feral-posts

[feral-posts]

we'll make this place your home

— pairing: poly!marauders x gn!reader

— summary: a very bad family meeting has you coming home angry, but lucky for you, the marauders know just how to handle your wrath

— a/n: this is 100% self indulgent fluff and comfort because it is what i need right now, deal with it

You're huffing before you even cross the door, and whatever was happening before that is just clearly lost. In your defense, you never meant for Remus to hear it, for any of them to hear it. It just escapes, as you kick your boots halfway past the entrance like they were the problem, as you hang your coat as if you could be angry at it.

They all hear you, it's clear, if the eerie silence that falls on the flat could be an indicator of anything, but you think Remus is who hears it first. Or best, you could never tell. You just know that, as soon as you click the door closed and lock it, you're met with your roommate's warm eyes.

He pauses for a minute, mouth hanging open like he was still unprepared for your wrath, and it's a little funny to see Remus in a lack of words for once. It happened to Sirius or James most frequently, you're almost endeared that it got to Remus this time. Your lips curl up in a tense, tight, hint-of-shame smile, and you can see as Sirius slowly puts down the remote after pausing whatever was playing, as if you could annihilate him with a look.

"Dove," He calls, soft as he always starts, before smiling back himself. Simple, warm. Just the dearest, he doesn't back down at your fury. He knows it's not directed at him this time. "What's going on?"

You can almost feel bad about the way he asks it, not like you're being unreasonable — never that —, but as you need to be handled rationally now. Remus is the head from all of you, Sirius always said.

You force yourself to take a deep breath in, and out, like you could physically expel whatever is making you angry right now. Remus can tell by the crease of your brows that it doesn't work a great deal, his palm holding out for you far gentler now.

"Purse?" He asks when you raise him a brow, and you give it to him hesitantly, but he just hangs it at their doorway along with a few of Sirius' and other oddities. "Can you tell us what's been bothering your mind, dove?"

Your look at him is almost apologetic, it would be, if he didn't give you shit for it. "My family." You choose the short answer, the answer that tells them all they need to know, the so called safest option to not owning them further explanation.

"Family." Sirius finally moves from his place over the couch, scoffing as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Bunch of idiots, are they? I could tell them to sod off for you, sweetheart, if you'd like. Please say yes."

"Please, don't." You hear James' voice call from the kitchen, and the low noise of the stove turning back on. Whatever he's cooking smells delicious. You try to walk over to him, but Sirius holds you close in place.

"Don't even think about it, trouble. James can handle the kitchen, you can stay exactly where you are and relax your pretty head." He places a kiss to your temple like he's making the point, before pulling you back to the couch. "I'm so sorry they were awful to you, my baby, how do they dare-"

You can tell he's being mostly dramatic, your eyes rolling to the back of your head, but you appreciate the sentiment nevertheless. "I haven't even told you what it is."

"Uhm, don't need to." He counters, and it's hard for you to argue when he's pressing a kiss to your neck like it's a promise.

"Do you want tea, or would that spoil dinner?" Remus asks, leaning against the cushions to reach for your hand. You let him take it.

"No tea, give me five minutes and come to the bloody kitchen to help me, Moony!" You hear James shout, enough to make you frown. You look at Sirius, like you're mentally debating for it.

"They'll survive a few minutes without us." Sirius says, trying his best to sound persuasive.

"I just feel bad. I was out all day and I couldn't help you." You try, it's true, but it's also a weak argument. You knew that you all had your own appointments, meetings and reunions to attend.

"Sirius and Remus got here not even an hour ago, lovely, don't be harsh on yourself." James says, placing a greeting kiss to your lips as he leans down to give you a plate. "To my favourite person." He says, sitting besides you with a plate of his own and kissing your cheek again.

Your thanking gets drowned as Sirius raises an indignant brow. "Oh, so they're the favourite now? Funny how you didn't seem to think so an hour ago..."

James lets our a warm, loud laugh, his cheeks flustered in the warm light of the living room. "Shut it, Pads. Yes, they're the favourite, most loveliest person, and I argue that their day was arguably the worst here."

You hum, not exactly like an agreement, but it's a lovely sound to hear to James anyway. You smile to Sirius. "Don't listen to him, he loves to please." You say, resting your head on his shoulder for a second.

"Only because you enable him." Remus cuts you, taking a place on the floor with a plate of his own, and leaving another for Sirius at the coffee table. Before any of you could move to give him space, he shushes it. "Tell us how was your day?" He looks at you.

"Uhm, it was nice... Kinda." You begin to recall a couple of highlights from your day. It's the small things, how there's a new movie you'd like to see in theaters, how a child smiled at you, how your coffee was just right and the barista liked your bag. With each thing you tell them, you feel yourself get lighter, as if it's lifting a weight off your shoulders. You purposely avoid the family meeting you flew from, and all of the boys have the decency to not touch the topic.

As you finish, James squeezes your knee. He might not have heard your conversation on the hall, but he knows you enough to know something is wrong. Still, he doesn't dare to say it. He's just, sort of there. And it's all kinds of nice when he pulls you into his arms, despite the warning from Remus to not spill your plates over the couch.

Sirius joins soon enough too, after kindly taking your dishes to the sink and initiating the dishwasher for you. He lays on your free-ish side, and you get the cushions out of the way for him. Remus comes last, crowding the couch completely but for once, you've never felt happier to be squeezed with all of them.

"You know you've got us, right? Who needs anyone else?" Sirius says, giving you as much as tight of a hug as he can in the limited moving space you have available. But it's nice nevertheless, and you know it's what helps him when he's feeling down.

"Who needs everyone else?" You echo with a smile, and in that moment, all smashed in a too-small couch in between them after just having a great dinner, you actually begin to believe in it.

[feral-posts]

Hello! Could I request a poly!marauders and reader where both reader and Remus are laid up in bed or on the couch with migraines together? And the other boys have to convince them to relax and call off work so they can coddle them please?

Thanks for requesting!

cw: migraines, mention of nausea and...hypothetical vomit? no one vomits but it's brought up as a possibility, reader has hair long enough to touch her neck

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“Sirius,” James calls in distress, “they’re revolting.” 

“Mmygod,” Sirius thinks he hears Remus groan, at the same time as you beg, “Shut up.” 

Sirius rounds the corner to your sitting room to find you curled up in one corner of the sofa, your face pressed harshly into a throw pillow, while James has his finger hooked in Remus’ belt loop to prevent him from walking away. 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” James says much more quietly, looking terribly contrite beneath Remus’ glare (which is really quite pathetic, considering Remus seems hardly to have the energy to put much bite into it). “Come on, just sit down.” 

“James,” Remus warns. 

Sirius fans out the two cold gel packs in his hand enticingly. “Can’t have one of these if you’re not lying down.” 

Remus turns his glare to Sirius, but Sirius doesn’t have James’ soft heart. After a few moments, Remus sits down. 

“There you are, lovely,” James praises as Sirius bestows Remus his cool pack, encouraging his head forward so it can lay across his nape. Remus plainly tries not to show his relief, but Sirius hears the soft breath that leaves him as he folds toward his knees. 

You’re silent as Sirius does the same for you, moving your hair away from your neck to smooth the cool pack in its place. “I have to go get ready soon,” you mumble dejectedly. 

“Unless,” Sirius says lightly, “you didn’t.” 

Remus lets out another sigh between his knees. “Time s’it?” 

James checks his watch and shoots Sirius a half-smile. They both know that the closer the two of you get to being late to work, the more persuasive their argument will become. “It’s not important,” James says, victory ringing in his tone. This makes you remove your face from its pillow to look at him suspiciously. 

“It’s not important,” Sirius agrees, “because you’re not going anywhere.” 

You bury your face again. “Yes, I am.” 

“No, you’re not.” 

“I have to.” 

“Says who?” 

“My boss.” 

“Well, I say you have to stay.” 

Sometimes, when you’re as exhausted as you are now, this firm tone will work on you. Sometimes. Unfortunately, this is unlikely to be one of those times, because Remus is also here. 

Remus, who gets up with a ridiculously pitiful old man sound, holding the cold pack to his neck as he starts toward the bedroom. James gets in front of him quickly. 

“Baby,” he says, and Sirius’ eyebrows raise. James is really pulling out the big guns; Remus has to be feeling really poorly to respond well to that one. But James has committed, his eyes big and imploring. “Please. You’ll be miserable at work.” 

“I’m going to be late,” Remus argues, though he doesn’t try to move past James. 

“Well, if that’s the case anyway, why bother?” Sirius shoots him a grin. “You won’t be late if you call out now.” 

Remus lets out a sigh, like he’s sick of making his own argument. “I can’t.” 

“Rem.” Your voice is taut with pain. It makes Sirius want to scoop you up and squeeze you, if only that wouldn’t make everything worse. “I think you should stay home. It’ll make them shut up.” 

“Are you staying?” Remus asks. 

You’re quiet. 

Sirius tsks, placing a hand on your head so he can make circles in your temple with his middle finger. “I’m not shutting up unless you both stay,” he threatens. Albeit in a soft, considerate tone. 

“You don’t even have to call out yourselves,” James tries. Remus looks to be wavering. “We’ll do it for you, since you’re not well.” 

Neither you or Remus reply. You seem to be out of arguments, but Sirius knows better than to think that’ll stop you from walking out the door anyway. He can hear you breathing deep, even breaths into your pillow. 

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, knowing, “are you feeling sick?” 

A long breath out. “A little.” 

“Do you really want to throw up at work?” 

“Please shut up.” 

James gives one final push. “Sirius started a hot bath.” 

Remus looks ready to break first, which Sirius didn’t anticipate. He and James really deserve some sort of medal for this. Sirius holds your boyfriend’s gaze. 

“It’s probably almost full,” he confirms. “I have to go check on it in a second. You can’t go to work and have me put that minty shampoo in your hair at the same time, love.” 

Remus sighs, and Sirius knows they’ve won. “Dove,” he mumbles. You turn your head from the pillow once more, looking so terribly unwell that Sirius has to bite pack a whine. Remus says with an air of resignation, “I’ll stay if you do.” 

They all look to you. 

“We have triptans here,” James coaxes. “Cold packs. Bed. Peppermint tea.” 

Your eyes shut. “Fine.” 

It’s a testament to how well trained James and Sirius are that they don’t jump up and cheer. They do a version of that, exchanging giant smiles that make Remus look at them like he’s regretting his choice already, but James starts ushering him away before he can change his mind. 

“Let’s go have your bath,” he says. “That warm water will feel nice, yeah?” 

“I’m begging you to be quiet,” Remus replies, not unaffectionately. 

Sirius watches you watch them go. “Hey,” he says softly, waiting for you to look at him. “Can I kiss you?” 

You make a low hum of complaisance. Sirius bends, touching his lips gently (but quite fervently) to the corner of your mouth. 

“Thank you for looking after yourself,” he murmurs, “and after Remus. We’ll make it worth your while, I swear.” 

“M’not really doing anything,” you mumble in reply. “You’re the ones looking after us.” 

Sirius smiles at you, fighting hard to repress the urge to kiss you again. “Good of you to let us. What do you need, lovely? Something for your stomach? Peppermint tea?” 

You make a quiet, plaintive sound at the idea that he might get up to go and retrieve any of those things, closing your hand around his wrist. “Keep doing this, please?” 

“This?” He drills his finger into your temple more firmly. 

You melt, your grip slackening. “Yeah,” you sigh. “That.” 

Sirius’ heart swells. He gives into a tiny indulgence, pressing a kiss over his own finger. “You got it.” 

[feral-posts]

hi mae !

not sure if i've requested this before or not, so bear with me haha. my memory is a bit fuzzy.

i struggle deeply with my mental health and have been hospitalized twice over it. things have been thankfully looking up since my second hospitalization but i still have days/moments where the world feels like it's crumbling.

just looking to see if you'd be comfortable writing poly!marauders comforting a reader who might've been recently hospitalized or has trouble adjusting to life after deciding to work on taking care of herself. (for example, getting into regular daily routine like eating/basic hygiene is so weird after ignoring it for so long !)

maybe some crying and just fluff. your poly!marauders is really so special to me and i hold it close to my heart.

no worries if you're not comfortable writing this :)

xoxo

Thank you for your request angel <3

cw: the circumstances are vague but its implied that reader has trouble taking care of herself, some insecurity around self-sufficiency and around poor hygiene

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

It’s rare for you and James to be the last out of bed. In fairness, you think he’s only here to entice you out. James has already gone and come back, with strawberries which Remus is using to make you all muffins. He’s mincing and measuring and mixing laboriously in your kitchen. Sirius loves you all more than he pretends, because he dragged himself out of bed at the thought that Remus might be lonely, and now you can hear the low sounds of their lovesick murmuring from down the hall. James took off his clothes to get back under the covers with you and seems to be sneakily trying to tickle you awake with his mouth underneath your jaw. You refuse to open your eyes. 

“You’re so awake,” says James. 

“I’m not.” 

“You’re so, so awake.” He buzzes his lips against your skin. You have to bite down on your lower lip. “And you’re laughing.” 

“I am not.” 

“You want to.” James kisses the spot before ending your torment, pressing a kiss to your lips as well. “What’re you thinking about, lovely?” 

You hum, contemplative. “I’m thinking that we need to get Remus a proper mixer.” 

“We really do.” He rests his face in your neck again. “I do like watching him stir, though. It makes his forearms look really…well, you know.” 

“That’s not a good enough reason to force labor on him,” you say, though you do know and are selfishly inclined to agree. 

“No, you’re right,” James sighs. It fans warmly over your skin. “Hey, can I ask you something without it being, like, a thing?” 

Your eyes open now, though you can’t really see him where he’s tucked beneath your chin. “Yeah,” you say cautiously. 

“It’s not a big deal. I just don’t want you to be embarrassed. It’s not embarrassing, but I don’t want you to think that I think it is, if that makes sense.” 

“Okay…” 

“I think you’re lovely, you know that, right? So, it doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not a criticism.” James is rambling now, nervously, and you’re growing nervous along with him. “I just don’t want to keep things from you, because, well, sometimes you have to ask people you love strange things, you know? But that doesn’t make them mean anything more than they really do.” 

“James,” you cut him off. You feel him stop breathing, a stillness beside your neck. “What is it?” 

“Okay, sorry.” He presses a soft kiss to your skin. “I’m just wondering, have you showered lately?” 

It takes you a second. Half of one, really, and then you’re covering your face with your hands, turning away from your boyfriend in mortification. 

“Hey, hey.” James wraps a hand around your hip, keeping you close. “Angel, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal.” 

“Oh my god,” you moan into your hands. Your face feels roaring hot. “I just—I forgot. Like, I forgot I even have to.” 

“I know, lovely. It’s a lot to keep track of, yeah? It is, and that’s why I thought I’d mention it to you. Not because it’s a problem, just because I thought you might not have remembered.” 

It’s not a lot to keep track of, though. It shouldn’t be. Your boyfriends cope with it all just fine, eating and washing themselves and exercising and managing to keep tabs on you on top of all of it. You don’t understand why it seems so much harder for you than for everyone else. 

James can tell you’re about to cry. He makes a soft, doting noise, hugging you as best he can and pressing his cheek to where your hand covers your face.

“It’s okay,” he promises you. “It really is.”

“I’m so sorry,” you mumble. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize. What do you have to be sorry for?” 

“I must smell.” 

“You don’t—” James starts to laugh, choking it off quickly. “You don’t smell. I didn’t ask you because you smell, I just asked because I realized I didn’t think I remembered you showering the last few days. You’re fine, okay, look.” 

Though you can’t see him, you’re aware of movement, and suddenly very aware that James’ face is in your armpit. It’s brief, no more than the time it takes your body to seize up in horror, and then he’s back above you. Your hands have fallen away from your face in shock. 

“Yeah,” he says definitively, “you’re good.” 

“James!” Your tone wavers between dismay and a delighted sort of fondness, which is a decent measure of the rest of you. 

“You’re fine, my love,” he says, and there’s nothing wavering about James’ earnestness. He rubs up and down your side lovingly. “It doesn’t matter. Please don’t be upset, okay?”

You’re still blinking up at him, trying to get your emotions in order, when Sirius comes trudging down the hall. He has a throw from the sitting room around his shoulders and a telling bit of strawberry muffin batter smeared on the side of his nose. 

“James, if you want orange juice, you’re going to have to squeeze it yourself, because—” He falters as he enters, taking in your wet eyes and James’ conciliating hand on your middle. “What’s wrong? What’ve you done to her?” 

The last part is said in jest—it’s usually a safe assumption that James is the last person who would upset any of you—but your boyfriend’s expression turns so terribly guilty that Sirius looks like he regrets the joke. He squeezes James’ arm as he clambers onto the bed with you two, a furrow between his brows. 

“What?” he asks again. 

You sigh and decide to make light of it. “I stink.” 

Sirius’ frown worsens at this. Then, quick as anything, he casually bends and sticks his nose in your armpit, sniffing. You feel your eyes pop. 

“No, you don’t,” he says. 

“What is with you two?”

“Why would you think that you stink?” Sirius asks. His forefinger brushes underneath your lashes, collecting the lingering moisture like he just can’t abide it. “Not that I would mind if you did, of course, but it’s an odd thing to fixate on with no evidence.” 

“I told her she doesn’t,” James says, slumping down onto your chest. He seems happy to share in the labor explaining this to you. “It’s only been a little while since she showered, but now she’s worried she’s disgusting.” 

“Why would you wonder if I’d showered if I didn’t smell?” you ask. 

“Oh.” Sirius nods, as though this now all makes sense. “Because he’s obsessed with you, obviously. We all are. You think I don’t know how many times this week James has been to the gym?” 

James’ eyebrows lift. “Now, why are you keeping track of that?” 

But you only frown, because, actually, you knew that too. But that’s not difficult to keep track of. It’s always plain when you get up in the morning and there’s a half-finished protein shake on the counter, James’ bag missing from its spot by the door. 

“Or are you trying to tell me you don’t know how far Remus is through his puzzle?” 

You shake your head. “It’s on the coffee table, I can see it.” 

“Right,” says Sirius, “but we notice those things because we love them. So James didn’t have to smell you to know you hadn’t showered. He just noticed.”

Your gaze slinks back to James, shame a worm eating away at your middle. “I’m sorry that you notice and I don’t.” 

“Sweetheart, you only forgot,” James says gently. “I don’t mind. You’re doing your best, yeah?” 

You worry your lip. It doesn’t seem like it can be your best, if everyone else manages it as their baseline. Sirius tsks and takes your hand, tugging you up and James with you. 

“You are.” He mushes a kiss to your temple as he drags you out of bed. “I can tell. We all slip up sometimes, baby, it’s fine. There’s no sense in agonizing over it. Come have breakfast.” 

The smell wafting from the kitchen is warm and sweet. Remus’ muffins are still in the oven, and he allows James to kiss him good morning only thrice before begging off and letting the James stay with his arms around his middle. 

“Are they tormenting you?” Remus murmurs, plainly amused by James’ uncharacteristic pouting.

“Yes.” James hugs Remus tighter, nuzzling his throat with entirely characteristic clinginess. “Save me from them, please.” 

“He tormented her first,” says Sirius. 

“I didn’t mean to,” James laments. 

Remus clicks his tongue, still holding James but looking to you. You shrug. “He delivered a hard truth,” you say, “but they both stuck their faces in my armpits, which was worse than anything.” 

“Oh.” Remus appears appropriately thrown by this information. “Yeah, that’s…why?” 

“Shut up, you liked it.” Sirius squeezes you meanly. “Don’t listen to her, Moony. I’d sniff your armpit, too.”  

“I’m alright,” Remus says cautiously. “I don’t really see why you would have to, either?” 

“Circumstances arise,” James mumbles into his front. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

[feral-posts]

the one where some bloke kisses your boyfriend

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who wakes up from anesthesia [1.3k words]

a/n: I've been craving hospital fics lately and also haven't written for moonwater in so long so.... voila! 🤭

CW: hospitals, reference to IV line, reader is discombobulated, fluff

Your body feels cold on the inside, as if there’s ice water being pumped through your veins leaving your skin hot but your blood running cold. You wonder if that should concern you, but you can’t seem to find it in you, what with the rhythmic beeping coming from some machine to the side of your bed. 

You were just beginning to grow accustomed to the feeling of your chest rising and falling under the thin blankets when the door to your room opens.

“Oh-” a curly headed bloke murmurs, all but tossing the various snacks he’d been carrying on a few uncomfortable looking chairs to free his hands before coming to stand beside your bed. He’s handsome; sweet looking, with black ringlets that are desperate to be long enough to tuck behind his ears but aren’t quite, dark and perfectly arched eyebrows drawn together in the middle on your behalf as his grey eyes scan your face. “Have you been awake long?”

You weren’t aware you’d ever been asleep, but your attention is drawn instead to the way his hand gently encircles your own, careful of an IV line expertly taped on the back of your hand. 

“I’m not sure.” You offer; the words rough and grating, ripping through your throat before they force their way out of your sandpaper mouth. His brows twitch closer together sympathetically as a tsking sound escapes him. 

“I’m so sorry, my love; we wanted to be here when you woke up.” 

He uncaps a bottle of water he seems to have procured out of thin air and brings it to your lips, and you find that you can’t really bring yourself to question the intimacy of the moment when your mouth feels so dry. His hold on the back of your head is reverent, laying it gently back down on the pillow when you finish drinking. 

“How’re you feeling?” He asks, setting the water bottle down on a rolling tray table beside your bed and perching on the edge; your hand officially being held hostage between his two delicate ones. 

“I feel…weird.” You admit warily; it doesn’t seem too concerning to the bloke, though, who merely nods at you as if that was expected.

“You’ll feel better soon, amour. Everything went really well.” 

You get the sense this is meant to be reassuring, but the rhythmic beeping that was coming from your side is starting to be more cause for anxiety than its former relaxation. You’re embarrassed when you flinch as the bloke moves to wipe some baby hairs away from your forehead; you’re mortified that he notices. 

“Are you alright?”

“Are we- why are you here?” You blurt, too thrown by the apparent intimacy that the two of you share – or, that he seems to think the two of you share, at the very least – to carefully consider your words. 

“I’ve been here the whole time, Y/N. We only left to get some snacks for when you woke up.” 

You don’t have time to get caught up on the we of that sentence, almost scrutinizing him when he readjusts the blankets around you as a shiver shakes your frame. 

And then you spot a beaded bracelet on his wrist.

“Reg.” You narrate; the familiar feeling of the name on your lips filling in a few more blanks. “You’re Regulus.”

Regulus’ shoulders fall in semi-relief, though he seems rather crest-fallen to learn that you feel rather disoriented. 

“You’re having a hard time remembering me, aren’t you?” He concludes, smiling sadly at you when you nod your head in the affirmative. “I’m sorry, amour; that must’ve been kind of scary.”

“Not too scary; you seemed nice enough.” You placate, surprised when this elicits a sharp, surprised laugh from him. You get the feeling such blatant and spontaneous displays of emotion don’t happen often for him. 

“Well that’s good; I’m very glad.”

The two of you fall into a comfortable albeit shy silence; the beeping coming from your side returning to a more relaxed cadence as you watch Regulus’ thumb brush soothing strokes just above the tape on your hand that you’ve only just decided is really very itchy. 

“Do you have any other questions?” He asks gently, bending ever so slightly in an attempt to meet your eyes. 

“Are we…together?”

He smiles as if he knew that was going to be your question, but his cheeks gain a dusting of pink regardless. 

“Yes, we’re together.”

You fight the urge to fidget with the threadbare blanket. “You’re my boyfriend?” 

He nods with a smile, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it. You’ve never wanted to rip something off of yourself more than you wanted to pull at the IV, catheter and veins be damned. “And you’re my girlfriend.” 

You let out a breath of relief, feeling yourself settle further into the bed now that your present company doesn’t leave you with so many questions. 

Your eyes begin to grow heavy, and you’re only just realizing that the soothing strokes of Regulus’ fingers are not entirely innocent as your body melts further and further into the hospital bed until the door opens again to expose another, taller bloke with bottles of water and fizzy drinks in his arms. 

“I didn’t know what kind you’d want so I got a few options; I’m sure one of these will appeal to Y/N when she wakes up.” He explains, his gaze pointed at the beverage haul as he clumsily sets them down on a chair next to the one holding the snacks.

He moves towards the bed to press a lingering kiss to the crown of Regulus’ head – an affectionate arm wrapping itself around Regulus’ smaller frame as he pulls him into his side – before he realizes that you’re awake.

That you’re awake, and all but glaring at him. 

There’s a vague part of you somewhere deep in your psyche that tells you this is no cause for concern, but you’re pretty sure other blokes aren’t meant to be kissing your boyfriend. 

“Hi, sweetheart. How long have you been up?”

You feel your brows furrow further, and Regulus answers on your behalf. 

“Not too long, I don’t think. She may have just woken up before I got back.” 

The taller man hums as he affectionately squeezes your hand sitting atop Regulus’; the beeping beside you performing another crescendo as your eyes flit between the two boys. 

“Remus is your boyfriend too, amour.” Regulus placates with a teasing smile. “You’re alright.” 

“What?” Remus asks; his brows mirroring yours as he looks between the two of you warily. 

“I just had to explain to her that I’m her boyfriend and then you came barging in and kissed me.” Regulus explained dryly, though it’s clear that he enjoys pretending to be chiding. 

Remus laughs, reaching blindly behind him to pull a chair towards the edge of your bed, never letting go of your hand in the process. “I’m sorry, dovey; I didn’t mean to confuse you.” 

You feel like you might simultaneously shrink and bloom under the weight of his honeyed eyes and the somewhat familiar moniker falling from his lips; your blinks growing heavier once again as you fall into a content, comfortable silence save the rhythmic beeping beside you. 

You find that you don’t want to close your eyes, though; you have gold and silver ones to admire.

As if reading your mind, Remus brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles in almost the exact same place Regulus had moments before. “We’ll be here when you wake up, dove. Go back to sleep.”

It seems a shame to waste your time looking at the back of your eyelids instead of the two boys in front of you, but the beeping seems to slow and lulls you further into sleep’s welcoming embrace; intricate lines of morse code telling you that you have nothing to worry about, you can stare at them later.

© ellecdc; do not copy, translate, or repost my work anywhere under any circumstances.

[feral-posts]

Ghost Hunter!Marauders x New Recruit Reader (pt.1)

You’re trapped in a haunted hospital with Sirius. The lights go out. Something’s whispering your name.

Wordcount: 3.5k

You arrive ten minutes early. Because you're responsible, or nervous, or both. Probably both.

The building is nothing like what you expected. You imagined sleek, high-tech headquarters, maybe a hidden underground bunker with glowing maps and steel hallways. Instead, you’re staring at a rickety, two-story Victorian house with peeling paint, lopsided windows, and a brass plaque on the gate that reads:

The Department of Paranormal Affairs, Subdivision 7: Spirit Intervention Unit

Underneath, someone’s scratched in:

Graveyard Shift

You shift on your feet, clutching your file folder tighter. The wind bites even though it’s early September, and you swear the shadows near the porch steps moved a second ago.

Just as you're about to turn and bolt, the door swings open.

"You lost or just brooding?"

You look up. The man in the doorway has messy dark hair, a crooked grin, and a bomber jacket half-zipped over a threadbare t-shirt. He squints at you like he’s debating whether you’re a threat or just an inconvenience.

"Uh," you stammer, "I– I'm the new recruit. I was told to report here?"

He gives you a once-over, slow and deliberate. Then steps aside, muttering, “Well, shit. Good luck.”

You step inside, the door creaking behind you. The air smells like old wood, coffee, and something faintly metallic. You're halfway through admiring the chaotic, book-filled front room when a voice calls out:

"Sirius, don’t scare the rookies on day one."

Another man enters from a side hallway, looking more put-together: button-up shirt rolled at the sleeves, glasses perched on his nose, clipboard in hand.

Sirius shrugs. “Wasn’t scaring her. Just warning.”

“You must be Y/N,” the new guy says, offering a handshake. His grip is warm, firm. “James Potter. Welcome to Subdivision Seven.”

"Nice to meet you," you say, glancing around. "I thought there’d be more... people."

"Oh, there are," James says, “They all quit.”

You blink, unsure if he’s serious.

"Kidding," Sirius mutters from behind you. “Mostly.”

Before you can process that, yet another person enters the room. He moves quieter than the others, a stack of files tucked under one arm and a coffee mug balanced precariously on top. His eyes flick up to you briefly, then back down.

“That’s Remus,” James says. “He does the real work.”

"Hi," you offer.

"Hello," Remus says, not looking up.

“And that’s the team,” James says cheerfully. “Come on, let’s show you around.”

You follow James through a maze of mismatched halls, Sirius trailing behind like a shadow that whistles. The building feels bigger on the inside– like every door opens into a place it shouldn’t. You pass a stairwell that seems to lead nowhere, a flickering overhead light that hasn’t stopped buzzing since 1973 (according to a scrawled Post-it), and a portrait of a woman who definitely turns her head to follow you. James is talking, explaining protocols– check-ins, assignments, the “don’t touch anything unless you want to die” rule– but your brain only half-processes his words. The place has a pulse. You swear you can feel it– humming faintly beneath the floorboards, brushing against your ankles like fog.

Eventually, you’re led into what might’ve once been a sunroom, now converted into a sort of headquarters-slash-lounge-slash-evidence-dumping-zone. There’s a corkboard sagging under the weight of red string and ghost photos. A worn couch. A whiteboard with “FIELD INCIDENTS” scrawled at the top, underneath which someone’s drawn a crude sketch of Sirius being slapped by a ghost with a frying pan.

Remus is already there, perched on the arm of the sofa with his files in his lap, flipping through one as he sips coffee. He glances up as you enter, his gaze sharper this time. Measured. “So what’s her assignment?”

James drops the clipboard on the table. “Training week starts tomorrow, but she’s coming on recon tonight. Just observation.”

Remus raises a brow. “Tonight?”

“Emergency call from Midwick Hospital,” Sirius answers, dropping onto the couch like he owns it. He throws an arm over the back, stretches his legs out, and grins at you like he knows something you don’t. “Lovely little place. Shut down in ’93 after a fire broke out. Spirits have been flaring up all week. Someone’s gotta babysit the ghosts.”

“You’re bringing her to Midwick?” Remus asks, tone flat.

“She won’t even leave the van,” James says. “We just do a sweep, collect readings, go home. Easy.”

“And if it’s not easy?” Remus shoots back.

James shrugs. “Then we improvise.”

By the time the sun dips below the horizon, you’re sitting in the passenger seat of a rusting black van labeled 'Pest Control', with duct tape over the 'P.' Sirius is driving, naturally. He plays loud music the whole way there– something fast, something grungy– and sings along like you’re not gripping your seatbelt for dear life.

Midwick rises from the darkness like something out of a fever dream– an old red-brick hospital swallowed by trees, its windows hollowed out like sockets. The fence is chained, but Sirius cuts it with bolt cutters and a grin. James handles the equipment. Remus clips a flashlight to his coat and murmurs something under his breath that sounds like Latin. You trail behind them, heart pounding louder than your footsteps.

Inside, the hospital is cold. Not just chilly– wrong. Like the air is thick with things unsaid. The walls are peeling, papered with mildew and graffiti. Old beds lie upturned in corners, and your flashlight flickers twice before stabilizing.

They start their sweep. You stay close. You’re supposed to observe, but something keeps pulling at your attention– like the way the shadows seem to move just a second too late.

An hour in, James gets a call and steps outside to take it, promising he’ll be right back. Remus continues checking the wards, moving with careful precision. You’re in an old surgical room when Sirius wanders off down a hallway lined with broken light panels. You hesitate for a moment before following.

“Sirius?” you call.

“Back here,” comes his voice, echoing oddly. You round a corner and find him standing by a rusted elevator, flashlight aimed at the crack between its doors.

“You okay?”

He glances over his shoulder, smirking. “Why? Worried about me already?”

Before you can reply, the lights go out.

Not a flicker– die.

The silence is instant, suffocating. You freeze. Your flashlight won’t turn on. Neither will Sirius’s. The corridor is thick with darkness, so dense you can’t see your own hand.

Then–

whisper.

Your name.

Soft. Dragged out. Like breath over glass.

You go still. The air shifts around you, and Sirius is suddenly closer, his hand brushing yours in the dark.

“You heard that too,” he mutters, low. Not teasing now. Not even a little.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “What is it?”

His fingers wrap around your wrist, firm and steady. “Don’t panic.”

“Too late,” you whisper.

There’s a clatter behind you– metal on tile. You spin, but there’s nothing. Only more dark. More whispering.

Sirius shifts closer until his arm is nearly around you. “Stay with me, rookie,” he murmurs. “And whatever happens– don’t answer when it says your name.”

“But why–”

“It’s not you it wants,” he says, voice barely audible now. “It’s whoever you used to be.”

You nod without realizing it, breath shallow, fingers curling into Sirius’s jacket as the shadows press closer. There’s a sound behind you again– closer this time. The slow squeak of rubber soles on tile. Someone walking. Someone who shouldn’t be. You’re frozen for a heartbeat, two, three– then Sirius moves, pulling you back with him until your spine hits the wall.

“Where’s Remus?” you whisper. “Where’s James?”

“Probably still outside,” he mutters. “Reception’s shit in here. Can’t call them.”

The footsteps stop. Just beyond the corridor turn. Whoever– or whatever– is there, it knows you know.

“Sirius,” you whisper, clutching his sleeve tighter. “I want to leave.”

“We will,” he says. “Just– stay calm, okay? This kind of thing, it feeds off nerves. If you lose it, it gains more ground.”

He sounds calm, but you can feel the tension in him– how tightly wound he is, how his breathing’s gone shallow like yours. The darkness shifts again, and this time it’s not just sound. Something brushes past your leg. Cold. Weightless.

Sirius shoves you behind him instinctively, stepping forward. “Not tonight,” he mutters to the dark. “You’ve had your fun.”

Silence.

Then, your name again. Sharper now. Close. It echoes off the walls, but you can feel it– in your ear, in your skull. It’s saying it like it knows you. Like it remembers.

“What is that?” you whisper.

"Residual attachment," Sirius says, his voice calm but laced with something darker. "Some spirits cling to names. Memory, emotion. You probably brushed up against something when you walked in. Looked at the wrong photo. Stood in the wrong spot."

“I didn’t do anything–”

“I know,” he replies, firm but reassuring. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes they pick. Sometimes they choose you because you remind them of someone they’ve lost. Or someone they want to punish.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “And we’re just standing here?”

“No,” he says, with a hint of humor, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small tin. He flicks it open. Salt. “We’re surviving.”

He pours a circle around your feet, movements practiced, murmuring something under his breath that doesn’t sound like Latin– older, rougher.

Then– something shifts. The air grows thick, a pressure swirling like a storm in the room. The darkness folds inward, as if bending to some unseen force. And then– ding. The elevator behind you.

Both of you freeze.

“No one called it,” you say, eyes wide.

“Yeah,” Sirius mutters, voice tight. “That’s kind of the point.”

The doors creak open with an unnerving groan, like metal scraping against metal. Inside, nothing. Just void. But you feel it. Something in there. Something ancient.

“I’m not going in there,” you whisper, the words barely leaving your throat.

“Good,” Sirius says, his grin wild. “Because I am.”

You grab his arm, panic clawing at your chest. “Are you crazy?”

“A little bit,” he says with a wink, shaking you off gently. “But it’s part of the job.”

He steps forward, flashlight in hand. The beam flickers– once, twice– then steadies. For a brief second, you see it. In the elevator mirror. Behind him.

A figure. A white dress. Hollow eyes.

Not Sirius.

You scream.

He spins around, but there's nothing there– just his reflection.

The scream shatters the silence. The whispers return, louder, mocking, circling around you. You stumble backward, tripping over something soft. Something that feels… wrong.

You look down. It's a patient chart. With your name. And a date of death.

Sirius is beside you in an instant, yanking the chart from your hands, tearing it in half without even reading. "Nope. Don’t do that. It’s lying."

“But it had my–”

"I told you," he interrupts, his voice low, “it’s not you it wants.”

The walls groan. The lights above flicker, then hold. In the brief flash of light, you see all the doors on the ward are open.

All of them.

And something is stepping out of each one.

Sirius grabs your hand. “Change of plan. We’re running.”

You run.

You sprint through the corridor, past the elevator, past the open doors, the shadows lurking beyond. You don’t look back. You just follow him, feet pounding against the cold tiles, heart a hammer in your chest.

You burst out through a side door and into the night air, collapsing in the gravel beside the van. Remus stands there, flashlight steady, calm as ever.

“Took your time,” he remarks.

“We had company,” Sirius gasps, leaning back against the van. He looks at you then, and for the first time tonight, his smile falters.

“You good?”

You nod, though your hands are still shaking.

Remus crouches beside you, his tone gentler than before. “First night’s always the hardest,” he says. “You survived. That’s what matters.”

James appears from behind the van, looking half concerned, half annoyed. “I leave for ten minutes–”

“Don’t,” Sirius warns, hauling himself upright. “Not the time.”

You stand slowly, legs unsteady. Your palms are scraped. Your heart is still racing.

Sirius watches you, expression unreadable. Then, quieter than before, he says, “Next time, stay closer. I almost lost you in there.”

You blink at him. “There’s going to be a next time?”

He grins– wild, reckless, real. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “Welcome to the Graveyard Shift.”

…

You barely sleep that night.

Curled on the threadbare mattress in the guest room, you try to drown out the whispers with the pillow around your ears. It doesn’t help. The voice comes again. Soft. Familiar. Your own.

You can’t escape it.

Around three a.m., you give up. You pad barefoot down the creaky hallway, your steps slow and hesitant. The dim light beneath the door of the common room flickers. You knock once, too tired to care about interrupting.

“Come in,” comes the voice.

Sirius.

You open the door.

He’s sprawled across the couch, long legs draped over the coffee table, a book open on his chest, mug in hand. His hair is a mess, his eyes heavy, like he hasn’t slept either. The fire in the hearth is low, casting a soft warmth across the room.

When he sees you, something shifts in his face– not alarm, not annoyance– just concern, subtle and fleeting.

“You look like hell,” he says.

“I feel like hell.”

You shut the door behind you and cross the room, sinking into the other side of the couch. He doesn’t say anything, just nudges the blanket toward you and sets his mug down.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, voice soft.

You shake your head. “It kept whispering.”

“The ghost?”

“My own voice.”

Sirius goes still for a moment. When he speaks again, his voice is softer, more serious. “That happens. Sometimes. When a spirit tries to root itself.”

“Root itself?”

“They latch on. Try to dig in deep. Names are powerful. If it keeps saying yours, it’s not random.”

You pull the blanket tighter around you. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He rubs his face, pausing. “It means we need to look into it.”

Silence settles between you. The crackling fire is the only sound for a moment. Then Sirius shifts slightly, turning toward you. “Hey.”

You look up.

“You did good today.”

Your laugh is bitter. “I screamed. I tripped. I panicked. I almost got you killed.”

He snorts. “Please. You think I haven’t had worse nights? You didn’t bolt. You didn’t break. You stayed with me.”

You look down at your hands, suddenly uncertain. “I felt like I was breaking.”

“Yeah. That’s the job sometimes.”

There’s something different in his voice now. No teasing. No bravado. It hits you before you can stop it.

“I thought I was going to die in there.”

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t brush it off.

“I know,” he says, his voice quiet. “That’s why I stayed close.”

You look up, surprised. “You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, but there’s a weight to it now. “I wanted do.”

The room feels different now– heavy in the best way.

The room hums with quiet for a beat too long. Then he shifts again, grabs something off the table and hands it to you. A dog-eared folder, thick with papers.

“What’s this?” you ask, confused.

“Hospital records. That wing you got stuck in? the fire from '93 broke out inside there. No survivors. But some of the names on these records? They’re still showing up. Even though they died decades ago.”

Your brow furrows. “Why are they still here?”

“Unfinished business. Curses. Or maybe,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “they were never meant to leave.”

You shiver.

Without a word, he pulls off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders.

“I’m fine,” you protest.

“Shut up,” he mutters, his voice softer than usual. “You’re freezing.”

You let it happen.

An hour later, you fall asleep, curled into the couch with Sirius’s jacket wrapped around you, the file still clutched in your lap.

Sirius doesn’t move. He just watches the fire burn low, eyes darting over the shadows– just in case they start whispering again.

...

The silence when you wake is wrong. The fire’s gone out. Sirius is gone.

Then, you hear it again.

Your name. Soft, breathless.

“Y/N…”

You scramble out of bed, voice thin, desperate. “Sirius?” you call, but there’s no answer.

Just the whisper.

“Y/N…”

It’s coming from upstairs.

You hesitate. Heart pounding. You want to scream. You want to run. But Sirius wouldn’t have left you. Not unless he had a reason.

So you move. Step after step, up the crooked stairs, through the narrow hallway where the shadows feel too thick.

The voice coils down the hall like smoke. You follow it to the end, to the old linen closet. The door creaks open.

A hand grabs your wrist.

You freeze, your heart skipping a beat. But it’s Sirius, eyes wild, breath shallow.

“Don’t,” he whispers.

“What– what is it?”

“I don’t know, but it’s not human. It seems like it followed us from the hospital.”

You shudder, the fear settling deep in your bones.

He pulls you back, closer to the stairs. “Come on,” he says, voice tight with urgency. “We’re leaving.”

You’re about to ask him why, but then you hear it again.

That voice.

“Y/N…”

And now you know, without a doubt. It’s not human.

Your stomach lurches.

Sirius pulls you against the wall, his whisper urgent. “I woke up and you were gone. I heard it too– your voice. I followed it upstairs, saw you walking toward this door, but– Y/N, I swear to God– I also saw you standing at the bottom of the stairs, watching yourself go.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t you.”

The knob turns.

Sirius shoves you behind him, his posture defensive.

The door creaks open– slow, deliberate. At first, there’s nothing. Just the stench of rot. Dust. A hum that rattles in your ears.

Then something crawls out.

You can’t see it– just the blur of limbs, a smear of darkness that shifts like it’s submerged underwater. It moves forward, its voice distorted, echoing in your head.

“Y/N… come closer…”

Sirius fumbles in his pocket, pulling out a tiny silver charm. “Get behind me and don’t let go.”

You do, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

He mutters something under his breath, a Latin phrase that makes the air crackle with power. The charm flickers to life, glowing faintly– moonlight soaked in silver. The thing hisses, recoiling as if burned, but it doesn’t vanish.

Instead, it laughs.

It sounds just like you.

Sirius throws the charm– dead aim, straight into the thing’s chest.

The hallway erupts in blinding white light.

You hit the floor hard, your ears ringing. When you open your eyes, the air is different. Lighter. The thing is gone. The closet door is left ajar, empty.

Sirius crouches beside you, gripping your shoulder firmly. “You good?”

You nod, breath shaky. “What– what was that?”

He hesitates. “A mimic. Nasty spirit. Feeds on fear. Gets stronger every time you listen.”

You glance at the door. “Why was it in my voice?”

“Because you listened.”

You sit there for a long moment, heart still hammering in your chest. Then, barely above a whisper, you say, “Thanks for coming after me.”

Sirius gives you a crooked half-smile. “Always.”

Slowly, you rise, your legs still unsteady. He steadies you, his hand lingering on your arm.

“Come on,” he says, a touch of humor in his voice. “I think we’ve had enough paranormal bonding for one night.”

You manage a weak laugh.

The two of you make your way downstairs. The lights are still out, the fire long cold, and the house groans with age, but–

You don’t feel alone anymore.

You don’t know what tomorrow will bring.

But tonight? You survived.

With Sirius Black by your side.

And he didn’t let go. Not once.

…

Back downstairs in the lounge, James hands you a steaming mug of tea. Sirius sprawls on the couch and, with a grin, declares you "not useless." Remus disappears upstairs with the case files.

You sit in stunned silence.

"So," James asks, leaning casually against the counter, "Still want to work here?"

You think of the flying books, the shrieking ghost, the way Sirius pulled you from danger without hesitation. You remember the way Remus had looked– furious– when he saw you bleeding from a simple paper cut.

You take a long sip of tea.

“Yeah,” you say. “I do.”

James grins widely. “You’ll fit right in.”

A/n) Buckle up y'all cause I have a whole series planned for ghost hunter!marauders x reader

[feral-posts]

No I love you? - Hogwarts Legacy Modern AU

You forget to say I love you back before hanging up. Tags: Fluff, Seb, Garreth, & Poppy being dramatic lol. Pairings: Sebastian x reader, Ominis x reader, Garreth x reader, Leander x reader, Amit x reader, Natty x reader, Imelda x reader, Poppy x reader. (No Anne, Andrew, or Everett today, sorry! <3.)

a/n: WOWWWW IT HAS BEEN A DANG MINUTE. To be honest, this is not my best work and I'm a little rusty but I hope you all enjoy regardless!! 💕

hope you all enjoyed! taglist in the comments! 👇

[feral-posts]

Hello love!! Im obsessed with your writing and was stoked to see your requests open🧡!

I love oblivious reader and was thinking poly!marauders x oblivious! reader who sees all their friends pairing off and establishing their careers and feels stuck in a rut. Like theyre in the same place they were last year, and doesn't realize theyre living in domestic bliss with the marauders (like they thought theyve been dating and reader is like what? we dont just kiss platonically?)

hi darling! thankyou for requesting! I loved this request. <3

poly!marauders x reader who kiss, but like... platonically right? ✩ 1.3k words

cw: oblivious reader, fluff, established-ish relationship

"Do you guys think it’s weird?" you ask quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You're stretched out across the boys’ sofa, legs resting comfortably over Remus and Sirius' laps, while James sits on the floor in front of you, his gaze fixed on your face.

"Think what’s weird, angel?" James responds, a slight tilt of his head, his eyes soft with curiosity as he meets your gaze.

"That I'm always either at home or here," you say, your shoulders lifting in a nonchalant shrug, though there's a hint of vulnerability in your tone.

"Why would that be weird, poppet?" Sirius chimes in, his hand lazily settling on your shin, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb.

"Well… everyone else seems to have found their person or whatever," you mumble, trailing off. "And I’m just…"

The three of them exchange glances, their confusion palpable. But Remus looks the most puzzled. His brow furrows deeply, creating a crease on his forehead, and his lips pull down into a small frown. He studies you intently, like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle that doesn’t quite fit.

"Right…" Remus says slowly, his voice soft but laced with concern. "And what exactly do you mean by that?"

You sigh, sinking further into the cushions, the weight of your thoughts pulling you down. "I don’t know. I was just thinking about how Lily and Mary finally moved in together…" Your voice drifts off as you glance down at your hands, suddenly feeling small. "And then there’s me, sitting alone in my flat all the time."

Sirius lets out a soft chuckle, his tone playful, though there's an underlying warmth. "So, you want to move in, doll? You only had to ask."

Your heart leaps into your throat, panic creeping in as you sit up straight, jostling Remus in the process. You flash him an apologetic smile, before quickly turning to Sirius, your words tumbling out in a rush.

"No, of course not!" you say, horrified by the thought. "I don’t want to be in the way of your relationship any more than I already am."

In an instant, all three of them are sitting up straighter, confusion deepening on their faces. James’ mouth moves as if he's searching for the right words, Sirius starts fidgeting in his seat, and Remus just stares at you, his gaze blank.

 “What?” he asks quietly, almost as if he’s afraid he’s misheard.

A thick knot of unease settles in your chest, and for a moment, it feels as though you’ve somehow messed up—though you’re sure you haven’t.

"Well, you guys are all in a relationship, and I just... I just show up to hang out. A lot," you mutter, wringing your hands to calm yourself. "And I’m sure–"

You're cut off by a loud bark of laughter from Sirius, as though you've said something absurdly funny. The other two stare at him, clearly baffled. It takes him a while to compose himself, restarting his sentence several times before bursts of giggles cut him off again.

 "Babe," he snorts, wiping a tear from his eye, "I kiss you—we all kiss you. On the mouth. Regularly." he deadpans, eyes glinting mischievously.

"Yeah, but that’s like, as friends," you say, rolling your eyes. "It's not the same."

"Not the same?" James repeats, his voice low and full of disbelief, though there's a teasing edge to it. "Angel, we’ve been kissing you like this for how long now? And you really think it’s just... friendly?"

You blink, looking between the three of them, suddenly feeling like you’re the last person to catch on to an inside joke you’re apparently the punchline of. "Well, yeah?" you say, confusion painting your face. "It’s just... platonic. Friends kiss each other, right?"

The room falls into a stunned silence. Remus’s mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, Sirius is now grinning so wide it’s practically wicked, and James is rubbing the back of his neck as if he's trying to figure out how to explain the last year of your life to you in a way that won’t make him burst into laughter.

"Platonic?" Sirius says finally, voice laced with amusement, though his gaze softens, like he’s trying to gently break it to you. "You really think we’ve been... doing all this just as friends?"

You glance down at your lap, suddenly feeling more awkward than you ever thought possible, and bite your lip. "I mean, yeah. You guys are all... dating each other, and I don’t want to make it weird, okay?" You wave your hand in the air, as if trying to erase the thought of them being anything more than just your affectionate friends. 

At this, all three of them exchange another glance, a mix of bewilderment and something else. It’s like a weird kind of realization slowly dawns on them. Remus’s lips curl into a tiny, tender smile, while James looks like he's about to say something but holds back, probably knowing it’s going to be too much for you to handle all at once.

Finally, Remus speaks, his voice quiet and steady. “Dovey, we’ve been under the impression that we're all dating each other.” you nod to agree before he continues. “Including you.”

You blink. "What?"

The room falls into a quiet, heavy stillness. Remus’s words hang in the air like an impossible puzzle, pieces tumbling through your brain, but none of them quite fitting.

Sirius, who had been watching you closely, tilts his head in a way that’s almost endearing, like he’s waiting for you to finally catch up. "We’ve been dating you for months, sweetheart. Not just, like, the three of us. All of us. You included."

Oh. 

“Oh.” you look down at your hands in your lap, trying your best to process exactly what's going on. The boys, to their credit, give you a minute to process all of it. Then, Remus’ hand comes into your line of vision moving to hold one of your hands.

“Is that something you're comfortable with?” he asks, his voice calm and steady.

The response bursts from your lips before you can even think. “Y-yes, of course it is.” You stumble over your words, the nervousness catching you off guard.

James' grin widens, his gaze softening. He reaches up, his fingers brushing the side of your face as he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the touch gentle and affectionate. “Good,” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Unable to resist, Sirius pulls you into a playful kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You let out a soft laugh, the weight in your chest lifting as the tension melts away.

“We’ll be clearer from now on, hmm?” Remus hums, his thumb tracing a soothing path along the back of your hand. He leans down to press a tender kiss to your forehead, the gesture grounding you in the warmth of the moment.

Sirius tilts your chin up with a gentle finger, capturing your lips in a quick yet deeply tender kiss. He pulls back slightly, his gaze teasing as he presses a few more kisses to your lips. “Just making sure,” he says with a grin, his tone lighthearted but laced with affection. “Not platonic, not friendly.” He lets the words settle between you, making you laugh despite the fluttering in your chest.

“I think I’m starting to understand now,” you whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean into the warmth of their affection, a contented smile tugging at your lips.

[feral-posts]

hii luv, idk if you write for poly but if so, could you do poly!marauders or just one of them comforting reader when they're worried about being like their parents?

The firelight danced across the walls of the Gryffindor common room, painting everything in warm gold and deep shadows. It was late—the kind of late where the castle settled into silence, where whispers felt sacred, where truths came easier in the dark.

You were curled into the corner of the sofa, legs tucked beneath you, watching as James animatedly described his vision of the future—a cozy cottage, Quidditch matches in the backyard, a whole brood of kids with your eyes and his ridiculous hair. His hands moved wildly as he spoke, knocking over Remus’ abandoned teacup for the third time.

“—and we’ll teach them all the best pranks, obviously,” James declared, grinning. “Can’t let the next generation of Marauders grow up unprepared.”

Sirius snorted from where he was sprawled across the rug, head pillowed on your discarded jumper. “Please. By the time we’re done, they’ll make us look like amateurs.”

The words should have warmed you. They should have made you laugh. Instead, something cold and heavy settled in your chest.

Kids.

You’d thought about it—more than you’d ever admit. Tiny hands clutching your fingers. Soft laughter echoing through hallways that actually felt like home. A little face looking up at you with trust, with love—

And then the fear came, sharp as a knife.

What if I’m like her?

Your mother’s voice slithered through your mind, her words from years ago still fresh: “You’ll never be fit to care for anything. You’ll ruin them, just like you ruin everything else.”

Your breath hitched.

Remus noticed first. He always did. The book in his hands lowered slowly, his amber eyes searching your face. “Hey,” he murmured, voice barely above the crackle of the fire. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. Just tired.”

Sirius sat up abruptly, his grey eyes narrowing. “Bullshit.”

James’ grin faded. He reached for your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “Talk to us,” he said softly.

The concern in their faces undid you.

“I—” Your voice broke. You tried again. “What if I’m like her?”

Silence.

Then, quieter: “What if I have a child, and I—I turn into my mother?”

The admission hung in the air, raw and trembling.

To your surprise, Sirius let out a harsh laugh. “Merlin, I think about that all the time.”

You blinked.

He ran a hand through his hair, his usual smirk gone, replaced by something vulnerable. “I look in the mirror sometimes and see him. And I think—what if that’s in my blood? What if I’m just… destined to become another Black family horror story?”

James’ grip on your hand tightened. “Pads—”

“No, it’s true,” Sirius continued, quieter now. “But then I remember—I chose this family. I chose you. And that’s got to count for something, right?”

Remus exhaled slowly. “I understand,” he admitted, his voice rough. “Every full moon, I wonder—if I ever had a child, would they be cursed with this too? Would I pass on the pain?” He looked down at his scarred hands. “But then I remember that lycanthropy isn’t what makes a parent. Love is.”

James was uncharacteristically quiet for a long moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick. “My dad—he’s the best man I know. But sometimes I worry I won’t live up to that. That I’ll mess it all up.” He swallowed hard. “But I think… maybe being afraid of failing means you already care enough to try.”

The fire popped.

You looked at them—really looked at them. Sirius, with his sharp edges and shattered past. Remus, with his quiet strength and hidden scars. James, with his boundless heart and endless hope.

They were just as scared as you were.

And yet—

Sirius reached for you, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You could never be like her,” he said fiercely. “Because you worry about it. She never did.”

Remus nodded, his knee pressing against yours. “You’re not your blood. You’re your choices. And every day, you choose kindness.”

James leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “And you won’t be alone,” he whispered. “We’ll figure it out together. Every tantrum, every nightmare, every bloody nappy change, every moment.”

[feral-posts]

Just finished your fanfic on Ao3. And now I’m lost with what to do with myself 😭 Could I please get a Dr Phosphorus with a reader thats super affectionate, just really wants to be near him. Like they’re always trying to find way around his radioactivity, wearing gloves so they can hold his hand etc.

i really loved this idea!!! sorry it took me so long i’ve been sick for like a week 😭 but i didn’t forget! i wanted to keep it short and fluffy <3 also made reader gender neutral. hopefully you enjoy!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey! You can’t be back here!”

The intimates who worked in the kitchen all stared at you, angered you’d disturbed them. You slightly tilted your head, looking up at the head chef through your lashes.

“I’m sorry, I know, I just really need to borrow those,” you cooed, pointing to a pair of oven mitts, “please?”

The hulking monster grumbled, but handed them over to you. You giggled to yourself. Waller might’ve been able to inhibit some of your powers, but she couldn’t inhibit good old fashion charm.

Later that day, you snuck into the medical wing. You waited until the techs left the radiology room, then darted inside to grab one of their protective aprons. It was a lot heavier and bulkier than you expected, making it difficult for you to hid it in your shirt. The sound of footsteps carried down the hall and in a panic, you arranged it to look like a pregnant belly. One of the techs returned and stood in the doorway, staring at you with a blank face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I think I got lost on my way to delivery?”

Still staring, he held out his hand and pointed down the hall. You thanked him and shuffled out, holding your “belly” to really sell it. Charm worked again.

Finally, night came. The lights shut off with a clang, and the guards left for the time being. Inconspicuously, you walked around your room, acting like you were stretching, until you landed underneath the camera in your room. You rubbed your hands together, forming an electric shock you then targeted at the camera. Then, you did the same for your inhibitor collar. It was such a minor power most people didn’t know you had it, which is why your collar didn’t stop it. Once you were free of your collar, you grabbed all your supplies and phase shifted through the walls, searching for one specific cell.

He jumped when he finally noticed you in his cell. His green glow illuminated your figure in the darkness. You put a finger to your lips before reaching up and zapping the camera in his room.

“What the hell are you doing here? How the hell are you here?” he asked. You smiled and sidled over him.

“I figured out how to touch you,” you said in a coy voice, trying to smoothly adorn your oven mitts and protective apron. He barked a laugh at your ridiculous getup, but opened the blankets up to you.

“You sure that’ll work?”

“No,” you replied, sliding into his bed, “but I don’t care.”

You wrapped yourself around him, making yourself comfortable on his chest. Even through the gloves and apron, you could feel the heat radiating off him. It warmed you to your core.

“Aren’t you determined,” he chuckled, amused by your antics.

“Mm, very,” you murmured.

You could faintly feel his heartbeat underneath your head. His arms held you close to him, carefully avoiding your bare skin. He wouldn’t admit it, but he loved feeling you in his arms, almost as much as he loved how much effort you put in to make it possible. You wiggled even closer; it felt like you couldn’t get close enough to him. You had been deprived of touch for so long and all you wanted was more.

Eventually, you found a position that felt sufficiently close enough to him. He held you close to his chest, also desperate for your touch. The two of you breathed in tandem, drifting off into blissful sleep.

[feral-posts]

Can we get a doctor phosphorus X reader where the reader has power similar to Deadpool. Example of unable to die and sometimes has ability to pull things out of thin air for comedic effect

You were a curious case to most, from your inability to die, to your unique ability to seemingly pull things that people needed out of thin air as though by pure coincidence. When asked about how you did what you did, you merely shrugged your shoulders - you sipped a drink you plucked out of thin air through a silly straw- and replied with something that only left the rest of the monsters even more confused;

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the audience reading this fanfic that author took far too long to actually get to writing.’

Many left you alone after that, deducing you a tad mentally unstable, all but Dr Phosphorus who also thrived off of the chaos and unpredictable nature that you brought to every situation you found yourself in. He found comradery in you and your ability to piss of basically everyone by getting under their skin, even him at times but he knows when to laugh with you as while everything that came from your mouth might sound insulting, that’s just how you came across and it only takes someone with a likemindedness to understand when you were being genuine or not.

Dr Phosphorus remembered the first time you interacted with one another when you scared him by accident, making him grab your shoulder with his exposed radiated hand, thinking you’ll die a violent death but imagine his surprise when you only shrug his hand off to reveal a healing shoulder where his hand once was. ‘Is it hot in here or is it just you? Oh who am I kidding it is you because of your…yeah.’ You said as you gestured to all of him and while he couldn’t smile since he was a literal skeleton, he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words now that the initial scare was over.

‘Oh you’re the wise ass who thought it’d be funny to scare the irradiated Skelton?’ Dr phosphorus says as he crosses his arms over his chest, tilting his head as he took you in and the burnt cloth at your shoulder from his touch, your skin however -now fully healed at this point- looked untouched as though he wasn’t close enough to even hurt you. ‘Who are you newbie, I would think that I would remember a person like you.’ He adds with an almost flirtatious purr.

You smiled as you offered out your hand. ‘Of course you wouldn’t as I was hauled off here just this morning, but for the sake of keeping this fanfic a reasonable length as to prevent the possibility of stretching the readers attention span too thin, I killed a bunch of bad guys and lost a couple of limbs in the process.’ You said as though it wasn’t as big of a deal as it would be to others, ‘people were screaming, I was screaming. and here I am being called a freak, monster and whatever even by people who should probably look in the mirror before saying shit. It’s like the pot calling the kettle black.’ You finished.

Dr phosphorus looked at you then back down at your hand before looking back at you once more, amused. ‘I’d take your hand sweetheart, but I don’t want to hurt you…again.’

‘Oh then take these gloves.’ You said.

‘What gloves-‘

‘These silly!’ You exclaimed as you shoved a pair of irradiation proof gloves against dr phosphorus’s chest.

‘How did you-‘ dr phosphorus tried to ask, only to then decide that logic wasn’t all that important to you when you seemingly worked outside of logic as a person, logic and sound decisions didn’t exist within you, and it shows in the most subtlest ways that one wouldn’t notice unless they were paying attention as to how you seemingly controlled an unforeseen narrative to your very will.

‘How did I what?’ You asked.

‘Pull shit out of thin air.’ Dr phosphorus replied as he slides the gloves over his hands.

‘Plot convenience and comedic effect for the them.’ You then pointed towards a part of the room, almost as though gesturing to an audience , only for there to be no one there at all but cold walls. You two were the only ones in the room and dr phosphorus thought he was the only mentally unstable one in this facility. ‘Who are we looking at sweets?’ Dr phosphorus says as he tried to see what you were seeing, but all he could see was the cold walls that he was far too familiar with then the outside of the very structure he was trapped within, which sounded sad but to his knowledge no sane mind would blink twice at the mistreatment of a monster.

‘The audience reading this very fan fic.’ You informed him with a smile before seeing that he had put on the gloves and boldly grabbed his hand, making the skeleton jolt as he then relaxed when remembering he did put on the gloves. ‘But never mind them, it’s good to meet you dr phosphorus.’ You add as though knowing his name without him telling you was all apart of your character and dr phosphorus had to say that he was liking you more and more you spoke.

‘I don’t think I disclosed that to you sweetheart, but it’s good to meet you too.’ He chuckled and in that moment he knew that your relationship was going to be unlike any other. And he was right.

There would be times where all of you were gathered in the cafeteria, where one of the monsters nudged past you rather rudely while sneering at you. You were use to this as technically while you had abilities that went beyond human comprehension, you were still the closest thing to being a human in comparison to those who had physical appearance that screamed monster.

‘Watch where you’re going human.’ They’d spit at you venomously.

You only smiled back at them while Dr Phosphorus looked between the two of you from the sidelines along with everyone else. ‘Someone who’s going to get bitchslapped by a fish says what.’

The bat like creature scrunched up their face. ‘What-‘ before they could finish their sentence, they were then smacked across the face with a fish rather violently as they were sent to the floor. They hold a hand to their cheek, clearly unaware of what had just happened along with the rest of the room, before looking at your hand that was once empty now was grasping the tail a dead fish the length of your arm; which explained the disgusting smell that soon hit their senses a second after they realised that they were hit in the face with a dead fish.

‘Where did you get that thing?!’ They’d spit exclaimed but you shrugged.

‘That’s on a need to know basis.’ You replied as you shoved the fish into the hands of a gargoyle like being as you took your place next to dr phosphorus, who had been trying to hold back his laughter but couldn’t when you were close enough if g for him to ask. ‘A fish? That’s what you come up with when insulated?!’ He wheezed. You shrugged ‘thought you would like the image of someone getting slapped with a fish and so I went with it.’ You explained as though it was something that happened on a daily basis for you.

‘Well it was definitely a sight to behold for not just me sweetheart.’ Dr phosphorus tells you as you both carried on with your day, all the while everyone else could only watch as the irradiated skeleton and you continue your conversation before being joined by weasel who had the fish firmly liked in his jaw.

[feral-posts]

Cold on during a night?

Crawl into Phosphorus' bed without anyone noticing so the guards can have a little freakout in the morning <3

Pairing: Doctor Phosphorus/Reader

Warnings: None; Some suggestive touching

Notes: Thank you for the request, anon! Just some short Phosphorus fluff for y'all (: Reader has draconic heritage so Phosphorus's radioactive flames don't burn because uhhh I said so ! Y'all will not believe the amount of research I did on underground temperatures and sewer lines just to see if it made sense for the non-human wing to be cold, and yes, Belle Reve (according to wiki) is in Louisiana!

---

Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season. This deep underground, the Non-Human Internment Division should be marginally warmer than the world above, but fifty years of deteriorating, shitty-to-begin-with insulation has left the entire wing about as toasty as the North Pole. The old concrete does little to ward off the night chill, especially when it rains. Nestled within a web of storm drains and sewer lines, coupled with crappy plumbing, the Non-Human wing is the unfortunate victim of leaky pipes and dank cells every Louisiana winter.

Phosphorus's personal hellhole is no exception.

Plink. A drop lands on his brow, evaporating the moment it touches his radioactive skin. Hiss. He turns with a grumble, tugging the threadbare, itchy blanket over his head. Plink. Another droplet hits his foot. Hiss.

Cold. Wet. Miserable. Winter at Belle Reve is, by far, the worst season.

But, there is one bright side.

The air vent in the center of his room shudders, filling the cell with the groan of rusty metal. A second later, you're unceremoniously tumbling from his ceiling like a baby bird tossed from its nest. You land by his bed in a crumpled heap, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from bursting into laughter.

With a pained moan, you get to your feet, dusting off the cobwebs that cling to your uniform.

"You really stuck the landing this time," he snickers softly as he props himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

"Fuck off," you hiss under your breath. You pick a dead spider from between the silver scales running up your forearm and flick it at him with a scoff. It burns to a crisp as he yelps in disgust.

Still, he lifts his blanket as you pad nearer.

"You're a terrible house guest."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you apologize dramatically, placing a hand over your heart as you hover above him. "You must forgive me. I believe I forgot my fucks in the air ducts about three cells back."

You can hear him rolling his eyes even as he reaches up to place his hand on your hip.

"You're a real comedian tonight, aren't you?" he murmurs playfully. His hand slides to the small of your back, gently pulling you down beside him. The old mattress springs shriek in squeaky horror beneath your combined weight, squealing as you both shuffle under the single sheet.

You stifle a laugh as his head hits the concrete wall behind him in his haste to make space for you, and Phosphorus pinches your hip in retaliation.

"Shut it, Smaug the Terrible," he mutters, drawing you closer. "I'm trying to be a gentleman."

A soft chuckle slips past your lips, and you fix him with an amused look. "You? A gentleman?"

"Is it that unbelievable?"

Your silence answers him loud and clear.

"Asshole," he huffs, pulling the blanket over you, and you can't help but giggle.

His warmth, radioactive and sickly as it is, is a welcome reprieve from the biting cold of the cell. The phosphorescent glow of his skin illuminates your features, glinting off your silver scales like the Northern Lights dancing over a dark lake. Soft shadows stretch themselves over the rough scutes along your brow and cheeks, and you let out a quiet, happy hum as he gently traces the jagged trail of scales with his thumb.

He doesn't tell you that you're hogging the blanket or that you've yanked it high enough to leave his feet bared to the seemingly endless drip of freezing water from the pipes above. Instead, Phosphorus lazily drapes his arm around your waist and tugs you closer.

"You'd think we'd at least get upgraded to bigger beds for saving the world," he grouses, fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt in search of soft skin and sharp scales.

"What, the ping-pong table wasn't thanks enough?"

Phosphorus snorts out a light laugh and catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger. "I would've preferred they approved my other request."

"The cafeteria soda fountain?" you grin as the tip of his thumb drags along your bottom lip. He leans closer, close enough that you can feel his breath dance down the bridge of your nose. Slowly, Phosphorus tips your head back until your warm eyes meet his hollow sockets.

"Yeah, sure," he whispers, lips brushing your own. "The soda fountain."

You can't see it, but you know he's smiling, can feel the curve of it as his lips press against yours. And then, he's kissing you. Slow, soft, sweet. He cradles your face in the same hand that's melted through the flesh and bone of countless men. His touch, though, is anything but deadly.

The hand under your shirt travels higher, mapping out the arch of your spine and the ridge of razor-sharp spikes running up it, and you whine for more. More of this tenderness neither of you have known in so, so long. The tip of his tongue drags over the seam of your lips, and you let him in without a fight. Sharp words fail you both in the face of this soft sweetness. The warmth that rolls off his tongue is still unfamiliar but not unwelcome. It seeps into every fiber of your being, liquid hot in your veins, molten metal down your throat. You should burn beneath his hands, crumble to ash and dust like everything else he's ever known, but you don't.

Your hands swiftly find their way to his jaw with a clumsy desperation, and sparks shoot across his skin as your scales scrape against it. He moans into your open mouth, fighting down a hungry growl, but his body betrays him. His hand hikes your shirt up; his hips roll against your own. He's kissing you a little faster, a little harder.

Plink.

The splatter of one, two, three droplets of ice-cold water against your forehead cuts through the building heat between the two of you, and you pull away with a quiet giggle. Phosphorus groans, a low rumble caught between irritation and amusement, chasing after your lips.

Plink. Plink. He sneezes as a few drops of water tickle his nose. Hiss.

With a defeated sigh and a final nip at your bottom lip, Phosphorus relents, surrendering to the battalion of leaking pipes. At least, he thinks, you're still here, laughing in his arms. As your laughter fades, you bury your face in his chest and breathe him in deep. He smells like the world after a thunderstorm, and your eyes drift shut as you commit the scent to memory.

"Don't let me fall asleep," you yawn, nestling yourself against him despite how his prison-issued shirt scratches your cheeks. "The guards—"

"I know," he shushes you, kissing your forehead. "I won't."

He tries his best. Really, he does. He talks to you about everything under the sun. Nuclear physics, his favorite composer, the time he watched Weasel spend five minutes trying to hack up a fork. You tell him about ancient runes, your favorite authors, the time you ate a police officer (completely in self-defense) and nearly choked on his femur.

Leaving before sun-up, sneaking out before the guards catch you, making sure you don't fall asleep so the scales you've grown above the tracker in your neck can stay up and disrupt the location transmission—they're all an excuse. Because, truth be told, all either of you really want are a few more stolen moments. Another story shared in hushed whispers beneath his fraying bedsheet. Another teasing touch that leaves you both wanting more. Another hour, minute, second. You don't remember falling asleep.

When you wake, it's to angry shouts and rough hands. One moment, you're wrapped up in Phosphorus's sturdy arms; the next, you're face down in a puddle of dirty water on the floor of his cell, pinned down by a guard that smells of nacho cheese. You feel the unmistakable burn of blazing radiation fill the tiny room, see the bright glare of his skin flaring like wildfire before your eyes, hear a shrill shriek of a horrified guard echo against the concrete walls. For a split second, you think it might actually work this time, that your fight for a few more moments won't be futile, but a skull-splitting pain rips through your body. You know Phosphorus feels it too when he limply lands beside you with a dull thud.

Your eyes meet, and with the little strength he has left after the shock, Phosphorus reaches out to brush his hand against yours.

Solitary confinement for the week is worth it. Every time.

[feral-posts]

Burning Fire - Oneshot

(crime boss! Dr. Phosphorus x fem!reader)

Synopsis: For a crime lord, Phosphorus works far more than you’d expect. So, you find a way to entertain yourself while he works…only you get way more than you bargained for. (smut, no plot)

CW: cockwarming, slapping (ass and face), domination, overstimulation, heat kink, burning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been your idea. You hated not being able to get close to him while he was working. For a crime lord, Phosphorus worked far too much for your liking, and you wanted him all the time. Now that you had been sitting idly in his lap for twenty minutes, you were starting to get even more impatient.

Your whole body was warm. The feeling of his full length inside you, unmoving, was getting to be almost unbearable. The fact that neither of his hands were touching you made it worse. Behind you, he was on a phone call, arguing over his drug business. It wasn’t something you fully understood, and in this moment, you had no desire to learn. All you wanted was his full attention.

The other person on the call must have said something wrong because Phosphorus suddenly started shouting. You felt him heat up inside you as his anger grew. He animatedly threatened to kill the person if they didn’t get his shit to him fast, slamming his free hand down on the desk beside you. The slight movements after being still for so long sent jolts of electricity through your body. You groaned and bounced slightly, desperate for more. Phosphorus hung up and leaned into your neck, placing his hands on your hips.

“You said you could sit still and be patient,” he murmured in your ear.

“But it’s been so long,” you whined. Phosphorus chuckled, his hot breath on your neck sending tingles down your spine.

“Patience, dollface.”

You groaned and bent forward, laying your head on his desk as he took another call. You weren’t sure how much longer you could take this. It felt so good to have his cock inside you, filling you up. At first, that had been enough, but now you wanted, no, needed more.

A dangerous idea popped into your head. Phosphorus would be pissed, but you’d get what you needed. He laughed behind you, ticking you off. He was laughing while you were on top of him, naked, prime for the taking. Nervous butterflies swirled in your stomach as you decided to go through with it. You lifted your hips up and down, a sigh that turned into moans escaping you as you pleasured yourself on him. You arched your back, giving him a better view of your figure. He heated up beneath you and let out his own moan.

“I’m gonna have to call you back.”

You laughed slightly at him hanging up his call. He placed his hands on your ass, squeezing and burning your skin. Just as you started to pick up your pace, he stood up, pushing your hips into the desk. You gasped as he gripped your hair and pressed your face sideways on the hard wood.

“You’re going to regret that,” Phosphorous rasped into your ear.

Before you could respond, he gave your ass a hard slap and started pounded into you. Each thrust shook your body, slamming you into the desk repeatedly. You moaned and cried out, overwhelmed by the sudden movement. Still holding onto your hair, he slid his other hand between your legs. His fingers rubbed quick circles over your clit, the hotness of his hand only intensifying your pleasure.

“Phosphorous, fuck, I-I can’t-“ you cried out, succumbing to intense lightening shooting through your body. You gripped the desk as you tightened around him, liquid dripping down your legs.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he growled in your ear, “You interrupted my phone call for this, so you can and you will.”

Even as you came, he didn’t slow down. He hammered into you relentlessly, fast and hard. He let up on your clit, giving you a moment of slight relief before he began slapping your ass again. Each strike sent shockwaves through your body. You pleaded his name over and over again, unable to think of anything else.

“Phos-Phosphorus, fuck, Phosphorus.”

Tangling his hand in your hair, he pulled you up from the desk. You cried out from the feeling of him pulling your hair. He gave your ass another sharp smack before sliding his hand up your body to your throat. His hand slightly burned as he squeezed - hard enough to excite you, but light enough to still let you breathe. He groaned into your ear and pushed his whole length into you, filling you up to the hilt.

“Who’s pussy is this?” he grunted, holding his position deep inside you.

“Ah-yours!” you cried out, almost overwhelmed by all the sensations coursing through you. He snapped his hips, roughly thrusting into you once.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You! Yours, I-I’m yours, I’m yours,” you whimpered. He squeezed your throat tighter, making you gasp for air.

“Then come for me,” he commanded, resuming his merciless rhythm.

You cried out from the sudden stimulation, involuntarily obeying him. Stars crossed your vision as you released. Phosphorus let go of your head and throat, momentarily pulling out to flip you over. He lifted your legs up onto his shoulders and buried himself in you again. His one hand cupped your breast, teasing your nipple, while the other held your chin.

“Phos-fuck, oh God, Phosphorus,” you babbled as he fucked you, slow but deep.

He leaned down, stopping when his face was only an inch from yours. The heat radiating off him combined with breathing in each other’s air was intoxicating.

“I wanted to see how pretty you look when you screaming my name,” he murmured, holding your face so you were forced to look in his eyes.

He picked up his pace, the sound of him pounding your dripping cunt filling the room. You started to moan even more, but he closed the gap between you, swallowing your moan with his lips. He kissed you sloppily and passionately, the two of you moaning into each other’s mouths. His tongue swirled around yours while his fingers continued playing with your nipple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, digging your nails into his jacket, desperate for something to hold on to as you felt another climax rising.

He pulled back from your lips to watch as you cried out his name. You pulsed around him, the world around you shattering. He groaned in response, pounding into you even faster.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he gasped into your ear.

All you could do was make incoherent noises. Every thrust felt like it might send you over the edge again. You felt so tender, yet you didn’t want him to stop. Him using you, rutting into you like an animal, was the only thing that existed to you.

A hot, sharp sting across your face brought you back. Right as you realized what had happened, Phosphorus slapped you again, slamming deep into you simultaneously for good measure.

“Don’t tell me you’re overstimulated already, baby,” he said huskily, gripping your throat again, “I’ve only just started.”

He mercifully slowed down, opting for slow and deep movements. You could feel every inch of him as he moved in and out, each pump eliciting more moans from you. His other hand slid down your body, landing on your swollen nub. He drew lazy circles over it, and you gasped and trembled with each one.

“You like that, dollface, hm?”

You whimpered beneath him and tried to nod. The waves of pleasure coursing through you were growing, threatening to overwhelm you again. He gripped your throat tighter and sped up rubbing your clit.

“Say it,” he croaked, “tell me how much you love my cock inside you.”

“I love it, I love it, I l-love your, ah! cock in-in me, oh God!” you cried out.

He heated up from your words and pounded into you frantically. He groaned into your ear, sending tingles down your neck. The sound of you screaming his name filled the room. Your walls spasmed around him, liquid spilling out of you as you hit your peak.

“God, I love feeling you come on me,” Phosphorous said in a strangled voice.

His fingers released your clit, instead digging into your hip, burning your skin. His movements became sloppier and faster, his breath getting more ragged as he reached his own climax. You felt his hot cum spill into you as he slammed into you once, then twice, sending you over the edge again.

He collapsed onto your chest, still inside you as he tried to catch his breath. When he finally pulled out, you felt empty. He threaded his fingers through your hair and gently trailed kisses down your neck.

“Mm, Phosphorus,” you murmured, comfortably wrapping your arms around him. He picked up his head to press a soft kiss to your lips.

“You were so good for me baby,” he cooed, cupping your cheek. A giddy smile spread across your face.

The phone he had cast aside rang, its high pitch breaking your bliss. He hung his head and groaned, flopping back onto his chair. You whimpered, giving him your best doe eyes. Seeing you, he soundlessly laughed, but he still picked up the phone. He held a finger up to your lips before answering the call.

“No distractions this time.”

[feral-posts]

ohhhhhh what about “i didn’t know you slept like that. it’s cute.” with potter!reader and regulus when he finally moves into potter manor?

the winter games

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who brings him home for the holidays [730 words]

CW: parents letting the two sleep in the same bed? we keep it rated PG though

Regulus wanted to be annoyed with you.

He wanted to be annoyed that you all but forced him to spend the holidays at Potter manor, worse still that it was with the likes of your brother and - perhaps even more worse - his brother. He wanted to be annoyed that your parents were as lovely as they were. He wanted to be annoyed that he very much enjoyed dinner, and he even wanted to be annoyed that your parents trusted the two of you enough to share a room.

He wanted to be annoyed.

Except now he was padding out of your bathroom with his toiletry bag in hand, sharing a soft smile (Sirius) and a half-hearted glare (Regulus) with his brother down the hall, and walking into your room that your parents must have decorated in preparation for your return from school.

There were two sets of bedding on your queen sized bed; a red twin-sized duvet with green pinstripes on one side and a green twin-sized duvet with red tartan on the other. 

One side for the Gryffindor and one side for the Slytherin, apparently. There was also a little care package on what Regulus assumed you had deemed to be his side - the left side. 

His side of the bed was the left side. 

He wanted to be annoyed. But fuck if that didn’t just warm something long thought cold and dead in his chest. 

“You okay?” You asked with a smile, and Regulus couldn’t help the petulant scoff that escaped his lips.

“I’m fine, amour. You can stop asking me that; I’m not going to combust.” He muttered as he pulled the corner of his duvet away from the bed. 

“Behave yourself.” You chided around a laugh as you untucked the bedding on your side of the bed, too.

Your side. 

He wanted to be annoyed. 

“Do you mind if I have a fan going?” You asked him then over your shoulder, and Regulus shook his head; that was fine. He preferred sleeping on the colder side too. 

You had the fan going as you settled under the blankets. “Do you mind if we have some ambient sounds playing? I usually listen to rain but it can be anything you want; crickets, waves, a river - but that one makes me have to pee - uhm… rain forest, thunder storm, muggle traffic, whales, Tibetan bowls, heartbeat, blizzard-”

“Rain is fine, darling.” Regulus laughed, quickly schooling his face when he remembered that he wanted to be annoyed.

You let out a quiet thanks and started your ambient sounds. 

Regulus watched then in abject fascination as you secured your hair safely on top of your head and wrapped it up in a bonnet, sprayed some lavender scented spray onto your pillow before holding it out to Regulus who shook his head in no thanks, and pulled a face mask over your eyes, finally laying yourself down into your bed. 

“What?” You finally asked after a few moments of silence.

“What do you mean, what?” He asked.

“You’re staring at me.” 

Regulus laughed again. “How would you know if I was staring at you?”

He watched your lips slowly stretch into a smile. “I can feel you staring; don’t laugh at me.”

“I’m not laughing at you.” He laughed, causing you to pull the corner of your eye mask up so you could peek at him with one eye. 

“I don’t believe you.”

“I just didn’t know you slept like that.” He offered then, turning onto his side so he was facing you, loving that you turned over to do the same. “It’s cute.”

“Cute?” You asked disbelievingly, still smiling at him. “James said it’s an entire production just to go to bed.”

“Your brother’s a numpty.” Regulus grumbled, acquiescing at your raised eyebrow. “You’ve got your routine down pat anyway.”

“That’s true.”

“How do I fit into it?” Regulus asked, and enjoyed the way your smile turned wide and wistful. 

“We’ve got loads of time to work you into the number.”

Regulus felt a surprised laugh bubble out of him before he couldn’t take it anymore - wanting to be annoyed be damned - and pressed a kiss to your lips; barely needing to lift his head from where it rested on his pillow on his side of the bed to do it. 

“I’m sure you’ll find the perfect role for me, amour.”

[feral-posts]

Hello! I had a request for reader (if you wish for poly!marauders) or regulus (again, jegulus or poly!jegulus with reader/regulus getting glasses... have fun with it I'll love it either way 😅🥰) where they get glasses and how their partner(s) would react. Maybe their in denial about their weakening vision and when they get glasses, they're so unused to wearing glasses and looking at themselves that they need some love and affection. Some comedy and fluff would be fun, it could be one part or two, as you wish, I'd just love to see your take on it.. again no pressure! Let your creative juices flow or keep them stored if you're not interested 😅😅

thanks for your request, lovie! <3

Regulus Black x fem!reader who isn't used to her new glasses [600 words]

CW: slight insecurity around wearing glasses, fluff

Regulus doesn’t move as you join him by the door of your flat, smiling up at him as you wait for him to ask if you are ready.

“You ready to go, amour?” He asks, fighting against the smile threatening to take over his face at the way your eyes crinkle in delight at this practiced ritual the two of you shared.

“Yup!” You agree eagerly, reaching towards the door only for Regulus to grab your arm before you could reach it.

“Yeah?” He tries again. “You’re not forgetting anything?”

He watched your brows furrow as you shot him a bemused look. “No?”

“No?”

“I don’t think so…” You continue; second guessing yourself at Regulus’ obvious implication that you were, indeed, missing something. 

“Not even,” Regulus drawls, stretching the vowels out until you had no choice but to roll your eyes at him, “a pair of glasses?”

Your shoulders fell as you let out a groan and Regulus couldn’t help but laugh then. “You’re being mean.” You accuse him.

“Mean?” He asks, hand to his heart in faux offence. “By making sure my darling girl can see? How’s that mean?”

“It doesn’t match.”

“Your outfit?” Regulus clarifies. “Amour, your glasses go with everything; you picked out ones that would, remember?” 

You only respond by worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“What’s your worry, hm?” He asks finally; spreading his legs out so that he was closer to your height and settling his hands on your hips. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him but you didn’t pull away, so Regulus allowed it. 

“I think they look…silly.”

“They don’t look silly.” He assures you.

“You have to say that.” You argue, finally looking at him to give him a rather disgruntled look. 

“I don’t have to say anything.” He counters, giving you a small shake when you try to look away from him again. “Sweetheart, you look adorable in your glasses; you spent a lot of time picking out the perfect ones!”

“I just don’t think they suit me.” You continue, though Regulus could tell just from the tension in your body that the fight was quickly leaving you. 

“You’re just not used to them, amour. The only way to fix that is to wear them more.”

You let out a rather petulant groan as you ripped yourself out of his arms and stalked back down the hall. Regulus forgave you for the fit, though, knowing it was mostly for show when you came back down the hall a few moments later with your new glasses sitting on the bridge of your nose.

“There you are,” Regulus says as though he were the one who could see you better now that you finally had them on, “isn’t that better?”

“My eyesight isn’t that bad.” You argue, though you accept Regulus’ kiss and even offer him two more of your own before you pull away. 

“Is that so?” He replies noncommittally, gesturing towards the door now that he was willing to allow you to leave the flat. “Well, I’m just glad I won’t have to sit through dinner with you squinting at me from across the table.”

You let out a horrified gasp as you turn to look at him. “I do not squint at you!”

“You do too!” He counters quickly; one hand on the small of your back as he holds the door open for you with the other. “One time my brother asked why my girlfriend is glaring at me all the time. I’ll be very glad to clear that up the next time we see him.”

[feral-posts]

helllooo ! (first ask ever, actually, go me lol) I am requesting with your Winter Games :

🐻 here to hibernate - “oh god, did i fall asleep on you?!” from the sleepy list :)

with Regulus x reader? or Regulus x James if you’re looking for an actual ship like that :3

ily and I hope you’re doing well !! mwah

first ask ever, go you INDEED! thanks for the prompt, and for being here with me! <3

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who he falls asleep on [627 words]

CW: fem!reader, pranking, siblings, brief mention of Black family causing anxiety, fluff

Regulus had, admittedly, not been sleeping all that well leading up to the winter holidays. 

For better or for worse, Sirius had convinced him to rip the plaster off and join him at the Potter’s, if not permanently, then at least for the Christmas break. 

First, he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of having to potentially return home for the holidays, then he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of having to find some excuse that his parents would find believable to remain at school over the holidays, then he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of how his parents might react to the news of him attending the Potter’s for the holidays, then he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of having not gotten a response from them at all (the devil you know, and all that).

And finally, he hadn’t been sleeping well due to the stress of now having to celebrate the holidays with the Potter’s. Pointedly, perhaps, with you. 

So when he startled awake to the sound of the train compartment door closing - catching the tail end of his brother and his friends disappearing down the train’s corridors - to find himself having fallen asleep on your shoulder of all places, he was more than a little bit mortified. 

“Oh Merlin, did I fall asleep on you!?” He asked as he slid to the very opposite side of the bench to put some clearly well needed space between the two of you. 

“Just a little, it’s alright.” You offered with a shrug as you refused to look up from the book in your hand, though Regulus noted you take the opportunity to reposition to a more comfortable spot now that you wouldn’t risk waking him up. 

“M’so sorry.” He mumbled into his hands as he tried to wipe the residual lethargy from his face; an anxious, crackling energy bubbling from his chest to his fingertips. “I’ve not been sleeping well; this is so embarrassing.”

“It’s not embarrassing,” you chuckled kindly, “you’re obviously tired, we’ve got a long train ride, might as well sleep, yeah?” 

You smiled gently, perhaps even shyly at him, before turning your face back to your book, though you didn’t appear to actually be reading it. 

“Where’d our brother’s go?” He asked after a few beats of silence; you looked up then, as if only now realising the compartment was empty.

“Oh, erm. I think they wanted to pull one last prank of the year; wanted to go out with a-”

But the end of your sentence was cut off by a loud bang that shook the seats beneath you two, followed by some groaning, shrieking, and cackling. 

You and Regulus shared a soft, breathy snicker of your own. 

“You didn’t feel like joining them?” He queried, quite certain he wasn’t mistaken when he noticed you flush.

“Erm, no; I was quite alright here.”

Your brother’s came crashing into the compartment then with Remus and Peter on their heels; breathless, laughing, and covered in a small dusting of red and green glitter. 

“That was a good one, Trouble.” Sirius proclaimed as he took a sloppy seat across from you. “Can’t believe you opted to sit here like Reggie’s personal glorified pillow instead of seeing it through.”

“Don’t tease her.” Remus chided quietly; likely quiet enough that you hadn’t heard, but Regulus had. 

“So,” Regulus drawled then, sharing a conspiratorial look with you. “I have this to look forward to all break?” 

Sirius scoffed in offence. “You should be so lucky, baby brother.” 

“Don’t worry,” you murmured quietly, “leaves us plenty of time to make them pay.” 

Regulus couldn’t help but wonder if - just maybe - holiday’s at the Potter’s wouldn’t be so bad.

[feral-posts]

✋🏻 i have a request

so i’m a loudmouth, a D1 yapper if you will. could you maybe please write something with a yapper reader who just gets quiet and flustered in regulus’s presence?

like she’ll be going on about the randomest thing and regulus walks by and her mouth snaps shut and her face gets bright red.

hiiiii! I decided to pair this with two anonymous requests for our dear reggie too! prompt 2: I was thinking maybe a Potter! Reader who is in the same year as Regulus and has a huge crush on him, she just kind of watches him from a distance, here comes James and Sirius noticing and they try to set her up with Reggie prompt 3: I was wondering if I could get a regulus x reader where regulus is like close to the marauders and then Reggie gains like a crush on reader and the marauders find out and like kinda spy on them but like not well and maybe it ends in Reggie asking reader out

Regulus Black x Potter!reader who has a 'big fat crush' on Reggie

CW: sibling squabbles, this was hard for me to write for some reason so I'm sorry if it reads awkwardly!

“I’m just saying, if you didn’t want your essay to go up in flames, maybe you should have spent less time talking about which of your classmates were ‘filthy blood traitors’, and more time making sure I couldn’t point my wand at your parchment, you know?” You asked rhetorically as James and Sirius roared with laughter. 

“How far along was he in his essay?” Peter asked with a low chuckle before taking another bite of his lunch.

“Oh, he was done. He probably should have handed it in instead of running his mouth.” You said with a proud smirk as your brother roughly patted you on the back, letting out another bark of laughter. 

“I would have paid good money to see the look on his face.” Sirius said as he wiped fake tears away from under his eyes. 

“Find me a pensieve, Black, and I’ll show you.” You offered with a wink before remembering something.  “Oh! James, I meant to tell you; I heard from Janey who heard from Cromwell who heard from Collins whose sister works at Honeydukes that they’re having a sale on those caramel sugar quills that-”

“-Lily likes so much!” James finished for you. “My hero! Thank you!” He said as he pressed a sloppy kiss to the side of your head.

You feigned disgust and rubbed it off before continuing. “If you want, I can ask Janey to ask Cromwell to ask Collins to ask his sister to put some aside for you?”

“I’d owe you my life.” He responded solemnly. 

“Chocolate frogs will suffice.” 

“Consider it done.” 

“I’d like chocolate frogs too, Prongs.” Remus offered then.

“What have you done to help me win over the girl of my dreams, Moony?” James countered. 

“I’ve not told her about the time you screamed like an ickle little first year when you found Fenwick’s toad in your shoe.” Remus replied plainly.

“Why do they have to have warts!?” James groaned miserably as he remembered his toad assault. 

“The bumps aren’t actually warts, Jamie; they’re glands. They contain a toxin that they will secrete if they feel threatened.” You explained.

James blinked at you owlishly before shaking his head in disgust. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.” 

“Hello, Sirius.” Regulus’ voice interrupted then, standing stiffly behind Sirius as he looked around the group of you. “Lupin, Pettigrew…Potter’s.” 

“‘Sup, Reggie?” Sirius responded easily.

“‘Lo, baby Black! What brings you to the red side of the Great Hall?” James asked then, earning him a glare from the younger Black brother.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Well that just makes me want to call you that even more.” James admitted.

“What brings you to the Gryffindor table?” Remus repeated with a knowing smirk.

“Can’t I just come say hello to my brother?” He asked defensively. 

“You could, but would you?” Sirius asked sceptically then.

Sirius and Regulus stared at each other in silence before Regulus finally sighed. 

“Potter, erm… Y/N, I was wondering if you’ve finished Professor Sprout’s essay about the proper propagation of venomous tentacula’s?” 

At the following silence, James turned to notice you staring at Regulus in what appeared to be abject horror before you slowly nodded your head. 

“How, uhm… how many feet of parchment did it end up being?” Regulus continued awkwardly; his eyes flitting between you and his brother. 

The group watched as you opened your mouth a few times only to close it again - not unlike some socially awkward fish - before clearing your throat. 

“Erm…I think it’s about four feet.”

Regulus seemed relieved by your answer and nodded in understanding. “Good, mine is about that as well.”

James looked between his friends, his sister, and his best friend’s little brother after a few moments when it became clear that no one was going to say anything else.

“Was…was that all, Regulus?” Peter asked then, clearly agreeing with James that lunch had quickly become painfully awkward. 

Regulus seemed to look at you first, only responding when you kept your gaze down at the wood grain of the table. 

“I suppose so. I’ll see you lot around.” 

And with that, the Slytherin boy hurried back to his side of the Great Hall.

James’ eyes only left Regulus’ form when he heard a miserable groan escape your lips as you let your head fall to the table with a thunk.

“What the fuck was that?” Sirius and James questioned at the same time.

“I’ve gotta go.” You muttered miserably as you gathered your bag and stood from the Gryffindor bench.

“Where?!” James called after you. 

“To run away with the fucking centaurs at this point!” You called back before disappearing through the doors. 

“Since when does Regulus come to say hi to you, Pads?” Peter asked then, still watching Regulus from across the hall who now had his eyes glued to the door. 

Sirius, who up until that point looked just as bemused as Peter did, had a look of understanding dawn on his face. 

“Merlin’s beard.” He hissed as he smacked James in the arm from across the table.

“Ow! What? What? Why are you hitting me?” James called as he rubbed his arm protectively. 

“When was the last time you saw Y/N be reduced to awkward silence?” He asked then.

“At mum and dads fundraising gala when that wizard from Witch Weekly attended.” James answered quickly; knowing that one of his sister’s greatest strengths was her ability to talk (especially when it helped get them all out of trouble). “Though she’s been doing it an awful lot lately.”

“Like when you coerced Regulus into joining us at the Three Broomsticks last weekend.” Remus offered.

James nodded. “And when I made her come with me to scout the Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin game last Monday.” 

“And when Regulus just happened to be looking for a Herbology textbook when she was studying in the Herbology section of the library.” Remus continued.

“Godric’s balls.” Peter breathed out, looking towards Sirius incredulously. “You’re not suggesting-”

“-that our littlest Potter has a big fat crush on the littlest Black? I sure am.” Sirius said smugly. 

“I don’t think she’s the only one with a ‘big fat crush’.” Remus added, nodding towards Regulus who was chewing aggressively on his lip, still looking in the direction you just went.

“Oh my Godric.” James hissed as he turned towards Sirius excitedly. “Oh my Godric, Pads! We’d be real life actual brother’s-in-law!” 

“I’m going to walk Reggie down the aisle.” Sirius added wistfully as he clutched at his chest. 

“Merlin and Morgana. They can’t even make it through a sodding conversation; stop planning their wedding.” Remus muttered as he turned a page in his book. 

James let out an incredibly dramatic gasp as he looked at Remus. “You’re right. We have to do something!” 

“What do you say, boys? Up for some mischief for the greater good?” Sirius asked with a perfectly arched eyebrow. 

“Operation turn Potter Black!” James cheered to the group, causing the three boys to look at him in various levels of bemusement and discomfort.

“Erm, Prongs…” Peter started.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Remus added.

“We can’t call it that.” Sirius agreed. 

“We’ll circle back to it.” James said as he stood from the table.

Sirius shared a slightly panicked look with the other two Marauders before standing as well. “No…no James, we really can’t call it that.” 

“It’ll be a placeholder until you guys think of something better!”

“Anything would be better.” Peter whined as they all trailed out of the Great Hall in the name of mischief. 

。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+* ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。.。:+*ﾟ ゜ﾟ *+:。.。:+*ﾟ

“Quick! You’ve got to see what we’ve planned.” James had said to you as he grabbed you roughly by your arm outside of Transfiguration and hauled you in the direction of the library.

You allowed him to nearly drag you through the courtyard and into the central haul; apologising to students that you nearly collided with in his haste. 

“But…what did McLaggen do? Why are you pranking him?” You asked breathlessly as the two of you made it to the library doors.

“The bloke’s a prick, Trouble, do keep up.” Sirius called as you met up with him. 

The two boys ushered you through stacks of books towards the end of the library that held private study rooms when Remus and Peter materialised from a row of shelves.

“He’s coming!” Peter squeaked as Remus quickly redirected the three of you. 

“That way, quickly.” 

Knowing better than to question Remus, you allowed James to guide you by the shoulder towards one of the private study rooms in order to hide from McLaggen as he walked into their trap. 

Except…

Except no sooner had Sirius opened the door did James bodily shove you into the room before they slammed the door behind you.

“Wha- James!” You shouted as you heard him cast a locking charm and a muffliato around the door. 

“What are they up to now?” A tired voice sounded from behind you.

You squeezed your eyes shut as you realised what they had done, praying to every deity that the voice didn’t belong who you thought it belonged to. 

But of course, the deities didn’t give a bowtruckles arse about you, so you turned on the spot to see Regulus Black sitting at the end of the table looking at you with a sceptical expression and one perfectly arched brow. 

Godric, he was beautiful.

“Making my life hell.” You answered despondently. 

Regulus offered you a tight lipped smile as he nodded in understanding. “Ah, so, regular brother stuff then?”

You breathed out a chuckle as you nodded, trying once more at the door before giving up in your efforts to escape. 

“What did you do to get yourself locked in a room with me?” He asked then, fiddling with the tomes and notes in front of him.

“Had the audacity to be born into the Potter family, I guess.” You muttered.

Regulus made a non-committal sound as he considered you. “I’m sure a lot of people would have loved the honour.”

Your face softened as you looked at the Slytherin boy. “I know they’ve asked you already, but you should come, you know? I know Sirius would love it if you did, and my parents would too.” 

Regulus nodded slowly at you, though he never moved his gaze from your eyes. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable?”

Regulus smiled ruefully then. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t get the impression that you like me very much.”

You stood there with your mouth agape like some mute opera singer. “Okay, I’ll correct you then; you’re very wrong Regulus Black.”

“Oh, I’m very wrong, am I?” 

“Horribly so, I’m afraid; I can’t believe you’d even say such a thing.” You continued haughtily; finally sitting down in a chair across from him. 

“Well, you see, everyone is always telling me how much of a chatterbox you are, yet you never seem too keen on chatting with me. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve exchanged more words with Mulciber at this point.” He teased.

“The most I ever talk to Mulciber is to tell him to go fuck himself!”

A divot formed between his brows as he tilted his head in confusion. “Is that not just your love language? I’ve heard you say the exact same thing to Potter and my brother.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him as you leaned back in your chair. “Touche” 

Regulus smirked at you then. “So, why don’t you talk to me?”

You let out a heaving sigh and looked to the ceiling. 

You were trapped, and you knew why you were trapped, and you figured there was no use in pretending that you didn’t. 

“I suppose I find you a little…nerve wracking.” You settled for, figuring that telling him you thought he was so handsome that even standing within his vicinity seemed to short circuit not only your brain but somehow your entire nervous system would perhaps be a little much. 

“Oh good.” He responded, sounding truly relieved by your answer. “I thought it was only me.”

What? You thought stupidly.

“What?” You asked stupidly. 

“I find you a little nerve wracking too.” He responded.

“Me?” 

“You.”

“Why?” You nearly shrilled before remembering yourself and feeling immediately embarrassed for your theatrics.

“Well, I suppose for the same reasons you find me nerve wracking?” Regulus offered. “You’re really quite pretty, Y/N.” 

You swear to all of the gods that your brain made an audible record scratch sound at that moment as you tried to compute what he had said to you. 

He called you pretty, that much went without interpretation. But did he just insinuate that he knew you thought he was pretty?

“You do know that, right?” He asked, shaking you from your internal spiralling. 

“Know what?”

Regulus smirked then. “That you’re pretty?”

You scoffed and crossed your arms petulantly. “Of course I knew that; I just wasn’t aware that you did, too.” 

“Ah,” He started with a smile. “My apologies, I’ll make it more obvious that I find you attractive going forward.”

“Thank you.” You huffed.

“You’re very welcome.”

The two of you allowed a semi-comfortable silence to lap as he continued watching you and you continued looking anywhere else but him.

“So,” He interrupted eventually. “What now?” 

You tapped your arms in thought. “Now I figure out how to get back at my meddlesome brother.” 

Regulus hummed as he nodded his head. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

“Yeah…hey, do you happen to know where I could find a toad or two?”

“Yes, actually. I’m quite certain Evan and Barty are breeding some in the dungeons.” He answered with a look of ill-hidden discomfort at the thought.

“Do you think they’d let me borrow some?”

“Well that depends; would they be used for chaos and/or destruction?”

“Yes.” You responded quickly.

“Oh, well then absolutely.” He quipped back.

He smiled and held your gaze before leaning on his arms against the table. “How about this? I’ll ask Barty and Evan for some of their toads, if you go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend.”

You narrowed your eyes as you pretended to think about it before extending your hand across the table. “Deal.”

He shook your hand as he offered you a crooked smile before leaning back into his seat.

The door popped open just enough for your brother to poke his traitorous head in. “Are you guys in love yet?”

He barely had time to pull his head out of the frame and shut the door as you hurled your book bag at him; the blunt force instrument you had hoped would at the very least incapacitate your brother simply thudding against the wall before falling to the ground in a sad heap.

“You know he’s just going to keep you locked in here longer for that, right?” Regulus asked you then.

You made a non-committal sound as you settled back into your chair. “Perhaps that isn't such a bad thing.”

[feral-posts]

Well hello lovely Mae!! Happiest of birthdays omg and a new theme? Killing it, absolutely incredible ✨ I'm having to anon because when I made my side acct, I connected with my main 😅 so this is longlivedelusion!

7k?? Actually insane. Biggest congrats to you on that, not that I'm surprised since your writing is amaaazing. So to celebrate, I'll try requesting?? Hopefully I do this right loll

Craving a bit of an apple pie with Rem or Sirius (or both!) and #21 (the sake one, I think that's the right number)🥰 feel like Sirius especially would love to travel a bit outside the UK, so interested to see how you'd approach~

Omg hi my love!! Thank you so much. I have to admit I was a bit intimidated by this request because I've never had sake but I tried haha <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 418 words

It’s suspicious enough that Sirius decides to make tea, but your confusion only worsens when he comes back into the sitting room carrying three small cups you’ve never seen before. 

“Did we get new cups?” you wonder aloud. 

Remus nearly stands up in his hurry to take two from him, tsking. “Don’t burn yourself, love.” 

“We did get new cups,” Sirius says, sitting back in his spot beside you and blowing into his cup with a smug look. “And something new to drink.” 

You take yours cautiously. It’s steaming, but the liquid inside doesn’t look like tea. You smell it cautiously. “This feels like a scheme.” 

Remus hums his agreement. Sirius shrugs coyly. 

You decide to humor him. “What new something did you get us to drink?”

He grins at you. “So glad you’ve asked, my loveliest girl. Tonight, we’re drinking sake.” 

“Definitely a scheme,” says Remus. 

You take a small sip of your drink. It’s sweeter than you expected. Fruity, with a bit of sharpness. 

Sirius kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I just think we could all use a bit of cultural enrichment. Sake is Japanese. You know what else is in Japan? A rich cultural history and stunning natural landscapes.” 

“Are you quoting a magazine or something?” you ask. 

“I’ve been doing some light research.” 

Remus laughs. “If you want to go to Japan, you only have say so.” 

“Fine.” Sirius sighs, but the sound is laden with fondness. “I’d have liked to get through my presentation, but yeah. I think we should go to Japan.” 

“I’d like that,” you say. He looks at you, delighted, and you can’t help but smile. “I’ve always wanted to see the cherry blossoms.” 

“We’d have to save up for a little while,” Remus cautions you both. “I’m sure we want to have enough money to do everything we’ll want to, but yeah. I’d love to go, too.” 

“Really?” Sirius’ voice pitches. He leans over to kiss Remus, then you. “Thank you, my loves.” 

“You don’t need to give us a presentation to ask for things.” Remus rolls his eyes lovingly, taking a drink from his cup. “Or buy new cups.” 

“I wanted them anyway,” Sirius replies. “Actually, the sake was only the first part of the plan. I didn’t think you would agree so easily.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him. “What was the rest?” 

“Well, actually, our booking at the karaoke place isn’t refundable…” 

Remus groans.