is alright!

join the party

Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!reader ♡ 930 words

You’re dancing with your friends when your drink is plucked suddenly from your hand. 

“Hey!” You spin around to find the thief, and then your tone changes completely. “Hey, Remus, you came!” You crash into him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Remus hugs you back the best he’s able, a drink in each hand. “And you wore your costume!” You grin as you pull away, resting a hand on either side of his face to admire how soft and sweet he looks in seraphim white. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Said cheeks grow warm under your hands. “That’s Sirius’ touch.” 

“You look very pretty.” He grins, and you stand on tiptoe to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Now give me back my drink, pretty boy.” 

Remus’ smile doesn’t waver, but he becomes a tad more serious about the eyes. “How many have you had?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Lupin,” Barty pipes up, coming up behind you to sling an arm around your shoulder. “She’s fine, and not that it’s any business of yours, but we won’t let anything happen to her.” 

“She just seems like maybe she’s had enough,” Remus replies, and his tone is far from unkind, but there’s an edge of admonishment to it that has Barty bristling noticeably. He turns back to you, voice softening. “What do you say, lovely, want to go sit down for a little while?”

You look at Barty, who raises an eyebrow at you. Behind him, Reggie stands with his arms crossed, looking bored with the whole thing.  

“I won’t be gone long,” you say in apology, and Barty scoffs disgustedly, but releases you. 

“Fine, go play with your costume buddy,” he says. “We’ll be here when you get sick of him.” 

You take Remus’ hand in one of yours, flipping Barty off with the other. 

“Are we really going to sit down?” you whisper hopefully, and Remus chuckles. 

“Yeah, we are. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly walking in a straight line right now.” 

You grin, tugging at his hand playfully. “That’s just ‘cause I’m a rebel. The boys would never let me hang out with them if I walked the straight and narrow.” 

“That so?” Remus hums, pulling you down onto a couch beside him. “Have I mentioned how nice you look yet? You really do.” 

“I’m not supposed to look nice.” You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to him. “I’m a devil, Rem. I’m supposed to look hot and salacious.” 

Remus graces you with a smile, brushing a piece of hair from in front of your eye. “You do look hot, but you look nice too. I don’t think you can help that one, dovey.” 

“Yeah?” You bat your eyelashes, moving into his lap. Remus’ eyebrow quirks up slightly, cheeks glittering with the movement, but he doesn’t stop you. “Is it just that I radiate sweetness?” You kiss his jaw. “And patience?” Remus’ cheek is faintly pink where you press your lips. “Innocence, certainly,” you tease, breath hot on his ear, “but what else?” 

“Dove,” he whispers, “I think your friends are watching.” 

“Hm?” You look up, and sure enough, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are standing just a few feet away by the punch bowl, expressions ranging from bewilderment to abject horror. “Oh. Oops.” 

“I—I can’t,” Barty sputters. “I can’t be seeing this. Are you plastered? Get off him.” 

You don’t, but Remus does it for you, standing and setting you on your feet as Regulus stalks forward. He stops with his arms crossed in front of the two of you. 

“Is this who you’ve been ditching us for lately?” he asks you. 

You start to reply, but Barty talks over you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way.” 

Others have started migrating toward you to watch the show, among them Remus’ friends. Normally you wouldn't care, but Remus is beginning to squirm, so you try to calm things down for his benefit. 

“You guys are overreacting,” you say, as peaceably as you’re capable of. “As if it really matters what house my boyfriend is in.” 

“Boyfriend?” Barty despairs, and you should have known better than to think anything could quell his dramatics once they’ve begun. “God, as if the costumes weren’t bad enough, you have to throw lovey-dovey terms like boyfriend around.” 

A peal of laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you look around to find Sirius, eyes already wet with mirth as he watches his younger brother. “Reggie,” he manages between giggles, “are you trying to look taller than him?”

Reg raises an unimpressed brow, and anyone who didn’t know him well might not notice the flicker of embarrassment in his gaze. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but his posture is better than you’ve ever seen it, his neck elongated in an attempt to look Remus in the eyes without having to tilt his head. 

“Reg.” Sirius swipes under his eyes. “You may be taller than me, but you’re never gonna get all the way up there.” 

“Alright,” you say decisively, taking Remus’ hand and proceeding to push past Regulus’ stiff form. You shoot Evan a half-apologetic look as you go by, still standing frozen like he’s been stupefied, and Barty follows your movement with eyes blown wide. “Just for that, we’re going back to you guys’ dorm, Black. And we’re going to fuck, loudly, all night.” You shoot your most winning smile in his direction, even as Remus’ face takes on a fiery hue beneath the white glitter. “I wouldn’t recommend coming home. Goodnight!”

[m00nkissedlover]

・｡Midnight Kisses🕯️

You've ordered: black cherry merlot affogato! enjoy!

"Your lips, my lips, apocalypse"

Regulus Black x reader | word count: 1,252 words

Summary: neither of you can sleep...you wonder why 🕯️

Warnings: (MDNI) mild spice, heated kissing/ making out, intimate touches

Note: more proof that i need regulus cranially- (who said that?🫢) ngl...this is kinda messy imo. i tried to tweak this as much as i could, but in the end, this is all that was produced.....uh....enjoy, ig?

The common room was quite enough to hear a pin drop, save for the sound of the crackling fireplace and the sound of you flipping a page in the book you were reading. With it being this late at night, almost 5 till midnight, you should've been tucked away in the comfort of your bed. There was just one problem:

You couldn't get even a wink of sleep.

You weren't sure what was keeping you awake, keeping you up tossing and turning in the sheets, making you find an escape in the book you planned to read until your eyelids felt heavy. But your thoughts were soon explained as the door to the common room opened and someone stepped inside.

That someone...was your boyfriend, Regulus. Click! Now it all made sense: you'd been subconsciously thinking of him.

"Y/n, what are you doing in here? It's the middle of the night." Regulus questioned, making his way over to you.

Your eyes drifted down to the book he held then back up to his eyes. looks like you were both in the same boat.

"Doing the same thing you're coming to do. Read till sleep takes over." you answered, scooting over and making space for him to sit with you.

You watched as Regulus settled into the couch, cracking open his book and beginning to read from where he left off. He could feel your eyes on him, his free hand wandering to find yours underneath the blanket around your body.

"Need something, love?" the Slytherin asked, his nose still in his book.

You felt a strange tingle run through your body as you gently squeezed his hand and shook your head, flipping the page in your own book.

"No, just...happy you're here..." you muttered, running your thumb over the back of his hand.

Then, he turned to you, slowly leaning in. You felt your breath hitch as he did so, your face starting to heat up. Regulus stared at you for a few seconds before chuckling a little and pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"Happy reading, love." he murmured, pulling away and going back to his book.

Not even a minute had passed before you were peeking over the pages of your book to sneak a glance at Regulus. He looked so entranced by what he was reading: his lips pursed together in a thin line, his eyes dancing over the words on the pages, his tongue darting out every few seconds to wet his slightly chapped lips. His long, slender fingers turned the pages with such a delicate touch, even his breathing captivated you in this moment.

You weren't sure what came over you, but before you knew it, you were moving closer to him, leaning in to better take in his features. Your hand came up and lightly brushed some stray curls from his face.

He blinked, snapping out of his little trance before setting eyes on you. That's when he noticed just how close you were.

"What are you....doing?" Regulus whispered, his grey eyes shining as if they held the universe's stars in them.

"Oh, uh.....you had some hair in your eyes. thought it might be hard for you to read..." you murmured, realizing you'd been caught.

Regulus raised an eyebrow, giving you a slight appreciative nod. "Thanks."

"Can I read with you?" the question made Regulus laugh a little. He didn't ask questions, nodding his head and trying not to laugh as you quickly nestled up to him.

He angled the book so that you could both see, your eyes scanning the text on the pages. As you read, you absentmindedly started to mess with the hem of Regulus's shirt.

He tried to ignore it, but that got harder the closer your hands got to his bare skin. You were now tracing random circles over his side, your touch making him shiver. Now it was his turn to stare at you.

"You know...you're making it awfully difficult to focus, darling."

"Am I?" you whispered, looking up from the book momentarily. The tinted flush on Regulus's cheeks gave you your answer.

"Well...what if I want you," you began, your hand slowly creeping up his shirt. "to focus on something else?"

That...that was it. Before he knew it, Regulus was already leaning in, your lips meeting in a slow and soft embrace.

You had expected for him to be overly passionate and heated, but he took his time with the kiss. It was soft and gentle, but also very loving and intimate. Your heart fluttered in your chest as Regulus moved his hands from your face to your sides, his fingers tapping against your clothed hip bones. The blanket you had around your shoulders found a new home on the floor.

Your hands traveled up to lace through his dark hair, a soft gasp spilling from your lips to his as he pulled you fully into his lap. Your bodies melded together like finely sculpted clay, as if the two of you were destined to be together from the beginning of time itself.

The tingles in your stomach continued even as Regulus pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. The look in his eyes was one of pure love and devotion, making your heart skip a beat.

"I can't...I can't stop thinking about you. you occupy my every thought." he proclaimed between breaths, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

"Regulus..." you whispered, tucking a tuft of hair behind his ear. Simply hearing you say his name lit another fire in his heart and you couldn't get another breath out before his lips were caressing yours once again.

"You...you're...everything to me." Regulus spoke softly between kisses, one of his hands beginning to mess with the hem of your shirt.

Feeling his fingertips brush against the skin of your side sent a satisfying shiver down your spine. He took advantage of your gasp to deepen the kiss, pulling you flush against him.

Your whole body felt warm and tingly. Your heart was going a mile a minute and a familiar warmth pooled in your stomach. Goosebumps rose on your skin as Regulus's hand slipped further up your shirt and splayed out over your stomach.

And Regulus, the poor boy. He could hardly contain himself. His senses were filled with nothing but you: his hands feeling the warmth of your skin, his tongue tasting the sweetness of your own, his ears taking in a gentle noises you'd make, his nose picking up on your naturally pleasant scent, his eyes observing your blushing and panting face as he pulled away. Damn the need for air.

You took in his disheveled appearance: his half-lidded gray eyes, his slightly swollen pink lips, his mussed hair, and flushed cheeks. It made your heart skip a beat as he laced your fingers together with his free hand, gently kissing your knuckles.

"You're staring, darling." he murmured against your skin as he moved to kiss the back of your hand.

"Is it so bad to stare at someone who's so beautiful inside and out?" you posed, your breath hitching as his fingertips trailed over your waistband.

"I guess not....stare all you want, but only if I can do the same." and with that, he let himself go, completely surrendering himself to you and you alone.

The two of you were so caught up in each other, so oblivious to anything happening outside your little bubble. But that was alright. For tonight, you didn't mind at all. 🕯️

© m00nkissedlover, 2024

[malibuwriting]

perseus (fic) — part one

pairing: percy weasley x eleanora black (readersona)

summary: eleanora black, daughter of deceased regulus black, is attending her fifth year at hogwarts. between her budding crush on percy weasley and the fact that her uncle escaped azkaban, she doesn’t know what to expect for the coming year.

warnings: mild angst, mentions of death

word count: 2.1k

a/n: this fanfiction was originally uploaded to ao3 under the same name. i’ve edited it slightly, but it still contains the same info! dividers come from @hyuneskkami !!

— fic masterlist | learn more about eleanora

“You must know how I worry, Eleanora. What with everything going on with… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.” Mother spoke his name in a hushed whisper, her eyes darting around their overcrowded apartment as if he could spawn in at any moment. The only creature to give any acknowledgement to her harrowed words was one of the many cats skittering about the place. This particular one was gray all over and gave Mother a sleepy blink before rolling over and exposing his fat stomach. He was desiring to be pet,and Mother was never one to deny her little angels anything.

“I’ll be alright Mother, truly.” Eleanora insisted. She watched her mother stroke the overly large feline, pitying her own sweet cat stuck in a carrier on top of her loaded trunk. Darling Moira would not make a sound the entire trip, that much she had learned after many trips to Hogwarts. “He’s not back, you must know that. Those are just rumors by blasted Rita Skeeter. You must stop reading that garbage.”

Mother gave a forlorn look to the newest edition of Witch Weekly. “It is some of my best company,” she mumbled to herself, her eyes becoming distant as she brought a finger to her lip– a telltale sign she was deep in thought. Eleanora sighed and gently patted Mother’s shoulder.

“Let’s go sit down,” she said softly, guiding Mother in the direction of her favorite armchair. A cat decorated each side, already excited for Mother to sit down and begin to love on them. Mother seemed considerably more at peace as she was lowered down.

“Have a good year at school, darling,” she murmured in a rare moment of clarity. “Be sure to write.”

“I will,” Eleanora answered as she gathered her trunk and Moira’s cage. Though it was amusing– she wouldn’t be able to write. Neither of them had an owl. There was no postage to their apartment. During the school year, Eleanora had the brief reprieve of a world without Mother.

“Moris should be by shortly,” Eleanora called to Mother. The hired help to take care of Mother usually didn’t last very long, and she expected no different from this one. When Mother gave her a blank stare in return, she sighed.

It should be noted that Eleanora cared very deeply for Mother, very deeply indeed. However, Mother was often exhausting to deal with. Eleanora had never known her father, yet his death had affected Mother in such a way that her mind never was quite the same. She saw the world differently, and that was incredibly hard. Eleanora tried to be patient, but it simply wasn’t possible sometimes. She always saw it as some sort of test– a training for the day she would take on the role of Head Girl of Ravenclaw.

She smiled to herself as she dragged her trunk and cat cage into the dimly lit kitchen and dipped her fingers into the jar of Floo powder. Head Girl. Someday, Eleanora. Someday.

Platform 9 and ¾ was a constant hustle and bustle. Eleanora was surrounded by families, some saying tearful goodbyes to first years and others excitedly waving off their seventh years. Eleanora was right in the middle of the pack as a fifth year. Sadnessness twinged in Eleanora’s chest. She was surrounded by so many families, and here she was, alone, with no one to kiss her forehead and wish her goodbye. Mother didn’t leave the house, and Eleanora wasn’t sure she would even want her too. She had become accustomed to silent goodbyes to the world around her, in absence of her mother.

Goodbye, bedside lamp that warded off monsters and allowed for late-night reading.

Goodbye, dimly lit kitchen with half-empty cupboards.

Gooodbye, numerous cats that her sweet Moira never got along with.

She looked down at herself and brushed her hands across her robes. She had dressed in a restroom, wanting to give everyone the right impression of her. She was a prefect this year, and that came with much responsibilities. She couldn’t have others thinking she was foolish. She straightened the prefect pin glistening on her chest, the action bringing a tiny smile to her lips.

“Eleanora!”

Of course, she wasn’t missing Mother for long. Penelope Clearwater, truly her best friend in the entire world, floated toward her. Her arms were already extended out for a hug, and as Eleanora fell into that familiar embrace she found herself entrapped in the warm scent of vanilla. As long as the pair had been friends, Penelope had always been a source of warmth and love for Eleanora.

As the pair separated, Eleanora caught the Clearwater parent’s wrathful gaze. Eleanora took a nervous step back from her beautiful blonde friend, and gave them an awkward nod.

“Mr. and Mrs. Clearwater,” she said politely. The pair only glared down at her, their lips pressed in thin lines. Eleanora resisted the temptation to sigh.

“Come along,” Penelope said, clearly sensing the tension brewing between the group. She extended a hand out to Eleanora, which she gladly took. “Let’s go find our seats on the train before some first years take them.”

After exchanging brief goodbyes with her parents, the pair began to make their way towards the train.

“I wish your parents didn’t hate me so,” Eleanora said with a soft sigh. She gave a wistful look to the families around them, and once more was hit with that pang in her gut– she couldn’t even find a family with her dearest friend in the world.

“They’re just… strange,” Penelope said between long pauses. Her crystal blue eyes darted around as she searched for a reason for her parents behavior. “What, with everything going on right now and all…”

Eleanora’s dark eyebrows shot up. “Everything going on? With what?”

Penelope looked startled, drawing her trolley to an abrupt stop. “I’d assume out of everyone, you would be the one to know–”

“Know what?”

Penelope’s shocked expression abruptly turned into one that was very smug. She bit her lower lip. “Oh Eleano-ra,” she said in a sing-song tone.

“What is it?” Eleanora asked, though she had a feeling she already knew what it was. She felt the instinctive heat in her cheeks.

“Per-cy is be-hind you,” Penelope purred, her eyes glittering with delight. Eleanora bit her lower lip, desperately trying to maintain her cool as she tossed an oh-so casual glance over her shoulder.

Percy Weasley indeed was behind them, and looking as grumpy as ever. The mop of ginger curls glistened in the sun, and she watched carefully as he slid his wire-frame glasses back up his nose. He was perhaps a bit taller this year, shoulders a bit more broad than they used to be. He was already dressed in his robes as well, the elusive Head Boy pin on proud display on his chest.

Eleanora sucked in a breath, and turned back to a giddy Penelope. “He looks even more handsome than last year,” she whispered.

Penelope rolled her eyes, though the playful smile didn’t leave her lips. “I personally don’t understand what you see in the lad.”

“Yes, well, we can’t all be hopelessly in love with Cedric Diggory,” Eleanora said, crossing her arms over her chest. Penelope’s cheeks turned a deep red against her pale skin.

“I am not,” she muttered. “Let’s get on the train.”

Satisfied with her payback, Eleanora grabbed her cart and pushed it towards the train. Once they were both settled down and the lovely thrum of the moving train vibrated below them, Eleanora’s mind traveled back to the question from before. What was going on right now?

When Eleanora once again asked the question, Penelope withdrew into herself. A dark look crossed her face.

“I cannot believe you don’t know,” Penelope murmured. Her tone was hushed, as if every word she spoke was forbidden. Eleanora leaned closer, closing the gap of space between them.

“What is it?” Eleanora whispered.

Penelope’s eyes darted around, landing on everything but Eleanora’s face. “Truly,” she whispered, “It’s hard to talk about. I don’t-”

“Just spit it out already!”

“Sirius Black has escaped.”

Eleanora leaned back against the seat. It was as if every breath had been forced out of her. Air wasn’t coming easily, and truly she felt as if she might faint. She pressed a hand to her temple, trying desperately to focus on the cart before her. No wonder she didn’t know– Mother surely had grasped whatever brain she had left and tried desperately to hide it from her– And it made sense, her mother refused to so much as speak of the family—

“Is it true?” Eleanora heard herself gasp faintly.

Penelope’s haunted look all but confirmed what she feared.

Her uncle had escaped from Azkaban.

“I’m sorry this is so upsetting to you, I know how your mother doesn’t like to speak of your father’s family.” As Penelope began to apologize, her hands clutched to her chest, a chilling sensation swept over Eleanora. She felt as if she were drowning in freezing water, as if she had never felt happiness in her life, as if–

The train was plunged into darkness as it went under a tunnel, and all at once, the lights went out. Screams echoed through the train, all while that achingly cold hand gripped her heart. Penelope felt a world away from her.

“Pen,” Eleanora whimpered, her eyes displaying double shadows as she tried to reach out to her friend. “What- what’s happening…”

“I–” Penelope sounded as dazed as Eleanora felt. “It– it won’t stop.”

The door to their cart squealed as it was thrown open. Percy Weasley appeared in the doorway, his wand held before him and glowing from the end. It cast his face in a harsh white light, making his freckles all the more prominent against his pale skin. His eyes were cloudy, mirroring the distant look Penelope herself had.

“There’s dementors on the train,” Percy said. His voice sounded far away, an echo of what his normal rumble sounded like. “They’re searching for Sirius Black. They should be gone soon, and they shouldn’t bother you. It’s important you–” His voice caught suddenly, as if he couldn’t breathe. The silence that stretched before them seemed as if it went on forever until he finally shuddered a gasp.

“It’s important you remain calm,” he continued. The weakness in his words was obvious this time– Eleanora realized he was fighting whatever had come over them. “You two are Ravenclaws, yes?”

Eleanora barely managed to nod. She felt so… so cold…

“Your– your Head Boy or Girl should be around shortly,” Percy managed to say. “Remain calm.”

He was gone as quickly as he had come, taking the light with him. Their cart was once again cast into darkness. Eleanora was hit with the sudden, lingering thought that none other than Percy Weasley had made his way to check on her. Sure, it was part of his Head Boy duties, but– Percy Weasley, of all people.

The thought made Eleanora feel a bit warmer inside. The ice around her was defrosting, if only a little bit. It was an odd sensation — as if the kind thoughts were truly pushing back the darkness that had ensnared her

“Think… happy thoughts,” Penelope wheezed from across her.

So Eleanora did. She thought of the way she felt when she passed Percy in the corridors. The warmth that bubbled up inside her at even the smallest interaction with him was something she needed right now. She recalled memories of Fred and George Weasley causing distractions in class, and how they always made her chuckle even on her worst days.

And of course, she thought of Pen– her Penelope, her dearest friend. She thought of her most of all. She thought of their hugs and their whispered secrets and long hours wasted together. Time with Pen was never a waste though, was it?

After recalling all of these warm memories that brought her mind to a place of peace, Eleanora realized the lights had come on once more, and they had exited the dreadful cave. The cold that had gripped her had seeped away, and clearly Penelope was doing much better herself. Color was flushing back into her cheeks, and her eyes seemed to glimmer in the light.

“I don’t know what that was,” Penelope said slowly as she brushed imaginary dust off her fine skirt. “But I do know that I heard Percy’s voice in this car.”

Eleanora laughed. Truly, she was relieved Penelope could joke after something like that. The pair chattered on, all the while they ignored what Percy had said. Searching for Sirius Black. Dementors. On the Hogwarts Express. It was asinine. And in the back of her mind, Penelope was left wondering.

Had her uncle also made it to Hogwarts?

[alwaysakin]

Harry Potter Fic Recs

Hey guys! I'm back again with more fanfiction recs (ignoring the ungodly amount of work I have to do). This time it's for my childhood fandom, Harry Potter (and obligatory reminder to read the fanfics, not buy the books)! Includes Dramoine, Wolfstar, Jily, Gen, and more (parings both expected and unexpected).

Pre-Marauders Era

Thirty-Five Owls by Letterbalde - Dumbledore/Grindlewald, and old fic, but a classic. 35 letters sent between these two in love old men after Grindlewald's imprisonment. Made me cry.

Love Letters by mautadite - another tragic Dumbledore/Grindelwald story, this time told in reverse.

Metamorphosis by Metalomagnetic - Voldemort travels back in time to kill Dumbledore, but falls in love with him instead. Both hilarious and oddly touching.

silver memories by Space_Samurai - In a pensive, Newt and Thesus Scamander stumble upon memories of Dumbledore and Grindlewald they were never meant to see. Grindledore, and Newt is a good friend in this.

Marauders Era (Both War and School)

Mortal Once More by SheofTheBookAndSong - Regulus Black/Fabian Prewett, but mostly focused on the Black brothers (with minor Wolfstar). Regulus ends up as a spy for the order (essentially taking the place of Snape). With Dumbledore aware of the horcruxes, a lot changes... Deeply sad but good!

Drinking Games by darkbluedark - an AU where Lily creates an alternative to Veritaserum and tests it on the Mauradeurs. A certain rat is discovered quicker. Minor Jily and Wolfstar.

Two Boys Named Harry by PottingPotter Plots - a bitter sweet story about the boy who was Harry Potter's namesake. Also features Jilly at its start.

Loyalty by Fantismal - the villain origin story of Peter Pettigrew. A nuanced and mildly twisted take on how prejudice shapes a person.

Glass of Water by lyin - Lily and Sirius's slow crawl towards friendship in their 6th year divination class. Sweet and vaguely ominous.

Time Travel

Yesterday is Tomorrow (everything is connected) by IAM_Kneazle - Hermione/James, and hands down the best Hermione travels to the Marauders era fic I've ever read - though technically, she's reborn as an Evans. It's hilarious and very period accurate to the 1970s. It also explores the magic system a lot, and its development of Petunia especially is wonderful. Also stands out for starting at 5th year.

Blood and Gold By ObsidianPen - Tom Riddle/Hermione - she travels back in time to kill Voldemort before he rises and ends up getting... more involved than she would have liked. Amazing worldbuilding, particularly of magical America. Dark and twisted romance that has me hooked.

Three's Family by darkbluedark - the fic where Draco and Harry accidentally travel back in time to the Marauder's era - and reveal way too much to the order by complete accident. Somehow both hilarious (I spit out my water multiple times) and deeply tragic.

Golden Trio Era AU (AKA Main Series But Better)

The Shower Slip by Ray_Writes - in a universe where Peter Pettigrew cares enough about his hygiene to secretly shower in the Burrow, Arthur suspects Molly of cheating, and things spiral for the better. Somehow both funny and heartwarming.

that's the art of getting by sarewolf - where Remus is the one to raise Harry, after a distress call at the Dursleys. His self-loathing is at times hard to read, but his relationship with Harry is great. The eventual Wolfstar is bittersweet, but great too.

The Disappearances of Draco Malfoy by speechwriter - Hermoine/Draco, and the best AU fic I've ever read of Harry Potter. What starts as a simple divergence (Draco takes Dumbledore's deal to go into hiding instead of trying to kill him) gradually spirals, as he's slowly forced to confront his own prejudices (and ends up unwillingly horcrux hunting with the trio). Doesn't try to whitewash Draco or the other Slytherins, but provides the nuance and growth that canon lacked. Also unique for having no bashing at all (in fact, rarely for a Dramoine story, Ron is treated better than canon DH). This is sad, but great.

a means to a triumph by Naodrith - Regulus survives and takes the charms position in Harry's second year. A lot changes as a result. Featuring Draco Malfoy getting adopted by Hufflepufs (they're seriously great in this fic), Regulus/Remus, and toxic ex boyfriend Barty Crouch Jr.

honey honey by aenoeskova - the one where Marlene McKinnon becomes Harry's primary school teacher. Featuring little Harry and Dean, and an army of cute, overachieving muggle children. Honestly a love letter to teachers. Based on Matilda.

Crack

Regulus Black and the Way Things Changed: A Not!Fic by imaginary_golux - a series of short notes about how the Harry Potter series would have changed if Regulus, not Snape, was the potions master. Highlights include Sirius glitter bombing Voldemort and Hedwig being the one to defeat him.

justifiably petty by Anonymous - All of Hogwarts is united in one goal: to take down Umbridge by any means necessary. It goes completely off the rails (with a satisfying conclusion). Short.

Wrong Place, Wrong Time by ssrha - not a manipulative Dumbledore, but a deeply alcoholic and fundamentally done one. Featuring Albus breaking his ex Grindlewald out of prison, Lucius Malfoy accidentally becoming a revolutionary, and Harry just being done with all the stupid adults around him. Includes Grindledore, and Ron/Harry.

On the Significance of Names by sshra - Harry decides to work through his tramua by having more children, and giving them increasingly horrible names: includes Dobby Kreacher Potter and Peter Wormtail Potter.

Harry Potter Totally Sucks by dracgotgame - a drunk Dudley Dursley and Draco Malfoy start a hating-on-Harry-Potter club. Minor Drarry.

Modern AU

Careless Texter by GhostofBambi - a Lily/James story where the two of them start texting each other, not knowing who the other is. Super cute.

This Island of Ours by Northernlightz06 - a Jegulus and Wolfstar story, with trans!Regulus. The one where Regulus is a park ranger, Sirius doesn't know he's alive, and the Black family messed everything up (but it's getting better)!

Self-Inserts/OCs But Good

The Company of Another by sleipnirismypbaby - completely ordinary self-insert into Aunt Petunia soon after she gets Harry. A super sweet kid fic (I love Dudley and Harry in this) with some feminist themes.

Cajamarca by CrashingPetals - a Bill Weasley/OC AU that does a great job delving into South American cursebreaker lore! Defenitely enjoyed this one.

Double Trouble by Meeceisme - a self-insert into Draco Malfoy's twin sister, who spearheads a generational revolt of pure-blood girls. Heavy feminist themes, and portrays the Malfoy family sympathetically while not shying away from their bigotry. Sadly unfinished.

Spring is like perhaps a hand by IridescentRoomba - a self-insert into Dudley's younger sister Daisy. Daisy is super cute, and her clumsy attempts to give Harry a better childhood are great. A cute examination of family and 1990s British culture.

Fractured Fairytale by Tsume_Yuki - featuring a Lovegood self-insert in the 1920s who adopts Tom Riddle, and slowly falls in love with his father along the way. Amazing wizarding world building and accurate depiction of Tom Riddle Sr.'s trauma.

Stardust and Secrets by francisthefairyqueen - a self-insert into Regulus and Sirius's much younger sister, Cassiopeia Black. I absolutely love this fic, especially how it starts at the start of Harry's fourth year, only providing small context clues into what happened during the first wizarding war. Really realistic regarding how little self-inserts can do as children, and the world-building of the wizarding world is amazing! Cass is paired with Bill, and their relationship is really cute and innocent. What really blows me away, though, is her effect on the people around her: Draco, Tonks, Hestia and Chiara, and especially her estranged brother Sirius. Enjoyed the inclusion of Hogwarts Mystery characters!