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crescenthistory · 6 months ago

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Under Your Mistletoe

Pairing: Barty Crouch Junior x Reader

Synopsis: Barty already loves your belly button piercing – but he loves it even more when you wear a mistletoe jewellery in it for Christmas.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings/tags: SMUT (mdni), afab!fem!reader, established relationship, sex as a form of gift, mistletoe innuendos, oral sex (fem!receiving), orgasm, making love but barty style, marking kink, body worship kind of, no penetrative sex, barty's oral fixation, fluff, one big happy family trope, some christmas blues and references to barty's mental health struggles, barty typical humour, your pov

Note: this is based on a text post i wrote back in october and have since lost – it has been on my mind for a while. merry christmas to all those who celebrate, this is my gift to all the barty girlies 🤍

Barty hates gifts.

You know this, and as his loving partner, it is your duty to find a way around it. To respect his desire not to rip off wrapping paper with watchful eyes on him, while still showering him in some form of love and perceptiveness – to show him he is thought of and wanted. While he may not enjoy most Christmas traditions, that particular bit was important for him to feel and fully believe.

If you could pat yourself on the back, you would, because you thought you truly hit the nail on the head this year.

After three years with Barty, you found yourself happily living together in a shared flat in London. One that was just a few blocks away from the flat Regulus shared with James, where your two friend groups – that had somehow beautifully meshed since seventh year – would be getting together tomorrow for Christmas Day. While Barty pretended to moan and gripe over having to spend time with “the literal dogs”, referring primarily to James and Sirius, it was all an act by now. He was as excited as you were.

Though, his wish to make the most of your last night together in complete privacy before A Very Potter Holiday emerged was decidedly not an act. That was just Barty’s devotion to you soaring deep in that way he promised he would never get enough of.

You hoped he wouldn’t because you couldn’t even if you tried.

Barty had made you a home cooked meal for the night, a dish called sarmale that his mother used to make around the holidays. Insisting on not being an inch away from you, he had pulled the grandfather chair that usually resides beside the sofa up to the dinner table. “Come here, you,” he had whispered with a gleeful laughter before all but picking you up and placing you in his lap in the chair.

It took a little effort for you both to sit and eat comfortably, but once you did, any protest you had about the impracticalities melted away – because eating delicious warm food in the wonderfully warm lap of your boyfriend truly was no complaining matter. You sat sideways in his lap so you could both eat off the same plate and chat in between mouthfuls of food, Barty occasionally poking your cheek when it was filled to the brim, repeating that it is the cutest thing he had ever seen.

Once the food was long since devoured and you had reclined more in your seat, chin resting on Barty’s shoulder as you dazed at him with an undoubtedly lovesick look, you decided it was go time.

Barty’s thumbs snuck beneath the waistband of your matching pajama bottoms, massaging the bare skin there absentmindedly. Laughter had freshly died down on his lips, from something you don’t even remember what was but that left a residue giddiness in your bones. You tilted your chin upwards just enough to steal a kiss from those very lips. He happily obliged you with a growing grin.

“Baby?” you mused. He hummed in response, silently asking what it was. “Would you mind helping me decide on an outfit for tomorrow?”

His grin quickly grew wolfish. “You know I always love helping you get dressed, Dragă. And undressed.”

You rolled your eyes and gave his arm a light slap, as if this was not exactly what you were going for. “Keep it in your pants for now, yeah Junior?” You slid out of his lap, giving him both of your hands to help him get up once you gained your footing.

“Yes, ma’am!” He gave you a fake salute before letting you pull him up.

With one hand behind him grabbing the top of the chair blindly, he dragged it with him as he trailed behind you into your living room. The door to your shared bedroom was attached to the living room, so you turned to him with a perhaps too-obvious smile, trailing a finger down his chest.

“How about you just get seated here, and then I’ll come out and show you?” You cocked your head to the side, playing innocent.

Barty pretended to pout. “I don’t get to watch you change?”

“Maybe later if you behave.” You brought the finger up from his chest to flick at his nose, yelping when he caught it and gave your knuckle a light bite. “That is certainly not behaving, B.”

“You like it,” he drawled jokingly, pecking you once before sitting down in the grandfather chair once more, sprawled out with one knee over the armrest. “Please don’t be long, Dragă.”

You shook your head, goofy lovesick look taking over your face once more as you turned around. “I’ll make sure to take longer just because you asked.”

He huffed, deflating further into his seat, but when you turned around to look at him, he had intertwined his fingers over his stomach, jumper ridden up enough to expose his lower midriff. His face was indulging, a form of domestic bliss you never expected to be able to draw from him, but revel in every day.

You blew him a kiss and slipped in past the door to your bedroom, leaving it slightly ajar behind you – enough to be able to talk through, but not enough for him to see you.

Truth be told, you picked out your outfit for the Christmas party a week ago. Even more so, the outfit you would be trying on now was decidedly not the one you will wear tomorrow, nor was it ever an option.

What you would be doing, is showing Barty his gift.

As you pulled out a box beneath your side of the bed, you found the three things needed to pull it off. A short skirt, a cropped silk shirt – and a piece of mistletoe jewellery, perfect for your finally healed belly button piercing.

When you first got the piercing, Barty could not keep his eyes off of it nor his hands off of you. He was a lover of all things alternative and different, an enjoyment you suspected originally derived from an urge to upset his father, but quickly became one of the many ways he could feel safe and truly like himself. While he adored you just the way you were, whenever you would get piercings, tattoos or anything of the sort, Barty would be drooling just a little bit more than usual.

There were permanent purple and red hickies littered around your stomach now.

For the past few weeks, Barty had been brainstorming all the different pieces of jewellery you could wear once the piercing fully healed, as you both knew there was not a lot of time left. Already he had bought you quite a few different ones, in the colours and styles he knew would match your favourite go-to outfits.

Somewhere along the line, you got the cheeky idea of a mistletoe jewellery – a kiss under the mistletoe is one Christmas tradition Barty could easily get behind, yeah? At least a kiss underneath your mistletoe.

A slight giggle escaped you at the thought as you brought the jewellery to the ensuite bathroom to rinse it with saltwater and wash your hands before changing them.

“What’s so funny?” you heard Barty call from the living room, somehow experiencing FOMO within his own flat.

You decided to make it worse. “Was just thinking about something hilarious James said last Christmas.”

A gasp. “Cruel woman. What a cruel, cruel woman you are.”

“You like it,” you replied, parroting his earlier statement. The guffawing laughter told you that you were right.

With slightly trembling fingers, you finally managed to unscrew the standard stainless steel barbell and insert the new mistletoe one. The change didn’t sting at all, and you knew it was fully healed – it actually had been for about two weeks already, but you lied to Barty that it still hurt a little to be able to get away with this.

You knew he would quickly forgive you.

Once the jewellery was fastened, the outfit was quick work. You had put aside a set you thought fit the Christmas vibe – red skirt and a white silk top – but its primary function was showing off your waist, your piercing on full display. As you zipped up the skirt, you began to prepare Barty from his place outside.

“I only really have one outfit to show you,” you called, just loud enough to be sure he would hear you, but still allowing some teasing to slip into your voice. “I quite like it, but I don’t think it is quite the one to wear tomorrow now that I think of it.”

“I swear to Merlin, baby, if you walk out in just lingerie, I will ravish you.”

“If I walked out in lingerie, it would have been with the intention of you ravishing me,” you said through a laugh. “But no, you can dream on, B.”

You could hear him shifting in his seat, undoubtedly sprawled out more and more with each passing second. You buttoned only two of the buttons on the silk shirt – enough to be tempting, but not enough to distract from the true star of the show.

“Whatever you want to wear, you’ll look stunning,” Barty added then, a sincerity in his voice on the off-chance that it was insecurity and not teasing he heard in his voice. You were quite certain he was onto you by now, but the attentiveness still made your heart bloom.

With a quick final look in the mirror, you decided it was everything you needed it to be.

You laid your hand on the door handle, beginning to slowly drag it open. “How stunning are we talking, baby?” you asked with a teasing lilt. “Good enough to eat?”

You stepped into the room, walking with measured, steady steps towards Barty, feeling every bit like the lioness he made you out to be.

You were right, in your absence he seemed to have unhinged his every joint, legs and arms strewn everywhere over the grandfather chair. Yet the second his eyes fell on you, he gathered them all together as he shot up in his seat, feet planting firmly on the ground.

“Baby…” he trailed off, eyes going all over your body.

You stood about two metres in front of him, hip kicked to the side as you allowed your body and midriff to be on display. His mouth was agape in admiration, but you could identify the moment he noticed the piercing. Shock and pleasure mixed on his face and something akin to a moan escaped him just at the sight. Barty’s hands gripped his knees with a force that only served to excite you further.

“Baby,” Barty groaned then, eyes glued onto the mistletoe jewellery. “You truly are a gift, aren’t you? A pretty little wrapped up gift.”

You let out a breathy laugh, already affected by his words. “Just for you, my love,” you murmured as you stepped closer, almost within his reach. “Figured you might want to share a kiss beneath the mistletoe?” You lathered faux innocence over your words, quickly contrasted by your growingly smug smile as you took in his flustered and heated expression.

At last, Barty’s eyes shot up to meet yours, his beautiful irises having given way to darkness. “May I?” he asked, not waiting for an answer as he shifted in his seat.

When he moved, you expected him to come to stand before you, kiss you and maybe move you to the bedroom. You should have known your boyfriend better.

Barty slid directly off the chair and onto his knees, landing with a soft thump before you. His hands shot up to grab your hips, steadying himself as his chest came almost flush with your thighs, never once breaking eye contact as he moved.

You shuddered at the sight. Barty Crouch Junior, with his messy dark and green hair, his eyebrow and nose piercings, his rugged yet dangly form and dark clothes, on his knees in front of you, holding onto you for dear life.

“Please,” you whispered in response.

Still with laboured breath, he flashed his white teeth with the width of his smile. “My lovely, lovely gift of a girl,” he murmured, squeezing your hips. Barty let his gaze trail from your eyes down your neck, over your semi-exposed chest, finally coming eye to eye with his eternal temptation.

He let out a light growl before closing the distance to press a wet and hot kiss right beneath your naval, his nose brushing against the mistletoe.

In an instant, you moved your hands to place one on his shoulders to steady yourself and tangle the other into the mess of his hair. “Beautiful, beautiful.” Barty whispered praises as his lips trailed to the left and right, reactivating the hickies he had left there the other night, creating a beautiful night sky for the mistletoe to rest against.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his ministrations despite the heat pooling in your gut, tugging slightly at his hair. “What would you do if I actually wanted to wear this tomorrow and you’re defiling my skin like this?” you tease.

With his lips still attached to your skin, just a breath above the waistband of your skirt, Barty looked up to meet your gaze through his eyelashes. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel his warm smile against you. “You aren’t?” he asked in faux surprise, nipping at the skin with his teeth. “I should hope you would, then we could show everyone what a wonderful gift giver you are.”

He sucked particularly hard on the delicate skin then, drawing a shaky sigh from you – clearly his intention. “I think this is a gift reserved only for you, my love,” you managed to whisper.

“Good.” Another kiss. “Doesn’t mean we can’t let the world know, though.”

If you had any good piece of banter to respond to that with, it was erased from your mind by the feeling of his hands on your hips moving to dip his thumbs into either side of your waistband. Tantalisingly slow, Barty dragged your skirt further down, letting his tongue and teeth roam over every inch of newly exposed skin.

His breath was hot against you as he placed tentative, open-mouthed kisses, but he couldn’t fool you – you could feel his desperation in the way his fingertips dug into you as if they were chasing bone and the way his teeth scratched against you in his rush towards his next kiss.

When he reached your panties with his thumbs, he gave you a wicked grin in between kisses before hooking his fingers into those as well, and with a flush pulling them down so the clothes could pool around your ankles. A genuine groan escaped Barty at the sight of your bare core, want dripping down onto your thigh. You used your hand on his shoulders for support and you stepped out of your skirt and underwear, kicking them to the side. His hands found your skin immediately after assisting your undressing, but he let one explorative pointer finger come up between your folds, gathering the slick, just barely missing your clit as he brought it back to his face.

Maintaining eye contact, he stuck his tongue out and licked your arousal off of his finger, squeezing his eyes shut and moaning at the taste.

He looked downright unholy.

“Fuck, baby, you are fucking everything,” he groaned, squeezing your hips.

“You like it?” you asked breathlessly, hands in his hair tugging without thinking.

A wicked grin accompanied his wink. “More than like.” Barty sunk further down on his knees so that his face was right in front of your naked cunt. His left hand came up to splay out across your stomach, thumb barely brushing your mistletoe jewellery when he dragged it back and forth across the skin, leaving goosebumps in his trace.

“When under a mistletoe, right?” he asked.

Before you had the chance to respond, Barty dipped his head forward the last few centimetres needed and delved his tongue in between your folds, licking a clean stripe up your pussy. He circled your clit once he reached the top before flattening his tongue out for another broad stroke. A gasp escaped you and you parted your legs further on instinct – Barty used the momentum to hook your left leg over his shoulder, both arms securely holding your hips in his grip, not allowing you to falter for even a second.

Barty did indeed kiss you, lips wrapping around your clit to suck, teeth already grazing you cheekily in that way that promised more. Thrills were shooting through you, an almost tickling sensation that spread throughout your bloodstream until it settled into a content humming. Barty’s tongue, his lips, his touch and his arms were warm and strong against you, steady and so desperately devoted. His movements were in sync with yours, having learned well enough by now how your body ticks, and how to get what he wants – which is to devour you – while making you feel as good as possible.

He moved further down with his mouth, focusing his tongue around your entrance and moving his head subtly back and forth so his large nose nudged continuously against your clit. The soft moans spilled from your lips, spurring him on; you knew better than to keep them in by now, feeling fully empowered and comfortable in his affection.

Barty curled his tongue against you, dipping in to graze at the soft spot just inside of you, causing you to grip his hair tighter. When you pulled at his hair more harshly, a satisfied groan escaped him, top lip vibrating against you in a wonderfully delicious way. “Fuck, Barty,” you whispered and gasped when his teeth touched your unhooded clit as his lips curled back into a smile.

“Good enough kiss for you, Dragă?” he teased as he drew a quick breath before letting his hands grasp your arse more securely to bring your cunt flush against his face, drawing blasphemous sounds from you in an instant.

He ate at you hungirly, tongue alternating every second between broad and pointed strokes, drawing quick figures over your clit before letting his nose take over as he dipped inside of you. His face must surely be completely covered in you by now, and the thought made you clench your thighs even more. Barty hummed purposefully against you, moving his hair just right and basking in all that is you; his favourite gift.

It was clear he could tell you were closing in on your orgasm from the smugness in how he ate you out and the increasing strength in his hold on you. With your leg over his shoulders digging into his back and your hands on his neck and shoulders clinging onto him for dear life, you would have thought it was enough – but Barty had your hips fully circled in in his grasp, holding the small of your back and your backside cheekily as he ensured your complete safety.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispered against you, making sure his lips moved right against your clit.

You were shivering and shaking in his grasp, laughing at the intensity of your orgasm while standing upright in the middle of your living room. He laughed too, but doubled down in his efforts, practically burying his face within you.

A long, guttural moan filled the room as you almost crushed Barty’s head against you – just how he likes. Your eyes were scrunched shut and your mind was completely elsewhere as he began massaging the flesh he had been abusing mere moments ago, pressing featherlight kisses up the length of your cunt and continuing above it.

“Absolutely perfect.” He pressed a final kiss right beneath your naval. You sighed in complete satisfaction, going increasingly limp as he stood back up to his full height, holding you slumped against him. You were certain your eyes must be dazed as they met his, and he seemed to drink it up, a new goofy expression mixing with his hungry one.

“I take it you approve of the mistletoe?” you mumbled, not expecting your words to be so slurred, not having realised that your mouth had gone numb. He saw the surprise in your face and you both giggled together, foreheads pressing against each other.

Barty gave you a soaring kiss to the lips this time, not shying away despite the absolute mess you had made of his face. You couldn’t bring yourself to care either – on the contrary, you parted your lips to let him take your mouth in full, mixing your cum and spit between smiles.

“You’re bloody insane, you know that?” Barty laughed breathlessly between kisses, holding you impossibly close to his body.

You bit back the “I reckon that’s why you like me so much”, knowing the joke would prompt a tirade about all the things he loves about you. Instead you smiled happily, giving him sweet kisses in quick succession.

“Maybe I just wanted to show my boyfriend what a merry Christmas it could be?”

Barty hummed in approval. As he felt more secure in your steady legs, he let one of his arms leave the encirclement of your back for his fingers to palm your cheek, carding lazily through your hair. “Might have to get a mistletoe tattoo myself now as a thank you.”

You guffawed, throwing your head back with laughter, and he took advantage of the moment to begin kissing down the length of your neck with an open mouth and explorative tongue. The laugh quickly turned into a content sigh.

“We would never leave the bedroom,” you commented, pretending to be concerned by his suggestion.

“And what a wonderful life that would be indeed.” Barty came back up in front of your face, eyes alight with foolish love and mischief. “Speaking of bedroom…?”

You barely had the time to nod once before he had bent down to hike you up into his arms bridal style and ran off towards the bedroom with you, cackling like a madman.

It was a merry Christmas, after all.

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dismalflo · 1 month ago

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I hate you... I think.

Sirius Black x fem!reader ✩ 5.5k words

summary: wedding preparations are underway and suddenly you and Sirius are spending a lot more time together. the fallout from the balcony hangs heavy over your head.

cw: enemies to friends to ???, angst, tiny pinch of fluff at the end, reader is quite lonely and sad at the start

<< previous next >>

Guilt.

It’s settled into the corners of your flat. No matter how often you clean–scrub the kitchen counters, rearrange the bookshelves, open every window wide enough to let London itself crawl in–it stays.

It’s not just the guilt about what you said that night. It’s the silence that has followed.

Regulus moved out not long after. Not because of what happened, he insisted, he and James had been planning it for weeks. They’d just waited to break the news until after the party. “Didn’t want it to feel like I was abandoning you,” he said, which was funny, because that’s exactly how it felt.

The flat is emptier without him. Regulus wasn’t loud, but his presence filled in the edges. He knew when to speak and when to sit in silence. He made tea without asking, left the lights on in the hall because he knew you hated walking into dark rooms, and always took the side of the couch that creaked.

Now? It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

You haven’t seen Sirius since the balcony. Haven’t spoken, not even in passing. He’s disappeared from your life. Just as you wanted.

Still, you hear about him.

James is around more now. You’ve accepted more dinner invitations than you’d like to admit, and you tell yourself it’s for Regulus. For James. Because you want to be a good friend.

But you dread it every time. Because someone always brings him up. Always.

“Oh, Sirius stopped by to help unpack,” James says, all casual and clueless, when you offer to do the same.

"Pads came to brunch last week—he’s doing fine,” says Lily, who isn’t clueless, and watches your face just a beat too long.

Fine.

He’s fine.

At first, you thought the silence between you was what you wanted. Needed, even. But the longer it’s gone on, the more brittle your resolve becomes.

Because you do think about him.

You think about the way he looked that night on the balcony—how small his voice got, how he said, “I don’t flirt with you because it’s funny. I flirt because I’m in love with you.”

You think about the way he walked away when you told him to go.

You told yourself he was a coward.

But he stayed. He stood there, laid himself bare, and let you hurt him. Let you have the final word.

The street is quiet when you arrive, the sky cast in soft twilight. You hesitate on the stoop longer than you should, fingers curled into your coat sleeves, already bracing yourself for the ache. For the part of you that will want to turn around the moment you walk in. But you don’t. You ring the bell.

The door swings open almost immediately, and Regulus is there, warm and shining in a way that still feels new but suits him perfectly.

“There you are,” he says, and without another word, pulls you into a hug.

You stiffen for a beat, then relax into him, pressing your face to his shoulder. He smells like expensive laundry detergent and that stupid cologne James loves. You don’t realise how much you missed him until he exhales and holds you tighter.

“Missed you,” he murmurs.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “Missed you too, Reg.”

He pulls back with a reluctant sigh, hands still resting on your arms. His expression softens, but there’s a flicker of something nervous there, too.

“Okay,” he says carefully. “Don’t hate me.”

You narrow your eyes.

“Sirius is here,” he says quickly, like ripping off a plaster. “I didn’t invite him for you, I swear. James insisted. And—look, I only need you to stay for half an hour. Thirty minutes. You can time it.”

You sigh, long and deep, already regretting your choices.

“I’ll make you tea,” Regulus adds, desperate now. “Or something stronger. Or I’ll pretend to have a migraine and kick everyone out. Please.”

You give him a flat look, but you’re already nodding. “Half an hour,” you repeat. “That’s it.”

“Bless you,” he says, guiding you into the house. “You’re a saint.”

“Mm, not quite.”

The living room is warm and golden with low lamplight and scattered laughter. James is perched on the arm of the sofa, mid-story, while Sirius lounges beside him, drink in hand and laugh halfway out of his throat.

The moment you step into the room, Sirius sees you.

He stops mid-laugh, something freezing behind his eyes. He straightens instinctively, shoulders tightening as if on a pulled string.

You pause in the doorway, stiff and sharp, gaze skimming just past him like he’s a ghost you refuse to acknowledge. He mirrors you exactly—his eyes flick once, then away, jaw setting.

The air changes. Tenses. Even without words, your presence redraws the room.

Only James remains gloriously unaware.

“You came!” he exclaims, beaming at you like the sun personified. “Fantastic. Come in, sit down—do you want a drink? I made that thing with rosemary again. It’s better this time.”

“I’m fine,” you say politely, taking the armchair nearest Regulus, as far from Sirius as the room allows.

James flops back onto the couch beside Sirius. Regulus claims the space next to him, casting you a subtle glance. He’s watching your face like a weather gauge, ready to intervene if the temperature drops any lower.

“So,” James says, lifting his glass with a theatrical flourish, “Reg and I have a question.”

Regulus clears his throat. “A serious one.”

He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a slightly rumpled envelope, and hands it to you with quiet ceremony.

You take it, frowning, and slide the card free.

There’s no big reveal. Just a line, scrawled in Regulus’ immaculate handwriting:

Will you be my best woman?

You blink. Look up at him.

Regulus shrugs, half-smiling. “I couldn’t imagine doing this without you.”

Your heart squeezes. You nod before you can think better of it.

“Of course.”

Regulus lets out a soft, relieved breath and leans forward to squeeze your hand once, grateful and grounding.

Across the room, James claps a hand on Sirius’ shoulder, nearly spilling his drink.

“And you—mate, I want you to be my best man.”

Sirius blinks. “Really?”

“Of course really! Who else would I ask? You’re my brother in all but name.”

Sirius huffs a laugh, blinking fast, like he wasn’t expecting to be asked and wouldn’t have dared to hope.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to,” he says. “Thanks, Prongs.”

James grins and throws an arm around both brothers, heedless of the tension in Sirius’ shoulders. “Look at us. Dream team.”

You meet Sirius’ eyes across the room.

There’s no smirk this time, no sly wink or half-baked joke. Just a strained, tentative curve of his lips—a quiet acknowledgment.

You return it with a ghost of your own. Tight. Brief. A silent, uneasy truce.

You’re both thinking the same thing, even if you don’t say it:

This means you’ll have to see each other. A lot.

There will be planning meetings, suit fittings, speeches to write, shared responsibilities. There will be dinners and decisions and maybe, if the universe is particularly cruel, a stag weekend.

You hold his gaze a moment longer, then look away first.

Sirius stands not long after the question is asked, setting his empty glass on the side table with practiced care.

“I’ll leave you guys to it,” he says, voice too light, too casual. “Got an early morning.”

James turns with a pout. “Already?”

Sirius shrugs, already stepping toward the door.

You meet his eyes, just for a second. There’s a flicker of something behind them—weariness, maybe. Or something quieter. A strained smile tugs at his mouth followed by a brief nod, barely there, and you mirror it instinctively, brittle and uneven.

Regulus watches the whole thing with a careful, unreadable expression.

“Night,” Sirius says, not quite looking at you again.

“Night,” Regulus echoes and he’s gone, the front door shutting behind him like a held breath finally released.

James stretches with a groan. “Alright, I’m gross,” he announces, already kicking off his shoes. “Shower time. You can both survive without me, yes?”

“Have for a long time, Jamie.” Regulus responds, rolling his eyes fondly.

James tosses him a wink as he disappears up the stairs, humming something off-key as he goes.

The quiet that follows isn’t uncomfortable—not exactly. You’re curled up at one end of the sofa, legs tucked beneath you, sipping tea Regulus made the moment Sirius left. He’s opposite you, one leg drawn up, arm slung along the back of the cushions. There’s a softness to him now, all the sharp edges rounded by the glow of lamplight and something deeper. Something content.

It should be peaceful.

But then the conversation lulls. The music playing from the speaker fades into a slow, instrumental track, and you catch Regulus watching you.

He says it quietly. No judgment. Just a fact that’s been waiting its turn.

“You hurt him.”

Your hand stills on the mug.

The warmth of the tea bleeds into your skin, but you feel cold again—like cold air has crept inside with you and settled in your bones.

You don’t look at Regulus. “I know.”

He says nothing at first. Just lets the words hang, heavy and low. When he speaks again, it’s quieter. “Why?”

It’s not an accusation. It’s not even disappointment. It’s curiosity, the kind that only comes from someone who’s known you long enough to wait for the real answer.

You could lie. Say it was a reflex. Say you were angry. Say it was about the past. And it wouldn’t be false, exactly—but it wouldn’t be honest, either.

So you say nothing for a long time. And then:

“I wanted him to stop,” you murmur. “To finally stop pretending. Stop playing whatever game he thought he was playing with me.”

Regulus tilts his head slightly, dark eyes steady on yours. “He wasn’t pretending.”

You close your eyes. “I know.”

There’s a beat of silence.

And then, softer still: “He meant it.”

You nod once. “I know.”

“And you still sent him away.”

Your throat tightens. “I know.”

Regulus lets out a slow exhale, and it’s not frustrated. It’s not angry. It’s sad. Gentle.

“I think you’re scared,” he says at last.

You let out a quiet, humourless laugh. “Of what?”

“Of forgiving him,” he says. “Of letting go of all the reasons you’ve held onto for hating him. Because if you do that, you have to admit something worse.”

You finally glance at him. “What’s worse than hating Sirius Black?”

Regulus offers a faint, sympathetic smile. “Wanting him.”

You look away again. “I don’t want him, I just wish I wasn’t so cruel.”

He sighs like he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t press you. Just sips his tea, calm as ever.

Turns out, planning a wedding takes a long time so being trapped in Sirius’ orbit comes around a lot quicker than you expect.

Somehow, you’re left alone with Sirius. James had outright declared that instead of traditional stag dos, he wanted a big group get together. Anything to celebrate, to have fun, with all the people he and Reg love most.

That's left you and Sirius to try your best to plan it.

The silence is almost unbearable.

You’re standing in Regulus and James’ kitchen, hands braced on the counter while the kettle rumbles behind you like it’s trying to fill the space. You’re supposed to be brainstorming ideas. Making notes. Collaborating.

Instead, Sirius is lounging in the doorway like he owns the place, arms crossed, one foot resting against the frame, watching you with something between amusement and exasperation.

“You’re seriously suggesting board games,” he says flatly, like the words themselves offend him.

You don’t turn around. “Not just board games. A quiet weekend. Something relaxing. Maybe a rented cottage. Countryside. A lake, if we’re lucky.”

He snorts. “You want to celebrate their last weekend before marriage by knitting in silence?”

You roll your eyes. “I want something they’ll actually enjoy. Not some drunken free-for-all.”

“That’s the whole point of a stag,” he argues, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the kitchen. “Come on, it’s James. He’d love a pub crawl and a karaoke bar and waking up in someone’s flower bed.”

You arch a brow, finally turning to face him. “And Regulus?”

Sirius falters, and lacks a rebuttal.

“Exactly,” you say, folding your arms. “So we split the difference. Somewhere nice, away from London. Cocktails, board games, charades if we must. Some space to breathe. Maybe a hike.”

He groans, dragging a hand over his face. “You’re killing me. A hike?”

You ignore him. “And no strippers.”

He gives you a disgusted look. ”Christ, I wasn't going to suggest that. Who do you think I am?”

You scoff, “That's not far from the realm of possibility with you,” Your tone is biting as you shake your head, as the kettle clicks behind you and steam curls into the air.

You turn to pour the tea–more out of habit than necessity–and slide one mug across the counter toward him without looking.

He takes it. Doesn’t say thank you. You didn’t expect him to.

It's too easy to fall into insults and vitriol with him. The guilt settles in again.

You sit down at the kitchen table, Sirius sliding into the chair opposite you after a few seconds of hesitation. He taps a spoon against the edge of the mug, rhythmic and unfocused.

You hesitate before speaking, mouth opening and closing.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, barely audible. “For that night how I spoke to you.”

He shakes his head, eyes pinned on his tea.

“You don’t have to be sorry for that.”

“I do,” fingers tightening around your own mug, “I don’t regret what I said, but I do regret how. No one deserves to be spoken to the way I spoke to you.”

Sirius lifts his head to look at you, pausing to weigh up his next words.

“I think the only way I would've listened is with it being said the way you did.”

Words don’t come to you as easily as you’d hoped now. It's strange, he’s not defensive or angry, just soft in his surrender. So you sip your tea, looking at him over the lip of the mug, hoping that’s the end of it.

Sirius extends a hand to you, across the table, crossing the chasm.

“Shall we try being friends?” he asks, a plea written over his face.

When you hesitate he adjusts, meeting you halfway.

“Or just civil, if you prefer.”

With that, you nod and lean forward to shake his hand.

Then there’s the suit fitting for the boys.

You’re already regretting agreeing to help with it by the time you get to the shop. It smells like cedar and champagne, and everyone inside is impossibly attractive.

Regulus is running late. Of course.

Which leaves you and Sirius standing awkwardly in the entryway, beside a rack of velvet blazers.

Sirius doesn’t speak at first. Neither do you.

You pretend to scroll through your phone, and he pretends not to glance at you from the corner of his eye.

Eventually, he clears his throat.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” he says, voice low and neutral.

You glance at him. “Regulus asked.”

He nods, lips pressing into a line. “Right.”

More silence.

A tailor appears, and ushers you both toward the fitting rooms. Regulus is still missing in action, but the shop clearly has instructions to get started.

Sirius is straight into the hot seat. He steps onto the little pedestal, shrugging into one of the sample jackets. It’s emerald green with black lapels and fits him like sin.

You try not to notice. You fail.

“What do you think?” the tailor asks, adjusting the hem with quick, practiced hands.

Sirius glances at you through the mirror. “Well?” he says. “You do have opinions.”

You arch an eyebrow, arms folded. “It’s alright.”

“Just alright?”

“Your hair’s distracting. Pull it back properly.”

He rolls his eyes but obeys, grabbing a hair tie from his wrist. When he turns back to the mirror, you can’t help but give a small nod.

“There,” you say. “Better.”

The tailor beams. “Agreed. You’ve got an eye for it.”

Sirius smirks a little at that, and for a second, it feels almost normal. Almost easy.

Then Regulus barrels in, apologizing for the delay, and the moment snaps.

But later, when Sirius is stepping down from the pedestal and you’re arguing over cufflinks—silver or black—you notice something strange. You’re agreeing with him.

You’re both pointing to the same fabric swatch, the same boutonniere, the same damn waistcoat.

“God,” you mutter, flipping through the catalogue again. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but… I think you’re right.”

Sirius blinks at you like you’ve grown a second head. Then smirks, smug and infuriating.

“Careful,” he says. “Say that again and I might die of shock.”

You roll your eyes. “Don’t push it.”

But you don’t bite. Don’t snap. Don’t look for the old sharp edges between you.

And that’s when you realize it: you’re truly not angry anymore.

Cake tasting is worse.

Not because of Sirius, surprisingly, but because everything tastes amazing and Regulus refuses to commit to a single flavour and James just loves everything.

“Maybe we do tiers,” he’s saying, mouth full of chocolate ganache. “Like, different ones for each layer.”

You’re scribbling notes. Sirius is twirling a fork between his fingers, watching you both with that annoyingly observant look he gets when he’s trying not to talk but wants to say something anyway.

“You’re fidgeting,” you mutter without looking at him.

He stops instantly. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“You’re imagining it.”

Regulus cuts in before the bickering can escalate. “Alright, thoughts on this one?” he asks, pushing the next plate toward you.

It's a vanilla sponge with elderflower buttercream. You try it. Sirius tries it. You both pause at the same time.

“Too floral,” you say.

“Too floral,” Sirius echoes, just a second behind you.

You glance at each other. He grins. It’s brief. Barely there. But real.

And suddenly, it’s happening again.

You’re agreeing. You’re passing plates to each other without flinching. You’re sharing a look when Regulus asks if they should consider lemon curd. You’re functioning.

It’s not comfortable, exactly, but it’s familiar. Like a jacket you haven’t worn in years that still fits. A little snug, a little worn, but yours.

Then Sirius opens his mouth and says something that should piss you off.

“Honestly,” he muses, licking a smear of icing from his thumb, “we should just let James choose the cake. The man eats enough of it to qualify as an expert.”

You stare at him. If it was just left to James a decision would never be made.

He looks up at you, expectant. Like he knows he’s poking the bear.

You open your mouth to argue. You really do.

But instead of unleashing some scathing retort, you just…

Huff.

You huff. Roll your eyes. Flick a crumb off the table.

And inside your own head, something shifts.

Oh, you think.

I don’t think I hate you anymore.

The weekend starts off hopeful. You book a cottage in the Cotswolds—something rustic but charming, with just enough rooms for everyone and a generous common space where you can pretend this is still about Regulus and James. There are board games stacked on a crooked shelf, a clawfoot tub with questionable plumbing, and a fireplace so large it demands storytelling.

It’s perfect. In theory.

The fire crackles softly, and the air is thick with warmth and wine and the kind of joy that feels both temporary and golden. You’re curled up on the couch beside Regulus, knees brushing his, one hand wrapped around a glass of something red and heady. James is sprawled on the rug, half on top of Remus, who has long given up pretending to mind.

Laughter is easy now. Familiar. You're flushed from the wine, something like peace settling over your ribs for the first time in a long time. And suddenly, you feel more comfortable surrounded by these people you didn't know all that well a few months ago.

“So,” you say, a little too loudly, a little too gleefully, “I think I have to tell you all that Reg really fancied James in school, it was ridiculous.”

James perks up immediately. “He what?”

Regulus groans beside you. “No. No, we’re not doing this—”

“Oh, we absolutely are,” you grin, waving your glass for emphasis. “I had to live through it. You don’t get to erase history just because you finally pulled.”

Lily leans in with dangerous interest. “I want every detail.”

“It was tragic,” you say dramatically, leaning back like a stage performer. “He used to follow James around like some moody twat. Always coincidentally needing to be at the Quidditch pitch. Or the library. Or the corridor outside the Gryffindor common room at exactly the moment James walked by.”

James is bright red and grinning. “Oh my god, you stalked me.”

“I was subtle,” Regulus hisses, hiding his face behind his glass.

“Subtle?” you scoff. “Once, he actually tripped over a bench because he was too busy staring at you. You asked if he was okay and he blushed so hard I thought he was going to combust.

James is laughing so hard he nearly spills his drink. “Reggie!”

“It was a stressful time!” Regulus cries, voice muffled by his own hands. “You were very–tall! And charming! And you had that ridiculous floppy hair–”

You’re laughing now, really laughing, shoulders shaking, hand clutching your side as Regulus slides lower and lower into the couch like he’s hoping to be swallowed whole. He’s grinning too, even if his ears are red.

And you don’t notice Sirius is gone until much later.

It’s only when the room has settled into a quieter lull, when the laughter has faded into the lazy warmth of half-finished drinks and soft music–that you realise he isn’t there. You think back and can’t remember him laughing with the rest of you. Can’t remember him adding anything. You remember him standing. A glass set down quietly. A hand brushing the wall on his way out.

You frown, but brush it off. Maybe he went to the kitchen. Maybe he needed air.

Eventually, you excuse yourself–blaming the wine, the endless glasses of water after, the curse of your perfectly healthy bladder–and head down the narrow hallway toward the bathroom.

You’re not trying to snoop. Not really.

You’re halfway down the corridor when you hear it.

A soft, wet sound. Muffled, but not enough. A hitch of breath. A sharp inhale that doesn't quite land.

You pause.

Sirius’ door is ajar.

You wouldn’t have stopped, wouldn’t have noticed, but the light spills out in a thin strip onto the hallway carpet. And through the crack, you see him.

His back is to the door, hunched on the edge of the bed. His shoulders shake once. Then again.

The sound is unmistakable.

He’s crying.

Not loud, not dramatic. Just quietly, like someone who’s had a lot of practice making their pain smaller. More manageable. Easy to ignore.

Your stomach twists.

You shouldn’t be seeing this. He didn’t want to be seen. That much is clear.

But you don’t move. You can’t.

So you push forward. Quietly. Calmly. Softly.

“You okay?”

Sirius startles at the sound of your voice, sniffing before lifting a hand to harshly scrub at his face and turning around.

“I don’t want to speak to you, Y/N.” The sharpness of his voice stuns you for a moment, before you nod.

“Right,” you murmur, “I can get James or Regulus or… anyone else if you need me to.”

“Just leave me alone please.” he sniffs, scrunching his eyes shut to try and alleviate the pressure that’s built there.

“Okay…” you whisper, before quietly starting to edge your way out of the room.

You’re halfway down the hall, breath caught somewhere in your chest, when you hear it.

A soft, broken thing.

Your name.

It’s not loud. Barely even reaches you. But it lands like a stone in your gut.

You freeze. Turn.

Sirius is standing there in the doorway, hair tousled, face blotchy and damp in the low light. He doesn’t speak, just lifts his chin slightly. Nods toward the room.

An invitation. A plea.

You hesitate for a heartbeat. Two.

Then you nod back, and follow him inside.

He doesn’t sit again. Just paces, sharply, like he can’t quite settle. You stand by the bed, not quite sure where to look. The silence between you crackles, not with anger this time, but with something sadder. Older.

“Sorry,” he mutters eventually, voice rough. “For snapping. I just… I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

You don’t say anything right away. You’re still watching him. Watching the way he won’t meet your eyes. The way he presses the heel of his hand to his chest like he’s trying to keep something inside from breaking loose.

Sirius stops pacing. His hand falls from his chest, and he looks at you, really looks at you—eyes tired, lashes still damp, vulnerability clinging to him like a second skin.

“I think I just realised,” he says quietly, voice hoarse and cracking at the edges, “how much of Reg’s life I’ve missed. When you were telling those stories earlier. Things I didn’t know. Should’ve known. I was his brother and I… I didn’t see any of it.”

You stay quiet, giving him the space to keep going, to spill whatever’s clinging to the inside of his ribs.

He takes a shaky breath, still watching you like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to.

“Thank you,” he says, softer now. “For being there for him. For… staying when I didn’t.”

You blink, the weight of his sincerity catching you off guard. But your response comes easily. Truth always does.

“Of course,” you say simply. “He’s my best friend.”

That cracks something in Sirius further—just a hairline fracture, but you see it. His shoulders slump, like your kindness is more painful than your silence ever was.

“I think I was so caught up in trying not to be like my family,” he says after a long moment, “that I didn’t realise I was still doing the same thing. Pushing people away. Being cruel. Seeing everything in black and white.”

He lets out a small, bitter laugh. “I didn’t care that I hurt anyone. I thought I was right. That if I kept running fast enough, far enough, I could outrun everything they made me.”

His eyes flick up to yours. “And that included you. I hurt you. I know I did. And I’m sorry. I should’ve said that a long time ago.

You breathe in slowly, letting the words settle between you. Letting the truth of them wrap around the ache that’s lived in you for too long.

“You said it yourself that night on the balcony,” you murmur. “We were children.”

Your eyes meet. Neither of you look away this time.

“And as much as I pretend I’m angry at you for it,” you continue, voice barely above a whisper, “I haven’t been. Not in a long time. Not for myself, anyway.”

His brows crease, just slightly. “For Regulus?”

You nod. “He deserved more from you. But… I think you know that now.”

“I do,” he says immediately, like the words have been waiting on his tongue for years. “And it wasn’t a good reason to do any of it, was it? Being mean. Shutting down. I didn’t even try to explain.”

“No,” you agree, not unkindly. “It’s not.”

There's silence again.

“But…” you say, shifting slightly, “I don’t think it makes you a bad person.”

He scoffs lightly, but you don’t let him look away.

“I mean it,” you say, firmer now. “It pains me to admit it–and I will deny this if you ever repeat it–but you’re a good man, Sirius.”

Sirius goes quiet again. You can see him chewing over your words like they’re foreign, like they don’t quite fit in his mouth. His hands are trembling slightly—just enough that you notice.

“I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven,” he admits, at last. Voice flat. Not self-pitying, not defensive, just hollow. Like it’s not up for debate. Like he’s already decided.

You don’t answer right away. You look at him, really look. His eyes are ringed with exhaustion, the kind that doesn’t come from lack of sleep but from carrying too many years of blame and nowhere to put it.

“Well,” you say, slowly, “Regulus already has.”

Sirius flinches—just barely, but it’s there.

You shift your weight, cross your arms tighter around yourself. “And I’m… on my way there.”

That does it.

He lets out a breath like it’s been knocked from him. A low, shaking sound that’s too much like grief. Like release. His eyes drop, and when they close again, more tears slip out; quiet and relentless.

“I’m sorry,” he gasps, trying to wipe them away again, but his hands won’t cooperate, and the more he tries to pull himself together, the more he falls apart. “Fuck—sorry, I—”

“Sirius,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, still not looking at you, still hunched in on himself like he can fold all the shame away. “You shouldn’t be kind to me. You shouldn’t.”

You take one step forward. Then another.

He doesn’t stop you. Just breathes in short, shallow bursts, one trembling hand clutched at the hem of his shirt like he’s trying to keep himself from unraveling.

And you don’t know what else to do. You don’t know what to say. You were never good at this part—the softness. The comfort. The aftermath.

So you do the only thing that comes to you.

You wrap your arms around him.

It’s awkward, at first. He’s rigid, stiff, like he doesn’t know what’s happening or why. But then his arms come around you, slow and tentative. Then desperate. He clutches onto you tightly, like he doesn’t believe you’re real. His face tucks into your shoulder, and you feel it, his breath stuttering against your collarbone, his chest trembling with every ragged inhale.

You don’t say anything. You just hold him.

And the longer you do, the more you realize: you needed this too.

You melt into the embrace, eyes closing, arms tightening around him as something deep in you settles. You didn’t know how tightly you’d been wound until now, didn’t realise how much weight you were still carrying in your own chest. But it loosens here, in the quiet, in the space where neither of you is angry anymore.

Where it’s just the two of you, exhausted and grieving and soft in a way you haven’t been in a long time.

You don’t know how long you stand there. Long enough for the storm inside him to pass. Long enough for the tight grip of guilt inside your own ribs to begin to loosen.

Eventually, his breath evens out. His hands loosen their grip on your back. He shifts, just slightly, and you step back half a pace, just enough to look at him.

His eyes are red-rimmed, lashes clumped together. But there’s something calmer in his face now. Something quieter. Like he’s finally let go of something he’s been holding for years.

He doesn’t speak right away. Neither do you.

Then:

“Thank you,” he whispers, and it’s the first time he’s ever said it like he means it. Like it’s sacred. Like it’s everything.

He looks at you for a long moment, like he’s searching for something, some answer in your eyes. Then, as if making up his mind, he gives a small nod, his lips curving up slightly in a weary smile.

“I think… I think we’re getting better at this,” he says, voice hoarse but more grounded than before.

You let out a breath. “I think so too.”

There’s still awkwardness, but it’s different now. Two people are finally starting to see each other for who they really are. Not the personas built from old wounds and past mistakes, but the messy, complicated people standing right in front of each other.

Sirius hesitates, his gaze flickering to the door for a moment before he looks back at you. “Do you think... Maybe we could do this? Be friends, I mean. Properly.”

You smile, the weight in your chest lightening as you finally let yourself believe in the possibility. "Yeah. I think we could.”

He nods, slow and careful.

“Okay,” he says. “Then let’s… try.”

You offer your hand again, but this time, not as a truce. Not out of obligation. Just something simple. Real.

He takes it.

And the guilt begins to lift.

Not gone. Not entirely. But quieter.

Manageable.

Something you can live with, now that you’re not carrying it alone.

masterlist <3

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #sirius black x self insert #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black angst #sirius black fic #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black

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kquil · 1 year ago

Text

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.6

06 : SELFISH DESIRES

SUM : it's your chance to make amends and push aside your selfish desires - your heart will ache but they're worth it

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james potter ; piercer remus lupin ; angst ; idiots in love ; unexpected turn of events ; sirius is the main character here ; jk jk ; it's you~ hehe~ ; you'll see what i mean ; wolfstar have a heated argument ; i almost cried writing it ; i hate seeing them like that ; poor james ; james needs a hug ; regulus makes an appearance! ; dramatic sirius black ; regulus is a good brother ; sirius being an instigator ; we love him for it though ; you can't just leave them again! ; no fluff here kiddos ; but kiddos stay away! ; just cover your innocent eyes!

LENGTH : 3.7k

← PREV. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

“You’re disgusting,” Sirius manages an indifferent glance over at his younger brother before resuming his miserable, unmoving position on the sofa — Regulus’ sofa. The obvious detachment Sirius has to the situation only stirs his younger brother’s bubbling anger, “It’s almost been a full month! And you’re letting yourself rot away on my sofa; get a hold of yourself!” No response. Regulus shakes his head with a drawn out sigh, “you usually don’t stay around this long whenever there’s an argument… I wonder what’s happened this time…”

Deeming his older brother completely hopeless, Regulus returns to his sparse but sleek kitchen just as the kettle whistles its readiness to be poured for tea.

Sirius breaths an audible sigh and grimaces at the stench of his breath. The mix of excessive alcohol, countless cigarettes and mountains of junk food didn’t make for a good concoction on his tongue, definitely not for fresh breath. When was the last time he had brushed his teeth? He brings a hand up to push straggling strands of hair away from his view but grumbles when the curls had knotted up too much for him to comb his hair back uninterrupted. Stone grey eyes look down at his figure, stagnant and pale, weighed heavy from low spirits.

What followed the night you left their flat was the worst fight they have ever had. It was mainly between him and Remus while James remained in the background, too downhearted to contribute anything to the verbal warfare happening before him. He was spoiled with love since birth. As an only child with loving parents, who never fought in front of him, whenever Sirius and Remus argued, James was left paralysed with despair. It was always shocking to him how nasty those fights became; his parents never fought like that. Sirius could see it in his sweet hazel eyes that James wanted desperately to have peace but didn’t know how to steer things in that direction. He had tried before, many times, to defuse the situation but both Sirius and Remus were too stubborn and hot-headed from the argument as well as their suddenly stark differences in opinion to back down.

As unfortunate as it is to think about, these fights happened often, recurring in the same exact way – originating from opposing opinions, primarily between him and Remus. They would try to keep it together but it would just keep piling up until someone snaps and then there’s no dispelling their disputes. James either takes a side or none at all (usually the later) and Sirius storms out of the flat to stay with Regulus.

He should feel guilty for being such a burden to his younger brother. He should have more pride in himself than to allow Regulus to ever see him in such a depressed and unpleasant state. Lack of hygiene, self care and self maintenance manifests into something so repulsive and unsightly, Sirius would usually be back and making amends within a week or two – encouraged by his own lack of cleanliness and his commitment to run from the disease of laziness.

But it’s been more than that now. Nearly a month, Regulus says. Time just passes by, slow and tolerant, so unlike him, and yet, Sirius still managed to lose complete track of it. This is the longest they’ve ever had a dispute without reconciling.

His own stubbornness is definitely a factor. He had been right all along. If only they, mostly Remus, had listened to him. James was fully on board but Remus was stubbornly defiant and managed to convince the former otherwise.

“Do you think she’s the type of person who would embrace such an unconventional relationship with open arms?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying, Moony,” Sirius grits his teeth, his inner thoughts and reasoning ached to be heard and let out coherently. In his mind, it all made sense to do things the way he suggests, so why couldn’t his boyfriend understand him?! It doesn’t even seem like he’s trying to listen to him at this point! “She won’t understand if we don’t say anything to her! We have to be forward and bold! Do it now before something happens!”

“Nothing. Is. Going. To. Happen!”

“How can you be so sure? We need to be honest with her, it’s not fair to her and it’s, frankly, deceitful to keep her in the dark about all this!”

“We can’t be too sure that she’ll accept us. If that happens then we’ll never see her again– I don’t want that, do you?!”

“We won’t know unless we say something, do something, anything!”

“Please just trust me, Siri,” Remus begs, his loud voice lowering to a soft plea, his beautiful brown eyes no longer fierce or piercing but kind and warm again, with a hint of fear. Sirius can sympathise with that creeping terror, an anxiety that wants to swallow you whole and keep you in a dark abyss for eternity, “I don’t want to frighten her…”

The first time, Sirius gave in, weak for his love and weak for the reasoning behind his proposal on the matter concerning you. The dark-haired tattooist couldn’t fault his lover for that but, in hindsight, he should have argued his side more, maybe then, you wouldn’t have disappeared like that…

“Hey, your phone won’t stop pinging,” Regulus alerts, appearing out of thin air and surprising Sirius enough to sit up and alert with wide eyes, “will you finally read their messages to you?” with some reluctance, Sirius reaches for his phone and proceeds to look through his messages while Regulus takes a seat opposite him, a steaming cup of tea in hand.

The younger Black brother was just about to begin reading another one of his classic novel favourites when a rush of air flew by him, ruffling the small strands of hair and whipping about the billowing steam from his mug of tea. Moments later, the sound of his shower turning on full blast echos through his flat and a smile graces his lips.

“It’s about time…”

Lingering guilt had plagued you all night long and you barely managed to get a wink of sleep. It, however, meant that you were able to better prepare lunch for the boys the following day. While cooking, you abandon all negative feelings to focus on only the good, not wanting any harmful emotions to diffuse into the food and saturate it with bad tastes. Your eyebags weren’t a pretty sight but it was easily fixable with a touch of makeup.

You tried to look your best for the day. Fortunately, the early summer sun inspired your motivations further. Yes, you’ve made the terrible mistake of selfishly pushing them away to nurse your own battered soul and unrequited feelings, but this was your time to make amends, to make things right… to see Sirius again.

You never felt right after you accused him of cheating on Remus and James with each other, only to find out that he was far more loving and loyal than that. You were embarrassed and ashamed to have ever thought so negatively about him, jumping to conclusions like an immature, thoughtless child. It was wonderful seeing James and Remus again, your heart was practically soaring in your chest as it disregarded all lingering feelings of misery and dejection. But now, your chest felt incredibly tight as your heart ached to catch a simple glimpse of Sirius.

You carefully pack away the lovingly prepared food and desserts into your largest, most durable shopping bag before getting dressed. It was only natural that you managed to make more than you usually made for the boys, seeing as you wanted to spoil them rotten after being so childish the last few weeks. Since the weather was pleasant, you opted for a cute mini dress with a light, flowy material that was comfortable and soft. Over top, you wore a cropped cardigan that had long sleeves, enough to reach past your fingertips. For jewellery, you wore a simple necklace and slipped into a strappy pair of mid-heeled platforms that weren’t too tall. Casual but cute.

Approaching the studio doors, your grip on the strap of your bag tightens and your breath hitches. They hadn’t taken the notice down and the bold, red letters of their ‘CLOSED’ sign glared at you angrily.

Were they inside? Should you knock? Neither Remus or James actually agreed to your sudden choice to meet for lunch the night before. Did this mean that they didn’t want you to be in their lives anymore?... But… but you wanted to make things right! You wanted to apologise! You want to be friends with them again! You’ll tell them right away – tell them how you would do anything just to remain by their side, even if it’s just as a friend, you’ll be happy for them! You won’t be selfish anymore, you won’t covet anything more than friendship with them, that’s all you want! Not that they’ve ever heard of your true desires—

“Well?” A familiar voice speaks up behind you, putting an abrupt end to your panicked inner monologue, “Aren’t you going to knock?”

Swiftly spinning in place, you smile brightly at the biker and tattooist standing before you, dressed in all black, with heavy, lace-up boots and his signature leather jacket, “Sirius!”

He doesn’t breathe a word to you, eyeing your hefty bag before briefly meeting your eyes and making his way over. His long strides made it so that he reached you in no time but he didn’t stop. With a light gasp, he had backed you up into the left of their studio’s double-door front entrance. You held your breath and kept your eyes shut tight, not knowing what to do as your heart pounded deafeningly against your eardrums.

A moment passes and you feel his hand brush against yours before your portly bag of packed food is taken from you. A wave of relief washed over your aching shoulder as the weight disappeared but such a diminutive alleviation of discomfort couldn’t swamp the trepidation in your heart. Sirius was different.

“Siri–”

“Let’s head inside,” he had opened the right hand door and easily slipped through with your bag. Alone and in the quiet, you felt like crying. You wanted to cry, desperately but you knew that it would offer little to no reassurance. So, with a heavy heart, you followed Sirius inside and closed the studio door behind you.

The air was stale but, in it, lingered a familiar scent that you had come to love, it was a clean, almost clinical smell from the regular use of disinfectant and bleach. You love this parlour so much, it was filled with so many good memories, ones of soft affection through tender words and gentle caresses. Despite the earlier interaction, you couldn’t help but smile just from the wave of romantic sentiment washing over you.

“You’re here,” Remus greets with a tired smile as James sits on the opposite end of the sofa with a shy grin directed towards you, his hazel eyes looking elsewhere.

“Sorry if I’m late,” you managed a weak smile, “I didn’t know if the door was open or not. Thankfully, Sirius was there to help me in,” Sirius didn’t sit down despite the many available seating spaces and chose to lean his back against a far wall, instead. James couldn’t meet your eyes and Remus was sneakily massaging his temple as he leaned his face against his large hand, “let’s eat, shall we? I hope you guys are hungry,”

It was never this awkward. Or quiet. Especially when sharing your homemade lunch together. James would usually be giving you endless praise through large, mid-chewed mouthfuls while Sirius laughed at the ridiculous sounds and faces he’d pull trying to speak coherently through the mouthful of food, and Remus would shake his head, his amusement by the display evident in the warm glimmer of his eyes. However, James doesn’t have as big of an appetite today and Sirius stands alone with his tupperware, barely touching his food. Remus is the only one eating a substantial amount besides you. Although, you’ve gradually slowed your own chewing.

What have you done?...

What happened to all of you?

Your shame brought your gaze down, making your head weigh heavier than usual as you give up on communicating anything with the boys. This wasn’t how it was meant to go…what should you do now? The pain in your heart was unbearable.

Shoulders slumped and confidence dried up, you struggled to think of what to do. You should have prepared a speech or something. It was naive of you to think that simply coming over with a homemade lunch would fix anything. Things are never going to be the same, no matter how much you hope and pray for them to be.

You’re hopeless… completely and utterly hopeless…

This was your worst fear come to life. You had feared rejection but seeing them unloving towards each other, barely communicating and broken apart, your stomach collapsed in on itself as your heart fell to a million pieces. You didn’t utter a single word of loving them romantically aloud and yet, you still managed to get in between their relationship. This was a sentiment of how selfish of a person you are.

How could you do this to them?! They were your friends, who saved you from the worst night of your life, and you repay them like this?! Shameful. Disgusting. You don’t think you could ever look at yourself in the mirror again.

The skirt of your mini dress blurs on your lap and you have to bite your lip to keep from sobbing out loud. The tears, however, you couldn’t stop them. Hopefully, they’re all too distracted to see you silently weeping and you can gather yourself before turning tail and running out of there.

Today is a complete disaster—

“Don’t cry, angel, please!” James jumps up and rushes to your side, kneeling down at your feet as he takes your hands in his and tries to meet your gaze through the puddle of tears in your eyes. His words immediately catch Remus and Sirius’ attention and they both begin to make their way over, evident worry swimming in their eyes but you refuse to acknowledge any of that as your mind drowns in all manner of negative thought.

You shake your head, hearing the flurry of footfalls around you and wishing them away silently, “I shouldn’t have come here today…” you whisper.

“What was that?” James patiently asks, voice soft and sweet and kind, it makes you want to fall into his arms.

“I’m sorry,” you speak clearer and stand abruptly, “enjoy the lunch,” the haste and sorrow in your shaking voice makes their heart drop and they’re brought back to that fateful night once more. You don’t meet their eyes as you turn and push past them to leave, almost running through the hallway of their studio just to reach the door and make a quick escape.

“THIS!” Sirius’ roaring voice suddenly cuts through the studio like a knife, making you stop in your tracks and turn around slowly. The door to the lounge room was still open, before it Sirius and Remus stood in an aggressive confrontation, both taking on a defensive stance as they faced each other, all while James remained in the background, clutching at his head as he slumped forward on the sofa, “THIS IS WHAT I MEANT! IF YOU HAD JUST LISTENED TO ME–”

“I DIDN’T SAY WHAT I SAID WITHOUT REASON SIRIUS! YOU KNOW MY EXACT THOUGHTS ABOUT ALL THIS!” Remus shouts back, the veins in his neck bulging out from his fierce anger, the blood rushing in his cheeks making him look just about ready to violently explode.

“BUT–”

“—YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR THAT!” Remus continues, not allowing Sirius to speak.

“WELL YOU CAN’T FAULT ME FOR MY REASONING EITHER!”

You’re horrified at the scene. Sirius and Remus look ready to tear each other apart as James looks on hopelessly, not knowing what to do or how to diffuse the situation, completely torn between supporting one or the other. Without thinking, you rush back and skid to a stop between the two hot-blooded men. Their fuming rage was like a turbulent inferno whose flames licked viciously at your skin, ready to burn you and spread the hostility.

“The both of you need to calm down!” you shout, pushing them away from each other and creating a safe distance between. Your tears had already run dry, replaced by the trembling terror shaking your limbs.

“Don’t worry about us Dove,” Remus manages to voice through gritted teeth, his glowering eyes never leaving Sirius’, “you can leave and we’ll sort this out,”

“Sort this out like usual huh?—”

“—Don’t taunt me, Sirius,”

“That won’t solve anything, you idiot!” Sirius flings his arms up and James just barely manages to pull you away from being accidentally hit. Neither of the two seem to notice and James expresses his apology in lovingly nuzzling your temple, his lips puckering to kiss your skin but refraining and stepping away abruptly. You try not to feel the heartache his actions elicit in you.

“SHUT UP!” you’ve never heard Remus sound so angry and venomous before, it makes your heart stutter in fear and worry. You can’t leave now; this disagreement can’t end well without some form of intervention and James isn’t fairing too well with that – he needs someone there for him too, just to feel, somewhat, grounded through all of this, “She doesn’t have to hear all of this!”

“We wouldn’t have to be saying ‘all of this’ if you had. Just. LISTENED. TO. ME!”

“You’re being ridiculous!”

“Ridiculous?!” Sirius growls lowly, his countenance scrunching up into a foul expression —an antithesis to his elegant features, “I’ll show you!” it was then that Sirius turns to face you and approaches with purpose in his long strides, unstopping like he did earlier when outside the studio.

“SIRIUS—!”

Sirius backs you up into the wall behind you, “—Everything Could Have Been As Easy As Doing This!” you didn’t know what to prepare yourself for but Sirius firmly gripping your chin and pulling you into a deep kiss was not one of them. In your shock, you let out a surprised but muffled moan, slowly falling into the blissful embrace and reciprocating eagerly.

Did you faint earlier? Was this all a dream?...

…Dream or not, you like this very much!

James and Remus watch at the bold display, disbelief shining clear in their eyes as Sirius has his way with you. But you don’t see them, you don’t see anyone or anything, all you know is that Sirius kisses like an experienced lover from fantasy and he wasn’t shy about loving you up. Not knowing what to do with your hands, you let Sirius guide them over your head to cuff your wrists together with his large hand, his other snaking around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss.

He tastes like spearmint gum and smokey cigarette smoke, his lips tinted in cherry lip balm for sweetness. What an addictive taste. You can’t get enough.

But air is a necessity and just as you were beginning to run out of breath, Sirius pulls away, panting heavily. He doesn’t wait for a single second to pass before diving his head into your neck, where he peppers feathery but fervid kisses along your sensitive skin and smiles to himself when you slip out a moan. You sound beautiful. He needs to hear more. Sirius doesn’t stop, he sucks and licks and kisses and nuzzles along your neck like the tease he is, drawing out every quivering whimper and pretty moan you were desperately trying to contain.

You keep your eyes tightly shut, too embarrassed to meet the eyes of Remus or James. Their gaze on you left behind a searing, phantom mark that developed into a displeasing itch. An itch that could only be satisfied if they kissed you too.

…So selfish. God! When will you stop?!

Ashamed of your gradually increasing volume, you seal your mouth shut in a stubborn attempt to suppress your pleasure. How did his lips and tongue feel so good on your skin? His touch made your knees weak and your legs shake, without his support, you don’t think you would stay standing for long.

Just as you were able to swallow every embarrassing sound that tried to escape, James was beside you, his warm breath on your cheek as he silently urged Sirius to give way, “you need help staying quiet, angel?” he whispers and doesn’t wait for an answer, briefly meeting your eyes before he’s closing them to kiss you sweetly. It started off sweet. Sweet and loving like James before suddenly becoming very dominating and overwhelming. You were being devoured and the thought was undeniably arousing. They were both on you, Sirius kissing away at your neck as James savoured the taste of your lips before bullying his way into your awaiting mouth. He swallowed your moans for you as Sirius defiantly persisted, urging you with seductive lips to make more.

Overwhelmed but so content.

You were drowning in bliss and you never wanted to break away from it.

“DIDN’T I SAY!” Remus shouts, stopping all activity and leaving you strung up high as the boys slowly pull away, not too far but enough for all of you to meet Remus’ unreadable stare. The boys look over their shoulder to observe their commanding lover, their large frames tense before moving their eyes down and slowly smirking, the tension evaporating off their figures as you’re left to rebuild another tower of anxiety from your lower stomach, “Didn’t. I. Say. We. Were. Going. To. Savour. Her?”

What?

Your shocked, wide-eyed stare meets Remus’ cool and, almost, unfeeling gaze. Once again, your knees buckled under you and you were caught by Sirius and James. Held in place by their hot, firm hands and the press of their toned physiques.

What did he just say?

Unable to keep his stare, your eyes slowly fall down the tall brunette’s figure. Capturing his beautiful, full lips; taking in the delicious column on his neck; observing the wide expanse of his shoulders and chest; drifting down to gulp at his veiny arms and hands before landing on...

Oh~

A/N : no fluff, but something better right? a little sneak peak on how i write spicy things but it's readable hehe~

NEXT. | 07 : APOLOGISE AND COMFORT →

NAVI. | HEROES IN TATTOOS MASTERLIST

TAGLIST : @susyelectra @fangirlninja67 @pagesfalling @thepunisherfrankcastle @axeofwars @imarimon @in-love-with-4-marauders @chicken-taco-burrito @valencia-rou @feast0nmeee @lestat-whore @hvmxjjk @twilightlover2007 @diaryofabiwoman @woohoney @celestialfantasiess @willbedecided @lovelyygirl8 @iiirhiane-g @mangodamochiii @queerqueenlynn @l3xiluve @brain-has-left @bunbunbl0gs @kneelforloki @citrusiove @virtualbuni @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @that1nerd-20 @wolfstar4everbitches @skepvids @dearmy-diary @littledollfacebaby @mylifeisnothing @em16cor @krazyk99 @imdoingbetternow @realalpacorn @remussbitch @swiftieeras1989 @lonely-nerd-sodaholic @canthavetoomuchchaos @rckstrbee @b-i-h-i @ennycutie @kneelforloki @theteaobsessedbug @padfoot1313 @d1gital-data @venezsuwayla @melllinaa

#poly marauders x reader #marauders x reader #poly marauders x you #poly marauders #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #remus x reader #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #the marauders #marauders #wolfstar #heroes in tattoos series #HIT : series

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vinylfoxbooks · 3 months ago

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March 26 - Skeptic | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 899

“I don’t like Regulus’ new partner.” Sirius mutters low to his boyfriend. They’re settled on the couch, mugs of tea in hand with Remus reading and Sirius curled around his partner, lost in his own thoughts. Said Regulus and partner have just left for the night, tucking into Regulus’ room. He says it only when he can��t hear them shuffling around between the bathroom and Regulus’ room anymore.

Remus hums, putting a thumb on his line, “What about them?”

“I don’t know, they're just… weird.”

“I’m a werewolf, love, I don’t think you can be talking about dating someone a bit ‘weird’. I’m sure Regulus thought the same thing of me when we first met.”

“That’s a lie,” he shakes his head, “He liked you from the beginning. I think it was all the nerdy book talk.”

Remus gives him a flat look, “We both know that’s not true, I may have placated him with the ‘book talk’ but he was on edge around me for months after we first met.” Then, after a couple seconds he bookmarks his book and settles it on his lap, “What about them is weird to you?”

Sirius sighs and takes a moment to formulate his words, “They… came in here strong in an… odd way. Wearing odd, hand-me-down-looking clothes that were all dirty, the way they talked was… it was like they weren’t really present.”

“What are you trying to say?” Remus sighs, seemingly getting frustrated with his boyfriend, “And it better not be you stuck up family beliefs trying to prevent you from seeing your brother happy.”

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“Don’t you?” Remus hums, “I came walking into your house for the first time in a similar state, so what makes you so skeptical about Regulus’ partner?”

“I just-”

“Listen, Sirius.” Remus sighs once more, turning to lake eye contact with him, “Your brother is clearly happy with James, it’s obvious with the way that they look at each other. They’ve also seemingly been dating long enough that Regulus would have been turned away by them if something was wrong. James clearly cared about Regulus.”

“But-”

“No, Sirius. Your brother can take care of himself, in fact we both know that he prefers to. Whether James is ‘weird’ or not, they’re nice and they seem to treat Regulus well and that’s all that matters. It should be obvious that Regulus introducing them to us was just a courtesy.”

Sirius sighs, “I know…”

“Excuse me,” A voice says behind them, making them both turn to it. James stands politely in the entrance to the hallway, gazing at them with the most present look in their eyes that SIrius has seen from them all day, “Where do you keep the tea that Regulus likes?” Sirius takes them in while Remus answers for him, noting their threadbare sleep clothes and lack of as many charms and jewelry pieces as they were wearing before. There are still a couple bracelets on their wrist, blue and with little eyes on the beads, and a couple pieces of jewelry in their piercings, but they’re much less decorated than they were before.

Remus hums and watches them for a moment, “In the cabinet opposite the sink, we just had the kettle boiling so it shouldn’t take long. Mugs are in the cabinet to the left of the sink.”

James smiles at him, “Thank you.” And with that, they sweep into the kitchen and the couple can hear the telltale signs of someone preparing some tea. Remus gives his boyfriend a look, Sirius just shakes his head and lays it on the taller’s shoulder, smiling when a hand comes up to pet through his hair.

When they come back out a couple minutes later, Remus hums, “James?” After making sure he has their attention, he starts, “Can you tell me about how to care for the basil you got us?”

James nods, making their way over to the couch chair and settling in it, muttering something as they put the mug of tea on the coffee table, “Basil is a bit persnickety about its care. It needs lots of sunlight, so putting it in your sunniest window is best, and it’s demanding on water. Keep the soil moist at all times. Watering it every couple of days would be best.” They gaze over at the beautiful, hand painted pot that holds the half-started basil that Sirius and Remus put on the coffee table when James handed it to them, “Once it starts consistent leaf growth, then you can start cutting off the leaves and using it for things like cooking, I’ve found that homegrown basil is extra flavourful. It’s also spiritually protective, believed to bring luck, wealth, and health to a household so take care of it and it’ll take care of you.”

Remus seems a bit taken aback by the last part, but he collects himself after a moment and nods, “I’ll keep that in mind, thank you James.”

James smiles at him, moving to stand up, “Of course, have a good night you two.”

“You as well.” And with that, James makes their way down the hallway and into Regulus’ room once more. The interaction leaves Sirius conflicted, but he doesn’t comment on it anymore. Remus picks up his book and continues reading, shooting a glance at their new plant every once in a while.

#totally not a condensed version of a oneshot i plan to write #if it's not clear james is like a hippie pagan witch #don't know when you'll be getting that oneshot #but it's in the plans #marauders #dead gay wizards #james potter #regulus black #james x regulus #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #sirius black #remus lupin #nonbinary james potter #microfics #jeggyverse microfic

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loonsloon · 5 months ago

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@into-the-jeggyverse, january 25, luck words: 955, cw: blood, but nothing too explicit

Yes, Regulus was aware that he had a bit of a crush on James Potter. After all, the guy was warming up to him fast. It was terrifying to admit, but after spending some time with James—not by his choice, mind you—they could maybe even call each other friends. It was unavoidable, though, because James was everywhere. And if he wasn’t, he’d always find a way to be.

Like right now.

Regulus had been helping Madam Pomfrey these past few days. It all started one random afternoon while he was delivering potions for Slughorn. After admitting that he was interested in becoming a healer, Pomfrey offered him the chance to learn basic healing spells under her guidance, and he agreed. So far, his duties were simple; some minor injuries, like a scraped knee, a bruised elbow, or a first-year’s sprained ankle after tripping on the moving staircase.

What he hadn’t anticipated, though, was how often his idiot brother and his even more idiotic friends would show up. They were in the hospital wing more often than clumsy first-years after flying lessons.

And here he is. James Potter. Bursting through the doors still fully dressed in quidditch gear, grinning ear to ear despite the blood oozing from his forehead. A Gryffindor-themed towel was pressed against the wound, doing nothing to stop the bleeding. Regulus swore his heart skipped a beat—whether from the sight of the blood or the way James’ shirt clung to his torso was debatable.

“Madam Pomfrey! I think I need stitches!” James exclaimed, glancing around for her.

“She’s not here,” Regulus sighed, and James’ eyes finally landed on him.

Moving the towel for a moment, James revealed a cut slicing through his eyebrow. Thankfully, it wasn’t that bad, and it missed his eye entirely.

James’ grin somehow grew wider. Regulus was already regretting being here today.

“Reggie! I didn’t know you were in today,” James said cheerfully, jumping to sit on one of the beds, his feet swinging like an overexcited toddler. Regulus refused to admit that it was adorable. In fact, James and the word adorable had no business being in the same sentence.

“She went to get some potions. Barely anyone’s been in today. She’ll be back soon,” Regulus explained, turning his attention back to organizing the supply cabinet.

“Well, aren’t you training to be a healer? I know you can heal this; it has to be easier than Sirius’ broken nose last week!”

Yes, but Sirius is his brother. Regulus didn’t care if he fucked up his nose. It might’ve even been funny, considering how much Sirius loved to brag about it.

James, though? That was a different story entirely. There was no way Regulus could risk getting so close to him. He was terrified James might suddenly look at him and realize: Oh, so you’ve got bit of a crush on me, huh? And Regulus can’t have that happening.

“I’m not doing anything without Pomfrey’s approval. I haven’t perfected the stitching charms yet, and that looks like a nasty cut,” Regulus lied.

All of that was a lie. Regulus had already handled worse injuries without her. The cut wasn’t even that bad; the blood was only flowing because James was still sweating from practice. His body was literally, and figuratively, hot.

“It’s not that bad! Just a bit deep. C’mon, Reg, at least clean it up,” James pleaded, a cute pout on his face. He’d taken off his glasses and was now holding the towel across his right eye, somehow managing to look ridiculously endearing.

“Fine,” Regulus muttered, utterly defeated. James wasn’t going to leave him alone, so he might as well make himself useful.

“But I’m not stitching it up. You’ll have to wait for Poppy. I’ll just stop the bleeding and clean it up for her.”

He rolled over the medical trolley and stopped it in front of James, positioning himself between James’ sprawled knees. Grabbing gauze and alcohol, he prepared to clean the wound.

“Hi,” James said, smiling down at him. His dimples popped, and his grin was somehow even more genuine than usual.

Regulus felt the blush creeping up his cheeks but refused to show weakness.

“Hi, idiot.”

And there it was—that beautiful fucking laugh.

“Aren’t you going to ask what happened?”

“Something, something, Sirius accidentally hit you with his bat,” Regulus guessed, not bothering to look up. It wasn’t a difficult assumption; the two of them were a disaster in the air, always bickering and pushing each other.

“Hey, how did you know?”

“You’re predictable,” Regulus sighed, starting to dab at the wound with alcohol. James winced.

“That stings!”

“Don’t be a baby. It’s what you get for being careless,” Regulus muttered absentmindedly, still focused on cleaning the cut.

“Aw, do you care about me, Reggie?” James teased, leaning back to look him in the eye.

Regulus felt the heat rising again and glared at him. “Don’t be ridiculous. And stop calling me that, Potter. I told you I hate that nickname.”

Grabbing James by the shirt, he tugged him back into place to finish his work. Desperately trying to hide how flustered he was.

“Alright, alright,” James relented, settling down.

Finally, some silence. Regulus worked quickly, trying to ignore the way James’ knees kept brushing his sides, sending tingles up his spine.

After finishing the cleaning and stopping the bleeding with a quick charm, Regulus stepped back.

“There. You’re done,” he said, moving the trolley away from James’ reach before he could cause more problems.

“Aww, thanks, Reg. Aren’t you going to clean the rest of my face?” James asked, his tone playful, his cheeks still covered with dried blood.

Regulus shot him a glare. “Don’t push your luck, Potter.”

#jegulus microfic #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #james x regulus #regulus x james #starchaser #sunseeker #rab #jfp #marauders era #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #loonie's microfic

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ccccatttta · 5 months ago

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hello ladies and gentlemen, i am here to show my marauders fancasts. this post will be long as fuck im afraid, but i have stuff to say. cheers!

james potter as michael cimino

PAPIIIIIRRHAWWWRWWGRA i mean ha. he's cute. mi gente latino

regulus black as choi beomgyu (txt)

my baby star candy, my sunshine, my everything. also! his voice is one of the prettiest things on earth and i totally think regulus would sing like that

sirius black as hwang hyunjin (stray kids)

he's so androgynous,,,, like if a man and a woman had a baby.

remus lupin as esteban kukurickza (actor)

these low quality ahh photos, this man is hard to catch fr. he IS remus lupin you can't change my mind on this + the actor knows we see him as remus and embraces it, god bless you kuku esteban

peter pettigrew as cooper hoffman (actor)

you guys have no idea how much my peter fc changes, it used to be lewis capaldi but i think i have finally managed to find the one for me.

lily evans as chapell roan (soloist)

she's unreal, she's the moment, she's everything. nobody other than her could be the icon lily evans is

pandora lovegood/rosier as namephyra on ig (model)

i say lovegood/rosier bc i like the hc where she's evan's twin, but at the same time i also like when she's a lovegood or a lestrange. elle fanning used to be my fc for sooo long (and i still kinda see it) but she has all the vibes i picture in pandora, and she's honestly so pretty i wanna cry

dorcas meadowes as nia sondaya (actress)

LOOK AT HER OH MY GOD LOOK AT HER, it took me so long to find someone who gives me dorcas vibes, like my girl isn't easy to find, but nia has this aura about her and it was love at first sight

marlene mckinnon as beabadoobee (soloist)

this is one of the og's (or it was when i came to the fandom) and till this day i can't picture anyone else, she's put a spell on me or something

mary mcdonald as bcsais_ (ig)

i don't know much about her, but every time i see another mirror selfie my heart stops for a bit, and that's the only way mary mcdonald should be perceived

evan rosier as casper von bülow (actor)

i know a great chunk of the fandom hcs evan (and dora too) as poc, and i totally see it too, however this little german boy.... oh the grip he has on me is out of this world, it also has to do with the fact he's on germany's skam (druck) and that immediately means i'm emotionally attached

barty crouch jr. as hayden (ig) or marlon noah (ig)

this is a tricky one, they are both so different but they feel like barty to me. lately i've been using hayden more but i do think marlon can make a comeback any of these days.

[extra] the black sisters <333

andromeda black as hwang yeji (itzy)

it's not a coincidence i chose yeji for andromeda and hyunjin for sirius (if u don't know, these two are by no means related in real life but they look so much alike and they even share the same last name, so they could be lost siblings). i do think that andy and sirius looked alike and that's what made them even more fond of each other, the fcs were sent by the gods themselves

bellatrix black as kim hyeong seo (bibi ; soloist)

i support women's rights and i support women's wrongs. hate her or love her, bellatrix has always been THAT girl and bibi is also THAT girl

narcissa black as kim minjeong (winter ; aespa)

i do believe that winter looks a bit similar to beomgyu and i do believe that narcissa looked similar to regulus, it's the genes guys, they are strong. she's so gorgeous i wanna sob in my hands till i die

these are all my fcs!, i haven't really thought about any other characters for now, these are my main guys and pretty much the only ones i read about.

this was exhausting lord, imma go take a nap, toodles!!!

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maxdibert · 8 months ago

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Alright, let’s dive into the dumpster fire that the Marauders fandom has become last years and threw any sense of canon or character integrity out the window. Because let’s be real, the way this fandom has twisted the characters of the Marauders and the Death Eaters, all while turning Severus Snape into some one-note “creepy stalker,” is embarrassing. The fandom seems obsessed with scrubbing characters clean, romanticizing abusers, inventing tragic backstories for literal sociopaths, and piling up headcanons that turn a few lines in canon into fully fleshed-out, fanon-only OCs. And somehow, the only character who gets relentlessly dragged and demonized is Severus Snape—a character who has actual complexity and trauma. It’s hypocritical, classist, and downright gross.

Let’s start with Severus. Canon Snape is a guy who came from nothing: poor background, abusive father, dead-end town. He didn’t fit into the wizarding world, was relentlessly bullied by privileged Marauders, and still somehow managed to survive and make something of himself. But instead of acknowledging any of that, the fandom loves to reduce him to this “creepy obsessive” stereotype. People act like he spent every waking moment pining for Lily and never did anything else, as if that’s all his character is. Never mind the fact that he was actively trying to get out of a miserable life, or that he was, you know, bullied on a daily basis by James and Sirius, who had wealth, status, and freedom to do whatever they wanted. Nope, to the Marauders fandom, Snape is just the “weird stalker”—because acknowledging his struggles would mean admitting that their golden boys were actually kind of awful.

Meanwhile, the same people are out here bending over backward to make people like Barty Crouch Jr., Evan Rosier, and Regulus Black look like misunderstood anti-heroes. Let’s be clear: in canon, Barty Crouch Jr. was a straight-up torturer, Evan Rosier died laughing as he fought Aurors, and Regulus was a kid raised with a silver spoon who only started doubting Voldemort when he realized he’d been signed up as snake chow. But no, fanon has turned these guys into “tragic, complex Slytherins” who were “just trying to survive.” It’s like they’re desperate for some tortured prince narrative, so they invent personalities out of thin air to give us this dreamy aesthetic of sad, beautiful Death Eaters who “didn’t really want to be evil.” Apparently, actually following the text is too much to ask when you’ve got fanon fantasies to uphold.

Regulus Black, in particular, has become this absurd fanon martyr. In canon, Regulus was a kid indoctrinated into pureblood ideology, who joined the Death Eaters without much hesitation. Maybe he had a change of heart eventually, but it wasn’t out of some grand moral revelation; he just realized Voldemort’s loyalty was to himself alone. Yet, according to the current fandom, Regulus is some misunderstood hero who was only “pretending” to go along with Voldemort and was “forced” into his choices. They’ve built this tragic romance around a character who, in the actual books, doesn’t have even half this depth. This Regulus in fanon is practically an OC at this point, and people cling to this made-up version of him so hard that they’ll defend it like it’s canon. It’s hilarious, and it’s also just plain wrong.

And let’s talk about the Marauders themselves. In canon, James and Sirius were rich, spoiled brats who spent their school years bullying anyone who didn’t fit into their world. They were kids with every privilege, and they used it to torment people like Snape, who had nothing. But the Marauders’ fandom has turned them into these fluffy, “good-hearted” rebels who just made “a few mistakes.” I’m sorry, but nearly killing someone as a “prank” is a bit more than a mistake. Yet people will ignore that or wave it away as “boys will be boys” just to keep up the illusion that James and Sirius were lovable scamps. It’s maddening—and it’s also classist as hell. They erase all the ugly realities of the Marauders’ behavior and then turn around and judge Snape for being “obsessive” and “weird” when he was just trying to survive in a world stacked against him.

The classism in this fandom is so blatant it’s laughable. Snape is written off as creepy and unworthy of sympathy because he didn’t have a cushy upbringing or the social standing to make him likable. Meanwhile, characters like Barty and Regulus, who came from wealthy pureblood families, get excused and romanticized to no end. It’s like the fandom is saying, “Well, Snape deserved it because he was poor and awkward, but the rich kids? They’re just misunderstood.” It’s the kind of privilege blindness that makes you wonder if people actually read the books or if they’re just projecting their own biases onto the characters.

And let’s not forget the army of new OCs the Marauders fandom has invented just to justify this headcanon universe (Mary, Marlene, Dorcas, that that Pandora no one knows why suddenly appears here lol) You’ve got random “best friends” for Sirius, unnamed Slytherins who magically have no ties to pureblood supremacy, and love interests for Regulus who supposedly saw the “real” him. All these characters are based on nothing more than a few throwaway lines, yet people have fleshed them out to a level that they’re practically new characters in the universe. It’s like they need this entourage of made-up people to back up their version of the Marauders and Death Eaters because, without them, their headcanons would fall apart. And all of this, while they keep painting Snape as this creepy loner with no real friends or worth. The hypocrisy is unreal.

At the end of the day, the Marauders fandom has taken a bunch of characters with clear flaws and complexities and rewritten them into these sanitized, tortured souls while dumping all their scorn onto Snape. They’ll go out of their way to redeem a literal torturer like Barty Crouch Jr. or turn Regulus into some tragic hero, but they can’t bring themselves to even consider Snape’s trauma or the systematic abuse he endured. It’s all about maintaining this fantasy where their favorite characters are perfect and untouchable, even if it means twisting canon and ignoring the ugly truths about class, privilege, and abuse that is reflected into the story. And that, honestly, just makes the fandom look shallow, hypocritical, and completely disconnected from the reality.

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rachhaven · 5 months ago

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For poly!moonwater, the three of them all being in different houses and get their ties mixed up and that's how Sirius discovers their relationship?

here you go lovely- i wrote this in my lecture and during an endo flare so apologies if it doesn't make sense 😭

635 words- ish?

Last night had been- fun, to say the least. A game of exploding snap between the three of you leads to a cup of tea spilled on the wooden floor of your dorm, and then Regulus’ feeble attempts to clean it up lead to a bleach stain on Remus’ trousers, and the horrid smell left in the air, so to the Slytherin dorms it was, spiked hot chocolates in hand a good book to fall asleep reading together. It was nice, peaceful even, to sneak around and spend the evening together without fearing your and Regulus’ older brothers finding out.

The brothers, the older brothers, James and Sirius are a package deal, so it only made sense that their little sister and little brother met and spend time together, and Remus just slotted in so perfectly and beautifully in the way that only he can, it just worked, but James and Sirius still don’t know. Well, until now.

It was safe to say you were all running late when you woke up with only half an hour of breakfast left before lessons, so you were all in a hurry to get ready, chaste kisses and hugs goodbye as you all head to your separate tables, Hufflepuff for you, finding Hannah sat and waiting, Reg heading towards the Rosiers and Barty at slytherin, and remus towards the rest of the marauders on the gryffindoor table, happy as larry and finally ready to start the day.

“moony?” Peters brow furrowed. “reg?” asked between laughs on Barty’s behalf. “Y/n?”, Hannah’s voice breaking you from plating your food.

“Who’s tie are you wearing?”

Shit.

You look down, a green and silver tie around your neck, your head spins to regulus, a red and gold tie around his neck, and finally Remus, adorned in a yellow and black tie. Shit. Shit. Shitty fuck.

A squeal breaks through the air and it’s the only two you can imagine it would be, Sirius and James. Something about being ‘brothers in law’ and ‘family holidays’ and ‘shared bloodline’ and you’re all lost, you and reg excusing yourself to the Gryffindor table to sort this mess out. The tie you originally had on is in your hand, passing it to regulus as regulus passes his to Remus, you taking yours back at the same time. Cheeks burning red and embarrassed, but the feeling of safety you only get when you’re with your boys, Remus welcoming you to sit down with him, and sort this out, your forehead falling on Remus’ shoulder as regulus shoots daggers at his brother.

“how long?” asks James, eyes curious and filled with such joy, speaking at the exact same time as Sirius, “how didn’t I know about this?”. Both questions are valid, James is nosey, always has been, but Sirius, he’s best friends with Remus, regulus is his little brother, and since moving in with the potters back in third year, he’s your older brother by proxy too, he means a lot to all of you.

“six months”, you mumble, answering your brother, regulus answering his. “they were hesitant, didn’t want to upset you if anything went wrong” he explains, his head tilting towards you and Remus, Remus’ arm over your shoulder to try and ease the anxiety all the attention is giving you. Reg was loud and proud about his love, relieved to have finally found someone, two people, who he can actually open up to, who love him for him, but with your brothers antics and both yours and Remus’ hatred of being looked at by everyone else, it was nice to keep it quiet, like a sanctuary, but with how open and welcoming James and Sirius have been, maybe there wasn’t any need of fear. And just maybe, everything will be fine.

#harry potter #fluff #ask #marauders #poly!moonwater x reader #remus lupin #regulus black #ploy!remus and regulus #marauders era

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bri-cheeses · 6 days ago

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Jegulus showing up hurt in your enemy’s house

Finally got the time to work on this one! Just had to wake up at 5 am to do it :,)

The house is empty except for James, and it’s had him on edge all day. He’s most familiar with his home when there’s the comfort of another presence, footsteps and warm voices working their way throughout the rooms. Like this, it’s just wrong—hollow and empty and eerily silent.

He keeps wanting to wander down to the kitchen and find his mom working on a meal, to sit down at the counter and talk with her as she goes about her business, or to go out to the brewery and help his dad with a potion, only just catching himself and remembering that they’re out on a mission before he actually does. He’s stopped by Sirius’s room at least three different times, too, turned away only by the reminder that he’s at Remus’s. Even their house elf is out helping another family with work, and James misses the familiar sight of his beloved socks falling down to his ankles because they’re too big on him. James would give him another pair of socks, maybe even an extra Knut or Sickle, if he would just come back and keep him from going stir-crazy with worry.

He tells himself it’ll all be fine, a repeating mantra to slow down the pounding of his heart. Still, he nearly jumps out of his skin when the doorbell rings.

It’s loud in the relative quiet of the house, and soon he’s tearing through the rooms and skidding towards the door, wrenching the handle and throwing the door open with a frantic sort of energy about him.

He stops when he sees who’s on the doorstep.

“James,” Regulus says, standing there with neutral eyes and a neutral expression like this is normal and not out of place in any way.

James hardly recognizes his own voice when he manages a hoarse, “Regulus?”

Regulus shouldn’t be here. The fact of the matter is that it’s been four months since James graduated and left Hogwarts to join the Order full-time. It’s also been four months since Regulus tore his heart to shreds when he told him that they couldn’t see each other anymore, that Regulus didn’t want to see him anymore.

But the fact of the matter is also that Regulus is here, right now, right in front of him, same gray eyes and dark hair and closed off expression, and James wants to reach out of hand and grab him to make sure he’s actually real.

He doesn’t, though. What he does instead is ask, too wary after experiencing war to its fullest degree, “How can I be sure it’s really you?”

Regulus levels him with an even, steady stare. There’s a pause, and then he opens his mouth.

“Your favorite animal isn’t a stag.”

The air in James’s lungs is punched out of him in a devastating rush. Regulus is right. His favorite animal isn’t a stag, unlike what most people would think. It’s a cat, because—well. No need to explain that thought process.

He forcefully turns his thoughts to the matter at hand.

“Why are you here?”

James’s lips feel numb and hard to move, yet he still thinks he manages to form the words correctly. For some reason, though, Regulus doesn’t answer, hesitating in a way that’s unlike him.

It’s the hesitation that makes James look again, closer this time.

Regulus is pale. Regulus has always looked pale, he knows that, but it’s accented now. There’s a greenish tint under his skin, too, and his eyes aren’t quite as sharp as usual.

“Are you okay?” James asks.

It’s blunt, probably too blunt, but he’s spent the entire day on edge and anxious and it’s compounded in a big mess in his stomach that’s trying to force his way past his lips. Reg should be thankful he doesn’t vomit all over him, if he’s honest.

Regulus scowls at the insinuation that he’s anything less than perfect.

“Yes.”

James doesn’t believe him. Maybe it’s something to do with the ashen quality of Regulus’s skin, or maybe it’s that there’s a noticeable lack of bite in his tone, or maybe it’s the fact that he’s even here at all. He eyes Regulus, the way he’s standing, notices that his weight isn’t evenly distributed. He notices how he’s holding his left arm slightly away from the side of his body.

James darts an arm out, banking on the fact that it’s too fast for Regulus to dodge it in the state he’s currently in, and squeezes a light hand just around the base of Regulus’s left rib cage. Reg flinches away from the touch, hands coming up to defend himself and his lie, but it’s too late. His face loses any little remaining blood it had left, and his breaths are becoming more and more laborious as he wraps a protective hand around his side.

“Should’ve known,” Regulus mutters bitterly, chest rising and falling in short, shallow gasps of air.

“Should’ve known what?”

Regulus glares at him, but James knows he’s not actually mad. Reg’s still trying to twist things differently than reality, even now.

“That I can’t lie to you.”

The statement falls between them like a stone dropped in deep, dark water. They look at each other, Reg’s face pale, James’s lip pursed as he surveys him and the situation, gathers the facts.

It’s Regulus. He’s on the opposite side of the war. He broke James’s heart four months ago. He’s injured. He’s on James’s doorstep, asking for help with everything but his words.

It’s Regulus.

“Let’s get you inside,” James says finally, and holds the door open.

#yes I do 100% believe the Potters would pay their house elf #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #marauders #jegulus fic #my microfics #fic ask game #asks

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thehauntedhousespicketfence · 28 days ago

Text

sirius seeing mary as his little sister

the first time he sees her, she’s shying away from everyone else, hidden in a corner and she just reminds him so much of regulus

mary - who’s been thrust into a world she knows nothing about, but she knows the people here hate her for some reason, and she doesn’t even know what the word mudblood means let alone why people are calling her that

and sirius is just not taking that. not this innocent, quiet girl that picks her nails the same way reggie does, and has the same lisp reggie does, and whose laugh is almost the same. he attaches himself to her (maybe a little too quickly) because he misses his brother so much in that first year, and mary reminds him of reggie so much. he’s protective of mary in the same way he is over regulus. and when people see sirius fucking black with mary macdonald they know that to mess with her means messing with a black

and mary has always wanted an older brother. she has younger siblings, sure. but she’s always wanted someone to care for her in the same way she does for them. and maybe a small part of her knows she’s replacing someone else. someone she’s never known and probably never will, but she’ll take it anyway. it’s lonely here.

when regulus comes to hogwarts in second year, he’s jealous of james - sure he is. he’s jealous because he gets sirius in a way he never did, because they parade around together flaunting their friendship - their brotherhood - in front of everyone’s faces

but it’s mary he’s really jealous of. he’s jealous of the subtle ways sirius protects her, the smiles he gives her that regulus thought were just for him.

he’s jealous of the way sirius sees james as a brother, but he’s also jealous of the way he treats mary like a sibling too

(bonus points for trans reggie having to watch sirius finally get the younger sister he’s clearly always wanted, knowing he will never be that for sirius

but sirius, deep down, always wanted a brother. someone like him

and mary looking at regulus, knowing that she’s just a cheap replacement. but she’s loosing her own family as she spend more time surrounded by magic, and less with her muggle family. she’s desperate for the affection sirius gives her, even if they’re both faking it)

(and, someday down the line, mary will have to hear the news that her big brother killed her friends)

#mary my one true love #marauders #marauders era #wolfstar #sirius black #james potter #mary macdonald #regulus black #black brothers #jegulus #marylily #the marauders #dead gay wizards #dead gay wizards from the 70s

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crescenthistory · 7 months ago

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okay idea…c1 with regulus and a reader who is either very clumsy or very sick and he can’t help but dote over her and take care of her <33

terribly sorry if you are not a moonwater girlie, but this request has been hijacked into a poly!moonwater fic 🙏 i love them, your honour

Prompt: C.1 "I want nothing more than to kiss away all your pain"

Words: 1.9k

Warnings/tags: fem!reader, references to injuries, light sickness/illness, regulus being a Worried Boyfriend, remus being a Doting Mediator, light hurt/comfort, nauseating amounts of fluff, sirius being the butt of the joke, literally just cuddles massages and kisses

You apparently see your daily life as one long continuous extreme sport, and thus, so are the lives of Regulus and Remus, whose hearts are always working overtime to handle the stress of your near-death experiences.

When Regulus ran up to Remus, slightly red in the face and already huffing and puffing, Remus knew for a fact that you were the cause of his concern. Others might have read his body language as angry, but Remus knew this to be his boyfriend’s mother hen instincts kicking in – which means his were about to, too.

“What’s she do?” Remus sighed as he stood up from his seat outside the Great Hall, already throwing his bookbag over his shoulder, prepared to walk off.

“She’s in the infirmary,” Regulus hissed, grabbing Remus by the arm to pull him away, barely slowing down his gait.

“Oi! You can’t just run off!”

Remus, admittedly, had forgotten that his best friend – his boyfriend’s brother, mind you – was sitting with him and was in the middle of chatting his ear off when he spotted Regulus. “Sorry, Pads, I’ll catch you later,” he tried calling over his shoulder as Regulus wholeheartedly ignored him.

“What?! Hey, no–” Sirius all but sputtered, self-righteously undignified by the whole ordeal, as if this was not a common occurrence by now. James began patting his back not much unlike one would do a child, placating him with whispers, no doubt about all the mess they could get into without Remus’ supervision.

“Why is she in the infirmary?” Remus asked when he was able to return his full attention to the boy whose breathing was still a bit too quick for comfort. He had half a mind to begin taking care of him instead and calm him down, but for now he settled for pulling him further into his side as they walked.

“I don’t know,” Regulus bit out through clenched teeth. “Pandora just told me in passing that she had seen her in there. I have no idea what she has gotten herself into this time. You’re lucky I walked past you on the way there, otherwise you would have been the last to know.”

Remus mulled over it for a moment, visualising your schedule that he memorised months ago. “She had Care for Magical Creatures last period, right?”

Regulus’ head whipped to the side to stare at him incredulously, clearly not having pieced that together yet. Though it was hard to tell, it seemed like his face had paled. His grip on Remus’ arm migrated to interlocking their elbows so he could more effectively drag Remus along as he sped up at the thought of what could have happened.

One of the things Remus most enjoyed about your relationship was getting to know the small quirks of yours and Regulus', your signs and your tells. For Regulus to forget all about Remus’ aching joints and rushing him along without ample support meant that he was beyond stressed on your behalf. Had Regulus not been here, Remus would have been much the same, thoughts able to spiral into the darkest of places when left to his own devices – alas, he was, so Remus collected himself appropriately and tried to be the grounded one.

“She’ll be alright,” he murmured as they turned the last corner before the infirmary.

“She bloody better be,” Regulus huffed, voice laced with concern and poorly-hidden devotion. “Because I will be having a word with her about not prioritising her health and safety.”

Remus squared his shoulders, prepared to play the dual role of mediator and concerned boyfriend, perhaps with a touch of nurse as well, if necessary.

“Good afternoon, Poppy,” he greeted warmly when he saw Madam Pomfrey by the entrance, giving Regulus’ arm a subtle tug to make him slow down. If there was one thing the matron did not tolerate, it was disturbances in her little wing.

“Oh, Remus, are there any concerns today?” she asked, tilting her head in confusion as this visit did not line up with their usual cycle of visits. Quickly, her eyes drifted over to Regulus, whose face was still noticeably flushed and realisation dawned on her face. “Ah, I see. She’s to the left, three beds down. Though I would advise keeping a distance.”

Regulus’ eyes widened almost comically at the last comment, letting go of Remus in favour of stalking down the hall as quickly as Madam Pomfrey would allow. Remus had to admit his own heart twisted in worried confusion as he gave a small smile and thanks before hurrying after his boyfriend.

He saw Regulus slip between some white privacy curtains mere seconds before he was able to follow himself. “Amour!” he heard Regulus say, abandoning any attempt to conceal his worry.

Remus held his breath as he drew the curtain back just enough to enter your little makeshift alcove, expecting the worst. Surely, he would find you with your leg elevated in a large cast, bloodied bandages all over your face or arms, hair half burnt off.

Instead he heard a small sniffle and your flushed face came into view where it poked out from beneath heaps of wool blankets.

“Oh, hi lovelies,” you murmured in the sweetest tone but with the most painful rasp Remus had heard in a while. It was immediately followed by a fit of coughs.

“Oh, dovey,” Remus cooed pathetically, rushing to sit down on the side of your bed. Regulus was still standing by the curtain, mouth slightly agape as he took in the scene.

This clearly was not what either of them had expected.

“What happened to you lovely girl, hm?” Remus whispered to you, perhaps with a small hope that you would reply in an equally low tone and spare your clearly hoarse voice.

You were truly bundled up under mountains of blankets, messy hair, glossy eyes and runny nose the only visible part of your body. The bedside table was littered with used handkerchiefs, paper towels and small plastic cups used to take potions. Some bottles of potion Remus identified as cold treatments were placed on the edge with a little note with jotted down time stamps. You looked absolutely, thoroughly poorly.

“I’m sick,” you said hoarsely. You made a noise that sounded like choked laughter, likely at how terrible you sounded, but it just made it worse.

“We can see that, amour.” Regulus’ voice had become ten times softer, and he sat down on the other side of the bed from Remus, reaching out to cup your surely overheated face with his perpetually-cold hand. Remus could feel the phantom touch as his fingers ghosted over the apple of your cheek.

“Don’t be rude,” you whispered cheekily, but you leaned into his touch with a sigh. “I look perfectly happy and healthy.”

Regulus snorted that laugh he only ever let slip around you two. “You do look beautiful as always. Though perhaps a bit like you’re on your deathbed, which you know you’re not allowed to be.”

You groaned, stretching your body beneath the tangle of blankets. “Ugh, I know,” you huffed, sounding pained. “I feel like it, too. Woke up feeling a bit, I don’t know, stuffy, but I tried to head off to class,” – Regulus made a disapproving sound, but let you continue – “and then I just really came down with it in Astronomy. Didn’t even make it to Magical Creatures.”

At least that's a relief.

“You should have stayed in bed if you woke up feeling poorly, love,” Remus murmured, fishing for your hand beneath the blankets. You happily gave it to him and his heart keened at how you seemed to crave his touch.

“But I didn’t know I felt poorly poorly. Just… poorly. You know?”

Remus sighed almost dreamily. “I don’t.”

At the same time, Regulus softly said, “You’re not making much sense, pretty girl.”

You groaned your way through a voice crack, turning your head into the pillow on the side Regulus wasn’t lightly caressing. “I feel like the fever is eating at my brain.”

Both boys hummed in sympathy. Remus fought the urge to manhandle Regulus into bed beside you so he could hold you both and shield you from the world.

“It’s alright, amour. Sirius has survived 17 years without a brain, so you can surely manage at reduced capacity for a day or two.” He wore a cheeky smile from the beginning of the sentence, evidently proud of the opportunity to jab at his older brother.

Remus would have to deny it if Sirius asked, but he barked a laugh.

“That’s not very nice, Reggie,” you almost whimpered, though you too were smiling too. “I don’t have the energy to tell you off for being mean to your brother.”

“Well, at least we got one good thing out of your suffering,” Regulus offered, and his smile grew genuine when you laughed at that and lightly shoved his shoulder – clearly his end goal.

You furrowed your brows and brought your unoccupied hand up to rub by your temple. “I really do feel horrid, though. I might have to stay here overnight.”

“You poor sweet thing,” Remus cooed in sympathy. He lightly guided your hand back to lay on your chest as he brought his hands up to massage carefully at both of your temples, moving his thumb in slow circles. Regulus let his hand move from your cheek to drift through your hair so Remus could have space, calming the chaos of frizz caused by your time in bed. Your sigh sounded heavenly as you sunk further back into the pillows and let your eyes drift shut. “We’ll take care of you, yeah? Nurse you back to health?”

You hummed your approval, small tug at the corner of your lips that warmed his heart.

Regulus used the spell Sirius had constructed to expand the infirmary beds during Remus’ monthly stays, adding enough space for him to lay down beside you. When Sirius made it, it had originally been with the intention of the Marauders huddling together, but it was quickly capitalised on by you and Regulus. He got more comfortable beside you, head on the pillow next to yours where he continued playing with your hair in that way he knew soothed you. Remus remained sitting so he could give your face and scalp ample attention, relieving you of your tension headache with practiced ease.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, voice muddled by your hoarseness and oncoming sleepiness. Remus just smiled in response, trusting you would know it even when you couldn’t see it.

“Of course, amour,” Regulus whispered in turn, sounding more emotional than usual when confronted with your vulnerable state. This was nowhere close to the scolding-deserving mishap he had expected to find in the infirmary. “I want nothing more than to kiss away all your pain.”

“Well, you shouldn’t,” you huffed then. “I don’t want you getting sick.”

Regulus let out a breathy laugh and kissed your forehead defiantly, bottom lip brushing against Remus’ thumb and shooting pleasurable tingles up along his skin. “Too bad, lovely. We’re both staying here.” He looked up through his long eyelashes to meet Remus’ eyes, face scrunching up in affection with his lips still ghosting over your skin.

“Most certainly,” Remus whispered over the honeyed love that coated his throat and tongue. “We will nurse you right back to health, dovey. You just sleep now.”

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neeska3 · 2 months ago

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AU where Sirius is a vampire and Remus is a werewolf(Obvi). They are immortal (Being immortal and being a werewolf feel like double homicide, honestly). They met centuries ago and throughout the years meet each other randomly in different countries.

They kind of hate each other at the beginning, but start becoming friends kind of at the end of the Renaissance, I guess. I think Sirius, knowing he will be recorded in history, will try to be an actor or a famous writer in all the different eras. Remus, on the other hand, will be extremely low-key.

The only time Remus becomes actually famous is when Sirius convinces him to be in a band with him in like the 70s. They have to go into extreme hiding after that. Not the best time for Remus. Eventually, Remus becomes a professor at a different uni every few years. You name any famous university, and he has taught there.

Idk what the others are doing lol. James could be another vampire that Sirius and Remus meet along the way, or we can go the angsty route, and James could be a human they befriended who died of an illness, and they could not save him. Same with all the others. Regulus could be another vampire from the coven whom they find sometimes on their adventures.

In the end, Remus and Sirius end up together, of course. They have been living with each other for years, so it just made sense to them.

You can do so much with this AU. Add them to all the cool historical events. My brain is not able to think any cool scenarios rn but Ik it could be very fun with angst sprinkled in here and there.

#marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #padfoot #moony #james potter #regulus black #lily evans #vampires #werewolves #werewolf #vampire sirius black #werewolf remus lupin #lycanthrope

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hauntedwitch04 · 2 years ago

Text

I hate you Black

Regulus Black x reader

Words: about 4.1k words

Warnings: some angst, sexy Reggie and some funny times

Author’s note: Hi everybody! It's so good being back, I missed writing and this is the first one-shot I write in a lot of time, so I'm really grateful for every tiny bit of love you gave me. This is my first time writing for the kinktober, hope you enjoy my writing.

P.s. i don't really now how much is hate fuck this fic, but here we are.

Requests are open I Ask

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KINKTOBER -.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-. KINKTOBER TAGLIST 2023

DAY 1: Hate fucking

To say that Regulus and I do not get along is an understatement.

We have been part of the same group of friends, namely the Marauders, for years now, since both my brother, James, and his brother, Sirius, are best friends, in fact they often consider each other almost brothers, on the contrary however the two of us have not been able to find common ground and usually always end up insulting each other and playing stupid jokes to irritate the other person.

Since our first year at Hogwarts, we have clashed because of our pride and desire to prove ourselves better than the other, and this challenge has continued outside of school, in everyday life.

This party is no different.

Sirius and Remus wanted to inaugurate the new apartment they decided to get, to live together, after being together for almost a year already, and so they threw a party with all their closest friends, including me and the younger Black.

I don't quite remember how I ended up straddling him with my hands around his neck, but I do remember the reason for that choice. Between his various jokes and yet another spilled glass on my favorite shirt because of his "carelessness," although we all know that if anyone is graceful it is him, the moment he mentioned what is now my ex-boyfriend. Just before coming to the party, in fact, that asshole decided to break up with me, telling me that he never actually felt anything really important for me, and that I was merely a fling that lasted too long and that now he actually already has another girlfriend and I was just in the way. A year and a half. We stayed together a year and a half, and he had to say that and turn away without looking back, or without a bit of shame or guilt, he didn't even apologize to me for shamelessly cheating on me. Part of me didn't even want to come to the party, but I love Siri and Remmy too much to let them down, so I took heart and convinced myself that I would have a good time, but at Regulus' words, "Where's your boyfriend? Is he tired of you too?", I saw no more. Smoke began to come out of my ears, my vision turned black, and inside I felt only a single emotion.

I realize what I was doing only after James detaches me from Regulus, while Sirius grabs his brother, and pulls him away from me.

"Are you totally crazy? You could have killed me!" Says Regulus shocked as he holds a hand to his throat, still struggling to breathe.

"Too bad, it will be for next time then." I answer coldly, to go toward the hall to get my coat, while I quickly apologize to the hosts and say I have to go home, because I don't feel too well. Both James and Sirius, Remus and Lily try to stop me, thinking it's because of guilt, but I really don't want them to see me crying and having to explain later that my ex-boyfriend cheated on me and left me, and now I just feel like a pathetic little girl who can't be loved.

I hurry out of the house and immediately get hit by the cold autumn wind, which envelops me like a hug and shakes my hair, making it go over my face, thus tickling my nose. I smile and start walking toward my house, although it is quite far away, in fact I had come with my brother. I try to contain my emotions, but the tranquility and peace of the city at this hour give me enough security to let my tears flow freely down my cheeks. There is not a living soul to judge me, or so I thought.

I hear footsteps approaching behind me, someone is running toward me, so I turn around and see a breathless Regulus Black standing still, leaning on his knees and signaling to me to wait a second.

I try to wipe away my tears so that he can see that I was crying, but it is too late now, because his expression immediately changes and he seems confused by what he is seeing.

"I don't need your stupid excuses, go back to the others and tell them the bitch is not ready to be insulted by you again." I say trying to distract him as I turn and start walking faster, but a hand grabs my shoulder and makes me turn around.

"Are you crying?" Regulus asks, under his breath, as if even he does not believe the scene before him.

"Has anyone ever told you that you are as sharp as Sherlock Holmes." I say trying to wriggle out of his grip, but he brings his second hand to my face, and wipes away a couple of tears that had reached my chin.

"If it's something I said, I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't want to come and apologize, they forced me, however, I never wanted to make you cry, I was just playing with you." He continues, not caring what I had said. He looks me straight in the eye and I see his sincerity, and I don't know why I start to cry more. He looks at me unsure of what to do, before hugging me. As we are squeezed in that hug I tell him the real reason I was crying and apologize to him for what I had done earlier at the party. As I finish my story, he pulls away from that hold and looks into my eyes again.

"Hey, he's the asshole, not you. And he's also stupid if he didn't see the magnificent person he had beside him." He tells me firmly and sweetly at the same time.

"Says the boy who has been insulting me since we were eleven years old." I reply sarcastically as I stare into his eyes, and I can't lie to myself. I've always thought Regulus is a handsome boy, but damn, right now he looks like a deity come down to earth to teach us what beauty is.

"Hey I may be an asshole, maybe even a little stupid, but it's not like I'm blind." He continues, smiling at me as he looks at my lips. "You know I think I found a more appropriate way to apologize." He whispers as he moves even closer to my lips.

My brain cannot process the moment, everything seems fuzzy. Its scent, fresh mint, coffee and cigarettes, intoxicates me like a drug, and I can't do anything but screw it up to do what my instinct tells me to do.

"Know that it will not be easy to make it up to you for everything you have done to me. You were very, very mean to me." I whisper before kissing him, tired of that game.

I feel like giving my first kiss for the second time. Our lips chase each other, eating each other, needing each other. I feel my hands run through his hair, while his rests on my hips and draws me to him in a death grip.

We continue kissing, and time seems to stop, even the dry leaves seem to stand still in the air, waiting for our future to be drawn, anxious to see our next move.

Eventually we part, to catch our breath, and a faint laugh escapes from my lips.

"Know that I hate you anyway." I tell him and he can't help but chuckle, before taking on a serious look.

"Would you like to come to my house. You know I'd like to apologize for good, and show you that you've had really bad taste in men so far." He says seductively in my ear.

"You have to be careful what you say Black, because it could backfire on you with this sentence." I reply, trying to hide the emotions it is stirring in me.

"No baby, I'm going to show you how a real man should treat you, and not the idiot you used to date." He continues, whispering on my lips, before leaving a light kiss, as light as a butterfly resting gracefully on a flower.

"Know that this does not take away from the fact that I hate you." I reply, still partly in trance after that kiss.

"This just means that I will have to work harder at apologizing." Regulus replies, before stepping back a little, and removing the scarf around his neck, to give it to me. I didn't even notice that I'm shaking, too engrossed in this moment.

"Come on, let's go to my place, it's not too far." Says the boy, putting an arm on my shoulder, thus blocking any possibility of my thinking with his intoxicating scent for the second time this evening. After a few minutes of walking we arrive in front of a dark door, for which young Black quickly pulls out the key to open it.

Once inside the house, I am amazed at how the entire apartment is furnished. Dark furniture stands out against the green and white walls. Soft lights illuminate the rooms, giving it a cozy atmosphere. Every item is meticulously placed in a studied spot, everything is perfect, every note played with the right pitch to create a wonderful harmony.

I am lost in looking around the room when I feel a pair of hands drawing me toward them.

One hand gently removes my scarf, while another turns me around. In Regulus' eyes I see pure pleasure, and this only creates an unpleasant wet feeling in my panties.... We look at each other for a second before pouncing on each other like hungry prey, moving slowly down the stairs and into the bedroom. He pulls me back until I touch the bed with my knees, then drops me down, pulling away from the kiss. I look at him and see his lips red and swollen as he struggles to catch his breath. His hair is messy from my fingers, yet he has never looked more beautiful to me than in this moment. I watch him slowly approach the button of my jeans like a fierce lion studying its prey, and then with a precise and quick gesture, unbutton my pants. In the blink of an eye these lie on the floor, tossed from some indefinite part of the room. The only thing now separating him from his goal is my underwear, but before he can take the next step, I gently place a foot on his chest and look seductively at him.

"Hold your horses Black, if you want to play with me you have to do it right. One garment each at a time, I lost my pants, now you have to take something off." I say looking at him carefully, and he chuckles at my words.

"You can be really obnoxious Potter, you know that?" He asks wryly as he removes his sweatshirt, revealing his bare chest, since he has no shirt underneath. For a moment I am breathless at that ethereal sight. Her white skin glows in the moonlight entering the room. His physique is muscular but not overly so, I can tell he works out a lot and holds himself, but it's also not excessive. I get flashbacks of seeing him practicing Quidditch at Hogwarts shirtless with sweaty hair in the wind, and immediately I find myself having to make the physical effort to not cum in that same instant.

"I try my best." I respond seductively as I watch him lower himself, going on his knees, getting to be at the same level as my pussy.

"Now if you don't mind, I have a promise to keep: to prove that your asshole ex is nothing compared to me." He says before pouncing on me as if I were a feast. I don't have time to respond because he immediately starts kissing my inner thigh, both from the right and the left until he reaches his booty. Slowly, with his teeth, he grabs my panties, leaving a few wet kisses on my skin and making me shiver, and slowly he slides them all the way down my legs.

It is the most terrible, nerve-wracking, and sexy torture I have ever had to endure.

"I thought you were supposed to make it up to me Black, not make me madder." I say in a voice little louder than a sigh as I feel his hot breath on the center of my pleasure.

"Oh baby, I still have to start apologizing, and get ready because I want to do it right." He says, as he caresses the most intimate part of me with his lips. A second later, pure pleasure invades my every sense as he begins to kiss the lips of my pussy. I feel his tongue caressing me, as my hands wriggle in his hair, drawing him ever closer to the center of my pleasure, and with my eyes around his name like a song, between moans and expletives. I hear him smile at my reaction, and just as I was about to respond rudely to him, he increases my torture by adding a finger, taking it in and out of my opening. A few minutes thus pass, me hovering on the edge of pleasure, just as he looks up and shifts slightly. His mouth is completely wet from my pleasure, while I curse for the missed orgasm.

"You'd better finish what you started Black, because I swear that on the contrary you can distantly forget any chance of me being more generous to you." I say, trying to catch my breath.

"I was just catching my breath for the grand finale." He replies with a small smile, seeing my desperation.

"Go fuck yourself."

"I think that's what we're doing baby. What, I'm too good and you're not used to feeling so much pleasure?" He says smiling again as again, he turns me around kissing my entire thigh.

"By Merlin, how I hate you Black." I gasp, between groans.

"Try to convince yourself of this all you want honey, but we both know that right now your orgasms depend on me." And with that he begins his feast again, with more eagerness, and again, in a few minutes I am again on the brink of absolute pleasure, but this time I manage to go further, and for a moment I feel like I can touch the sky with my finger. I feel the blankets tighten between my fingers as I moan his name, almost screaming it, as if I want the world to know who was responsible for so much pleasure.

A few seconds pass, as I try to regain possession of my body and mind, before he speaks again.

"Fuck, that was the sexiest thing I've ever seen." He says giggling, before starting to kiss my body again, slowly, savoring every inch. He pulls off my shirt, as I now recovered from all that unexpected pleasure, taking off my bra. I see him staring at my breasts, before teasing my nipples, one with his tongue and one with his fingers. He bites, sucking my breasts, leaving signs of his passage as I try not to lose myself again in that spiral of pleasure.

"Damn, you don't know how long I've wanted to touch them, taste them, mark them as my own." He says in a gasp, before switching nipples and moving on to the other. Meanwhile then I try to distract him by opening his pants, but as soon as I try to touch his dick, he stops and moves my hand away, looking me straight in the eye.

"Tonight is just for you, not for me, now let me continue and make you feel like the goddess you are." At her words I can't help but hold back a sigh of pleasure.

"Now I understand why everyone was falling at your feet in school, you really have a gift for talking to girls." I say, as I feel his lips go up my neck, leaving me biting and hickeys as he passes.

"Too bad the one girl I really wanted did nothing but blow me off and tell me she hated me." She tells me, before kissing me passionately. Somehow I can still taste myself on his lips, or rather in his mouth, as we explore every nook and cranny of it with our tongues.

"Maybe he was telling you that he hated you, because all he could do was wish to fuck you in the broom closet." I answer between kisses as I hear him take off his underpants and pull down his underwear.

For the first time I realize perhaps truly the situation I am in. Our naked bodies, rubbing against each other, dancing a love dance of their own, as we struggle against each other to win.

He chuckles at my words as he moves to kiss me along my arm, while using his hand to reach over to the nightstand to grab a condom and put it on as he counters.

"And I would rather tell you that I hated you than confess that every night I dreamed of fucking you against a wall." He pauses for a moment, and smiles at me before continuing, with that obnoxious grin of his. "Although I would have said you were more of a quickie in the bathroom type."

"It happened only once, and with a Ravenclaw prick who had already done half my year, while I was half-drunk at a party, after watching you stick your tongue half a foot down the throat of a Hufflepuff slut." I confess by looking into his eyes, and I notice that amidst the pleasure now also shines a spark of astonishment. "Now get a move on, though, Black, for now you're all talk and no action." I continue, with an amused little smile.

"Merlin, if you say one more word, I swear I'll plug your mouth with your panties." He says, taking his dick in his hand, aligning it with my entrance.

"Oh you just have to try, assh- Oh my god!" I try to respond, but he blocks me by entering me overbearingly, immediately I feel my body almost leave the earthly world for pleasure. His dick is bigger than I would have expected, and certainly bigger than my ex's. Immediately he seems to touch all the places that give me the most pleasure, and my mind cannot process a concrete thought.

"I hate you Black." This is the only thing I can say as he is still still inside me, making me get used to his size. "I don't think I can do without your dick from now on, and this is all your fault." I continue as he tries to move slowly, in and out of me, as he murmurs a few dirty words under his breath.

"Oh you are adorable baby." He says before kissing my neck again as he increases the force and speed of his thrusts. "But if you really think I would let you go after this time you are crazy. I hate you too you know, I hate the fact that I am now addicted to this tight, hot, wet pussy of yours. Fuck I think I've found heaven." He gasps near my ear. We continue this dance like this, until a few minutes later, we are almost at the height of pleasure.

"Please Reg, don't stop. I'm cumming:" I plead with him, before stifling my continued moans of pleasure, leaving kisses, bites and hickeys on his neck as my hands scratch his muscular back. I feel him stiffen at my touch.

"Me too baby." He gasps, then increases the speed. A few thrusts, and we both reach orgasm.

We remain still for a moment, enjoying that feeling of pleasure and the warmth of the closeness of our bodies. We don't say a word, let silence fill the space between us, before we kiss again.

This time the kiss is different, not passionate and oozing sex like the others, it is more gentle and sweet, as if through that contact we want to express all those repressed feelings kept inside us all these years and that we cannot describe in words.

He moves from on top of me and lies on his side, while still keeping his arms around my waist. I slowly feel fatigue take possession of me as he gets out of bed to head for the bathroom and get a towel with which my private parts, now too sensitive, in fact a shiver runs down my spine and he seeing it apologizes to me.

When he is finished he lies down again beside me and hugs me, making me feel warm and safe. Just before I fall asleep I look into his eyes and manage to say something.

"You're on the right path to forgiveness, but maybe you need to try a little harder." And he can't help but laugh at those words. "I don't hate you that much anyway, I guess." I continue, as I snuggle against his chest.

"Fortunately." He replies. "Because I don't hate you at all, maybe just the opposite I dare say. "

The next morning I wake up after him. Regulus is already out of bed. He is wearing a pair of sweatpants, and he is shirtless. I can tell right away that he has just gotten out of the shower because I can see his wet hair, however, I can hear him talking to someone on the phone. Feeling my eyes on him he turns and sees that I am awake, and he smiles at me.

"Yes Sirius, I promise I didn't say anything stupid." He says with a bored look on his face as he watches me sit up in bed, my hair still tousled from sleep.

"I apologized, very deeply last night, but I may have to do it one more time to make sure you understand what I meant." She continues to talk to her brother as she gives me a wink and immediately I feel my cheeks go hot from what she said.

"Yes, yes. I love you too. Bye Siri, see you later." He greets his brother as he turns around and then sets the phone down on one of the pieces of furniture next to him, and there I realize all the marks I left on him last night. In the night we then woke up and made love a couple more times. Just thinking about it I feel my pussy getting all wet, even just remembering all that happened.

"I was going to make you breakfast before you woke up but since you are already awake I would suggest you take a shower while I make you breakfast. Is that okay with you?" He asks me, and I can't find my voice to answer him, so I smile and nod. He smiles back, leaving me a kiss on my forehead and then goes downstairs to cook.

I stay in bed for a second and letting out a sigh I realize perhaps for the first time that I hated Regulus Black so much, that I ended up falling in love with him, since the line is so thin that for a long time you can think you are hovering between the two, and only when you land do you realize that you slipped into one of the two worlds long before.

BONUS

Remus watches Sirius talk to his brother on the phone as he asks him if he finally apologized to little Potter. Once the call is over Sirius puts the phone down and looks at his boyfriend.

"They fucked." Remus says, before sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

"They got laid." Sirius confirms, laughing, while Lily, who had stayed over with her boyfriend James, sighs with relief.

"Finally, the situation was becoming unbearable. By now all you could do every time was expect them to jump at each other's throats with a knife or fuck in the guest bathroom." Lily says as she looks at James, who has a horrified look on his face.

"Hey, we're still talking about my little sister!" He says, looking at his friends and his girlfriend.

"Look at it this way, at least now we're really brothers." Try proposing Sirius.

"And probably uncles, too." Remus and Lily say in unison.

No one can hold back a laugh seeing James' horrified face.

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