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crescenthistory · 1 day ago

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okkkkk could you argue list C 68 with regulus x legilimence reader (aka mind reading reader) and what regulus would do if he found out his gf could always tell when he's lying. Please? and congrats! amazing job!!

thank you for the request lovely! with how i see reg's characterisation, i cannot picture him taking that kind of information in lightly, so this is perhaps a bit angstier than you were aiming for ahaha. i am also evidently insane, so this is an in-depth character study:,) enjoy!

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i will ARGUE for prompt 68 "this is news to me" with regulus black

carina's 2k celebration

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synopsis: regulus visits your pseudo-family, the mckinnons, with you for the first time, expecting only to struggle with the unfamiliar family dynamics. instead, a part of you previously unknown to him is revealed in passing, and his mind shuts down, memories and fears from his childhood taking over. the conversation that follows is one of the hardest and most significant he would have in his life.

wc: 6.2k

cw: fem!reader, references to walburga and orion's a++ parenting skills, aka mentions of abuse, neglect and childhood trauma, angst, momentary belief of betrayal, fresh relationship, hurt/comfort, references to black brothers angst, regulus pov (including his mental health struggles), you are basically an honorary mckinnon, references to your bad relationship to your bio family (neglect), crying, near-break up, declarations of love, happy ending, the entire fucking mckinnon family tree as supportive characters

Regulus had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He had since the beginning of his relationship with you, when he realised the enormity of his feelings and was simultaneously frightened, disgusted and relieved, struggling to balance healing from his childhood and falling in love with his future all at the same time.

A part of him wished to warn you, to urge you away, to shield you from the darkness within him through rejection – but, he was selfish. At least, that is the conclusion he reached for why he couldn’t turn away from you and leave you be, why he invited you in, despite knowing in his chest that the other shoe would drop. Regulus had grown up in the constructed shadow of Sirius, and though he now realises that was not his brother’s inherent fault, he still couldn’t rid himself of the clawing feeling in his chest that he would always have nothing. Always be second, always be the spare, even when Walburga was forced to declare him the heir after Sirius turned his back. He would always be left with portraits instead of bodies.

If you, with all your fascinating and lovely self, opened your arms to him, Regulus could not bring himself to ask you to close them. He would fall into them, all while keeping a cage around his heart and both his shoes on the ground, by the door.

He had expected it to be his fault though. It would be a matter of him not being enough, yet again.

No part of him expected it to be you; for you to be different in a way that he couldn’t stomach.

Regulus sat stiffly but not necessarily uncomfortably in the worn out chair in the McKinnon living room, quietly observing the bustling homely life around him. It was the first time he came along when you visited, wanting to meet the people you spoke so kindly of and see more of the connection that originally brought the two of you together – he still had to thank Dorcas for falling in love with your best friend.

There were more kids than he could count – metaphorically speaking, that is, because Regulus had of course studied up on exactly how many kids would be there and what their names were before arriving – running around his ankles. You were over in the adjunct kitchen, helping Mrs. McKinnon with finalising dinner, while Marlene was outside hounding in the remaining children and cousins. It was loud in a way that kept Regulus’ spine straight and muscles tense, but he could feel his mouth dreaming of curling up into a smile. It wasn’t as awful as he had feared.

He saw your form through the door-less opening, your clothes and hair moving in an elegant flow, a practised choreography. That sight, more than anything else, was what kept him grounded.

Regulus had, of course, asked to help, but Mrs. McKinnon – “It’s Magda, dear, please scrap the formalities” – had ushered him out. “You’re still a guest in this household! This one on the other hand… she’s got to be put to work.” A motherly wink and a bump of her hip into yours as you stuck your tongue out. Natural. Nurturing.

He felt in no position to argue, so he settled down with the children.

“Pst!” He turned to look down at the littlest of Marlene’s nieces, a sweet girl named Mabel with her blonde unruly curls tucked up into two uneven buns on each side of her head. She smiled with an unmistakable air of mischief, lifting her tiny brows at him. “You’re Uncle Reg, right?”

Regulus’ breath caught in his throat as a nervous laugh built in his chest. He wasn’t offended that the little thing didn’t catch his introduction a full 45 minutes ago when he went around shaking hands and waving, but he was confused by his title.

“Uh, my name is Regulus, yes. And you’re Mabel?” He tried to make his voice kind, but was unsure if it was working.

She nodded with beaming pride and happiness, glad to be known. “You’re Auntie’s husband.” She didn’t ask, which bamboozled Regulus further – she looked very pleased to have made the connection.

Regulus leaned forward onto his knees to be closer to her height as he chuckled, still with an air of nerves. “Not quite, no, but I am here with your Auntie, yes.”

Mabel furrowed her brows, contentment slipping away in favour of confusion. “No. Uncle Reggie is my Auntie’s husband. Marly said so.”

Ah. His nerves were being schooled away in favour of internally rolling his eyes at his new-found friend. “Well, Marlene probably just tried to convey that your Auntie and I are very very close, which we are. That’s why I want to be here and meet you all.”

“Uh-huh. When will you marry her then?”

Regulus could feel his heart jump out of his chest – as did Mabel’s when their heads both jumped up at the sound from the kitchen. “Oi, Belly! C’mere sweetheart!”

He looked over Mabel’s already giggling and retreating form as she ran towards you in true toddler-fashion, and saw you winking and grinning at him. He let out a sigh of relief at the same time as you picked Mabel up and spun her around.

“Don’t you be bothering Reggie now, or he won’t come back!” He heard you whisper-yelling conspiratorially to the little girl as you tickled her, high-pitched giggles bubbling up from her lungs along with faux-shrieks of denial.

His muscles remained tense, but Regulus looked down in his lap with a grin before pushing up from his seat to walk over to the kitchen, where Mabel was released and running away all giddily. You looked at him with a smirk over your shoulder, looking gorgeous with your hair slightly messed up from the heat of the kitchen. “The children scaring you away?”

Regulus leaned against the opening with his arms crossed, still keeping everything in the kitchen in eye-sight, lest there be anything he could help with after all. The smile he spared you was hopefully as warm as the oven you had slaved over. “It would take more than little Mabel to scare me away.”

“Here you go, Maggie,” you said over your shoulder as you handed her a knife where she was about to start cutting the final herbs on the opposite side of the kitchen, before turning back to Regulus. “Well, I’m glad to hear that, because we’re all about to sit down for dinner.”

“You are such an effortless team,” Regulus admired your wordless communication, putting on his practised visiting-the-in-laws smile towards Magda. “Please do let me know if there is anything I can help with, Mrs– uh, Magda.”

Magda sighed happily, looking over at you, gesturing with the knife perhaps a bit too absentmindedly. “You picked such a polite one, dear. It hurts my heart! Reg, please, all you need to do is keep us company.”

His gaze diverted down to his feet as a slight flush crept up his cheeks, a smile blooming between them. “Thank you, Magda.”

You looked over your shoulder at her with a loud laugh. “No, keep that to yourself Maggie, you’ll just embarrass him more.”

Regulus furrowed his brows in confusion, the comment seemingly out of place, but Magda laughed so heartily he didn’t have it in him to ask. He didn’t want to bring more attention than necessary to how different his socialisation had been from yours.

Despite her best efforts, Magda could not stop Regulus from helping deck the table as the two of you began magically sending everything out – though, he realised quickly that his definition of decking the table was clearly quite contrasting from yours. The McKinnons did it the simple way, and while unsettled, he wholly appreciated it.

Marlene had since come in with her youngest brother on her shoulders, tugging at her hair. “Snake-boy, you haven’t been eaten by these little lions yet?” She greeted with a grin, dropping her brother off in his seat and whistling to alert the rest of the family that dinner was ready.

“I’ve come to learn I quite like lions,” Regulus replied, his usual snark more readily available with her. “Though I wouldn’t have minded my fellow snakes here.”

Marlene snorted. “Yeah, well, Cassie and Barty had work, so.” She shrugged, pinching his upper arm as she walked past him to herd in the rest. “You’re stuck with us.”

“I think I’ll manage,” Regulus murmured and found that he meant it.

As the entire family settled down at the table, Regulus felt a bit less steady in his ability to remember everyone’s names, but he hoped muscle memory would kick in. When Magda heard you would be stopping by with Regulus, she ensured that all six of the McKinnon siblings, along with their respective partners and children, would show up. Regulus was in no way unfamiliar with large family gatherings, but the volume of their voices and smiles took some getting used to.

It didn’t hurt that he sat beside you – and that your hand came to squeeze his knee as everyone settled in and began chattering away.

There was no introduction, no speech, just immediate good natured conversations and catching up, including from one end of the table to another.

“Pass me the potatoes?” Martin – Regulus remembered; Marlene’s other younger brother, aged 7 – asked, his eyes set on Regulus.

“Of course.” The movement was swift and elegant, bowl outstretched.

When Martin grabbed the bowl, he forgot to thank Regulus and instead asked, “So, what are your intentions with our sister?”

Regulus’ brows furrowed. “I– I’m not dating your sister?”

You squeezed his knee again, suppressing a giggle. “He meant me, dear.”

“Oh.” His cheeks flushed yet again. To be fair, he should have deciphered that one himself. “Well… I intend to care for her for however long she’ll let me.”

Martin seemed displeased. “What does that mean?”

“It means,” you intercepted, reaching out to lightly flick his forehead. “That you should mind your business, you little worm.”

Martin opened his mouth, outraged in a manner only a 7 year old boy can be, lifting his finger in the air. “I–”

“Oh, don’t you dare say that, Martin McKinnon!” You cut him off, already laughing and making the little boy laugh with you, even as he crossed his arms petulantly.

“You’re no fun when you damage control too early,” he mumbled, despite his grin.

Regulus tried to follow the conversation, but found his eyes squinted in confusion.

This is where Margaret – Marlene’s two years older sister – chimed in. “It’s called with great powers comes great responsibility, twat. With legilimency comes the responsibility of shutting silly little boys up!” She reached her hand over past Marlene to pinch Martin’s side, making him shriek and giggle despite himself.

Legilimency.

Oh. Oh.

In a matter of seconds, Regulus’ world came crashing down.

For a brief minute, his mind was painfully empty, unable to think anything or draw forth any memory, all instinctively hidden away, even from himself. Then, he broke through his own walls and had wave after wave of memories hit him – lessons of “close your mind, young boy”, repetitions of “you’re pathetic”, the piercing pain of trying to shut it all out, the stinging hurt of feeling betrayed by the people he instinctively loved. Those memories had a unique ache to them, one he hadn’t dared try to combat yet; but the ones with you hit him harder. “I would never do that to you”, “you’re safe with me”, “I would never lie to you”, “I just get you”.

I just get you.

Except you didn’t – you were a mind-reader.

None of it was real.

Regulus sat frozen to his seat, the tensing of his muscles digging much deeper now. It was not eased in the slightest when your hand returned to his knee, a previous warm touch now disturbingly cold.

“Reg?”

It took an immense amount of force for Regulus to turn his head sideways and meet your eyes, trying to make his as unreadable as possible, trying to close his mind for the first time in months.

“Are you alright?” Your voice was feather-light, a question just for the two of you. A brief glance around told Regulus that no one had noticed his deceptively quiet change. Or, at least, they had the decency to not continue to notice.

An imperceptible nod of his head and a tight-lipped smile. No words.

Your brows furrowed in dismay, clearly unconvinced, but knowing better than to push him in public. You squeezed his knee once more reassuringly before Martin and Margaret dragged you back into conversation.

Regulus truly hoped no one addressed him going forward, because he couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears. He wanted to further hope that if they did, you would answer for him and redirect, but he found his heart unable to trust you. It promptly shattered beneath the weight of that knowledge.

The dinner flurried by in a haze, your hand never leaving his knee and Regulus never getting used to its weight, always noticing with a sickening sinking feeling in his stomach.

The one thing that distracted him at last was a tug at his sleeve.

He whipped his head around, probably faster than what would be perceived as normal – to see little Mabel had run out of her seat and now sat at his side. She reached her small grabby hands up towards him. “Upsies!”

You leaned around him, smiling endearingly at Mabel, your hair moving in his peripheral vision. “Oh, Mabel, Uncle Reggie is a bit–”

Before you could make some excuse for him, Regulus leaned down to scoop her up. She was surprisingly light, it was honestly a miracle that such tiny lungs could produce a squeal so loud straight into his ear.

Regulus could feel your gaze burning a hole in the side of his face as he bounced the little girl in his lap. Mabel was giddy, immediately chattering away with you, Marlene and the others sitting nearby, holding onto his arms for support. He couldn’t explain how he was able to pick her up, still largely detached from his body while processing the day's revelations – but she was so young and vulnerable, he couldn’t stand breaking her heart by rejecting her.

When Mabel leaned over to pat your cheeks and blabber with you, Regulus was forced to move his body in your direction. Your hand left his knee in favour of tickling Mabel, but the side of your leg was now pressed against his. As your lips met the little girl’s forehead your eyes met his at last.

What he saw in them is what he any other day would have labelled pure concern. Now, he had a white prickling fear down his spine that those thoughts were not his own. Even if they were, they were not his because they were not private. Another thing stripped from him.

As Mirabel eventually came over to pick up her daughter from Regulus to go put her to bed, you also rose from your seat, getting a head-start on the dishes while Magda still sat, surrounded by grandchildren. Her head perked up when she saw you move about, but you waved her off kindly.

With robotic movements, Regulus got up and followed in your footsteps, not wanting his single visit to be remembered as rude. Picking up plates with much less skill than he had placed them down, he walked towards the kitchen that you were walking out of.

You tried to smile as you walked past him, but he didn’t look at your face.

Regulus’ entire body ached.

It ached even more when he almost collided with Marlene on his way back out of the kitchen. She, unlike the two of you, was not carrying any plates, only herself, as she acted like a door barricading him from the rest. Her light brown eyebrows were furrowed.

“Who pissed in your cereal, Black?”

Regulus couldn’t help himself, despite the circumstances. “I didn’t eat cereal.”

The blonde breathed out in exasperation, hands coming up to rest on the sides of her hips, though her features softened a little. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m alright.”

“What changed, then?”

Regulus stared emptily at her, only to find his own stubbornness mirrored perfectly in her. In this moment, she painfully reminded him of Sirius; a thought he immediately tried to file away.

He sighed. “I just didn’t expect… I didn’t know.”

“Know what?” Marlene’s face slowly morphed into one of uncomfortable understanding, seemingly piecing together what she had come to learn about Regulus and what she knew of her best friend. Her question came out as a whisper. “About the… legilimency?”

He drew a sharp breath through his teeth. “That was news to me.”

Marlene opened her mouth to say something, but Regulus found the audacity to hold up his hand. He hoped his look was more politely pleading. “Please – don’t. I really don’t want to hear it yet.”

She pressed her lips tightly together, evidently distraught at not having the opportunity to defend her best friend. Yet, her internal monologue decided in his favour. “Fine,” she answered tightly. “You better figure it out though.”

With that, Marlene gave him a final look and turned on her heel, looking for some toddler to scoop up and throw over her muscled shoulder. Her retreating form revealed you standing there with some plates near the table, stalling by chatting with Mr. McKinnon, whom Regulus had done his best to avoid. You were looking at him. The ice in Regulus settled in deeper at the thought that you could have been privy to this conversation, too.

He sucked in a breath and turned around to begin washing the dishes.

For whatever reason, you gave him a few minutes of space. With his back to you, he still remained painfully aware of you levitating dishes in to him in the kitchen as he began magically scrubbing them. Trying to scrub away his thoughts the same way, and then his feelings.

You gave him space, but you wouldn’t let him wallow – and thus, just when it felt like the world would never stop spinning, you placed your hand delicately on his shoulder. Everything stopped, for better or for worse. Regulus didn’t turn.

“Hi, love,” you whispered. “Ready to go home?”

Regulus turned around at that, desperate to keep neutral even as his face scrunched in confusion. “Didn’t you want to stay late?”

Your smile was wistful. “You see, I’ve gotten such a headache. Probably have become unadjusted to these environments. Magda has wrapped up some leftovers and gotten the floo network ready for us.”

Regulus’ heart twinged at the excuse you had concocted for him; then, it immediately broke as a voice reminded him that he couldn’t trust this, couldn’t trust you. The voice sounded eerily like his Mother’s.

At a loss, he found himself just barely nodding in agreement.

He summoned enough courage to smile as he entered the living room, seeing most of the adults and older children gathered, some already running up to hug you goodbye. And not just you – Regulus suddenly had Martin and Milly at his feet for goodbye hugs. He went through the motions, politely hugging and waving goodbye, trying to distance himself from his body so he wouldn’t have to feel it.

Despite having no intention of returning, Regulus knew he had to make a good final impressions, so he walked up to Mr. McKinnon and stretched out his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, sir,” he said with an as steady voice he could produce at the moment.

The older man looked down at his hand and back up at his face, before using the outstretched hand as leverage to pull Regulus into a tight hug. “It’s Mason to you, son. Come back soon.”

Regulus nodded with a tight-lipped smile, saying nothing else as he turned towards the fireplace. There he received two almost identical hugs from Marlene and Magda, save that Marlene whispered “don’t overthink this” in his ear while Magda whispered “be good to each other, alright love?”

Never before had Regulus appreciated the flurry of travelling with the floo as much as now.

When he landed in your flat beside you, everything felt quiet. Dark.

Your shared living room felt like it was closing in on him and Regulus quite honestly might have thrown up, had that not involved a touch more vulnerability than he was willing to reveal now. Instead, he shrugged, trying to shake the feeling off him, and immediately made a beeline for the bedroom.

“Reg…” you whispered after him.

He didn’t respond; he closed the bedroom door behind him and leaned against it, effectively keeping it shut.

Feeling every bit like the 8 year old currently shaking in the depths of his memory, Regulus slid down the door, settling at the bottom of it, cradling his knees against his chest.

In the acute silence of your flat, he could hear your heavy sigh. He tried to interpret it without letting up on his attempts at occluding, at schooling his mind from you. It didn’t seem angry or disappointed, just… broken. He couldn’t decipher in what way.

Once upon a time, he had become excellent at it, but in the presence of his friends and you, he had let it slip. Somehow it was harder to hide his thoughts around you because his feelings were so screaming loud.

The creaking of the floorboards were unmistakable as you walked up to the bedroom door. He expected your hand on the handle, he expected a confrontation. Instead, he felt a soft thud against the door as you slid down on your side of it in parallel to Regulus himself. His mind began to imagine how you looked, how you leaned against it and slowed your descent down, how your head was turned sideways, looking down at the small gap beneath the frame – but if he began to imagine too much, he would lose his grip on his occlusion.

He drew a deep breath and leaned his head against the door. Closed his eyes. Focussed.

“Regulus, my love.” Your voice was soft and quiet, slightly muffled through the door, but he could hear you alright. “What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours? What happened, lovely?”

A flicker of irritation flamed in him at your word choice and he couldn’t stop himself from the bite in his words, the first real words he spoke to you since. “Can’t you just see for yourself?”

A momentary silence. “What is that supposed to mean?” A little wounded, a little wary.

“You know.” His voice was hoarse. The insistent voice in Regulus’ head was kicking him for engaging with you on this, for not waving his wand to pack his suitcase and run as far as possible. He didn’t want to think about why, but he… he couldn’t do that. Not yet.

He heard you shuffling through the door, as if you shifted sideways to pretend to see him through the door. “My love, is this… is this about the l-legilimency?” Your voice was shaking in a way that made Regulus’ face scrunch up in pain – you seemed scared and he hated it, even if he didn’t get why.

But if you were scared, he was terrified. “Of course it is,” he breathed out, frustration leaking into his voice. “Of course it is. You’ve deceived me.”

“I didn’t deceive you.” Your response was immediate. “I didn’t deceive you, I just didn’t tell–”

“That’s the same thing! You… you kept it from me.” Regulus curled up into a smaller ball, hands coming up to cover his face. Breathe. Close your mind. Breathe. Close your mind.

You were silent for a second. “I have never used it on you. Regulus, I have never read your mind.”

“Bloody convenient that I would never know, huh?” He laughed darkly, spiralling further.

“You could, if you wanted. I would… I would let you try to read mine. Anyone can learn, it’s just that I… I had to be born with it.” Your voice was wavering. It almost brought Regulus clarity, but he couldn’t bring himself to allow it to. “I promise you Reg, I wouldn’t have.”

Slowly, he let his hands fall to either side of his body. He let out perhaps the worst-tasting sentence his lips had formed. “I don’t believe you.”

This time, you were silent for longer.

You sounded painfully choked when you at last spoke up. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Regulus whispered in the same tone, and that was himself talking, not any voices.

The unmistakable sound of you beginning to get up rang through the silent flat, and panic surged through Regulus’ heart. Your name blurted out past his lips before he could stop himself.

“W-wait.” He turned to face the door, sitting cross-legged and leaning his forehead against the wood. It was terrified defiance, self-perceived stupidity and relentless love that drove his speech. “Don’t go. Not yet, please.”

If you had walked away now, Regulus was sure he would have crumbled, he would have had to apparate to Barty’s and never look back. Instead, you let out a breath he was beginning to suspect was a sob and sat back down. He felt the soft thud of you leaning against the door once more – he hoped it was your forehead, that yours were pressed together with only the wood separating you.

“Explain. Please.”

Your breathing was ragged enough that Regulus knew you were crying, rubbing your face to rid yourself of the tears before they could fall too far, like you always did. “I’m sorry,” you repeated, voice high-pitched. “I didn’t… I don’t tell people. Anyone. Because of… because…”

Because of this exact moment.

You seemed to try to stabilise yourself. Regulus ached to reach for you but remained silently rooted in place, save for the way he nudged his forehead against the door as if it was your skin.

“Why did you think I’m so close with the McKinnons?” you asked after what felt like an eternity of silence and brazing yourself. “Why do you think I’m not close with my family?”

Regulus didn’t have an answer to that. In his friend group, no one had a good relationship with their biological families and, if it could be helped, no one talked about it. A realisation began to settle in. “I just assumed… I just assumed they were bad.” He cringed at how weak of a response that was.

You laughed a bit dryly. “No, they were entirely justified. Who would want a freak for a daughter?”

If a single sentence could have changed his mind, it would have been that one. His eyes squeezed shut in pain as he shook his head. “Amour, you’re not–”

“No?” You cut him off, tone a bit pointed. Regulus could understand why. “Some people train for years to master legilimency but I came out of the womb seeing and understanding everything. It freaked me out and once they realised, same thing there. Only the McKinnons had enough children to not care for an oddball or two.”

Regulus trained his eyes on the little gap beneath the door. He placed one hand near it, not close enough to slide his fingers beneath, but enough for his fingertips to dream of it.

“They were kind to me, Regulus,” you whispered in a hauntingly sweet voice. “That’s why I… wanted you to meet them too.”

“They are kind,” he agreed at last, voice hoarse and rough.

The breath you let out at that thankfully sounded more like a choked laugh than another sob. “I tried to get rid of it, you know. I learned to control it, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I couldn’t stand living like this. So I… I don’t do it anymore. I hold back. I don’t read minds, I don’t read feelings or instincts unless I absolutely have to or… unless that person wants to. The McKinnons want to and with them it’s never been… something bad. It usually makes me feel sick, but it feels good with them. I don’t tell people because I don’t want them to know that I can do it, not because I don’t want them to know that I am doing it. I swear to you Regulus, I swear, I have never read your mind.”

At last, tears spilled down his cheeks. Searing and stinging, dripping over porcelain skin and splattering softly against the floor. “You should have told me, amour.” It was all he could say.

“I’m sorry.” He supposed that was all you could say.

Regulus fought for power over his own voice as tears continued spilling. He fought for power over his mind that was still screaming at him that you could be lying, he fought for power over his heart that knew you weren’t but was busy splintering at the pain you’ve carried. Of all the things he prepared himself for this afternoon, this conversation was not it.

“I am sorry,” he managed to force out at last, urgent. “Trust… trust is everything to me, and it is nothing because I almost never have it. That isn’t your fault, it’s– it’s probably my parents. I don’t talk of them. I don’t want to talk of them, you know this, but they– they would use anything against me. Anything I said or did, but also anything I thought or felt. It terrifies me that someone might have control of me.”

It cut him so deep to speak those words out loud, to share them with someone else, but either you had read his mind and already knew, or you were true, in which case you deserved to know. He heard you sniffle through the door.

“I would never.” Your voice was adamant despite how it broke. “I would never. You’re the one with control over me. I love you so deeply Regulus, I would never intentionally hurt you.”

“That’s what she would say,” he whispered. Not because he didn’t believe you, but because he needed to say it.

Your hand came down to rest near enough the gap beneath the door that he could see your fingers. “Did you feel loved by her?”

A sob. “No.”

Your next question was tentative, fragile. “Do you feel loved by me?”

It scared him that it was an immediate answer for him. “Yes.”

Your fingers scooted beneath the door, an open invitation. Slowly, as if this was the major decision, Regulus moved his fingers to brush against yours, to rest side by side under the door.

“I’m sorry I didn’t think to tell you before we went,” you whispered with a renewed energy. “I can’t say I’m sorry for not telling you right away, because I wouldn’t have been able to – but you didn’t deserve to find out like this and I should have known better. I am so sorry for putting you through this.”

Regulus’ fingers pushed more firmly against yours, tear tracks on his face drying slowly. “You didn’t put me through anything.”

You laughed quietly, shortly, unsure of how much was allowed, unsure what would happen. He didn’t really know either, acting on his heart’s instinct in a way wholly unfamiliar to him.

“I’m sorry for reinforcing your fears,” he whispered then. “You’re not a freak. To me personally or in general. You’re not. You’re beautiful and wonderful and so capable. Legilimency isn’t… freakish, it’s a skill and a weapon. It’s the weaponisation that scares me.”

“Will you be able to live with the fear?” you asked, voice small. “I promise I will never weaponise it, never use it on you, but… is that enough?”

Regulus was quiet.

Then – “Can we open the door?”

“It’s up to you, my love.” Your voice sounded more defeated than he liked.

He withdrew his fingers and slowly lifted himself back up, slightly lightheaded as he reached for the handle. Tentatively, he turned it and opened the door inward, finding you sat in the exact same position he had been, cross-legged in front of the door.

You began to sit up, but before you could, Regulus quickly sat back down in front of you – this time, without the door separating you. Your legs were pressed against each other and slowly, ever so slowly, he reached out to place his hands over yours folded in your lap.

The sight of your face, riddled with many more tears than what Regulus had caught through the door, eyes shining with uncertainty was enough to tear him apart. He squeezed your hands.

“I– I love you.” The words were thick, incredibly hard to form on his tongue. “I do. And that is your greatest weapon against me, probably much more than legilimency could be. I didn’t think I could withstand it, but now… I don’t think I can do anything else. I can’t lose you.”

A few more tears rolled down your cheeks. Your lips trembled, but curled into a small smile nonetheless. With delicate movements, you turned your hands so that you could intertwine your fingers with his. “You couldn’t lose me. Even if you left, I would still have been yours, just a lot more heartbroken about it.”

Regulus laughed wetly. “We’re not wired right, amour. We’re just not.”

You leaned forwards and Regulus met you halfway, foreheads finally touching. “It doesn’t matter,” you whispered. “We can rewire each other together. You just… have to believe me. Trust me.”

He closed his eyes, leaning more heavily against you. “I trust you. I do trust you, it’s just– it’s just my mind that doesn’t. And not because of you, it can’t trust anyone. Not even Barty, not even Pandora. Not even Sirius.”

You let out a breath of laughter. “I know all about battling your mind. If your heart trusts me, I reckon that’s enough for me.”

Regulus drew you closer, moving his fingers up to hold your wrists, delicate long fingers spreading out over supple skin. “If you are trying to figure out if you are enough for me, amour, then of course. Of course you are, yes. That’s why it would break me so if you weren’t true, if you had been deceiving me – you’re not just enough for me, you’re all I need.”

He could feel your tears landing on his forearms as you gently nudged your nose against his in response.

“Please,” he whispered, not knowing what he was pleading for.

Somehow, you still gave it to him. You tipped your chin upwards and let your lips meet his in a slow, wet kiss. Every movement spoke of dozens of layers of emotions, layers that were stripped back and doted on as your hands continued its caress up his arms and shoulders to cup his face and hold it like it was yours.

Regulus sighed into the kiss, leaning more of his weight against you as he enveloped you, inviting him into his very being despite how hard he fought to keep you out earlier. The Walburga-like voice in his mind was drowned out as he tried to repeat mantras over and over to wash it away.

Her, her, her, her.

Mine, mine, mine, mine.

Safe, safe, safe, safe.

When you came apart, you kept peppering small soft kisses around his lips, cheeks and nose, catching the last of Regulus’ tears as they fell. Your hands cradled his face so gently it almost hurt, but this was a kind of pain he welcomed.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated breathlessly.

“Please don’t be,” you whispered back, moving to kiss his closed eyelids with reverence.

“I always will be.”

“As will I.”

Regulus opened his eyes to frown at you. With a slight smile, you leaned in to kiss it away. He let you and hummed as he deepened the kiss, holding you close.

It was a tender, fragile night as the candles around your flat were finally lit and you changed into more comfortable clothes to hold each other on your wide window sill, looking at the stars as you talked it through.

The atmosphere remained somewhat tense, but in the same way you are tense after almost losing your partner on the battlefield, not the tension that comes from any lingering hostilities. Regulus kissed your shoulders softly each time he wanted to speak but didn’t know how, lips pressed against skin in silent apologies and declarations and promises.

You believed him – and you trusted that he believed you.

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aetherraeys · 23 days ago

Text

worst behaviour

poly!moonwater x afab!reader ⊹ 2.5k

cw ⟢ smut, mdni 18+, swearing, reader lashes out, signs of burnout, edging, brat taming, bratty!reader, soft!rem, choking, p in v, lowercase intended

summary: the pressure of a work project is making you act out of character and poor regulus receives the brunt of your stress and he simply wont have it.

a/n: so much horny brainrot, writing this when my midterms are two days away....i think i need jail time....not proofread x

it’s been hours.

hours since you sat down at your desk, working tirelessly on your project, eyes straining against blue light of the screen, back hunched over. the backs of your irises burning under the pressure of a mild headache that has been brewing since the morning.

the project wasn’t due for another six days, and yet every single day since you’d been assigned it, you forced yourself to focus on nothing else. the looming pressure of failure and desire for perfection invasively creeping into the forefront of your mind whenever you tried to rest.

and it was having some adverse affects on your, usually, rather pleasant and sweet disposition.

you had been told before that you don’t handle stress well, and that your tongue can get quiet sharp without you realising, but you hadn’t even noticed your scrowl and sour attitude.

or the harsh tone you’d been using with regulus all day.

and he was well aware of the stress you refused to talk about, or even admit to feeling—as silently as possible trying to ease the pressure.

small things throughout the week, both him and remus had been worked to make sure you didn’t overwork yourself like always.

and remus had only popped out to the shops for maybe an hour, picking out ingredients to make you something that might tear you away from your laptop screen.

it was only when regulus had peaked into your shared room for the fifth time that day—just checking in—to see the water he’d left completely untouched. it forced his lips to purse together in mild frustration, but with a small inhale through his nose, he pushed down the desire to reprimand and slipped in through the door.

he was perched on the bed for a few moments before he spoke, voice light and gentle.

“you should drink some water, love,”

you didn’t acknowledge him with more than a mild hum, frown etching onto you face at his presence. its not that you didn’t want him there, but he was surely going to distract you, and in your mind, the faster you were done with this, the better.

even if it did mean being a bit distant.

he heard the way your fingers paused their steady typing when his voice cracked the manicured silence you worked in—resuming after a few moments, and still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave you for another hour in your scrunched position.

“you shouldn’t sit like that, love, you’ll hurt your back,”

regulus could have sworn he saw your eye twitch in the reflection of the screen, and you didn’t mask the small sigh that left you before you spoke, “i’ll be fine, reg.” tone clipped, words abrupt.

there were a few more beats of silence passed before the soft clicking of your fingers filled the room again. he continued to watch you intently—the way you picked at the skin around your nails each time you paused, one corner of your lips slightly reddened from your excessive biting, brows pinched in concentration.

“you haven’t left the room all day—come eat with me,”

he was already standing just beside you, still trying to push down the chiding words and coax you out of the same four walls you’d caged yourself in for the last five fours.

you didn’t even bother responding, but he saw the way your jaw clenched, the way your hands squeezed into small fists over the keyboard before stretching out, tapping a bit harder into the keys. he had to bite down the scoff that built in his throat at your blatant disregard, swallowing his pride—he knew it wasn’t personal, you were stressed, probably hungry and dehydrated—burntout.

raising his hands to your shoulders, his fingers worked lightly into the tense knots that had built in your shoulders, brows just as pinched as yours—in sympathy, “why don’t you take a break?”

it didn’t last long.

almost instantly you were shrugging off his touch, hands coming up to your face, forcibly rubbing over your eyes and browbone as if to will stress away, “please, reg. you’re making me lose my train of thought.” snippy and curt, but regulus could hear the undercutting tone of desperation in your voice.

not once did you spare him even a glace, and with another heavy sigh you tried to hone your attention in on your work, pushing down the simmering irritation that was burning in your chest.

couldn’t he just let you be?

let you work in peace?

so you can finish your work, just be done with it.

his lips pursed into a tight line, composing himself with a deep breath, hand hovering over your shoulder for a few moments before he let it rest on the back of the chair. “maybe if you ate something or took a few minutes, amour, you’d be able to—”

your head whipped up to him, eyes glossy in frustration, cutting his words short with a snap,

“could you fuck off for five minutes?!”

regulus’ jaw clicked, his brows arched high on his forehead at your words, and you knew you’d done it.

though that little outburst wasn’t the reason why you were in your current predicament.

lips bitten raw, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, head lolling against the pillow, hair stuck to the sweat that had prickled at your forehead—regulus fucking into you with a meanness that had you screwing your eyes shut.

“…stubborn little thing,” punctuating his breathless words with each unforgiving ram of his hips into yours, forcing the air out of your lungs in choked muffled mewls, teeth forced into the flesh of your lips. and, you were—stubborn. because you could have easily avoided this if you’d just apologised like he’d asked you to, but no. instead regulus was steadily working you to another high he was undoubtly going to deny you.

there was surely a darkening patch of wetness on the bed beneath where you were joined, thighs split over his hips, his brows were knit tightly together, chest rising with each puff of air he sucked in—he was grinning down at you dangerously now. tongue darting out to wet his lips—”cat got your tongue now, amour?”

you squirmed in his hold, hips bucking into, then away from the rummaging thrusts he pushed into you, shaking your head into the pillow as your eyes squeezed together even tighter.

“hmmm, g’na let me hear you, then?”

regulus was only met with another hushed cry, smothered by your teeth’s long lasting refuge into your bottom lip and more mindless shakes of your head. your wrists were crossed over your abdomen, held together by the bruising grip of his hands—using you as leverage to fuck into you harsher, producing a lewd squelch from between you.

“aww, my girl doesn’t wanna talk to me?” he was goading, forcing more bullying thrusts up into your plush walls, legs stuttering and trembling where they bracketed his hips, “that’s okay, amour, my girl can have whatever she—wants,” runting into you explicitly mean, adjusting his grip on your wrists.

watching with a leering smirk as your eyes rolled back in your head, lips parting to release a singular honeyed whine, before immediately worrying shut. and regulus noticed it, narrowing his eyes, and bucking up in that same manner—earning him another cry, and a wolfish grin split onto his face.

he could feel it, the way you clenched and pulsed around him, each time his pressed into that spot. “thaat’s more like it, amour, nice and loud for me,” brows furrowing in concentration, working the coil that rested in the pits of your stomach tighter and tighter.

your blood was ringing in ears, spine arching at the pleasure, heat spreading invasively under you skin—trying to focus on anything other than the delicious stretch that sparked through you with each thrust. but it felt like all senses except for touch, had been dulled.

so much so, that you didn’t notice the soft click of your bedroom door when it shut behind remus.

“well, well, well,” he drawled, immediately settling on the bed next you, eyes dark with interest, “couldn’t wait an hour before you started the fun, reg?”

you just barely found the strength to let your eyes open just a slither, head rolling to find remus just inches away from you—smirk etched onto his face in amusement as your gasping whines filled his ears. “haah—not even. this brat couldn’t behave for the hour you were gone,”

mouth parting, your protests falling dead on your lips, only able to shake your head deliriously as your bucked your hips into regulus, loud mewls leaving as you got dangerously close to the edge. gaze still trained on remus, as he hummed in acknowledgement—bringing his hand to brush the hairs that stuck to your face away. “oooo, what d’you do, pet?” cooing in a low tone, breath fanning over your cheek.

you couldn’t focus on his words even if your tried, eyes screwing shut as the coil in your stomach threatened to snap, walls fluttering frantically around regulus, forcing a groan from his lips as he quickly reeling all the way out, his tip just barely kissing your glossy folds, watching as you clenched around nothing.

speaking breathlessly over your frustrated cries, “was just trying to take care of her—she told me to fuck off,” releasing one grip over your wrists, pushing teasingly against your slit before bullying his way back into your core, bottoming out in one languid thrust, his breath catching in his throat as he continue, “too, ngh—too stubborn to say sorry,”

regulus wasted no time in working you back up, even as you whined in protest, looking over to remus with pleading eyes as he ground his hips harshly into yours—adding just the right amount of pressure to leave you leaking and gushing around him.

remus was still stroking your head, eyes soft when they met yours.

but his lips split into a deceivingly innocent smirk as he spoke, “don’t look at me, dove, you know what you have to do,”

your eyes were glossy when you squeezed them shut, a broken cry of, “hngh—rem,” leaving your lips, and you could hear the low snicker that left him as you turned away. regulus shifted, using all his weight to pressing into you harder, and the change in angle made you head spin, forcing wanton babbles out as you shook your head restlessly.

working you up again, too fast, and you could barely think straight, let alone breath—drinking in greedy gasps of air, fruitlessly trying to squirm away each heavy plow of his hips. you were clamping down around him, the pressure of your walls had regulus’ jaw slacking—words littered with hoarse groans, “f-fuck, close already, amour?”

you couldn’t respond, not when remus’ voice was in your ears, filling the blank space in your brain with his low and honeyed tone, lips just carressing the shell of your ear.

“hmm, don’t you wanna cum, pet? so stubborn, gonna make reggie fuck it out of you?”

it was all too much, the rough drag of regulus filling you up, the way one of remus’ hands wandered over your skin, hitching you leg to give regulus more room, or how he nipped at you jaw the second your neck craned away and stretched as your back arched—you could almost taste your high, so close your hips trembled and vision blurred.

and then nothing.

empty.

regulus had pulled away with a sharp hiss, just when you were about to teeter over the edge, body shuddering against the mattress, tears of frustration welling in your eyes.

remus wasn’t looking at you anymore, gaze fixed on regulus as he sucked in a harsh breath, “merlin, reg, almost gave her a ruined one,”

he was already rocking into you after a few moments, hissing when as your walls sucked him in desperately—the wet slick sound mixing with your whines and whimpers once again. remus was too soft, taking pity on you ever so slightly—he was going to make you break.

bringing his hand gently over your throat, not squeezing, just resting, and you drew in a sharp inhale at the contact, brows curving into a deeper arch with each jolt of pleasure that ran through you.

“you want me to squeeze, love?”

your hands clenched into a tight fist, wiling your fast approaching high away, eyes rolling to the depths of your skull when regulus leaning into you, reeling his hips back before sinking all the way in, again and again and again into your poor swollen lips. you weren’t even sure you were in the room anymore, mind hazy with the endless onslaugh pleasure, nerve endings set alight—nodding deliriously at his words.

“yeah? be a good girl and break for me—give reggie what he wants,”

a almost gutteral groan left regulus at the first spasm of your walls around him, hips stuttering as your incoherent cries of half-formed thoughts, “mmphf, fuck—pleasepleaseplease, reggie—” filled his ears.

hips chanting up into his to meet each thrust, eyes rolling into a tight squeeze, forcing tears out of the corners when you heard his voice, almost just as wrecked as yours, “hngh—not enough, amour—wanna hear you say it,”

you were practically melting into the mattress, body shivering with each push push push, walls were clinging to him so tight he almost struggled to pull away.

one testing press of remus hand around your neck, you caved—babbling urgent sobbing strings of, “m’sorry—hck, reg—gna be good, pleaseplease, m’sorry,”

dragging in deep breaths between words with every even deeper stroke he was planting on you, and when remus’ hand finally squeezed deliciously around your throat, you body went ridgid—high washing over you in unforgiving waves, vision spotting, breath hitching as regulus praise reached your ears.

“thaaat’s it, amour—cum f’me,”

the wet sounds of skin on skin becoming more and more languid before his head presses into your neck, cheeks flush against remus’ hand, strangled moans muffled by the press of his lips to your skin as he spilled inside you, “—mmphf, s-so good—fuck,”

jaw slacking as the aftershocks struck through, remus ever so gently peeling his hand away from your neck, thumbs brushing over the tops of your flushed cheekbones, as your shuddered coming down from high, blissful hums passing into the air from your lips.

body boneless as regulus pressed small delicate kisses to your skin, voice just above a whisper, more breath than words—”you okay, amour—not too much?” you just managed the smallest of nods before you melted into his touch, the tempting lull of sleep too strong to deny.

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unconventional-lawnchair · 4 months ago

Text

Jealousy, Jealousy

Where the boys get jealous... (Feat. Barty, Regulus, Sirius, Remus, and James)

WC: ~3.5k

CW: Fem!Reader, a few cusses, obsessive and possessive boys, Remus and Moony are written as different characters.

Barty gets asked if you're single…

Barty leaned against the stone wall of the corridor, arms crossed and a lazy smirk playing on his lips as the boy in front of him tried to find his footing in the conversation. It was late enough in the evening that most of the students had cleared out, leaving the space quiet except for the faint echo of distant footsteps. The boy- what was his name? Probably irrelevant- was shifting his weight nervously, though he tried to mask it with a forced bravado.

“So,” The boy began again, licking his lips as though trying to sound casual. “You’re close with her, right? I mean, you two are always together.”

Barty raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening just a touch as he tilted his head- pulling the smoke from between his lips. “We’re friends,” Barty replied easily, though the word friends came out slow and deliberate, almost like a challenge.

The boy took a deep breath, seemingly bolstered by Barty’s nonchalant tone. “Right, yeah. I figured.” He hesitated, then plunged forward, clearly emboldened by the silence. “I was just wondering, you know… do you think she’d go for someone like me?”

Barty blinked. For the briefest moment, his expression was unreadable- like he hadn’t quite heard the question correctly. Then, like a switch being flipped, he grinned widely, his whole face lighting up as though the very idea had amused him to no end.

“You?” He repeated, laughter edging his voice as he uncrossed his arms and pushed off the wall. He took a deep breath of his smoke and let the ash slip onto the boy's shoe, who quickly shook it off. Barty gestured at the boy vaguely, as though considering his entire existence. “You’re asking if you would have a shot?”

The boy’s bravado faltered slightly at Barty’s tone, but he straightened his shoulders, forcing a confident nod. “Yeah. I mean, she’s nice to everyone, right? So I thought- ”

“Oh, that’s precious,” Barty interrupted smoothly, his voice warm but condescending. He stepped closer, his free hand sliding into his pocket, his green eyes glinting as he looked the boy over. “She is nice to everyone, isn’t she? That’s what makes her so…” He paused, pretending to search for the right word. “Enchanting, I suppose.”

The boy relaxed just a fraction at Barty’s seemingly complimentary tone, but Barty’s smile sharpened as he took another step forward.

“Here’s the thing,” Barty continued, his voice softening into something dangerously close to friendly. “You’re not a bad bloke, are you?” He flicked his robes, letting the smoke from his cigarette fill the boys senses. “Clean enough robes, decent enough grades- probably someone your mum’s very proud of. Real cookie cutter, yeah?”

The boy blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… I guess?”

Barty grinned wider. “See? Nothing wrong with you at all. And yet…” He trailed off, taking another hit before he blatantly blew the smoke into his face. Even then he still found himself leaning in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “She’s not for you.”

The boy coughed, shooing away the smoke, confused. “What do you mean? She’s not- ”

“Let me save you some time, mate,” Barty cut in smoothly, stepping around him as though they were taking a casual stroll together. “Do you know what she wants to be after she graduates? How she wrinkles her nose when she laughs too hard- how much she hates when someone brings it up? Or how she’ll hum to herself when she thinks no one’s listening? How to make her smile on her worst days?” He glanced back over his shoulder, his smile full of sharp teeth. “You don’t, do you?”

The boy shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Barty’s words. “No, but- ”

Barty whirled back to face him, the sudden movement causing the boy to flinch. “That’s the problem though, innit?” He said softly, his voice dripping with false sympathy. “You don’t know her. Not really. And she deserves someone who does.”

The boy looked frustrated now, his confidence cracking under Barty’s pointed gaze. “You’re just saying that because you think you’re better for her!”

Barty’s smirk vanished. The shift was subtle but immediate, the playfulness draining from his face as his eyes turned icy, pinning the boy where he stood. “Better for her?” Barty echoed softly, his tone devoid of its earlier amusement. “I’d destroy myself for her. I’d burn the whole bloody world down if it so much as thought about hurting her. I've spent years of my life making sure she'd never know fear when I'm around.”

The boy opened his mouth to respond, but no words came. Barty stepped closer, forcing him to back up until his shoulders hit the cold stone wall. Flicking out his cig and tossing it at his chest.

“You don’t understand devotion, mate,” Barty continued, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Not the kind that keeps you awake at night, wondering if she’s happy. Not the kind that has you ready to rip apart anyone who so much as looks at her the wrong way. That kind of love… it’s not for people like you.”

The boy swallowed hard, his eyes darting away as though trying to escape Barty’s unrelenting stare.

Barty tilted his head, the hint of a smile returning to his lips, though it held none of its earlier warmth. “But don’t worry,” he said lightly, taking a small step back. “I’m not angry. You’re harmless, really. Like a moth buzzing too close to something far too bright for you to touch. Happens to everyone who meets her.”

The boy shifted uneasily, his face pale as he tried to muster some shred of dignity. “You’re crazy,” He muttered under his breath.

Barty grinned at that, his eyes glinting with something almost feral. “Probably,” He admitted cheerfully, shrugging. “Just trust me mate. You wouldn't survive the competition.”

~~~

Regulus sees a guy trying to ask you out…

You were standing just outside the courtyard, the stone archways sheltering you and a nervous-looking Gryffindor boy from the cool autumn breeze. He’d stopped you after class, clearly trying to build up the courage to ask something. You were being polite, as always, listening with a soft smile while he stumbled over his words.

Regulus hadn’t been far, of course. He never was, though you hadn’t noticed him watching you from across the courtyard, his keen gray eyes narrowing slightly at the boy’s sudden presence.

“So, um,” the Gryffindor started, shifting on his feet and running a hand through his hair. “I was wondering if- uh- well, maybe you’d like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? Just us?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Oh- ”

Before you could finish, Regulus moved in like a shadow, silent and swift. Without a word, he appeared at your side and leaned down, resting his chin casually on your shoulder. The gesture startled you, your breath hitching as his weight settled comfortably there, familiar but intrusive all the same.

“Are you busy, ma moitié?” Regulus asked smoothly, his tone soft, casual, and laced with just a hint of amusement. He ignored the Gryffindor completely, acting as if he didn’t exist.

Your face turned slightly to the side, startled by his sudden proximity. “Regulus? What are you- ”

“We have that thing to do, remember?” Regulus murmured, his voice low but perfectly clear. He tilted his head, the movement brushing his hair softly against your cheek.

The Gryffindor frowned, his nerves quickly shifting to irritation. “What thing? I was just asking her something- ”

Regulus finally glanced at him, his gaze lazy and unbothered but chilling nonetheless. “How generous of you to interrupt,” he said coolly, his chin still perched on your shoulder as though he hadn’t a care in the world.

The boy bristled. “I didn’t interrupt- ”

Regulus cut him off with a small, sardonic smile, as though he were correcting a child. “You didn’t mean to, I’m sure,” he drawled. “But, you see, we have plans. So unless you’re particularly fond of wasting her time…”

You frowned slightly, your hand moving to nudge Regulus’s shoulder as if to make him move. “Reg, that’s not- ”

“Isn’t it?” Regulus replied smoothly, tilting his head ever so slightly, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

The Gryffindor’s face flushed, clearly caught off guard by Regulus’s presence and tone. He looked at you, frustration in his voice. “Look, I just wanted to- ”

“I think you should go,” Regulus said, his voice as light and polite as ever, though there was no mistaking the ice beneath it.

The Gryffindor hesitated, but Regulus’s unwavering stare pinned him in place. It wasn’t a glare- Regulus didn’t need to glare to be intimidating. His calm, unwavering confidence was sharp enough. After another awkward pause, the boy muttered, “Maybe another time.”

He turned and walked off, shoulders tense and ears red.

Regulus finally lifted his chin from your shoulder, straightening up with a look of faint satisfaction. You turned on him immediately, pouting a bit with your bottom lip jotted out- eyebrows furrowing and your arms crossed. “That wasn't very nice, Black.”

Regulus shrugged and wrapped his arm around your waist as he turned you away from the courtyard. “He’ll live.”

~~~

Sirius seeing someone flirt with you…

It was a lovely spring afternoon by the Black Lake. The sunlight filtered through the branches of the nearby trees, dancing over the rippling water. A cool breeze swept through the air, ruffling your hair as you sat cross-legged on a blanket, deep in conversation with a Slytherin boy.

The boy- someone vaguely familiar, you thought his name was Marcus- had approached you earlier in the day, something about needing help with Potions. He was pleasant enough, a bit shy, though you couldn’t help but notice how often he looked away or scratched the back of his neck when you smiled.

“…and, you know, it’s just the stirring,” Marcus was saying, his voice faltering slightly as his eyes darted to yours. “I keep- well, messing it up. Slughorn says I’m overthinking it.”

You offered a gentle smile, always patient. “It’s probably just nerves,” you reassured him kindly. “You’re better at it than you think, I’m sure. Do you want me to walk you through it?”

Marcus blinked, visibly perking up. “Oh- yeah, that’d be great, I mean- ”

“Ah, there you are,” Sirius Black’s unmistakable drawl cut through the serene afternoon like a thunderclap.

Both of you turned toward the voice, and there he was. Sirius stood at the edge of the blanket with his hands shoved lazily in the pockets of his trousers, the sunlight making his dark hair shine like ink. There was an unmistakable mischief in his gray eyes as he looked from you to Marcus and back again.

“Sirius,” You said with a mix of surprise and mild annoyance, straightening where you sat. “What are you doing here?”

“What, can’t a man visit his favorite girl?” He replied with a grin, though his gaze sharpened ever so slightly as it flicked toward Marcus. “You know, it’s dangerous out here by the lake. Giant squids, rouge bludgers, snakes- all that. Best you’re not left alone with someone… inexperienced.”

Marcus’s face flushed, clearly thrown off. “I think she’s doing fine, thanks,” he muttered, trying to sound confident but failing miserably.

Sirius smirked, as though that was the response he’d been hoping for. Without any preamble, he dropped onto the blanket beside you- practically on top of you- his long legs stretching out as he sprawled back against the grass like he owned the entire lakeshore.

“Merlin’s beard, it’s exhausting being me,” he said dramatically, folding his arms behind his head. “You don’t mind, do you, sweetheart? Just needed to rest my bones for a bit.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sirius, I’m kind of busy- ”

“Oh, don’t let me interrupt,” he said innocently, though the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was anything but. “Go on, Marcus. You were talking about… stirring, was it?”

Marcus shot Sirius a pointed glare. “We were in the middle of something.”

“Were you?” Sirius replied, eyes gleaming with barely contained amusement. “Could’ve fooled me.”

You frowned, nudging him with your elbow. “Sirius, stop being difficult.”

“I’m not being difficult.” He purred smoothly, shifting just enough to rest his head against your shoulder, his hair brushing your neck as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “Just keeping an eye on you. Someone has to.”

Your face burned at the unexpected affection, though you tried your best to seem unbothered. Marcus, however, looked positively livid, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Marcus accused, glaring at Sirius.

Sirius blinked up at him, all mock innocence. “Me? What on earth would I be doing on purpose?”

“You know what- ”

“Marcus,” you interrupted, sighing as you tried to salvage the conversation. “Maybe we can pick this up later. It’s… getting a bit distracting.”

Marcus glanced at you, frustrated but resigned, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he nodded stiffly. “Sure. Later.”

He stalked off without another word, leaving you alone with Sirius, who was grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“You’re an ass.” You huffed, finally shoving him off your shoulder.

Sirius sat up with a dramatic groan, smirking as he stretched out his arms. “Merlin, that was exhausting.”

You glared at him, exasperated. “What was that?”

“That, my dear,” Sirius said, grinning cheekily, “was me doing you a favor. You don’t honestly want to spend your afternoon discussing stirring, do you?”

“That’s not the point!” You argued, narrowing your eyes. “He was just being nice, and you scared him off!”

“Good,” Sirius replied smugly, lying back down with his hands behind his head. “Couldn’t risk losing you to someone boring.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I could be practical- real practical. We can talk about stirring.”

You huffed, trying to hide the small smile tugging at your lips.

Sirius turned his head to look at you, his grin softening ever so slightly as his stormy eyes held yours. “Besides,” he added, voice quieter now, “it’s much better when it’s just us, don’t you think?”

~~~

Remus finds you asleep on someone he doesn't know…

The Gryffindor common room was dimly lit, the fire burning low, its golden light casting lazy shadows across the walls. Most students had gone to bed, and silence blanketed the space, save for the occasional pop of burning wood.

Remus hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d lain awake for what felt like hours, restlessness gnawing at him as Moony clawed at the edges of his mind, pacing.

She’s not where she's supposed to be, Moony murmured, insistent and low, like a growl rumbling through his chest. Go to her. Find her.

It was nonsense, of course. You were probably curled up in your dormitory, safe and warm, and yet Moony’s unease bled into Remus, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He sighed, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and padding barefoot to the staircase. Just to be sure. Just to calm Moony.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs, the fire caught his eye first. Then he saw you.

You were curled up in a worn armchair by the fire, your head tilted to rest softly against the shoulder of a fifth-year boy Remus barely recognized. The boy sat stiffly, afraid to move, his expression somewhere between frozen panic and misplaced pride.

Moony stilled.

And then he snarled.

Get her up. She’s vulnerable.

Remus stopped in place, his breath catching as an instinct he couldn’t quite name surged through him. Moony’s anger wasn’t a loud roar this time- it was quiet, simmering like an ember. What’s he doing there? She’s asleep. He shouldn’t be near her. She's vulnerable.

Remus swallowed hard, his fingers twitching as he tried to steady himself. He didn’t want to startle you, and he didn’t want to scare the boy. He wasn’t angry- not really. But Moony… Moony didn’t understand manners.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, Remus moved forward. Quiet as a shadow, he stopped in front of the chair, his amber-tinged eyes fixed on the boy.

The younger Gryffindor glanced up nervously. “Oh. Uh- Lupin- she fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake her.”

Remus didn’t say anything at first, his gaze shifting to you. Your breathing was soft and steady, one arm curled loosely under your head. Moony quieted just a little at the sight, though the wolf’s presence still pressed against Remus’s ribs, heavy and protective.

“She’ll be more comfortable in her own bed,” Remus said finally, his voice low and calm. “I’ll take her.”

The boy blinked, confused. “I- what?”

Remus lifted his chin slightly, his tone firm despite the gentleness in it. “You can go. I’ll make sure she gets to her dorm.”

The boy hesitated, but something in Remus’s steady gaze seemed to settle the matter. “Right. Yeah. Sure,” he mumbled awkwardly, carefully shifting out from under you. He moved to stand, glancing one last time at you before hurrying up the stairs, his footsteps fading into the quiet.

Remus let out a slow breath, crouching down next to you. Moony settled just a little further, content now that the boy was gone, but still restless, still protective.

She’s too exposed, Moony murmured. Wake her. Take her where she’s safe.

Remus hesitated, watching the way your lashes fluttered faintly against your cheeks as you stirred, your lips parting slightly as though searching for the warmth that had left. His heart tugged in his chest, guilt biting at him.

“Dovie,” He called softly, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out, his hand hovering over your arm for just a moment before gently brushing against your shoulder. “Up you get, lovely girl.”

You shifted with a quiet murmur, blinking blearily as your eyes fluttered open. “Mmm… Remus?”

“Hey.” He cooed, his lips curving into a small, careful smile. “You fell asleep down here.”

“Oh.” You blinked again, sitting up slowly and rubbing at your eyes. You looked around in confusion before your gaze landed back on him. “What time is it?”

“Late,” He chuckled, standing to his full height as he offered you a hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you to your dorm.”

You frowned sleepily, tilting your head. “You don’t have to do that.”

Remus’s jaw tightened faintly, and for a moment, he swore he could feel Moony’s growl rumbling deep inside him. She needs protecting. Don’t leave her here.

“I insist,” He said gently, his voice soft but brooking no argument. “You’ll sleep better in your own bed.”

You yawned, smiling at him as you took his hand. “If you say so.”

~~~

James steals the show from your newest admirer…

The Gryffindor common room was alive with its usual evening bustle- cards flying in midair from a game of Exploding Snap, the fire crackling merrily, and the low hum of chatter filling every corner. You were perched on the arm of one of the chairs, laughing softly as a chaser- Finn regaled you with a story from practice, his easy-going charm and dramatic hand gestures keeping you engaged.

Finn’s voice was lively, something about a Bludger mishap and the newest Beater, and you couldn’t help the bright smile it pulled from you.

James, sitting across the room with Sirius and Remus, had been halfway through a halfhearted game of Wizard’s Chess when he noticed.

“Prongs,” Sirius said, nudging him when his knight didn’t move. “Your move, mate.”

James didn’t hear him. His hazel eyes were fixed on the sight of you leaning just a little closer to Finn, laughing at something he’d said.

James sat up straighter, his jaw tightening.

“Earth to Prongs?” Sirius waved a hand in front of James’s face, earning himself a scowl.

“Do you lot know,” James said suddenly, his voice pitched loud enough to carry across the room, “about the time I stole Filch’s keys and locked him in his own office? Poor guy thought Peeves was after him.”

All at once, a ripple of laughter swept through the room. Students turned toward James with wide smiles and bright eyes, a chorus of, “No way!” and “You’ve got to tell us!” filling the air.

Finn faltered mid-sentence, glancing toward the growing crowd around James.

You shot Finn an apologetic smile, clearly torn between listening to the end of his story and the infectious energy that always followed your best friend. James’s grin was wide and charming as ever, his eyes twinkling mischievously- but when his gaze flicked to yours, something sharper lingered beneath the warmth.

He hadn’t stopped looking at Finn once.

“What happened?” One of the younger students urged eagerly, completely captivated by James’s easy charisma.

“Ah, you wouldn’t believe it,” James replied, leaning back in his seat as though he had all the time in the world. His voice was smooth, his confidence magnetic. “I’d hidden behind that big grandfather clock, you know the one? Filch swore up and down he’d heard a ghost- but he couldn’t figure out how the door locked from the outside. Poor bloke works at Hogwarts and still doesn't grasp magic!”

More laughter erupted, and James winked at you as if to say, See? Isn’t this better?

Finn glanced at you, clearly realizing he’d lost your attention entirely. “I, um… I guess I’ll finish the story later,” He muttered sheepishly.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” You said, genuinely apologetic, but Finn was already waving you off.

“It’s fine. James has a habit of stealing the spotlight anyway,” he joked, though his tone wasn’t without a hint of frustration. He wandered off toward his dorm room, leaving you to turn toward James and his growing group of admirers.

Later, Sirius confronted James about his little stunt. Calling him jealous, James scoffs dramatically. “Jealous? Me? Please. I’m just looking out for her.”

Sirius raises an eyebrow. “Looking out for her, or making sure no one else looks at her?”

James shrugs, a smug little grin tugging at his lips. “Same thing, really.”

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tsukimirecs · 7 months ago

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SLYTHERIN // fic recommendations

note: remember to read the tags! + i do not own any of these works

REGULUS BLACK

le lendemain matin

the salt and the sea

forever

the better of two bad options

a pen

the door

the black heir

distraction

THEODORE NOTT

love is sour grapes

by netws & nott

something stronger

like snow on the beach

the only heaven i'll be sent to (is when i'm alone with you)

TOM RIDDLE

desiderium

love again

from the glue

salted caramel, metal, strawberries, vanilla, and ink

midmorning

effects of amortentia

DRACO MALFOY

our little secret

honeydukes

firsts

how could i ever forget?

makeup

draco malfoy with shy!male!reader headcanons

cherry juice

MATTHEO RIDDLE

the cat

puppy eyes

the game

rainy nights m.r

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

like nobody else

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melmoss · 7 days ago

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Office. The inevitable sign of adult life. Doesn't mean it can't be fun, though.

Sirius, for the life of him, can't stand it. For him corporate equals hell, but he always manages to come up with a way to get on your nerves.

bad intern in which Sirius is a pain in your ass, but he's the owner's son so it's not like you can do anything about it

negotiations in which Sirius is your annoying coworker who's infuriatingly good at sweet talking people and getting the best deal out of every client he meets

James is probably the sweetest guy you'll ever meet at the office. He's one of the good ones, seriously. Your mum would love him.

lunch date in which you surprise James on his lunch break

IT department in which James' computer keeps breaking down so he keeps coming back to you in the IT department

Regulus takes his job seriously, alright? He's the best there ever will be, he isn't just some nepo kid.

suit shopping in which it's your first day on the job and your attire is already giving Regulus a headache

silver spoons in which you and Regulus know that arranged marriage will happen sooner or later but it's easier to hate each other than to actually talk

Remus works hard. Always. Vacations are for the weak. He didn't get this VP position to just lay on the beach, did he?

overworked in which Remus needs to be physically dragged from his paperwork

an hr violation in which Remus almost fires the new intern who's been flirting with you

he’s going gray in which the stress makes itself known one morning when Remus notices two small gray hairs on his head and panics

James & Sirius in the bonus bot!

after the new hire in which you just got hired as a junior designer under Remus, but James and Sirius can't stop trying to flirt with you

#Sirius Black #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Regulus Black #sirius x you #sirius black x reader #james potter x you #james potter x reader #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #regulus x reader #regulus black x reader #marauders #mels bot release

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rainydayathogwarts · 2 months ago

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Infatuated - regulus black, platonic!sirius

summary: your relationship with regulus pulls him and one of your best friends, sirius, closer together for the first time in years. a/n so i did forget to post this yesterday, but let's just look past that. wc: 0.9k+

For the first time in four months, Regulus and Sirius were sat in the same room, and it was all thanks to you. Regulus, oh so loving, had blindly come to your dorm to find you after his last class of the day in search of hugs and kisses. Sirius, on the other hand, had barged into your dormitory in hopes of you lending him a hair tie. Neither of them had found you, no, but they found each other. Regulus’s head had snapped towards the door from where he was laid on your bed, scanning through the novel on your bedside table. Sirius halted in the doorway, jaw slacking, the hand holding his hair up in a makeshift bun falling limp to his side.

Sirius felt the need to explain himself, not wanting to give his younger brother the wrong impression. “I, uh, I wanted to ask her for a hair tie.” Regulus nodded wordlessly, flipping onto his stomach and opening your bedside drawer, filing through the organised mess. With a proud hum, Regulus fished out a hair tie between his thumb and index finger, holding it out for Sirius. Sirius walked over to Regulus, pursing his lips in an awkward smile as he quietly thanked him, tying his hair back. The two brothers stared at each other silently for a long moment before Regulus finally spoke up. He felt as though he owed it to Sirius to let him know that he wasn’t taking advantage of one of his closest friends. Regulus sat up, swinging his legs off your bed and fiddling with his fingers as he stood up, announcing “I really like her, you know?” Sirius breathed out a laugh, nodding his head with a smile. “Yeah, I can see that.” Regulus chuckled nervously, bowing his head down to look as his feet as he added “And you know, I’d like to think she likes me too.”

Sirius shoved his hands into his pockets as he barked out a laugh, balancing his weight back and forth onto the balls and heels of his feet. “Yeah, you don’t have to tell me that.” Regulus furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, asking curiously “What do you mean?” Sirius’s eyebrows shot up in surprise at his brother’s genuine question, shocked that he didn’t realise the true extent of your feelings towards him. “I mean, the girl’s infatuated with you!” Sirius started, watching as a flush painted Reg’s cheeks. “Everyone can tell by the way she looks at you. And she smiles so much her cheeks look like they hurt.” Sirius took Regulus’s silence as a cue to continue. “You know, she tries not to talk about you too much to me, but I think she just can’t help it.” Regulus laughed shyly, trying to hide his ecstatic smile from Sirius, but the boy could clearly see his smile and was grinning back at him.

Sirius looked back towards the door as the room became silent again, announcing “Well! I’ll return this if I don’t lose it.” Regulus chuckled as a response, watching as the door opened. The only problem was that it wasn’t Sirius who had turned the doorknob. No, it was you. Your audible gasp thickened the tension in the room, but it was quickly broken down by the wide smile that immediately bloomed on your face, both brothers softening at the adoring look on your face. “Hey you guys!” You dropped your bag by the doorway, beelining to Sirius to press a kiss onto his forehead before making your way towards Regulus and opening your arms widely to engulf Regulus in a hug. Your boyfriend quickly glanced at his older brother before ducking down and wrapping his arms around your waist, shutting his eyes in satisfaction and he sighed. You pulled away slightly to press your lips to his, a hand traveling down to caress Regulus’ pink cheek.

“So, what were you two doing in here without me?” You asked, turning your head back to look at Sirius, your arms still loosely holding Regulus against you, though his arms kept you snug against him. “Burrowing a hair tie.” Sirius muttered guiltily, as though getting caught stealing. You didn’t wait for Regulus’s answer, having found him waiting for you in your dorm quite often, instead adding “Hey, are you boys coming to mine on Christmas eve?” You asked with a smile that pressured them both to accept your invitation despite the other being there. You turned back to look at Reggie, mumbling “Well I know you’re staying with me anyway, but is Sirius coming?”

Sirius furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, watching as you moved to sit down on your bed, Regulus following you like a lost puppy. “What do you mean?” “I’m spending the Christmas holiday at my lovely girlfriend’s house.” Regulus announced, a hand wrapping around your shoulder. Sirius let out a quiet ‘huh’, surprised that for the first time since his time at Hogwarts started, Regulus was not going back home for the Christmas holidays. Sirius wondered if the situation at home had gotten worse since he left. Realising he was staring silently, Sirius nodded, saying “Uh yeah, James and I are coming for sure. I’m not sure about the others.” Sirius nodded awkwardly at Regulus, spinning on the balls of his feet as he said a quick goodbye.

As the door slammed shut, you turned towards Regulus, pushing him back on the bed as you connected your lips in an eager kiss. “I’m happy you guys are getting along,” you muttered against his lips. “It’s cute to see you guys together.” Regulus rolled you over on the bed so he laid between your legs, resting his head on your chest as he thought deeply, finally saying. “I’m happy too.”

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asterias-record-shop · 1 year ago

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professor’s favorite girl (r.a.b.)

Everyone knew you were a good student, so it normally didn’t come as a surprise why you got the highest marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts with the infamous Regulus Black as your professor. They truly didn’t expect what seemed like a cruel professor to have taken some sort of… liking to a pretty Hufflepuff. Holy shit, this is 3.3K words- (beware, ‘dark’-er fic!)

The first day you came into class, Regulus noticed that your skirt was tailored. And since then, he has noticed everything about you.

When you started wearing makeup to his class.

When you started doing your hair, and when boys started to realize how attractive you were.

Regulus didn’t think he could comprehend why some boys didn’t notice how attractive you were, it was something he noticed when you continued to take his class when you didn’t have to. As much as he knew your reasoning was true, that you really did love his class and excel in it, he couldn’t help but hope some part of it was because of him.

And he would quickly smash it whenever that possibility of hope came up again. He couldn’t entertain this, he shouldn’t.

Still, as you walked into his class a little later than normal, he couldn’t help but pause his lecture. You looked… different today, but he couldn’t place how.

“I’m sorry, Professor Black,” you said as you sat down in the seat right in front of his desk, a slight smile on your face before he noticed the bruise on your cheek. “Quidditch practice ran late.”

Oh, he was going to kill whoever gave you that bruise.

“Why do you play on a team that never wins?” Regulus’ response was slightly bitter, but it was mainly because you showed up hurt.

You giggled slightly, shaking your head. “Because it’s fun, Professor Black.”

“Did you go to the infirmary?” Regulus lifted the sleeves of his button down as he stepped out from behind his desk.

“No, Professor, I was already late,” you explained, shaking your head. “I’ll be okay.”

“Go to the infirmary,” his words left no room for discussion, his head jerking to the door. “Get checked out. I’ll catch you up later.”

He spoke as though you didn’t come to his class during lunch just to talk about the further actions of Defense Against the Dark Arts, and get ahead in the curriculum that he made specifically for you because you were so ahead. He specifically looked into the subjects you were interested in and built a curriculum around it, before educating himself more and giving it to you.

“I’ll be okay, Professor-”

“Go to the infirmary, Y/N,” he said again, turning his back to you as he grabbed his wand. “We will only be dueling with the spells we learned last class, and you’re ahead. If there’s anything new, I will catch you up.”

You sighed, setting down your stuff as you stood. “Yes, Professor.”

Originally, Regulus had a lesson planned for today, but he wouldn’t be able to focus with the thought of you in the infirmary. You weren’t even hurt bad, just a small and plain injury from a sport you did for fun, but he couldn’t focus.

So instead he sat down behind his desk, glaring at everyone as he tried to think about how you got that bruise. Even though you were a Seeker, normally, you were quick enough to get out of the tight spots you were normally put in — he guessed that this time, you weren’t quick enough.

Oh, his poor girl.

Regulus partnered up random students, his mind still on you as he stared a hole into his desk. Your pretty face didn’t look good with a bruise blooming on your cheek, the only bruises he would ever want on your body were the ones that he made. The thought of him gripping your thighs so tight that he left hand shaped bruises, or bruises made from how hard he would kiss your body or your lips – the only markings that should ever be on your skin should be his.

“Professor Black?”

Your voice made him look up, the sounds of spells being casted quickly being drowned out as you smiled at him.

The bruise was gone from your cheek as you gave him a slight wave. “I-I just wanted to say thank you. For worrying about me, I-I probably would not have gone to the infirmary… thank you, again. Besides, I’m all healed now!”

Your giggle made him smile slightly. “I didn’t think you were going to go,” Regulus spoke, tilting his head. “Normally you’re such a headstrong girl.”

His words make you shrug slightly. “Maybe it’s because I knew I needed to go.”

“Well you were a good girl and listened,” he hummed, tilting his head slightly. “Why don’t you sit and rest? I’m sure practice was exhausting.”

You quickly shook your head. “Oh no, professor, that wouldn’t be fair-”

Regulus laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, my darling girl, you should know not to argue with me,” a smile is left on his face when he saw the slight flush in your cheeks. “Go sit down. Rest.”

You swallowed, nodding. “Yes, Professor.”

He watched you walk away, your robe hiding the expanse of your thighs from behind before you turned around and sat in your chair, smiling.

When class ended, you stayed after as everyone left, sighing softly as you stood up and walked over. “Professor Black, can I ask you a question?”

Regulus nodded, slowly standing up and offering his hand. “Yes, of course. Let’s move into my office.”

Oh, he shouldn’t have said that.

“Yes, Professor,” you smiled so simply, perfectly innocent – was it real? Were you truly innocent?

If you were, Regulus wanted to destroy it – he wanted to corrupt you. He wanted to break you down and build you back up, with your entire structure dependent on him. If the Defense Against Dark Arts position truly was cursed, you were his curse.

He moved behind you to follow you into his office, closing the door and slowly locking it. He wasn’t even sure what came over him when he did so.

“I have a question on one of the books you assigned for our advanced curriculum,” you said, your face slightly scrunched in concentration. “Do you mind if I take off my robe?”

Regulus quickly shook his head, almost too quick. “Of course not.”

You smiled again as you sat down after slipping your robe off onto the chair, Regulus standing against the desk and leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked absolutely picturesque, his dark curls framing his face and his gray eyes piercing down at you.

“What about them?”

“One of the books,” you said, crossing one leg over the other with a slight sigh, completely ignorant to the slight lift of your skirt to show off more of your plush thighs. “The one about using protection spells from your own emotions. I am truly sorry if this is out of turn, but one of the spells stemmed from the emotion of lust, and I don’t understand how it would… do that.”

Regulus paused. Were you really that stupid? He didn’t even mean to do that, you did that yourself.

“Are you being serious?” Regulus was holding back a smirk, covering his mouth with his large, scarred hand.

Your face relaxed slightly, eyes wide as you tilted your head slightly. “What do you mean?”

“Oh, you stupid girl,” he said with a laugh, your face displaying deep offense with your wide mouth and eyebrows raised. Your face stayed like that until his hand pulled away from his face and he softly stroked your hair down to your cheek, your face relaxing as you stared up at him. Your eyes were so wide and innocent, were they always like that? “Have you ever felt lust before?”

Your eyes trailed up as you thought, your thighs squeezing together. “No-”

“Oh, I don’t like girls who lie,” he said, his hand pulling away from your face and slowly ghosting your form to settle on the exposed skin of your sigh. “I noticed you squeezing your thighs together… be a good girl and tell me what makes you lustful.”

You swallowed, your hands shaking as you inhaled deeply. “I-I can’t…”

His eyebrow raised. “You can’t?”

Your head shook as you swallowed, your hand softly wrapping around his wrist. “N-No… I can’t, it’s wrong,” you whisper, continuing to shake your head before Regulus twists his hand out of your grip and spreads his entire hand onto the expanse of your thigh. “Professor Black-”

“Hush, my darling girl,” he whispered, slowly bending down to be eye level with you as he rubbed your thigh. “Are you going to tell me or do I need to try my hand at casting without my wand?”

You inhaled shakily as his fingertips slowly drift under the hem of your tailored skirt, swallowing. “N-No… I-I will tell you… I-I have thoughts about you, bad thoughts,” you whisper, shaking your head. “V-Very bad thoughts…”

Regulus smiled, both of his hands holding each opposite side of your thighs as his face gets closer to yours. “What kind of thoughts?”

Your cheeks start to heat up, eyes burning as tears prick your eyes. “Pr-Professor Black-”

He laughed when he saw tears pricking your eyes, tilting his head. “Are you going to cry? What a pathetic girl,” he bit his lip, nose brushing to yours. “Why are you crying?”

You swallowed, shaking your head. “B-Because… m-my stomach is twisting really bad…”

He hummed, tilting his head. “Do you want me to check you out, my pathetic girl?”

Your hips started to squirm as you unconsciously nodded, his face ducking down to your ear.

“Get on the desk. I’ll show you what lust feels like.”

He knew the feeling of lust very well. It would churn in his stomach every time you walked into his class, and the heat would rush down to his cock when you opened your mouth to only say a few words.

And just like that, the lust started to pulsate again as you rose onto the desk, your pretty tailored skirt being hiked up on your thighs as you placed your feet on the edges of his desk, spreading your thighs widely for him.

Regulus stepped forward, his fingers starting to slip your buttons undone, revealing your lacy white bra that blended in under the white button down.

Fuck, you were so hot.

His hands settled on your thighs again as he slotted himself between your legs, clenching his fingers on your plush skin to try and prevent the slight tremors of all the lust coursing through his body. Regulus wondered if you felt the lust like he did, but he didn’t have to wonder for long when he saw the wet patch on your lacy panties that seemed to match your bra.

“Oh, my sweet girl correlates,” he groaned, his fingers slowly swiping over the wet spot, a smile developing on his face when your thighs jolted to try and tighten around his waist. “How pretty…”

You were unsure of what was going through your body. Your stomach was twisting much like it did when you would get turned on by what you would think about him doing to you before slipping your fingers into yourself in your prefect dorm and moaning into your pillow like you did last night. This feeling though, this was different.

It was like your core was pulsating, your walls clamping around nothing as he slipped your panties to the side, your entrance fluttering as his finger trailed over your entrance. A whine escapes your lips as he did so, your hips bucking as he smirked down at your cunt, only pulling his hand away to stick his fingers in his mouth.

You gaped as you watched him lather his fingers in his spit, and you certainly didn’t expect him to shove his fingers down your throat soon afterward. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, a loud moan falling from your lips before gagging around his fingers.

“Relax your throat, my darling girl,” he coos to you, leaning down to kiss against your temple. Oh, his lips quivered against your skin as he watched you gag and choke on his fingers, your saliva running down his knuckles before he pulled his fingers away. You let out soft coughs as his fingers slowly circled the sensitive bundle of nerves, whining loudly as he pushed his fingers through the ring, your walls clamping down on his fingers.

At first, he was slow, just like how you would begin to finger yourself. But then, he noticed how relaxed you were, and how it took him very little effort to actually stretch you out.

Still, he watched your reactions, your mouth wide as you moaned loudly, your arms raising to wrap around his neck to support yourself. “Pr-Professor!”

He groaned, smiling as you moaned. “Mmmm, my darling girl… you’re not very tight, is there a reason for that?”

He wasn’t complaining, this just meant he could fuck you faster – but he wanted to hear you say what you were doing.

“N-No,” you whimpered, lying through your teeth before he pushed his fingers farther into you. Unlike you, he knew what he was doing. He was flexing and twisting his fingers, parting them and scissoring into you as your tears started to run down your cheeks, a soft sob escaping your mouth as he pushed his finger deeper. “Professor!”

“What did I say earlier?” His fingers got rougher, a soft almost growl-like noise escaping his mouth. “I don’t like liars, you fucking brat.”

You yelped as his fingers got rougher, sobbing as you shook your head. “W-Wait, it’s too much! Pr-Professor, please! Stop, stop!”

It didn’t hurt, no – it truly was too much. You felt your stomach twisting, an unknown feeling settling at the pit of your tummy as his fingers twisted to press his thumb to your clit, roughly rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“No, I only listen to good girls. You’re not a good girl, fucking lying to me,” he snapped, his fingers getting rougher as he watched your thighs shake and hips rut desperately. “Tell me the truth or you’re not going to cum. Tell me!”

“I-I touched myself!” You sobbed as his fingers got faster, his index and middle finger pumping in and out of you as his thumb pushed rough circles into your clit. “I touched myself last night, I’m sorry, I’m sorry Professor!”

He groaned as he watched his fingers push and pull out of you, pumping as his lips ghosted yours. He hadn’t even kissed you yet, and he desperately wanted to. “You should be. Cum, fucking cum, my desperate little slut,”

You sobbed, shaking your head as you dug your fingers into the back of his perfectly ironed black button down. “W-Wait, Professor! It’s weird, it feels weird,” you hiccuped against his mouth as he softly kissed your lips, smiling. “Professor!”

“Oh, my perfect girl, are you going to squirt? Come on, I want to see it.”

You choked as you threw your head back, screaming out as your vision blurred, his fingers pushing as deep as he could get them inside of you, pressure never relieving from your clit.

Regulus just watched as you squirted onto his slacks, the liquid getting all over him as he laughed at how your hips rutted and your thighs convulsed uncontrollably. He continues to finger fuck you as you squirt, rubbing at your clit as you squirmed, sobbing as you bounced against his fingers, pleasure overwhelming your body.

“Are you going to cum again? Come on, do it. My perfect fucking slut, cumming back to back,” he grinned, biting at his lip as you felt your stomach twist again, tightening as you came again on his finger. “Oh fuck, my darling girl...”

You sobbed as he pulled his fingers out of you, his skin pruned from how wet you were, and his entire black sleeve soaked in whatever liquid came out of you. Soft sobs continued to escape your lips, hiccuping as he softly puckered his lips to yours.

“You’re such a good girl… you’re such a perfectly good girl for me,” he whispers, licking his fingers as your lips ghost his cheeks, desperately bucking your hips into the air as he took out his cock. “You ready, my perfect girl?”

You hiccuped, nodding as you stared at him while he pumped himself, his cock not exactly thick but making up for it in length – as well as the fact that it was basically picturesque, perfectly groomed with dribbles of precum sliding down the bottom of his shaft.

“I need words, my darling girl,” he whispered, delicately kissing your lips. You chased his mouth, fingers shaking as you held his shoulders. “Tell me you’re ready.”

“I-I’m ready,” you whisper, nodding mindlessly. “I-I’m ready, I’m ready to be a g-good slut for you.”

Your use of slut made him smile. You would be a good slut for him, and this truly was the beginning of his corruption.

So, with a strong snap of his hips, he pushed into you – a loud wail leaving your mouth as you sobbed. He didn’t waste any time, he couldn’t as he kissed you firmly, swallowing all of your noises as he pushed you back so you could tilt your head, turning the kiss wet and sloppy as you tried to swallow his saliva.

His thumb still didn’t pull away from your clit, but the circular motion wasn’t too much as you choked softly, trying to control all of your noises as he fucked into you. The slight curve his cock pushed into areas that you had never felt pressure in before, the feeling making your stomach twist into knots again as you whined.

“G-Gonna… gonna cum,” you whined, your words jumbled as you spoke, a smile developing on his lips as he pulled away.

“Cum then,” you didn’t need his permission this time. He had always been so desperate to feel you that it was a struggle not to cum into you there and then, but he knew that when you came, your plush walls clamping down on him would push him over the edge. “Cum my favorite fucking girl.”

You sobbed again, nodding your head as you leaned up, wrapping your arms and legs around him and cradling onto his body, groaning. “Regulus!”

Oh, he thought your walls clamping down on him would push him over the edge – no, it was you moaning his name.

His strong thrusts uncontrollably got rougher, a loud groan falling from his lips as he fucked into you even harder, another loud groan following the first as he finally came inside of you. Your eyes crossed as you threw your head back, a silent scream escaping your mouth as he continued to fuck the two of you through your highs.

As he came down, he slowed his movements – still not stopping – as he kissed you again. “I think you should stay after class more.”

You nodded, desperate to continue this. You truly were your professor’s favorite girl.

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsibility.

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moonylvs · 6 months ago

Text

⋆˙⟡ The prophecy

Summary: Your whole life of being ignored in love makes you believe that love will never come for you, so seeing James start dating the only person you thought loved you is too much for you. 'Let it once be me' Pairing: Jegulus x fem!reader Words: 4600 Warnings: Reader is an insecure nerd with a lack of love (she's also oblivious), mentions of crying and self-hatred, use of yn one time, hurt/confort, a bit of angst if you close one eye, slightly suggestive (Nothing explicit), a lot of fluff <3 Let me know if I miss anything!

Since you were little you could not help but feel forgotten, of course there were people who loved you, you were not a complete loser, you had a few friends and had no problems with anyone in your class, but still that painful feeling was still there, your friends had more friends, more friends to spend time with when you were not there, but you did not have so many people to hang out with.

Regulus was the only friend you were really close to, the only one who hadn't moved away over the years, Regulus had more friends, such as Barty or Evan, but he always showed you that you were his priority, including you in all the plans he made, listening to you attentively and never leaving you alone, the boy wasn't good at expressing his emotions, but it was the little details that made you feel his appreciation for you.

Over the years you and Regulus had become too close, you practically lived in his room, where he could listen to you for hours talking about the same subject no matter how much you rambled, it wasn't always like that, sometimes it was quiet evenings where you were both silently reading, just enjoying each other's presence.

Anyone who knew Regulus knew you and vice versa, you spent most of your time together, occasionally being accompanied by Barty or Dorcas.

With anyone else you couldn't help but feel like a lapdog, chasing people and seeking their attention, with Regulus none of this happened, there was no awkwardness or anxiety, just tranquility and affection.

But as always, the universe seemed to want to test you, every year a misfortune happened in your life, this year the misfortune was called James Potter and it was a cute quidditch player with glasses.

At first you didn’t care, you and regulus were assigned together to a school job with James, nothing out of the ordinary, regulus seemed somewhat irritated by the idea of working with one of Sirius' friends but said he wouldn’t give it any importance.

The assignment was not particularly easy, it was hours in the library and you had to admit that working with James wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, but time seemed to pass quickly when the three of you were together.

Everything seemed relatively normal to you, you didn’t even care that James and Regulus seemed to get along, it was all too subtle, started with Regulus going to the library first, spending time alone with James and discussing assignment issues without you, then James started visiting more often the black lake, where you and regulus spent time together, but after that Regulus started going to the library without you, you used to find James chatting with regulus in the halls.

You wanted to think it was nothing, regulus still your best friend, still paying attention and even remembered your favorite chocolate, which he made sure to give you whenever he felt something was wrong.

You wanted to convince yourself that nothing was wrong, but there was a strange feeling in your chest, a little voice in your head telling you that something was wrong.

But how could this be wrong? James was sweet and attentive, he was the most popular boy at Hogwarts, he made Regulus smile, which no one else but you did, he even talked to you, included you in his plans and talked to you, listening carefully to what you said.

Even if you tried to hate James you couldn't, the boy was a gentleman in every sense of the word, but you thought it was his nature, you didn't think you were special, so you let James carry your books, walk you to class and even went to the three brooms with Regulus, for you it was nothing out of this world, but in spite of everything that horrible feeling wouldn't go away from you, that feeling that everything was going to end badly.

You really wanted to like him, there was nothing wrong with James, maybe it was you that was wrong...

“I didn't think you even knew anything about poetry” you could recognize Regulus' voice as he turned in one of the corridors, which surprised you, you hadn't seen him all morning, which was strange since you used to have breakfast together on weekends.

“Oh hi dove” James' voice snapped you out of your thoughts, you hadn't even noticed that you almost bumped into them.

James had a habit of calling everyone by nicknames, from “dove” to “sweetheart”, so you had understood that it didn't mean anything, but a strange feeling settled in your stomach every time he did.

“Hi, where were you?” You asked both of them, although your gaze was fixed on Regulus, your voice was calm but had some concern in it, had they gone out alone?

“We went to hogsmaede, for the poetry books I told you about” Regulus said calmly, but you felt a pang in your chest, you were the one who had told Regulus about those new books in the bookstore, you had agreed that you would go together for it.

“I thought we were going together after dinner” You said somewhat confused, but it was obvious that you were feeling a little bad about this.

“Ah it's just that I told James and he offered to go with me, you seemed busy with your Herbology homework, I didn't want to bother you” Regulus explained without giving it any importance, he really believed that you didn't care, you had gone a million times together to Hogsmaede and he had seen you a little off these last days, so he didn't want to bother you or force you to go out, he knew you were not the most social person.

But he didn't know that you didn't care, that you would always go out with him if he asked you to, of course, you weren't a fan of socializing or going to places with a lot of people, but you didn't care if it meant going with him.

“Oh okay, sure…” You said trying to sound as calm and disinterested as possible, maybe it was ridiculous, you were just overreacting, right? Regulus could go out with whoever he wanted, it didn't matter, but why did it hurt so much?

“We can go again later if you want, Marlene said there is a new coffee shop next to honeydukes” James said almost instantly, he seemed to have noticed the way your mood had changed.

“Oh no, Regulus was right, I have to finish my herbology homework…I'll see you guys later” You said with disinterest, though you couldn't even look them in the eyes, you felt a lump in your throat forming, a whirlwind of emotions flooding you, but you didn't want to make a spectacle of yourself there, it would be ridiculous, so you didn't let them say another word and hurried off to your room, feeling a pressure in your chest grow and the tears stinging in your eyes.

You wanted to stop the tears but you couldn't, it had all become too much at that moment, so all you could do was lock yourself in the bathroom of your room, sitting next to the bathtub and bringing your legs to your chest as the tears rolled down your cheeks.

You felt ridiculous, crying over two boys you didn't even have anything with, that was the problem, you had nothing, you never had anything, at the beginning it was a joke between you and Regulus, saying you were both losers with no love life, but now there was only you, Regulus had James, the most damn beautiful and attentive boy at Hogwarts, and where were you?

You didn't know what it was that feeling that came over you, some kind of envy or… jealousy?

You had seen the way James looked at Regulus, with stars in his eyes, you wanted that, you wanted someone to love like you were the air he breathed, you wanted to be able to intertwine your hands with Regulus' like James did, you wanted to snuggle between the two of them and wake up knowing you had someone who cared about you.

But you knew it wasn't possible, you knew it since you were a little girl, when all your friends ended up moving away, when everyone started to have their first kiss and you hadn't even held hands romantically with someone, you just wanted it to be you for once.

A knock on the door made you jump in place, at first you thought it was just one of your roommates, but a voice proved otherwise.

“Is everything okay in there, love?” at that moment you couldn't hate regulus' nicknames any more, you didn't want to see him at that moment, to anyone.

“Yeah, I'm fine” You said trying to sound calm, wiping the tears coming out of your eyes with the sleeves of your sweater.

“Can we come in?” your brow furrowed slightly at his words, We? but as if Regulus had read your mind, he spoke again. “James is here too, you didn't look so good earlier.”

You wanted to curse, what the fuck did James have to do there? You didn't want to be seen like that, you didn't want anyone to see you like that, but there was another feeling in your chest, you wanted to be comforted, you wanted someone to tell you that everything would be alright.

So before Regulus could say anything else, you walked up to the door and unlocked it, opening it slightly before stepping away, letting them in.

James and Regulus felt their chests heave at the sight of you, your eyes puffy and reddish, traces of tears on your cheeks and your eyes burning bright with tears.

Your gaze went to your hands, playing with the hem of your sweater, you didn't have the courage to look at them, you felt ridiculous, dramatic, like a little girl.

James was the first to approach, the brown-haired man was about to take you in his arms, wanting to protect you from everything, but for a moment he remembered that you and he were not as close as he would like, and he had seen you pull away a million times when someone tried to hug you.

“What's the wrong, dove?” asked James worriedly, holding back the urge to stretch his arms toward you.

Your chest tightened as you listened to him, why did he have to use those nicknames? Why did he have to be so nice?

“It's nothing, it was just a b-bad day I guess” You said trying to sound disinterested, but the slight cut in your voice gave away that something was wrong.

“This isn't just a bad day, yn, you've been acting weird all week, even with me” Now the one who spoke was Regulus, his voice sounding a little hurt, it was true, you had been pushing Regulus away for the last week, something you had never done before, the boy had been there for you all your life, you would never want to push him away, but this last week it had all become too much, your thoughts were overwhelming you, making you miserable and you didn't want Regulus to deal with you and your problems, you couldn't be a burden, to him or anyone else.

Your gaze lifted slightly, looking at Regulus and James for a moment, you felt your eyes fill with tears almost instantly, Regulus was wearing James' sweater, you didn't know if you hadn't noticed it before or if he had just put it on, but either way it hurt, it made your chest tighten.

Your mind went back to the last few weeks, remembering all the interactions between James and Regulus, the way they both looked at each other and laughed, the hickeys you had tried to ignore on Regulus' neck, the times you accidentally caught them in the hallways in a sweet kissing session, all those memories invaded your mind at once and made you feel miserable, because you were losing the only person you had ever loved, because it wasn't you who they loved, because it was never you who was loved.

Tears came out of your eyes non-stop, making you sob like never before, you felt like a little girl, weak and alone, wishing someone would hold you and tell you that everything would be all right.

Regulus soon came closer, wrapping you in his arms as if he was afraid you were going to fall apart right there, you wanted to cry harder, you felt ridiculous, you would have wanted to walk away, to disappear, but at that moment everything became too much and you could only sink into Regulus' arms, wishing your misery would end.

Regulus felt his chest tighten at seeing you so heartbroken, you had been holding it all in for so long that now you felt as if your own feelings were suffocating you, Regulus felt his own eyes fill with tears at the sight of you, feeling terrible for letting you get to this point, for not having cared sooner at seeing you so distant, a pang of guilt appeared in his chest.

James next to you wasn't much better, his face was one of genuine concern, he didn't know what to do, he didn't know you well enough to know what to do, he was afraid of getting so close to you that you would push him away.

“Love, please tell me what's wrong, it hurts me to see you like this” Regulus murmured, lightly stroking your hair, you sank deeper into his arms, wishing for it to be over, for the pain to disappear once and for all.

“I-I am what is wrong, it's a-always me…” You said between sobs, your head was starting to hurt from crying, you felt like you couldn't breathe.

“Dove, there's nothing wrong with you-” James started to say, trying to get closer to you, but you didn't even let him finish, feeling the pain cloud your t,thoughts.

“You don't know anything! Y-You would never understand…” You said painfully, pulling away from Regulus' arms, feeling your own chest tighten, to you James was the perfect boy, who had all of Hogwarts behind him, he would never understand your pain, no one would.

“Let us try, let us try to understand you” Regulus said quietly, trying to get closer to you again.

Your eyes filled with tears again, you felt a pressure in your chest suffocating you, you instantly shook your head, they were not going to understand you, they couldn't, not even you could, at some point they would notice how complicated you were and they would walk away, they couldn't fix you.

“I don't want to be understood, I don't want to be fixed, I don't-” You said in a clipped voice, tears kept coming out of your eyes, blurring your vision, you didn't even notice when James and Regulus had come so close to you.

“There's nothing to fix about you, love, you're not broken or damaged” James said softly, bringing his hand tentatively to your cheek, wondering if you would pull away or not.

But you didn't, you let James reach his hand up and gently touch your cheek, wiping away the tears that came from your eyes, his hand was warm and gentle on your cheek, you couldn't help but soften at his touch, it felt so good.

“I just want to be loved, is that so hard?” You said in barely a whisper, you sounded so vunerable, both boys felt their chests squeeze at hearing you, there was no way you were hard to love, not for them.

“Not at all, we've loved you from the first moment you appeared in our lives” Regulus said warmly, moving closer to you and James, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.

You felt your breath catch when you heard his words, he didn't mean it, you were misinterpreting things, there was no way…

“You dont mean that, regulus, you dont-” You started to say instantly, pulling away from the touch of both of them defensively, you couldn't believe an illusion, you couldn't deal with the pain of losing them both.

“I don't what?” Regulus interrupted you, not letting you move too far away before gently grabbing one of your wrists. “I don't love you? You're not one to say what I feel or don't feel, I love you, and so does James” Regulus said seriously, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

You felt your breath catch, there was no way, it must have all been a dream, but you could feel Regulus' hand on your wrist, holding you gently, showing you that it was real, this was real.

“I don't know why you seem so surprised, dove, I know Regulus isn't very expressive but I thought we had been too obvious with our feelings for you” James said with obviousness, giving you a small smile, showing you that his words were true.

Your mind seemed to click, the memories of the last few weeks coming back to you, you had spent the last few weeks together with both boys and you had to admit that Regulus was a little more clingy with you than usual, he had looked at you more than usual while you were studying and you even remembered him playing with the bracelets in your hands, but you couldn't believe there were any other feelings with his looks or touches, he was your best friend and you had been so focused on his interactions with James that you hadn't even noticed how he acted with you.

With James the memories made you blush, now it all seemed a little more obvious, James was much more affectionate than Regulus, putting his arm around your shoulder as you walked, or telling you how good your hair looked with waves.

At that moment you couldn't help but shrink in place, feeling embarrassed, had they really been so obvious and you hadn't noticed?

“You really didn't notice anything?” Regulus asked incredulously, though something in his chest ached, you really didn't think they could be in love you?

“I, I d-didn't think…” The words didn't come out of your mouth, you felt embarrassed and a bit stupid, you wanted to believe their words but something in you still felt that it was all a bad joke, how could they notice you?

James noticed how your mind seemed to go too fast, overwhelming you with thoughts and ideas that weren't even true, so without thinking he approached you, taking your cheek again.

“We really like you, both of us, we love listening to you talk for hours about your books and hearing you laugh, I love when you insult me because I don't keep quiet in the library, I love how you and Regulus seem to get lost in your own world when you're together, I love how smart and kind you are, I love you, all of you.” James said sincerely, looking at you with those sparkling eyes that left you in no doubt that what he said was true.

You felt a new warmth in your chest, something you hadn't felt before, and it felt so…. nice

“I know that maybe now everything is too much and we'll go slow if that's the way you want it, we care about you, more than anything in this world, and I know that sometimes I'm an idiot who doesn't know what he wants, but if there's one thing I'm sure of is that I love you, and nothing will change my feelings for you” Regulus said, his cheeks were slightly flushed, you knew how hard it was for him to express himself, so every word meant too much to you.

Your mind was still thinking too much, a thousand ideas and emotions running through your mind, so many that they could overwhelm you, but for a moment a new feeling appeared in you and silenced everything else, it was love.

Your mind went blank, all the fear disappeared when you saw their looks, they were genuine, so for the first time you decided to believe, you decided that maybe this was for the best, you deserved it, for once, for the first time, it was you.

You were loved.

“I love you too” You mumbled in barely a whisper looking at both boys “I'm sorry for…for how I acted… I thought you guys were leaving me out and I-” You started to explain, feeling your chest hurt as you remembered how you yelled at James and walked away from Regulus, but they didn't let the pain last too long.

“It's okay dove, we didn't know you felt this way, we should have been more direct with you” James murmured warmly, with that tone that made you feel so safe.

“James is right, it was me who wanted to give you space when I saw you a bit discouraged, I should have asked what was wrong, I'm sorry, love” Regulus added with some pain in his voice, to which you immediately shook your head.

“No, no, it's not your fault, I preferred to isolate myself than to talk to you…I always do” You said without looking at them, the last thing in just a whisper, isolating yourself was something you couldn't avoid, you preferred to sink in your pain and misery than to let others carry it.

“You don't have to keep doing it, we're here and we're not leaving” Regulus said sweetly, taking your chin and lifting your gaze, “If you want space just tell us and we'll wait for you, love, but we'll always be there for you, you have us now, you don't have to go through your pain alone, you don't have to let your thoughts consume you, you're not alone.”

You felt your heart squeeze at Regulus' words, you were not alone, you had them, if this was a dream you never wanted to wake up.

Without thinking about it you approached Regulus, hugging him tightly and sinking into his arms, not without first taking James' hand so that he would also come closer, he didn't hesitate for a minute to hug you both.

“I love you, so much” You said softly, you wanted to say a million things, but at that moment you couldn't, you just wanted to sink into their arms and make everything else disappear, they knew it, they didn't move away for a moment, they didn't need words to know that you loved them.

“We love you more, dove, you have no idea” James said affectionately, running a hand through your hair in an loving gesture.

From your position you could hear the heartbeat in Regulus' chest, it was the best melody you had ever heard.

You wanted to stay like this forever, with them, they were everything you had ever dreamed of, you loved them.

Regulus carefully took your chin, lifting your face, his eyes were full of love, they were looking at you as if you were a dream.

“ May I?” murmured Regulus softly, his eyes fixed on your lips, he was asking for your permission, Regulus was asking for your permission to kiss you, and you felt like you would melt right there.

Almost instantly you nodded, there was no doubt in your mind that you wanted him to kiss you, even if you had never kissed anyone before, you wanted him to be the first, there was no doubt in your mind.

James was totally gawking at the sight of them, his heart was pounding in his chest.

Regulus didn't think too much before he gently cupped your cheek, bringing his face close to yours and pressing his lips to yours, you felt like you were in a dream, his lips were sweet and decisive on yours.

You felt all his love released in that kiss, it was as if he was pouring out all the love he had kept for you during all these years.

Your hands went to his hair, holding him close, your lips moved inexpertly over his, you wished it would never end.

Regulus seemed to feel the same, because it wasn't until you pulled away for air that he let you go, still holding your cheek.

Your lips were slightly puffy and your cheeks flushed, you were trying to catch your breath, and to James and Regulus you were the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.

“You've been waiting for this for a long time, haven't you?” James said to Regulus with some amusement, Regulus was in the same state as you, trying to catch his breath.

Regulus rolled his eyes slightly, before moving closer and leaving another kiss on your lips, this time a shorter one but with the same love, the boy had definitely become addicted to your lips.

When you pulled away you didn't know what to say, your cheeks were flushed, the smile on James' face didn't make you feel any less embarrassed, even in that state he looked at you as if you were a work of art.

“Damn I really want to kiss you” James gasped softly, bringing his hand to your jaw.

You didn't let James say anything else, you brought your lips to his and kissed him, to say you were scared was an understatement, but the moment your lips touched James' everything vanished.

James kissed you with such desire, his hand went from your jaw to the back of your neck, holding you close, his kiss was desperate but sweet, very different from Regulus, one of his hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to him and groaning in between the kiss.

James seemed to have been waiting for this moment all his life, at one point he lightly bit your lip, making you open your mouth and thrusting his tongue in, turning the kiss more heated, you felt your cheeks flush and you could barely keep up with him.

“James” Regulus called as a warning, making James pull away slightly, still keeping his grip on your waist.

“You'll have plenty of time for that later, let her process all of this first” Regulus said with amusement though there was some seriousness in his voice.

You were grateful to Regulus, sure the kiss with James was a dream, but your mind was still trying to process all of this, so you definitely needed to slow down a bit, this was all new to you.

James didn't look disappointed at all, he simply nodded slightly at Regulus, his face somewhat guilty, feeling that perhaps he had gone too far, he was much bolder than the black haired boy clearly, but if you needed to go slow he would wait as long as you needed to.

Even though your heart was still beating too hard in your chest you still wanted to prove to James that he had done nothing wrong, so you took his face and left a kiss on his lips, taking a moment to pull away.

“I love your kisses ” You said sweetly for James, showing him that all was fine, to which the boy's eyes lit up, giving you a small smile, god how you adored that smile.

That day all your fears vanished, you could feel a mess, a chaos, but among all the noise, there they were.

Finally the prophecy had changed for you.

I hope you liked this, I think it's a bit long but I think it's worth it, I hope all my Prophecy girls enjoyed it, your turn will come, don't forget i xoxo.

#⋆˙⟡ Gracie's Diary #dead wizards from the 70 #marauders #james potter #regulus black #writters on tumblr #jegulus #jegulus x reader #poly!marauders x reader #marauders x reader #starchaser #harry potter #x reader #james x regulus #james x reader #regulus x reader

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latenightreadingpdf · 6 months ago

Text

A Hufflepuff's Heart - Regulus Black

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Regulus Black’s unexpected friendship with a sweet Hufflepuff is revealed when Sirius catches them together.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The air in the castle was brisk, the cool draft weaving through the stone corridors and carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and freshly lit torches. Regulus pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, his mind preoccupied with the latest round of pranks that had once again targeted Slytherin House. It wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible—his brother Sirius’s handiwork was as familiar as it was aggravating. Regulus could almost predict the moment Sirius would appear, armed with a smirk and a taunt, ready to test his patience yet again.

Sure enough, as Regulus turned the corner, Sirius was waiting there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Regulus,” Sirius drawled, that irritatingly self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “How’s my favorite Slytherin?”

Regulus forced himself to remain calm, carefully keeping his expression neutral, planning to just walk right past his brother.

Sirius’s grin widened, undeterred. “I take it you noticed the common room… enhancement? Thought the emerald and silver scheme could use a bit of sparkle.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the irritation flaring up despite his attempts to stay indifferent. “If you’re going to make yourself a nuisance, at least have the decency to make it subtle.”

“Oh, subtlety is no fun, Reg,” Sirius replied easily, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re incapable of a bit of rule-breaking yourself. Don’t think I don’t know about those after-hours trips to the library—”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted sharply, his voice low but firm. “I’m not interested in discussing my nightly habits with you.”

Before Sirius could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a familiar, bright voice that cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Reggy!”

Both brothers turned to see you striding towards them, your Hufflepuff robes swishing as you approached, your face lighting up with a smile that was warm enough to melt even the most stubborn winter chill. Regulus’s expression softened instantly, his usual guarded look replaced by something more open, more vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you walked right up to Regulus and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened for a heartbeat, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but quickly melted into the embrace, his arms coming up to hold you close.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of concern. “How have you been?”

“I’m… good,” Regulus replied, his voice softer than usual, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the spell your presence cast. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight that seemed reserved only for you.

As you finally pulled back, still standing close to him, you seemed to notice Sirius for the first time, your gaze shifting over to the older Black brother with a look of surprise. A polite, curious smile flickered across your face as you gave him a small wave.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t realize there was anyone else here. I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself in that sweet, open way that Regulus had come to adore.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down as if trying to solve a riddle. He offered a nod, his grin softening into something more curious, though he said nothing in reply. For once, Sirius Black seemed to be at a loss for words. There was something he couldn’t quite place about you—a gentleness, a warmth—that seemed so at odds with the icy walls Regulus usually built around himself. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine someone so kind being so close to his guarded, distant brother.

After a moment, Sirius managed a slight smile, finally extending his hand to you. "Sirius Black,” he introduced himself, his tone curious, though he kept his usual charm restrained. “Regulus’s… older brother.”

You took his hand, returning his smile with a polite one of your own. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. You turned back to Regulus, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s scrutiny. “I had no idea you had a brother, Reggy!” you said with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement. “You keep him quite the secret.”

Regulus shifted, his hand instinctively tightening around your shoulder. He’d dreaded this moment for so long, the day you would meet Sirius, the brother who seemed to draw people in without effort, who everyone adored and admired. Regulus had always felt invisible in his shadow, the “other” Black brother, colder and quieter, always on the outside looking in. But you had seen him—you had seen past the walls, the carefully constructed mask, and found something worth holding onto. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing that with Sirius, of watching you get pulled into his brother’s orbit and realizing he could never be what Sirius was.

Sirius, still watching silently, caught the faint, possessive gesture, the way Regulus seemed to pull you closer as if trying to keep you all to himself. His expression flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something softer, something he hadn’t expected to feel. Seeing Regulus with you—seeing his younger brother so fiercely protective of this rare connection—stirred something in him, a strange pang of almost… respect.

The silence stretched, and you shifted slightly, glancing between the two brothers as if sensing the tension, though you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you gave Sirius a warm, friendly smile before turning back to Regulus, your hand reaching for his as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, Reggy and I should get going,” you said softly, looking up at him. “We’ve got some homework to catch up on.”

Regulus’s gaze softened at the touch, and he nodded, his lips curving into that faint, private smile that he reserved only for you. “Yes, we should.”

With a final nod toward Sirius, Regulus gently guided you down the hallway, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. He glanced back once, catching Sirius’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the brothers shared a look of understanding—a silent acknowledgment, a truce of sorts. Sirius watched as you walked away together, his brow furrowed in thought, his mind turning over the strange puzzle of his brother and his unlikely friend.

How did someone as kind, as open-hearted as you manage to find your way into the life of someone as complex and withdrawn as Regulus? Sirius couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what had drawn you to his quiet, brooding brother. But as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor, he felt a spark of hope, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold, stone-cast walls of the castle.

Maybe Regulus had found something Sirius had never truly understood—a genuine connection that didn’t rely on charm or bravado, but on something softer, something real.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

1K notes · View notes

juleswritesstuff · 8 months ago

Text

Holy hands, will they make me a sinner ?

You seem to have a little secret. Regulus figures you out immediately.

regulus black x fem!reader

warnings: smut

“If you bore holes in them I won't be able to finish my essay, Y/n”

His voice brings you back from the apparent state of trance you had unconsciously fallen into. Blinking rapidly, you regain perception of the walls of your dorm room surrounding you and the myriad of books scattered across your bed. You shift your gaze to his gray eyes and you find them already set on you.

“Pardon ?” your voice has a confused edge that almost makes him chuckle.

“My hands” he explains, his tone as neutral as ever “You were staring”

Your eyes go a little wide, like you had been caught stealing the last chocolate frog of the stash. You swallow, trying to compose yourself as best as you can.

“I was doing no such thing” you declare, a bit too solemn and defensive to be the truth.

Regulus pins you with an unimpressed look, his left brow arching just enough to tell you that he isn't buying any of your bullshit.

A defeated sigh leaves your lips.

It is no use hiding something from Regulus Black. He will find out one way or another, and you got caught right with your hands in the jar.

“Ok, fine” you admit, lifting your shoulders to make it seem like the most casual thing ever “I was looking at your hands”

Regulus’ expression doesn't change, but the glint of amusement flashing in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed.

“More like ogling, I would say” even his tone has a playful bite to it.

You like this side of him. The Regulus who is able to relax a bit and let go when he is surrounded by the people he is comfortable with.

But carefree Regulus also means menace Regulus apparently.

“I wasn't ogling” you grumble, rolling your eyes “I was just admiring them”

His eyebrows furrow.

“Why ?” he seems intrigued as the question leaves his lips.

Why, he has the courage to ask.

Well the answer is that Regulus Black has the prettiest, hottest, most gorgeous hands you have ever laid eyes on.

They are elegant, slender, the little veins underneath the pale skin gracing your eyes with their presence with every movement he makes, every flex of his muscles, producing a delicious design that hypnotizes you.

They are smooth but decorated by light calluses, undoubtedly caused by Quidditch, that create a divine contrast with his otherwise untainted skin.

His fingers are long, lean, clad in silver rings that make your mouth water with how exquisitely sultry they make him look.

And suddenly, but not surprisingly, you find yourself imagining what it would feel like to have those hands on you, exploring every inch of your body, dancing on your skin like flames dance in the cold hair of the night. The cool metal of his rings being at odds with your scorching hot skin, making you hiss as his skilled fingers create a burning path over your body, traveling everywhere. Your legs, your thighs, your hips, chest, shoulders and stopping right at your neck, wrapping delicately, reverentially around it. Worshipping the sensitive skin, feeling the erratic pulse of your heart and-

“You’re doing it again” his words interrupt your spiraling for the second time that day, sounding dry and apathetic as always, but a hint of teasing twinkles in the otherwise coldness of his eyes.

“You have nice hands, that’s all” you manage to say without giving away all the less than pure thoughts flooding your mind in that moment. “From an artist point of view, obviously” you add, shrugging, trying to make everything less than obvious.

You really hope Regulus didn't learn to cast a Legilimes in his free time, otherwise you were well and truly screwed.

Bringing up your passion for drawing is futile and you know it. You know he knows the drooling over his hands isn't for the sake of art. You can't fool Regulus Black, not even if you try to.

Which is both extremely annoying and criminally hot in your humble opinion.

But pretending is the only thing you can do to not feel embarrassed, holding onto the hope that maybe he doesn’t have you all figured out.

“So you’re saying that your interest is purely artistic ?” he cocks a brow as his head tilts slightly.

There’s something in his voice, in his eyes, that you can’t quite figure.

Your forehead scrunches in confusion.

“Yes, of course” you answer, trying to hide the stutter of your voice as best you can.

You are pretty sure he knows that you aren’t telling the truth, he somehow always knows. He reads you like an open book, and, for someone who doesn’t engage in showing his emotions too often, he is pretty damn good at reading the ones of others.

So why that question ? You almost expected him to tell you to cut it out and get back to study because that essay isn’t gonna finish itself.

This is new, unexpected.

Interesting.

“Would you like to draw them ?”

Your eyes go wide in surprise.

Wait.

What ?

Never, in all the years you have known each other, had he offered to model for you.

He knew about you having an interest in arts, he even saw a couple of your drawings and paintings and he often asked about them and how they were coming up, but he never asked to be in them.

You never brought up the suggestion either. He is a reserved guy and he loathes having eyes on him, so you figured he would’ve never accepted even if you did.

That never stopped you from sketching him from afar, though. Those gorgeous features deserve to be portrayed.

But why the sudden proposition ?

You aren’t stupid. Regulus might know you like the back of his hand, but you could say the same about him. And this, whatever this might be, is not like him at all.

Regulus never does anything for nothing, there is always an explanation, a reason to his every move. You think even his breaths are perfectly calculated.

But this time the why gets lost on you, and the harder you try to understand the less it all makes sense.

“I can see the gears in your brain twinsting and turning,” he says, calm and composed as ever.

He is sitting on your bed, the quill he was using to write his Charms paper now abandoned next to him. His back is perfectly straight, leaning on the headbord to support his weight. The raven strands of his hair create soft waves that frame his face in a delicate and enchanting way. His lips are stretched in a rare, playful smile, curling up slightly on the left side.

He is beautiful. Dangerously so.

“It’s just-” you are confused, there is no doubt about that, but most of all you are intrigued “You have never asked me before”

“I know”

That’s his only answer. Simple, concise. Enigmatic.

Just like him.

“So why now ?”

The question escapes your lips before you can stop it. You can’t help it, curiosity is consuming you, and the possibility of learning a new part of him makes your skin tingle with excitement.

“Why not ?” he shrugs “There is a first time for everything, right ? So why not now ?”

There is still that glint of something in his eyes. You don’t know what it is, you don’t think you would be able to give it a name even if you knew, but it's there, and it’s strong.

“I’ll get my supplies then”

You slowly get up from the bed, feeling your heart in your throat in a mix of anticipation and nervousness, and you retrieve your album and a pencil.

When you sit back down you notice that the books have been neatly stacked in a small pile next to your bed and all the papers, previously scattered all over your sheets, are nowhere to be seen.

“Figured we might need the space” he says, like he read your mind.

“Thank you”, you give him a small smile before opening your album, turning the pages one by one, until you find a blank sheet, ready to be filled.

“Where do you need me ?”

The way he utters those words with the utmost nonchalance, apparently unaware of the effect they have on you, nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

Everywhere, you think, before mentally smacking yourself.

You need to get a grip, for Merlin’s sake.

“Right there is fine,” you're able to say without your voice faltering “just angle your hands towards me, so the light is right”

He does as he is told, adjusting his position and moving his hands a bit to the right, veins on full display and rings shining under the warm rays of the sunset seeping through the window.

“That’s good” your mouth is suddenly dry as you gulp at that sight.

He is a bit far, and the light doesn’t hit as perfectly as you had expected, but you’ll work with it. If squinting your eyes a bit is the price to pay to maintain your mental sanity, then so be it.

Then you start drawing. The only sound filling the room is the gentle scraping of your pencil as your eyes focus on the white sheet in front of you, your gaze shifting to his hands ever so often to take a peek at them, like you haven't learnt every detail by heart.

You can feel his eyes on you. You try not to focus on it, but the shivers those pools of the color of a summer storm send down your spine are difficult to ignore.

“You’re straining your eyes” he blurts out of the blue.

Observant as always.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, your gaze never leaving the paper “this distance is good for perspective”

“But it’s a problem for the lighting”

Those words make you lift your head up, your brows knotted in a frown.

How does he-

“And what would you know about the lighting ?” you eye him suspiciously, a small grin curving your lips.

“I guess all your rambles about that muggle painter weren’t in vain” he says, and there’s a cheekiness in his tone that is completely new to you “Caravaggio, right ?”

Your grin turns into a full smile.

“Right,” you nod, your eyes widening a little “I can’t believe you actually remember”

“I remember a lot of things,” he remarks defensively.

“Only those important enough to you” the teasing in your voice is light, playful, as your pencil glides on the sheet swiftly, adding strokes and shadows here and there.

There’s a beat of silence.

One second. Two. Three. And then-

“Exactly”

Your hand halts every movement, freezing completely. You look up from your paper and you find his gaze already on you.

Suddenly you are lost. Your heart is beating so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if he was actually able to hear it.

The implications of that single word swirl in your brain, creating a hurracane of thoughts that almost gives you whiplash.

He doesn’t give you the time to even think properly about what he may have just suggested, because he decides to speak again.

“I can come closer if you need me to” his voice is lower, deeper, oozing with that same something he’s had in his eyes since he caught you staring at his heavenly hands.

You want to scream. You have no idea of what the hell is going on and it’s confusing the shit out of you.

You know he is asking for that forsaken drawing you still have in your lap, but it somehow doesn’t feel like it. The electricity in the room is so high it feels like an open cable sending sparks flying everywhere, setting the air on fire.

The only coherent thought in your brain is a chorus of yes, please and nothing else.

So you cave.

“You can,” you manage to say, because the necessity to protect your sanity might be strong, but the need to have him close to you is apparently stronger “if you want to”

His gaze is so penetrating you feel it in your soul, consuming you from the inside out and setting your whole body ablaze.

It’s compelling, hypnotizing even.

“This is not about what I want, Y/n”

Oh, the way those words leave his perfect lips, making shudders erupt all over your body should be studied.

Your world shifts on its axes and it starts spinning ten times faster. Because he knows.

He knows.

“We're not talking about art anymore, are we ?” you ask, swallowing soundly as your breath gets stuck in your throat.

“Were we ever talking about that in the first place ?” his question is rhetorical. He doesn’t need an answer because he already knows it. He figured you out, like he always does.

So what was the point in pretending anymore ?

“No,” you admit “I guess we weren't” your trembling hands move the paper out of the way.

There is a spark in his eyes. It’s foreign, thrilling even, and it makes your skin prickle in the best way.

Suddenly he moves. He shifts his weight forward, approaching you slowly. The veins in his arms and hands bulging from the pressure and knocking the air out of your lungs in the process.

“So tell me” he whispers, crawling to you bit by bit, like a hunter advancing towards his prey. He seems to be calm, poised, totally in control of his body as he comes closer and closer.

It’s his eyes that betray him.

They have always been the window to his feelings, talking more than his mouth ever did. And right now they are burning, engulfed by a heat that makes your legs weak and your heart roar. The realization hits you, a rush of adrenaline running through your veins.

They are hungry.

“Tell you what ?” you stutter, unable to regain a hold of yourself. You can’t breathe, your palms are sweaty, you feel hot all over and he is close, so damn close.

He stops right in front of you, mere inches between your faces and a tension so heavy you can cut it with a butter knife.

“What you want” the warmth of his breath delicately caresses your skin. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, his eyes following the movement intently almost making you squirm under his gaze.

“You seem to know what I want” you murmur breathlessly, your body heating up in response to his proximity.

Those hands, protagonists of some of the filthiest dreams you’ve ever had, are right next to you. Close enough to graze the skin of your thighs with his knuckles, but never indulging in the act. Like he is teasing you, waiting for you to beg for it. You shift your gaze to them and you swallow hard, the need to feel them on you growing stronger every second that passes.

You are about to fucking combust.

His silver eyes are still fixed on you, intense and magnetic, as they follow your line of sight.

“I won't move a muscle unless you tell me to, Y/n”

Those words, mouthed so close to your lips and mixed with the low, velvet-like husk of his voice, make your legs clench and your stomach churn in the best way possible.

You can’t take it anymore.

You move forward, abandoning your position on the bed to place your legs on each side of his hips, almost straddling him. Your hands are on his shoulders, helping you to keep your balance, feeling the lean muscles underneath the shirt as you hover over him.

His head tilts up, eyes sharp and hot and glued to yours. You hear him suppress a hiss as your thighs brush his hips. His arms are still next to him, hands gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white.

He is restraining himself. From touching you.

Your thoughts are clouded, your mind hazy and completely out of it. The only thing you want right now is for him to place those perfect fucking hands on you and never stop.

“Do it” your voice is so weak and breathy it’s a miracle he hears you.

“Do what ?” he mouths, so close to your lips it makes your head spin.

You’re needy, desperate even, but you don’t care. You don’t have time to think right now. You want to feel.

“Touch me” you beg.

“Where ?” he sounds just as gone as you are, and you finally crumble.

“Everywhere”

It’s nothing more than a whisper but it shakes the both of you like an earthquake.

You meet in the middle, your lips colliding and completely knocking the breath out of you.

His mouth is sinful, greedy, chasing yours with a hunger that almost makes you melt on the spot. You get lost in the softness of it, in the ungodly brush of your tongues making you moan breathlessly. You bite and nibble and lick and he follows you, matching the languid pace just as eagerly, as your hands tangle in his hair, pulling at the black strands delicately. The low groan that escapes his throat sends goosebumps all over you.

You are so focused on the filthy dance of your mouths that you almost miss the agonizingly slow graze of his fingers on the exposed flesh of your legs, gently tracing a path on your thighs.

The metal of his rings meets the hotness of your skin and you hiss.

Oh, it’s just as delicious as you imagined.

“Ah- fuck” you pant, millimeters away from him. Your head feels light, dizzy.

You feel like you’re dreaming, lost in your own fantasies.

But his hands running up and down your thighs feel too fucking good to be just a product of your imagination. They travel slowly, excruciatingly so, making you lose your mind with every new inch of skin they explore.

Until they sneak under your skirt, reaching your hips to gently knead the supple skin, applying enough force to bring you forward.

“Sit” It feels more like a plea than an order but-

Holy shit.

A gasp escapes your mouth before you can stop it.

Every cell of your body threatens to explode as he pushes your weight on him all the way, making you straddle him completely.

“Fucking finally” he curses, more to himself than to you, like he has been waiting for this moment his whole life.

His eyes are dark, fogged up by lust and need, and it's the lewdest thing you have ever witnessed.

“I have never seen you like this” you whisper directly on his lips, nibbling on the plush flesh.

He smirks, smirks for Salazar's sake, as his fingers move, reprising their mission to make you lose every ounce of control.

“It seems you were busy looking at something else”

His thumbs rub the skin of your inner thigh in a hypnotizing manner, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

You whimper as they get closer and closer to your core, your grip on the junction between his neck and shoulder tightening in pleasure.

But he must take it as some sort of sign of discomfort because he halts suddenly.

“Want me to stop ?” his eyes search for yours, the veiled concern in them making your heart stutter.

“Don’t you even dare” you say, a mere breath away from him before you dive in, capturing his mouth again.

It's messy and dirty and you get addicted to his taste way too quickly.

His hands move up, massaging your skin at every caress of your tongues, until they reach the hem of your panties.

He moves away from your lips for a quick moment, and he looks at you.

The silent ‘Can I ?’ written in his eyes almost makes you swoon.

You nod your head.

“I need words, chérie” he whispers sensually.

The combination of his right hand so close to your most sensitive spot, his left one traveling up to your hip, holding it tightly, posessivly, and that fucking pet name almost make you cum on the spot.

“Yes” you practically beg.

Only then he resprises his journey of exquisit torture along your body.

“Shit-” you quiver as he kisses your neck, branding the sensitive skin with his lips and teeth. His hands move, fingers skilled and sinful as they reach your heat.

You mewl as they make contact with the light material of your underwear.

“Jesus Christ” hs hisses a groan “you’re soaked”

A series of choked out whimpers leaves your lips as he strokes his fingers over your panties, feeling your wetness through the fabric.

“Fuck- Reg” a moan ripples from your lips when his thumb brushes your clit tentativley, making you gasp. Your hands fly to his hair, lightly pulling the soft strands with trembling fingers.

“Look at you, all horny and needy over my hands” his voice is tantalizing but you can hear the breathlessness, the strain in it. He is affected by this just as much as you are and it makes you go almost feral.

“Please” you breathe. You don’t even know what you’re begging for. Your mind is too hazy, too fogged up by lust and need to have a single coherent thought in it.

But he sure does know, because his digits move your panties to the side, just enough to glide over your slickness, making contact with the tender skin of your folds and spreading your wetness all over.

Finally, finally the hands consuming your every thought are on you, right where you had craved and imagined them the most.

You arch your back in ecstasy, biting your lip.

And it’s when his middle finger eases inside of you, slowly breaching your velvety walls, that you lose it completely.

The air gets knocked out of your lungs, liquid fire engulfs every cell of your body, every nerve and muscle consumed by pleasure.

“Regulus-” it’s the only thing you manage to mewl as he slides in and out of you in a rhythm so sensual and sultry it makes you melt. The cold metal of his ring meets the warm, sensitive skin of your cunt with every prod, creating a delicious contrast.

You never break eye contact, your gazes locked together drinking in every little detail, every wave of bliss swimming in them.

“Is this what you fantasized about, love ?” he pants right on your lips “All the times I caught you staring, is this what you were imagining my hands doing ? Fucking you senseless, feeling how tight and needy you are ?”

His words are as dirty as his eyes as he slides another finger into you, making you inhale sharply and stretching you out so good you could almost cry.

“Ohmygodyes” you moan as your hips start moving to their own accord, meeting the prodding of his fingers eagerly, riding his hand like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

“But this is not the only fantasy you have, right chérie ?” he teases, going faster, harder, pumping mercilessly and leaving you a blubbering mess.

His left hand leaves its place on your hip and moves up, grazing the soft skin of your stomach, the supple and tender flesh of your breasts, the natural dip of your collarbones, worshipping every inch of your skin in their path, until they reach their goal.

“I bet you thought about this too, didn't you ?”

You were always sure this would remain just one of your daydreams, the kind of dirty thought that should remain in your mind and nowhere else. But Regulus Black was Regulus Black and reading you was one of his favorite hobbies.

It still comes as a surprise, though, when he delicately wraps his hand around your throat, resting it there, feeling every pulse of your heart, every pump of your blood and adorning your neck with the prettiest fucking necklace you could ever ask for.

“Yes” it’s nothing more than a breath, but it sends him into a frenzy. His right thumb rubs your clit relentlessly, adding to the unforgiving pace of his fingers sliding in and out of you with lewd, wet squelches. The whimpers coming out of your mouth are raw, filthy and downright pornographic as you feel your orgasm approaching.

Your head is in the clouds, a hundred thousands miles from earth as the only thing you can focus on is the feeling of his hands on you, fucking you to your release as the one on your neck squeezes the faintest bit, enough to almost send you over the edge.

His left thumb leaves its place right above your jugular, moving upwards to caress your jawline, your cheek and, lastly, your lips.

You can feel the digit caressing the red, bitten flesh, brushing it with reverence, worshiping it with his whole being. His heated gaze is bewitched, entranced by your mouth parting, welcoming him past your lips, and lightly grazing the pad with your teeth before enveloping it wholly.

“Bloody fucking hell, Y/n” he rasps, voice low and dangerously close to pleading as you suck on his thumb like it's the tastiest treat you have ever put in your mouth.

The hand on your cunt speeds its pace, pounding in and out of you like a fucking machine, the vibrations on your little bundle of nerves getting more intense by the second, sending you over the edge in a mess of moans and whimpers.

“Reg, fuck, I'm-”

You reach your release with his name on your lips, back arched and hips rolling to help you ride your orgasm on those unholy fingers of his.

Your vision is blurred, your brain fuzzy and overwhelmed by bliss as you slowly come back to your senses.

It takes you a few seconds to regain control of your body and mind, but when you do you are graced with a vision you are sure you will never forget.

The ever composed and collected Regulus Black is right in front of you with his expression contorted in pure lust, eyes bleary and unfocused, hair tousled by your hands relentlessly stroking them, lips red and glossy from the heated kisses, tie loose, crooked and shirt crumpled.

He is a mess.

The hottest mess you have ever seen.

You're still not fully out of your head space when he speaks again.

“You're loud” he grins, his tone teasing but still a little raspy.

“You're filthy” you bite back weakly, your voice hoarse and strained.

“Maybe. But I don’t think I'm the only one”

The fingers that have been inside of you not even a moment ago are now in front of you, coated and glistening with your essence.

He slowly brings them closer to your mouth, and you don't even think twice before eagerly welcoming them inside it.

The taste of yourself mixes with the metallic tinge of his rings as you suck leisurely, restraining a moan before he takes them out with a wet pop.

“Sale fille” he groans in french, lowly and right on your parted lips, before he dives in an alluring kiss. (Dirty girl)

It's slower than all the others you shared, but it's deeper, sensual and it almost gets you worked up all over again.

His tongue meets yours in a erotic dance and when the taste of your very essence coats his tastebuds a moan rumbles in his throat.

“You're sweet” his voice is nothing more than a whisper as his teeth nibble at your lower lip gently.

“Want me to find out if you're sweet, too ?” You offer with a teasing smile on your lips . His hands might be your biggest fantasy, but they sure as hell are not the only part of him you fantasize about.

“Eager, are we ?” he teases playfully, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear “Not today, chérie”

The little pet name creates butterflies in your stomach and makes your cheeks warm, but doesn't hide your disappointment.

“Why ?” you ask, your hands going to fiddle with his tie.

“As I told you, this is not about what I want” he explains, his arms circling you in a loose hug “and I don't know if you noticed, but it's pretty late”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, and only then you realize that the sun has already set and the room would be totally surrounded by darkness if it wasn't for the few magic candles lighting up automatically when twilight hits.

Your eyes widen.

“How long have we been here for ?” your voice has a panicked hint to it, making Regulus laugh.

“I'm pretty sure dinner is getting served right now” he says nonchalantly, like it's the most normal thing ever to engage in sexual activities with your best friend and miss supper because of it.

“Which might be for the best,” he adds.

“Why ?” you ask in genuine confusion.

“Because I’m the only one lucky enough to hear your dirty little sounds” he says with a shit-eating grin before kissing you again.

Thank you for reading 💖

2K notes · View notes

brokenmenswhore · 10 months ago

Text

potions | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x fem!reader

summary: regulus invites his potions partner over to his family home to “help her practice”

warnings: DUBCON (MDNI 18+), choking, smut, rough sex

────── ☾ ──────

When Regulus invited you into his home to use his in-house potions lab, you were suspicious. Regulus always had a darkness to him, and as your potions partner, he was never cruel to you, but he wasn’t the type to make such a kind gesture.

You accepted, knowing you could really use the extra practice. Regulus was talented at potions, and you felt bad that you were barely any help in class. As strange as it may be, you figured some extra time would benefit you, and Regulus could teach you and thing or two, if he felt kind enough to do so.

“Come on in,” he said, gesturing you through the door.

You smiled as you followed him through the house, the lighting almost as dark as his all-black outfit.

“I keep my potions stuff in here,” he said, pushing open the door to his bedroom.

“In your bedroom?”

“Mhm,” he responded, completely nonchalant about the fact you were in his personal space, while you felt it was a little strange. You didn’t know him too well, though you were attracted to him, and now you were only a few feet away from his bed.

He walked over to the table. “You coming?”

You swallowed and approached him, looking at the large collection of jars and ingredients spread out on the table.

“Should we maybe let your parents know I’m here? That there’s someone else in the house?”

Regulus chuckled. “The only other person here is my brother.”

“Sirius is here?”

Regulus shot you a look. You and Sirius had a weird past- you hooked up a few times at parties, you caught feelings and he didn’t, and you never spoke again. It was all ancient history, but you still tried to avoid being around him at all costs.

“Why does it matter?” Regulus asked.

“It doesn’t,” you spoke in a small voice, drifting your attention to the table, “so? What first?”

“Figured we could maybe just make sure you’re set on ingredients,” Regulus said. Everything he said was so dry, low, and monotone, and it sometimes made conversation hard.

“I think I’m comfortable with the ingredients side of things,” you told him.

“You’re not.”

You furrowed your brow and looked at him. “Yes, I am.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes I am!” you fought, “I know my own skill levels, Regulus.”

“I don’t think you do.”

He was so nonchalant about everything, reorganizing ingredients and setting up potion recipes as he spoke, as if anything he said didn’t matter.

You sighed and gave up fighting it, letting him take control and decide where to go from here. There was no point in going back and forth on the same thing over and over again.

“How about we just start with Shrinking Solution?” Regulus asked.

“Fine by me,” you answered.

Regulus backed away from the table, watching you do nothing. You looked back at him. Did he expect you to just do it?

“Well?” he said, “make the potion.”

You sighed. Sometimes he was so annoying and condescending. You looked at the unlabeled recipe and removed 7 red rose petals from a case of singular petals.

You began to drop them one-by-one in the boiling water. You looked at Regulus, who nodded at you to keep going. “How difficult,” you said sarcastically.

Remus folded his arms in front of his chest, watching you carefully.

You added five drops of essence of violet, stirring counterclockwise exactly twelve times.

“I don’t remember shrinking solution having essence of violet,” you told Regulus.

“Are you claiming my recipes are wrong?”

“No, I’m just saying.” You sighed and continued with the recipe, counting out 4 cloves and prepping canary flight feathers.

He didn’t say a word, just watching you make the potion, until you had completed the instructions.

“I also don’t remember it being pink,” you pouted, looking confused at the pot.

“I could have sworn this potion had daisy roots somewhere-“

“Would you relax?” Regulus questioned.

“Something just feels off about it,” you said, inspecting the liquid.

“Does it smell right?” he asked.

You leaned in and sniffed. The potion smelt like lavender, vanilla, freshly cut grass, and all your favorite smells.

The smell maintained throughout the smoke that you breathed in, overtaking your senses and filling your lungs. “Fuck that smells good,” you giggled.

Regulus crept behind you as silently as he could. When you stood up, he was directly behind you, your back almost banging into his torso.

You spun around to meet his gaze. “Can I help you with something?” you asked.

“I don’t know, can you?”

Your eyes locked for a moment, and you were suddenly overtaken with adoration.

“I think I probably can,” you said, all logic going out the window as the potion took over your emotions, your focus completely on Regulus.

“Atta girl,” he tsked, gripping your waist as he looked down at you. “How you feelin’, pretty girl?”

You were overcome with intense emotion, but you fought to remain grounded in reality. “You motherfucker,” you said, letting Regulus know that you were aware he had you make the wrong potion. This was not Shrinking Solution, this was Amortentia.

“No idea what you’re referring to,” he said.

“You know,” you started, twirling his already wavy hair in your fingers, “you could have just asked if you wanted me.”

“Now could I?” he asked, intrigued and eager to hear you continue talking.

“Mhm.”

“I thought I wasn’t your type.”

“Why?”

“You slept with my brother, did you not?”

Your eyes widened a bit. “And you know that how?”

“He’s my brother,” he said, holding you closer to him, his tone finally lifting to a bit lighter of a place, “and I’ve been keeping tabs on you.”

You giggled. “Have not.”

“I have been,” he admitted, “had to make sure you weren’t fucking anyone who didn’t deserve you.”

“I haven’t been fucking anyone,” you told him honestly.

“I know.”

“You wanna know why?”

His gaze darkened.

You sighed, “the only person I’ve wanted to fuck is standing right in front of me.”

Regulus growled, gripping your waist even harder and pulling you even closer. “Then what did I do all this work for? Getting you over here, the Amortentia, you’re telling me I worked for it for nothing?”

“Maybe,” you giggled, amused at how much thought and planning went into getting you here. You weren’t obvious about your attraction to him, but it couldn’t be that hard to notice.

“I feel drunk on you,” you admitted.

Regulus smiled. You had never ever seen him smile before. You didn’t even know he was capable.

“You’re so pretty when you smile,” you said genuinely, a hand moving upward so you could run a thumb over his cheek.

He couldn’t help himself anymore, he crashed his lips onto yours. Your hand found it’s way to the back of his head, holding him closer. You whimpered into the kiss, desperation overtaking your body. You couldn’t help it, the scent of the potion was still filling the room, and you were consumed in Regulus.

“I want you,” you said in between kisses, eager to finally get what you wanted.

Regulus didn’t break the kiss or loosen his grip on your waist, but instead inched you closer and closer to the bed. You felt the back of your knees hit the mattress, and you jumped up, attempting to land on the mattress, but Regulus caught you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist.

He leaned over you, your back touching the mattress as you kept your legs around Regulus. He remained standing, the small of your back at the edge of the side of the bed.

Regulus finally broke the kiss, running his hands all over your body and inspecting every single inch of you. “I’m gonna make you scream so loud that Sirius will realize what he’s missing.”

You couldn’t help it, you started laughing. Your heightened emotions won, and the more you tried to stay quiet, the more hysterical your laugh became.

Regulus slapped your thigh. “What the fuck is so funny?”

“You.”

“Shut up,” Regulus demanded, kissing you to distract you from the hysterics in your brain. You melted back into him, forgetting why you were even laughing in the first place.

You were still having too much fun to let him win so easy, and you liked watching him work for it. “Make me.”

Regulus cocked his head to the side. “What did you just say?”

A giggle threatened to leave your lips. “I said make me.”

A hand suddenly squeezed around your throat, not completely cutting off your breath, but stopping your giggling.

Regulus flashed you a wicked smile. “That seemed to work, didn’t it?”

“Y-yes,” you squeaked out.

Regulus moved a hand in between your bodies, cupping your heat from on top of your underwear. You inhaled sharply, desperate for any sort of friction.

Regulus tucked his fingers into the band of your underwear, collecting your wetness with his middle finger as he traced it in between your folds. A sigh of pleasure escapes your lips, and Regulus watched your face intently.

You thought he was going to continue on like this, slowly working you up until you were ready for him, but Regulus had other ideas. Without warning, he shoved two long fingers inside of you, his palm resting on your clit and circling, as his fingers pumped in and out of you.

Your body responded, back arching off the bed, a hand still around your throat. You squirmed a bit, unable to stay still from the sensation.

Regulus watched your chest rise and fall as your back arched and fell, his cock hardening as he watched what he did to you.

He curled his fingers, hitting that gummy sweet spot within you, causing your walls to convulse around his fingers. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he cooed, “come for me.”

His words undid you, the coil of tension within you breaking as you came on his fingers, whines and whimpers constantly filling the room as you calmed down from your high. He pulled his fingers out of you, never breaking eye contact as he sucked your juices off of them.

Once his fingers were licked clean, he unwrapped your legs from his waist, removing his hand from your throat.

“Stay,” he commanded as he untied his pants, pushing them, along with his underwear, down enough to free his hard and swollen cock.

You let out an audible gasp at the size.

“What? Too much for you?”

“How-“ you didn’t even know what to say, “how is that gonna fit in me?”

“I think you’ll be fine, pretty girl.”

Regulus held his palm in front of your mouth. “Spit.”

You did as he said, and he used your spit to wet his cock, lining up his tip with your entrance.

“You want this?” he asked.

“Yes, Reg,” you replied.

Regulus almost showed you mercy when he heard the nickname, it just sounded so pretty coming from you, but he still didn’t. “Beg for it.”

You nodded your head no in protest.

A hand grabbed your face, pushing your lips out and positioning your head so that you had no choice but to look him in the eye. “Beg. For. It.”

“P-please, Regulus I n-“

Regulus slapped your cheek, hard. You gasped at the pain, almost stunned that he did such a thing.

“Use that pretty little nickname you called me.”

“Please, Reg, I need it, p-please-“

Regulus shoved his length into you, a moan of his name leaving your lips.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Regulus growled, setting a steady pace as he pumped in and out of you. He tugged at the bottom of your dress. “Off.”

You did your best to pull your dress off without interrupting his pace, struggling for a minute but eventually succeeding. Regulus leaned in and bit at your bra strap, snapping it back onto your body. He kisses the top of your breasts, shoving your nipples out of the cups, his tongue immediately sucking on one of them.

“Fuck!” you cried out, the pleasure of his mouth on your breasts and his cock splitting you open, and the scent of the potion still filled your nose, almost feeling like too much.

“Louder,” he demanded, serious when he said he would make you scream so loud that Sirius could hear you.

“Fuck, Reg!” you screamed at the top of your lungs, his pace quickening as you did so.

“Good girl,” he praised.

He sucked a sweet spot on your neck, your head rolling to the side to give him even more access.

He was slamming into you, the bed squeaking as your body rocked back and forth. Your legs were weak as they fell off the side of the bed, but Regulus didn’t want the position to change. He grabbed both of your legs, positioning them over his shoulders and fucking into you even deeper.

You squeaked and whined, not even capable of any genuine moans anymore.

“You gonna come again, huh? All over my cock?” Regulus gasped out.

“Mhm.”

“Words, pretty girl.”

“Y- yes!” you squealed, your high hitting you again as you squeezed his cock, a groan leaving Regulus’s mouth as he fucked you while you came, pace never faltering as you attempted to come down from your high.

Regulus was still chasing his own, his lips enveloping yours in a heated kiss as he snapped his hips as fast as he could until he came inside of you, erratic breaths and sighs spilling into the kiss.

“Fuck,” he said, running his fingers through his hair that was sweat slicked and falling in front of his face.

“God, I needed that,” you said, attempting to catch your breath as Regulus laid down next to you.

Regulus didn’t respond, he just stared at the ceiling, calming himself down.

“Reg?” you asked.

“Mhm?”

“You didn’t bring me here just to fuck me and piss your brother off, right?” you asked.

Regulus turned to you. “Do you think that low of me?”

“No. I’m just curious,” you explained.

“No, I didn’t bring you here to piss my brother off,” he answered, “it’s just a massive, massive plus.” He rolled over the placed a kiss on your lips.

#regulus black #regulus x y/n #regulus black x y/n #regulus black x reader #regulus x reader #regulus black imagines #regulus black fanfic #regulus black smut #marauders #marauders era #marauders era smut #marauders era fanfic #marauders era imagines

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crescenthistory · 6 months ago

Note

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

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

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

Words: 3k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God, what love has cost him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or yours, you sod.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Bite me.”

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

“And she would.” Barty winks at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Regulus. Thank Merlin.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regulus chooses to ignore it nonetheless.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Regulus fell desperately deeper in love.

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aetherraeys · 23 days ago

Text

evil twin !

regulus black x twinpotter!reader ⊹ 10.2k

(part ii)

cw ⟢ eventual poly!bartylus!!, slytherin!reader, fluff, friends to lovers

summary: the potter twins, a marvelous duo split by the sorting hat. just like your brother you presence was addictive, drawing in the attentions of a particularly brooding black brother.

a/n: THIS IS THE FIRST OF HOPEFULLY MANY PARTS HEHEHE I HOPE YOU ENJOY MWAH!!! not proofread x

Dumbledore was convinced that both Euphemia and Fleamont Potter had carried out a divide and conquer tactic apon your arrival in the castle.

Individually, you and James were a force to be reckoned with—both incredibly charismatic, intelligent and hard-headed, with a knack for mischief. So together, Dumbledore’s head only spun at the thought of the havoc the pair of you would cause.

Luckily, on the fateful day of your arrival, you were placed in Slytherin and your beloved twin brother was placed in Gryffindor—separated for the first time ever. The moment still vivid in your mind, the second the sorting hat was on you, the way you flinched when it hummed, pondering—voice ringing loud in your ears as it announced—Slytherin.

James had frozen at the Gryffindor table, half out of his seat, hand still twitching against the bench where he’d been saving your spot—watching as your lip trembled, walking glossy-eyed to the Slytherin table.

That first night, the castle felt too big, dungeon walls suffocating, too many corridors between you and your brother.

Of course it was hard, for the both of you.

James had always been protective over you—infuriatingly so. Always reinforcing the fact that he needs to take care of his little sister. Like those three minutes made any difference at all.

It had been a slow shift—painful, even. You and James had always been a unit, bound by childhood games, matching jumpers, and the unspoken certainty that wherever one of you went, the other wasn’t far behind. But Hogwarts had changed that. The Sorting Hat had done more than divide you; it had distilled you. Pulled apart the blended pieces of your personalities and exposed them for what they truly were.

It gave you both room to grow.

Individually. Distinctively.

Earning names for yourselves outside of ‘the Potter twins’.

You’d both carved your names into the stone walls of Hogwarts in your own distinct ways—loud and clear, unmistakable.

James Potter was sunlight. A walking, talking explosion of brightness. He lit up corridors with that crooked grin and wind-mussed hair, bounding through the castle like he owned every inch of it. Gryffindor Quidditch captain, chaotic and loud and brilliant in all the ways that made people want to follow him into a duel or disaster.

He was the kind of boy who laughed with his whole chest, who spoke like everything he said mattered, arms slung around friends like they were lifelines. Always in motion. Always burning. A golden retriever in human form, all reckless energy and genuine joy.

And then there was you.

Cool where James was burning. Still water to his wildfire. But no less dangerous.

No less alluring.

They called you the evil twin—never to your face, and never with confidence. Not seriously. Not really. But the name clung to you like smoke. It suited you in the way all the best lies do: close enough to truth to be dangerous.

There was a calm to you, deliberate and composed, but it was the kind of calm that made people lean in too close, not noticing that they were slipping under the surface until it was far too late. You moved with the kind of grace that made people watch without realising they were watching, your smile soft, voice smoother still, and eyes always gleaming with something slightly wild.

They whispered about you long after you left a room.

Head Girl before your quill ever touched the application parchment. A perfect record—at least on paper.

Your charm was quieter than James’, more calculated, more disarming. Beautiful, brilliant, and just a little terrifying. You made people nervous, even when you were smiling. Especially when you were smiling.

There was a glint in your eyes that made hearts skip and stomachs drop, that whispered of games and secrets and consequences. A wicked sort of glimmer, like you knew every thought in their head and were already deciding what to do with it. Like the sea right before a storm.

Yin and yang, Dumbledore had once said, half in jest. Opposing forces in perfect balance.

You enter the Great Hall like a secret unfurling—quiet and unannounced, not so much walking as gliding between tables, untouched by the noise that fills the air.

Steps silent across the stone floor, a slip of motion through the chaos of breakfast—chatter and cutlery and laughter clanging off the walls. You pass the Gryffindor table without so much as a murmur trailing behind you, and still, not one person notices.

Not until your hand touches James’ shoulder.

He jerks so violently he nearly knocks his goblet over, a string of startled swears tumbling from his mouth as his fork clatters against the plate. Pumpkin mash splatters. Someone at the table yelped. Sirius choked on his toast, and Remus actually gasped as if someone’s just hexed him.

Every head turned.

And James was clutching his chest like you’d stabbed him.

“Bloody—! Merlin’s sake, you can’t just—!”

You tilt your head at him, ever so slightly, a small smirk twitching at the corners of your lips—eyes glinting with amusement. “Jamie,” you say in a sing-song lilt, sweet and syrupy, “You wouldn’t happen to still have the History of Magic textbook you borrowed from me, would you?”

A hush falls over the table—just long enough to make you notice.

“Er. About that,” he says, eyes darting like he’s working out whether to lie or apologise. “I might still have it. Might. Can’t say what condition it’s in, though.”

Your smile fades instantly, its replacing expressing shockly serious.

“James,” you say flatly, eyes narrowing. “Did you ruin my book?”

He winces. “Define ruin—”

“James.”

“It wasn’t on purpose!” he insists quickly, shoulders raising like you’re about to hex him in the middle of the Great Hall. “There was this—uh—Sirius spilled ink on the table and then Remus knocked it over and there was just a lot going on.”

You stayed silent, blinking at him, unimpressed.

“I’ll get you a new copy,” he says, guilt creeping into his voice. “Later today. You’ll have to stop by the common room, though.”

You sigh like it physically pains you. “Fine. I’ll try to come by around seven.”

He grins, pleased with himself. “Sorry, Poppet*.*”

You roll your eyes, but the edge of your mouth twitches. Straightening, with a roll of your shoulders as you draw your hand away from him, letting it fall to your side. And when you glace up again, the stares hadn’t stopped.

Like they’d forgotten to look away, the silence hung in the air for barely a second, scanning the table momentarily—before offering a small smile—slow, sweet, almost smug.

The kind of smile that ruins people.

“M’kay, see you later, Jamie,” you murmur, then turn and slip back into motion.

Eyes follow you as you go—every turn of your heel, every soft shift of fabric, every second you exist within their line of sight. James barely registers it at first—too busy spearing his toast again, already halfway back into conversation. But then he pauses.

His eyes flick to Sirius. Then to Remus. Then to Marlene.

All three of them are still staring across the hall. Still tracking your path back to your table.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” James groans loudly, glaring. “Stop gawking at my sister.”

Marlene blinks, caught. “She’s terrifying,” she mutters, almost to herself.

“In a really…good way,” Remus adds, dazed.

Sirius only grins.

James lets out a strangled sound and buries his face in his hands.

The portrait swings open without hesitation, at exactly seven o’clock sharp, you’d been there enough times that even the Fat Lady doesn’t bother asking questions anymore.

James is already waiting on one of the overstuffed armchairs by the fire, textbook in hand. You barely slowed as you approached. He tossed it up with a practiced flick of the wrist, and you caught it one-handed.

“New copy,” he says proudly. “Didn’t even steal it. Aren’t you proud?”

You hum in approval, flipping it open to scan the pages. “No ink stains. No food crumbs. No smell of dungbombs.” You close it with a satisfied snap. “Miracles do happen.”

Before he can retort, you’ve already turned toward the couch, where Lily is perched cross-legged with a steaming mug of something floral and her usual tower of parchment. She smiles when she sees you, shifting over to make space without being asked.

Tucking the textbook under your arm as you lower yourself beside her.

James raises a suspicious brow, but you and Lily are already whispering to each other, heads tilted close and expressions conspiratorial. It’s nothing terribly sinister—something to do with Hogsmeade, and getting Slughorn to move a test back a week—but it’s enough to draw curious glances from the far side of the room.

You feel them. The eyes.

But you don’t look. Don’t need to.

Sirius was pretending not to stare. Which is laughable, really, because his entire body was angled toward you, elbow propped on the back of the couch, fingers tangled in his hair in that careless way he probably thinks is charming.

And Remus was worse. He’s trying to read, bless him, book in his lap and everything—but his eyes haven’t moved from you since you sat down. He shifts like he’s uncomfortable, chewing the inside of his cheek. You think you catch the faintest hint of a blush creeping up his neck.

You say nothing. Keep your voice low as you murmur something into Lily’s ear that makes her snort softly behind her hand.

After ten minutes of easy conversation, you rise without ceremony, slipping the textbook fully under your arm and smoothing your skirt.

“Well,” you say lightly, brushing a hand over your robes. “This was fun.”

Lily smirks. “We’ll finalise tomorrow?”

“Perfect” You glance to James. “Thanks for the book, Jamie.”

“No problem, Pop.”

You turn, finally acknowledging the two boys across the room with a glint of something wicked in your eye.

“Goodnight, boys,” you said sweetly—voice soft as silk, almost melodic. The slightest edge of a smile curves your lips as you roll your eyes, and then you’re already walking toward the exit, the hem of your robes trailing behind you like smoke.

You don’t look back.

But if you had, you would’ve seen Sirius run a hand through his hair and lean back with a low whistle.

“Merlin,” he mutters. “I’d swear she’s half siren if it weren’t for you, Prongs”

James, who’s still watching the portrait door swing shut, scoffs. “Oh, come off it.”

“What?” Sirius grins, unashamed. “It’s not my fault your sister is—” he gestures vaguely toward the door, “—whatever that is.”

Remus doesn’t say a word. His book is still open in his lap—he’s not reading it.

“I’m just saying,” Sirius continues, “if she weren’t your sister…”

“But she is my sister.” James rebutted, slouching back in his seat—swiftly ending the conversation.

The corridor curved with quiet shadows, lit only by the flicker of distant torches. Your footsteps echoed faintly against the flagstone, a soft rhythm in the stillness of the dungeons. It was late, you’d spent more time in the Gryffindor common room than you’d realised—most of the castle already asleep, save for the odd prefect or wandering ghost.

You turned a corner near the potions classroom and nearly walked straight into Regulus Black.

He stopped short, posture already impeccable, as if even in surprise he couldn't be caught off guard. There was a brief flicker of something in his eyes—recognition, hesitation—and then he stepped slightly aside, giving you room without a word.

“Burning the midnight oil, Black?” you asked, voice soft with the sort of casual familiarity that made his name sound like something you owned.

He glanced at you, dark eyes catching in the torchlight. “Prefect rounds. Took longer than expected.”

You fell into step beside him as naturally as breathing, and he adjusted his pace to match yours without needing to be asked.

“What was it this time?” you mused. “More Gryffindors smuggling sweets from the kitchens?”

“Fourth-years,” he said with a small exhale—amusement undercutting his otherwise smooth tone. “Said they were practicing for a future in espionage.”

“Ambitious,” you said, a smile tugging at your mouth. “Almost enough to make me proud.”

Regulus didn’t respond, but you felt the brief flick of his eyes on your profile, like he was trying not to look too long. Like he was trying not to seem too interested.

You didn’t comment, but you noticed.

By the time you reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, barely mumbling the password before the metal hinges whined, door opening slowly. Inside, the green-glass lamps glowed low, casting dreamy reflections against the water-like ceiling. The fire in the hearth crackled lazily, golden against the dark velvet furniture.

Dorcas sat half-curled on the rug, absently flipping through a magazine; Evan was draped across a couch like he owned it, cards floating above his face; Pandora leaned near him, humming as she threaded a strand of starlight-colored ribbon through her hair. It was a tableau of sleepy elegance.

Without hesitation, you crossed the room and lowered yourself to the center rug near the fire. Your hand stretched toward the flames without thought. A spark rose up, obedient and curious, dancing into your open palm.

Twirling it between your fingers like silk, the heat never burning you, the flame curling comfortably around your touch. Pandora’s fingers stilled in her braid, watching.

Wandless magic.

Dorcas tilted her head, eyes bright. “You really have to teach me how to do that one day.”

You didn’t look away from the fire. “Of course,” you said lightly. “But there’s a bit of a learning curve.”

“Like what kind of curve?” Evan asked, not looking up. “Burn-your-dormitory-down levels?”

“More like third-degree-if-you’re-clumsy,” you replied with a grin.

“I could do it,” a voice said behind you, full of loud confidence.

Barty stepped forward from where he’d been balanced on the arm of the sofa, his hair tousled, shirt rumpled, and a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment to make an entrance.

You turned your head slightly, one brow raised. “Could you now?”

“First try,” he goaded, brows arched in light challenge. “Swear on my father's boring haircut.”

Regulus snorted, not even looking up from his book. “You’ll burn yourself stupid.”

“I’ll be fine,” Barty said, already striding forward. “How hard can it be?”

He reached toward the fire, trying to mimic the smooth gesture you’d used, fingers tense with focus and impatience.

A small spark leapt up—and immediately sputtered, flaring far too quickly. The flame caught his skin with a sharp sizzle before he could react, and he yelped, flinging his hand back with a curse.

“Bloody hell!”

The room erupted with laughter.

Pandora’s hand clamped over her mouth as if to shove the laugh back in, both Evan and Dorcas threw their heads back in sync, barking out a laugh—sound mixing with yours, loud and delighted, as Barty glared at the fire like it had personally betrayed him.

“Under control, was it?” you teased.

He cradled his palm like it was a war wound. “Minor setback. I didn’t even flinch.”

“You flinched so hard you almost somersaulted.”

“Semantics,” Barty grumbled.

“Let me see,” you said, standing and stepping closer.

He hesitated only a beat before holding out his hand, palm-up. A faint red welt bloomed across his skin, angry and hot. Your fingers brushed against his as you took it, and you felt the brief hitch in his breath. You didn’t comment.

A whisper of magic curled from your palm, cool and quiet, threading over the burn like mist. The redness faded almost instantly, leaving only smooth skin and the faintest echo of heat.

Barty stared down at your work like it was a trick he couldn’t quite understand.

From the couch, Evan leaned forward, smirking. “You just wanted an excuse to hold her hand.”

“Shove off,” Barty muttered, pulling his hand back quickly, though not too quickly.

You shook your head, half-exasperated half-amused, and turned toward the hall. “I’m going to wash up.”

As you stepped away from the firelight, you caught movement in the corner of your eye. Regulus was still in his usual spot—half reclined in the reading chair by the window, a book open but forgotten on his lap.

His gaze was fixed on you, unreadable and unblinking.

You held it for just a moment, a soft smirk just barely twitching at the corners of your lips, before disappearing down the hall.

Unsurpisingly, both you and Regulus had more in common than you’d care to admit.

Both the less outlandish sibling, the ‘quieter’ ones—not necessarily in sound, but in presence. While James and Sirius blazed like bonfires, reckless and radiant, you and Regulus were something else entirely.

Subtle, magnetic.

You didn’t need to shout to be heard. You’d both entered a room and the air seemed to still slightly, as if waiting to see what you’d do.

Both of you understood what it meant to watch. To study a room before deciding what piece you wanted to play in it. You weren’t loud, nor silent just quietly unnerving. Regal, even.

There was a stillness about Regulus, an almost surgical precision to his movements and his clipped tone, like everything he did was measured twice before execution. He was painfully composed, almost uptight, his dry wit tucked behind an unimpressed brow and unimpeachable posture.

And where you differed—you were made of wild starlight and strange tides, chaos in your blood even if it rarely cracked your veneer, eventhough you rarely indulged. And where Regulus pulled inward, you leaned out. You loved a little disorder, havoc—a challenge; your eyes shining when something didn’t go to plan, smirking like you were always in on a secret.

There was a certain wickedness in your stillness—one that made Regulus look twice. Then three times. Then constantly.

Each thing he learned about you surprised him more than the last.

So he decided, quietly and with a calm sort of resolve, that he’d had enough of watching you from afar. He wanted a closer look.

The first time was in the library.

You were tucked into the corner of a row, arms full of books, hair falling across your face as you read the spine of a heavy tome. You didn’t notice him at first—or maybe that’s just what he told himself, though he should’ve known better. Regulus moved with the silence of a shadow, but when he was only inches away and just about to speak, your voice floated out, lightly entertained:

“Planning to sneak up on me, Black?”

He blinked, lips parting in the barest hint of surprise. “I wasn’t—”

Without sparing him a glance you handed him the book at the top, and he took it instinctively—letting his fingers linger on yours just that bit longer than necessary. And you held in a quirk of your brows, the squint of your eyes—making a mental note.

Because Regulus was nothing if not purposeful.

He didn’t say anything else at first, only helped, taking the weight from you and beginning to shelve them wordlessly. There was a moment—just before he reached for the last one—where his fingers paused. The cover was worn, clearly read many times.

Icarus.

A Muggle myth. One of his favourites, though no one knew that.

His hand hovered just a little too long, thumb brushing over the faded title.

“What did you think of the ending?” you asked suddenly, your tone soft but cutting through the quiet like a quill to parchment.

He almost stammered, nearly asking how did you know? But caught himself, clearing his throat before replying. “Tragic. I liked it.”

You tilted your head, teeth sinking into your bottom lip—scanning his face—something glinting behind your eyes that he couldn’t quiet put his finger on.

The way the corners of your lips threatening to curve into a smile, had him struggling to swallow, voice honeyed in his ears—“Of course you did.”

And you were gone, just like that, leaving him standing—ears hot, brain playing your voice, your smile on loop.

Regulus prided himself in his ability to read a person, and yet with you—every interaction left him more confused, more intrigued, more captivated. There was some sort of riddle about you, something flickering in the depths of your eyes that made him want to unravel it—you.

The next time he saw you, you’d agreed to meet after his Quidditch practice to finish a joint assignment for Potions. Waiting just outside the changing rooms, arms crossed loosely over your chest, leaning against the cool stone wall with your bag slung over one shoulder.

The first person out wasn’t Regulus, but Barty—lips splitting into a wide smirk like he’d been expecting to see you there.

“Well, well,” he drawled, striding over with no shame, his hair a windswept mess and his jersey clinging to his frame. Immediately he closed in on you, arm slinging lazily over your shoulders, a light scent of cigarettes and oak filling your nose.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, pretty?”

Groaning, your nose crinkling at the contact, you didn’t push him off though—”You’re sweaty, Junior,”

He only leaned in closer, grin laced with mischief, letting his breath fan over your jaw. “You love it.”

“I love showers, actually. You should try one.”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, his eyes flickered across you face, the corners of your lips fighting to stay down—eyes glimmering with that twinge of defiance that had him only smirk even wider—“Only if you come with.”

Your brow cocked up slightly, narrowing your eyes as your plucked his arm off of you, placing gently back by his side—palms still wrapped around his wrist. He watched your movement eagerly, the smirk that was already etched onto his lips, adopting a positively wolfish quality when you leaned up into him—lips almost brushing the shell of his ear as you whispered.

“You wouldn’t last five minutes, Junior,”

Pulling away just as quickly as you came in, leaning back against the wall leisurely, rolling your eyes at the way Barty scanned your figure—adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Then the door opened again, still not Regulus.

“Evan,” you called sweetly, “come collect your lost dog before he starts shedding on me.”

“C’mon, Crouch” Evan replied with a snort, catching him by the collar and dragging him off. “Leave her alone before you melt her into the floor.”

Barty turned just before they were out of sight, voice loud despite the distance—playful, “Miss you already, Treasure!”

For a few more minutes you waited, the corridor quiet now except for the flickering of enchanted sconces and the distant echo of voices. When Regulus finally emerged, his tie half-undone and hair damp around the edges, cheeks still reddened from the bite of the air—adjusting his uniform.

“Did you wait long?”

He’d already began the walk out, following after him, you hummed a small no—slipping through the hallways in the East Wing to find an empty classroom. It wasn’t hard task at all, settling in with the low scrap of the stool against the stone floor and opening your textbooks.

As he flicked through the pages of the book, your gaze dropped instinctively to his hands—his knuckles bruised and bloodied, red blooming like petals across pale skin.

Without hesitation, you scooted forward in your seat and took his hand in yours.

“We could’ve stopped by Pomfrey,” you said, brows knitting slightly as you examined the scrapes.

He didn’t pull away. Just kept his gaze fixed on your hand, the way you held his delicately, and your fingers, the way they moved so gently across his skin.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered. “I’ll heal.”

A frown had etched itself onto your lips as you continued to inspect his hand, if you weren’t so engrossed in your assessment, you would have noticed the faint flush of his ears, or how his eyes flickered back and forth between your face and your hand.

Your motions were slow and attentive, pressing your palm along the bumps of his knuckles—the heat of your skin ghosting over his—the simmer of magic was so soft he almost didn’t notice it.

There was a flicker of discomfort in his eyes as the wounds healed, but he didn’t flinch away.

And as your palm crossed over the edge of his hand, the final gash closed before his eyes, the skin was almost perfectly anew, as if nothing had happened—the only indication being a fading pink hue.

You continued to trace over the now-faint marks, fingertips ghosting along the healed bone, the tenderness of your touch leaving him slightly breathless.

“Better,” you whispered, half to yourself.

Regulus just stared at his hand when you let go, still feeling the echo of your touch, the whisps of your warmth. “Thank you,” he said finally, voice quieter than usual, lips still parted—stretching and rolling his fingers, watching the bones move comfortably under the skin, free of the light burning sensation.

When he looked up, you were already watching him—head tilted, expression cool—neutral.

Sighing out a breath his lips were moving before he could stop them, “I—how?”

A quiet hum escaped your lips, hands crossing over your lap as you leaned into the wood of your chair, “Well, James and I were really clumsy—more James than me, obviously,”

Recollecting, your lips curled into a smile, shrugging slightly as you continued, “Our mum got tired of us walking around bruised and battered when she was busy, so she taught me how to heal without a wand,”

The ghost of a smile almost twitched at the corners of his lips. Almost.

A short silence veiled the room as you fell into a working rhythm, mindlessly highlighting and note taking before the clattering of Regulus’ quill against the table broke your concentration. Eyes immediately shifting up to him—his lips pursed into a tightline but the words were already out. Blurted abruptly, cracking the silence just as his quill did.

“Teach me,”

Your brows raised into a suprised arch, confusion flickering across your face for brief moment, lips parting to respond. When he shrunk into himself slightly, shocked by his own outburst, muttering a small, “…please?” under his breath.

The response fell heavy on your tongue, lips stretching into an amused smirk and huffed chuckle bubbled low in your chest.

The wood of the chair scrapped and screeched loud against the stone as you stood, wordlessly making your way around the table. His eyes tracked your movements, just barely becoming frantic in their flickering when you sat beside him—knees brushing, so close.

Regulus breath caught when your gazes met, heat prickling at the base of his neck, hands curling into half-fists on the table, and you kept your eyes on him. Even as you leaned over closing his books, making space on the desk—warmth of your body vaguely gracing him.

He couldn’t bring himself to look away, tear his gaze from yours—as much as it made his stomach flip from its quiet intensity—the confidence that swam in your eyes. It sucked him in, making his adam’s apple bob in his throat.

All-consuming.

At the sound of a single galleon, lazily spinning on the table, you broke your stare—letting your sights fall onto the coin as it clattered to a halt. “Have you done wandless magic before?”

He sucked in a deep breath, allowing his lungs to fill completely—using that time to regulate his heart that threatened to beat out of his chest—before pushing all the air back out, forcibly rubbing his palms into the fabric of his robes.

“Once—accidentally,”

With a nod, you hummed at his words, waiting for him to continue, eyes back on him—boring into the side of his head. “I—uh, got the lights to turn on when i couldn’t find my wand,”

His eyes shift between you and the coin as you picked it up, rolling it between your fingers as your spoke, “Okay, lets start with something simple, shall we?” The way you watched him made his mouth painfully dry, he couldn’t even trust his voice to answer, silently nodding at you words.

“Try move the coin.”

When he whipped his head towards to, lips parted in slight disbelief, protests creeping up his throat—Regulus clamped his mouth shut at the smile on your face, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners swimming with mischief as you leaned in. Placing the coin back onto the table with a soft clink, instinctively he held his breath, short-circuiting at the sudden proximity—so close he could smell you, a light vanilla scent with a twinge of maple and freshly burnt fire-wood.

You made him so nervous, he found himself a bit pathetic.

And the honeyed cadance of your voice did nothing but make his heart race faster than it already was, “Just breathe, Regulus. Focus on the coin and where you want it to move—relax,”

Easier said than done.

Gods, even the way you said his name—he almost lost the rest of your sentence, letting it echo in his mind over and over again.

When you reclined, leaning back into your chair, he felt the urge to mourn the loss of warmth—rolling his shoulders back, focusing his gaze. Or at least, he tried to.

The coin sat quietly on the table, unmoved, unbothered by the sheer force of his will alone. His jaw tensed, brows pinched together, fingers twitching slightly as if the movement alone might spark the magic into life.

Nothing.

With a breath that was equal parts frustration and surrender, Regulus leaned back and exhaled sharply.

“Can you—” he muttered, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, —can you not watch me?”

You blinked, caught off guard. Then a quiet chuckle slipped from your lips as you raised your hands in surrender, the teasing edge of your smile tugging at the corners. “Alright, alright,” you murmured, “Sorry.” Voice light and easy, but your eyes still sparkled with that same mischief that made his stomach clench. “Didn’t realise I was that distracting.”

“You are,” he muttered under his breath, almost too quiet for you to hear.

Still, you didn’t comment on it. Instead, leaning in again—slowly, gently—and placed your hand on his shoulder, the heat of you palm instantly radiating through his robes, hairs raising down his spine. His eyes flicked to the contact, then to your face again. You were closer than before.

“You’re thinking too hard,” you murmured, your thumb brushing once over the fabric of his robes. “And you’re not breathing.”

“I am breathing,” he argued weakly.

“Barely.”

You didn’t move your hand as you spoke again, your voice quieter now, velvet-soft and steady. “Close your eyes. Envision it. Just you and the coin. No pressure.” Regulus hesitated for a beat, then followed your instruction, lids fluttering shut.

A few moments pass before your voice reaches his ears again, “Can you see it?” and he nodded slowly, jaw tightening in focus.

“Alright,” you continued, tone low almost hypnotic now, “imagine it moving. Just a bit. Like there’s an invisible string tugging it toward you.”

He sucked in another deep breath, picturing it. The cool glint of the galleon. The subtle shine under the tinted light of the classroom. The gentle tug, like a current.

And then—scrape.

The softest sound of metal shifting against wood reached both your ears. His eyes shot open. It had moved—just barely a few centimeters, but undeniably there. His breath caught, disbelief flashing across his face.

When he turned to you, a bright beam had already split across your face, the sort of proud, delighted smile that hit him harder than the adrenaline from the magic—your hand finally slipped from his shoulder, leaving a coldness in its wake—fingers grazing the fabric of his robes. “You did it!” you said, eyes bright. “See? Easy.”

He let out a stunned breath, caught between awe and the bloom of success, heartbeat still rapid beneath his ribs. The warmth of accomplishment mingling with the quiet thrum of your presence, you. He was still processing when you reset the coin with a smooth sweep of your hand.

“Again,” you urged, nudging it into place. “Try further this time.”

He nodded, more focused now—confident. When he closed his eyes again, he could still hear the echo of your voice in his head. Could still imagine your hand on his shoulder, steading—warm.

And this time, it slid farther—too far.

The coin zipped forward, clattered off the edge, and hit the floor with a metallic clink that echoed around the empty classroom. You let out a short burst of laughter, delighted, as his head dropped, a sheepish huff escaping him. But the tension had melted from his shoulders, replaced with slow blossoming of something lighter. Pride.

He bent down to retrieve it, fingers brushing the cool metal before placing it back on the table. You were already settling beside him again, the warmth of your presence sparking something just under his skin. “This is the next step,” you said, tapping the surface of the table.

Regulus was still watching you.

Then you extended your hand, with a single finger, you hovered just above the coin—twirling it in a slow, controlled motion—and like it had a will of its own, the coin lifted.

Spinning, following the gentle twirl of your finger. A slow spiral, then faster, gathering speed until it hovered in the air, dancing in place.

He was entranced, gaze stuck on the coin even as it settled down, coming to a graceful halt—landing perfectly in the center of the table. He’d known magic, of course he did—but it felt different, raw and effortless. The same way the flame had danced between your fingers in the common room the other night—mindlessly intuitive, captivating. The coin spun like it wanted to please you. Everything did, it seemed.

He was still staring at the coin, hesitating—doubt creeping in through the back of his mind, like an unwanted invasive parasite—it barely flickered across his face. An almost imperceivable break in his expression, but you saw it.

Taking the coin again, you reached for his hand—laying your palm flat under his, eyes flickering to his face for permission before continuing. When he didn’t pull away, you placed the coin in the center of his hand, the warmth of your skin on his made the sharp bite of the metal feel that bit colder against his hand.

It lifted and spun confidently against his skin, puppeteered by the twist of your finger.

“Feel that?” Voice just above a whisper.

And he could feel it, a steady thrumming faintly circling in his palm, the buzzing with your magic. Swallowing before he spoke, a small “Yeah,” passing into the air between you.

“Now,” you spoke quietly, catching his other hand and bringing it to hover above the coin. “Picture that same feeling at your fingertips. Like it’s moving from your hand into the air—let it flow through you.”

He concentrated. You stayed close. Hand still gently cradling his from below, a silent encouragement, he started mimicking the slow twirling motion in the space above the coin.

For a few long moment—nothing.

Then, it happened. The coin jerked, slightly. Then again, shakily dragging to a stand. A tremble, stuttering before a spin. Jerky at first, but then it righted itself—smoothly gaining speed, falling into step with the command of his finger.

And your laughter, it rung through the room—soft, radiant—spilling from your chest with that same pride from before. He was too stunned to say anything. Blinking down at the coin with wide eyes, then looking to you, breathless, like he wasn’t quite sure it had actually happened. A smile—an actual, full smile—slowly curved onto his lips.

Rare and quiet, it lingered like a secret only the two of you shared.

The low buzz still resonating in his palm, the echo of your magic mingled with his own. The feeling of your hands—warm, steady, coaxing power out of him with nothing more than your voice and a bit of stubborn charm.

And even as the coin fell suddenly into his hand, all he could do was look at you.

Relish in the way your eyes shone with a glimmer of excitement, how your hands curved around his, jogging them slightly in enthusiastic joy of his accomplishment.

The coin was stagnant in his palm, Regulus flipped your hands, surrendering the cold metal into yours—and yet his hands lingering in your hold. He knew he probably should have moved his hands, the second he resigned the coin back into your possession; that was his cue. But he felt stuck, frozen under your sights.

Bewitched.

Even as your lips moved before him, the words almost fell deaf on his ears—taking a few seconds to let them echo in his mind, how did it feel? He responded with a sighing breath, as if relinquishing all remaining tension in his body, “…Good,” nodding his head as his continued, “really good actually,”

His small confession has your lips stretching even further along your face, and acknowledging hum rumbling in your throat as your touch slowly slipped away from his. Quietly tucking the coin into your bag before you started to pack up.

Just when you closed your notebook Regulus’ voice glided across the air, just above a faint murmur—if the room had any other sounds than the quiet rustling of papers, you wouldn’t have heard it.

“You’re a really good teacher,”

A small huff of laugh passed through your nose, tucking your notebook under your arm as you stood and offered a small, warm smile. “It’s easy,” you said lightly, “when you have a good student.”

Regulus shook his head faintly, a huff of something like disbelief leaving his lips—but the curve of pride hadn’t quite left his mouth.

The two of you walked in comfortable silence through the halls, your steps in sync. His hands tucked in his pockets, your bag slung over your shoulder. The dungeons were dim, washed in the dull blue of lantern light, shadows stretching along the stone. He kept glancing sideways at you, like there was something still lingering on his tongue he hadn’t quite worked up the courage to say.

Just as you reached the bottom of the girls’ dorm staircase, your hand curling loosely around the bannister, Regulus spoke.

“Wait—” His voice was low, tentative. Pausing, you turned slightly. “Hm?”

He stood a few steps back, one hand curled around the strap of his satchel, the other still shoved in his pocket. “Would you…” he paused, gaze dipping before finding yours again, more certain now. “Will you show me more?”

There was a beat of silence.

You tilted your head, watching him closely, fingers curled loosely around the railing. Blinking once, twice, reading the sincerity in his face, the open want—not desperation, harmless interest. He could see the cogs turning in your head just for a moment, before you murmured with a shrug, “Yeah.”

Descending the stairs again, you fell into step beside him as he led the way up the other staircase. The boys’ dorm was quiet when you reached it, the door creaking softly open under his hand. The warm scent of parchment, cologne, and something distinctly him met you in the space.

You paused at the threshold.

It wasn’t unfamiliar—you’d lounged across Barty’s bed enough times, lazily flipping through books while he tore the room apart looking for a missing assignment. You’d perched at Evan’s desk, rifled through his scribbled notes, borrowed a quill Barty’s nightstand. But never while Regulus was there. You’d never stepped into his space, not when he was in it.

He didn’t seem to notice your stillness. He moved through the room with ease, like you weren’t watching—dropping his books in a stack by the desk, slipping his robe off one shoulder, then tugging his jumper over his head. His shirt was rumpled beneath, sleeves already rolled up, collar slightly askew. You caught yourself staring.

He looked over his shoulder.

“You coming in?” he asked, voice a little lower now, pitched in that way it sometimes got when it was just you.

Without a word, you stepped in, toeing the door shut behind you and dropping your bag just beside the frame. You mimicked his motions easily, slipping off your jumper and draping it over the back of a nearby chair, fingers brushing absently along the edge of his desk as you walked further in.

It was a clean room. Structured, but not stiff. His bed was neat, the desk organised, quills and books perfectly aligned. But there were touches—human ones. A framed photo of the Quidditch pitch mid-game, a green ribbon pinned to the wall—a burnished Slytherin scarf neatly folded at the end of his bed, and a single piece of parchment stuck to the wall above his workspace.

With a soft exhale, you flopped onto his bed, letting your arms stretch out as you gazed up at the canopy. The hangings were dark, almost velvet black, and they made the whole space feel smaller, quieter. Private.

Regulus glanced over, amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. He returned to his desk, potion book in hand, eyebrows arched in mild disbelief.

“You make yourself comfortable wherever you go, don’t you?” he said dryly, a smirk threatening at the corners of his lips.

You didn’t reply—just smirked smugly, twisting your head into the sheets below, stretching your limbs out, still gazing up at the dark, heavy curtains draped above the bed. The movement made your shirt shift, riding up slightly—just a touch above your waistband, exposing a sliver of skin, soft and warm under the low lamplight—the stretch of your abdomen and the small indent of your navel.

He was staring.

He didn’t realise how long until you sat up, balancing your weight on one arm, eyes still wandering lazily over the ceiling.

“You’d think your parents taught you it’s rude to stare,” you said lightly. “But you and your brother are just the same.”

Regulus cleared his throat, heat blooming high on his cheekbones, but he said nothing.

Your attention drifted to the stack of books on his desk—and the singular piece of parchment, handwritten in a precise script, pinned above it.

“What’s that?” you asked, nodding toward it.

He followed your gaze. “A line from a poem.”

You hummed, intrigued. “What’s it say?”

He crossed the room, settling a book on his night stand before he sat on the bed beside you.

You didn’t meet his gaze right away—still reclined, your hair spilling over the edge of the bed like ink, one hand absentmindedly twirling the galleon between your fingers.

Stretching out onto his stomach, bringing his chin on his forearm to look at you properly. He watched you for a moment. The way the gold shimmered in your grip, the way your mouth twitched with unspoken thought. You could feel his eyes on you, but you didn’t mention it.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft—gentle and low as he recited the line, something breathy and melodic in French. His accent was quiet but careful.

The coin fell still in your lap as you turned your head toward him.

“It sounds pretty,” you murmured. Your eyes traced his face, steady and curious. “What does it mean?” His gaze didn’t leave yours, sucking in a breath through his nose, the mattress beside you dipped as he promped himself up onto his elbows, words slow and hypnotising in your ears.

“Let night come on bells end the day, the days go by me still I stay”

You blinked at him, for a long moment, just letting the words rest heavy in the air between you, and his adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when you spoke, voice barely above a whisper, more breath than words—as if anything louder would crack the air as it stilled around you.

“It sounds extra pretty in your voice.”

Regulus swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. You were too close. Not close enough. The lamp behind you casted golden shadows across your face and your lips were slightly parted, just barely.

Before he could stop himself, the words were already tumbling out.

“I think you’re pretty.”

You didn’t say anything, just kept your eyes on him—blinks slowly as you took in each feature.

And then he was leaning in. Slowly, but not hesitantly—fingertips skimming along your jaw, guiding your face toward his with reverence more than boldness. He tilted your face toward him like he’d done it a thousand times before.

The ghost of a smile tugged at your lips, and as he got closer, you hummed, tone somewhere between amusement and a quiet gentleness, “Such high praise,” Gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips one last time before his mouth was on yours.

Regulus’ lips brushed yours with a delicate sort of caution, like he was afraid to startle the moment. His hand stayed warm at your jaw, thumb ghosting along the edge of your cheekbone, grounding himself in the quiet thrill of the contact.

When you kissed him back, slowly, deliberately, and it was like you lit a fuse under his skin. He moved closer, shoulders angling toward you, the hand on your jaw trailing down—fingers curling gently around your neck, not possessive, but fervored.

There was nothing rushed about it. Only the press of mouths and the occasional, breathless hitch of air as your noses brushed and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss slightly—still cautious, still a little hesitant.

But then then he heard it—just barely there, a small breath of contentment through your nose as your fingers slid up the front of his shirt, curling into the fabric.

That did it.

His lips moved with more intent now, more certainty, like he’d been holding back and couldn’t anymore. He tasted like peppermint and something you couldn’t quite place, and every time he pulled away even a fraction, he came right back—drawn to you like the pull of gravity.

Somewhere in the flurry of warmth and movement, the air around you shifted.

The curtains.

The ones above his bed rustled faintly, and then, slowly, they began to close—not all the way, but just enough to wrap the two of you in the hush of privacy. The dark velvet swept inward in a lazy draw, like someone had tugged gently at invisible strings. The air around you seemed to slow, thick with suspended magic and the soft scent of something like cedar and parchment.

Pulling back from the kiss, just barely, your lips brushing his as a breath of laughter escaped you. The kind of soft, genuine giggle that bloomed right in your chest and spilled out in surprise. Your forehead dropped back lightly against the pillow as you whispered, voice honeyed with delight, “Did you just—?”

He didn’t say anything at first. But there was the faintest flush at the tips of his ears, even as the corners of his lips twitched in a sheepish smile. You cupped his jaw gently, brushing your thumb along the edge of his cheek as you teased with a squint of your eye, voice low and fond, “Already showing off.”

He just huffed a laugh, dipping his head slightly—forehead pressing to yours, breaths mingling in the narrow space between you. His hand found your waist again, sliding over your hip to pull you closer, until your bodies were all but tangled together in the middle of his bed.

Then he paused.

Looked at you.

Really looked at you—eyes searching your face, the softness of your features in the low dorm light, the flush on your cheeks, the swollen curve of your lips, still flushed lightly from his kiss. His thumb brushed your waist absently, reverently, like he was trying to memorise the moment through touch alone.

You blinked up at him, slightly breathless, lips curving into that small smile—that quiet, knowing one—that had his pulse quickening.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?” Voice just above a whisper.

A beat.

His answer was just as quiet.

“…Too long.”

You didn’t say anything, you didn’t have to.

Because then his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time—hungry but still careful, still delicate. Like he was trying to learn the shape of your mouth with his own. His hand slid to the small of your back, curling to bring you even closer, your chest brushing his with every inhale.

Dinner came and went. Neither of you moved.

Body sprawled across the bed, head in Regulus’ lap, legs stretched out and one arm flopped over your middle lazily. His hand drifted idly through your hair, almost absentminded in its rhythm, as he spoke—quiet and thoughtful, voice lilting into stories you never expected him to share.

He told you about how he hated summer, because his skin burned too easily—how the Black family manor always smelled like dust and old magic. How he and Barty used to sneak wine from the cellar and sit on the roof, trying to name constellations. How his favourite book growing up wasn’t even magical—it was a Muggle text he smuggled in and read by candlelight.

You blinked up at him with a soft smile, utterly content, not interrupting—just listening.

For a man you’d once believed was of few words, he sure had a lot to say.

Not that you weren’t complaining.

There was something soft about him now—looser. Less controlled. Like the tightly wound strings he kept knotted around himself had started to loosen just enough to let you in, like he’d been waiting for the the chance to bare himself. And Merlin, he was affectionate. Not in the loud, boisterous way others might’ve been. But with soft hands and stolen glances. A touch at your hip, the gentle brush of knuckles down your arm. Aching for contact in any form, so careful about how he was gave and received it, like it could be torn away at any given moement—still so foreign, even in his own mind.

Your thumb traced slow circles into his knee as you murmured, “Can you read the line again? From the poem?”

Regulus looked down at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He nodded, brushing a piece of hair from your forehead before turning toward the parchment pinned above his desk. He recited it again in that soft voice—low and smooth, almost like a lullaby.

You closed your eyes, humming in contentment.

When he finished, you whispered, “Lemme show you something.”

And before he could ask, your hand curled into a fist. You held it up between you both. His brows furrowed slightly, watching with interest.

Then, you slowly unfurled your fingers—and from the centre of your palm, a small bluebell flower sprouted, delicate and glowing faintly with the magic that coaxed it into being.

“This,” you whispered, eyes flickering with warmth and voice like a secret, “is what I think of when I hear your voice.”

For a long moment, Regulus didn’t speak.

Just stared.

The shock in his eyes wasn’t loud. It was quiet and still, like everything else about him. But it was there. Etched into the way he looked at you—not just at the flower, but at your face. Your expression, the tenderness written across it with no ulterior motive, no mischief behind your eyes. No teasing lilt in your tone.

Just you.

And he didn’t know what to do with it.

His fingers reached out gently, brushing the fragile petals like they might dissolve under his touch. And when he looked back at you, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“You really are something,” he said, with a kind of awe that made your stomach twist in a way you weren’t prepared for.

Covering the sudden flutter of your chest with a scoff and biteless roll of your eyes. You didn’t give him the chance to say anything more, before you sat up abruptly, hair whipping slightly at your speed—movements fluid and unbothered as the mattress dipped under the concentrated weight of your knees.

Regulus frozen against the headboard, wide-eyed when your leg swung over his middle—settling on his lap in a straddle that was far too flippant. His hands hovered awkwardly at first, unsure where to settle—eventually, they found your hips, fingers curling there hesitantly.

The small smirk on lips only widened—at his obvious flush, relishing in the way the blush crept up his neck and spread across his cheeks.

“Relax,” you teased, brushing your fingers through his dark curls, tucking and retucking the strands behind his ear like you were sculpting something. And then, you nestled the bluebell flower in the space you’d created—right behind his ear.

“There,” you said with a proud grin, leaning back slightly to admire your work. Your hands slid down his neck, wrists resting lazily on his shoulders as you laced your fingers behind him, just barely hovering over his surely goosebump ridden skin. Tilting you head, you let your gaze rake over him like you were evaluating an art piece.

“I think blue might be your colour, Reg.”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, and you subtly shifted in his lap—closer, pressing into him with purpose. Regulus huffed a small scoff, finally finding a bit of his footing again, though his voice was still slightly strained. “Must you always be this brazen?”

You shrugged innocently. “It’s fun having people on edge.”

He hummed lowly, eyes flickering with something darker now—his grip tightening slightly on your hips. “Really?”

You leaned forward with a smirk, lips brushing his as you replied in a hushed, mocking whisper, “Reaaaally.”

That was all the prompting he needed.

His mouth met yours with vigor, kissing you like he couldn’t help it. Like he’d been waiting to. Desperate, yet controlled. His hands squeezing at the flesh of your waist as he pulled you closer, chest pressing flush to his, heat blooming between you, smiling into the kiss.

Pulled back slightly, lips still grazing his, and whispered against his mouth, “You must like brazen then.”

And that made him grin.

Actually grin. Wide and rare and perfect.

His hands gripped your waist more firmly as he kissed you again, feverish now, all slow control forgotten in favour of something more frantic and yearning. The kind of kiss that stole the air from your lungs and made time slip sideways.

So engrossed in each other, you didn’t hear the door creak open.

Didn’t notice the soft shuffle of footsteps.

But the moment the familiar sound of Barty’s voice filled the room, everything stopped.

“I brought teacakes,” he called out lazily from the other side of the dorm, “because you missed supper. I figured you were sulking or something—”

You and Regulus froze mid-kiss.

Legs still straddled across his lap. His hands halfway up your back. The flower still behind his ear.

Regulus’ eyes flew open. Your hand slapped over your mouth to muffle a curse.

“I left extra lemon ones, since—wait.”

Barty’s voice was closer now. Suspicious—”…Why are your curtains closed?”

Regulus was already looking at you, panicked. You swatted his arm sharply when he didn’t say anything, eyes wide and insistent. “Was Potter here?” Barty asked, a little louder this time.

“She��uh—” Regulus stammered. “She was here. Earlier.”

Stammered.

You physically winced.

He never stammered. And now Barty definitely knew something was off. There was the unmistakable sound of someone standing up. Then footsteps. Getting closer.

Barty’s voice was cool and skeptical. “So…she was here earlier…”

He paused just outside the curtain.

“…and just left her bag behind?”

Your eyes widened in horror. Your bag. You could envision where you’d left it—sitting in plain view.

A pained expression split across your face as Regulus turned to you with a look that screamed, what do we do??

But there was no time.

Because the curtain was already being drawn back.

Regulus didn't move. Neither did you.

Time seemed to stall between one breath and the next, and there was Barty—standing there with a half-eaten lemon teacake in one hand, his brows slowly climbing higher and higher as he took in the sight before him.

You, still straddling Regulus.

Regulus, pink-faced and looking about two seconds from imploding.

And the flower, still tucked delicately behind his ear.

A beat of silence.

He gasped—actually, audibly gasped, clutching his chest as if you'd physically wounded him. “Treasure,” he breathed, eyes wide and betrayed, “I cannot believe you traded me in for Black.”

You groaned. “Junior.”

“No—don’t you Junior me,” he said, stepping back like your words had scorched him, pressing a hand against the curtains pillar for support.

You slid off Regulus’ lap in a single, painful motion, trying to maintain any shred of dignity, which was difficult with your hair mussed and your shirt slightly rumpled from where Regulus had been clutching at the back of it.

Regulus didn’t even try to salvage anything. He just stared at the ceiling like he was mentally calculating how fast he could die and be buried—red down to the collar of his shirt.

“I thought we had something, Treasure,” Barty continued with a theatrical sniff, flopping onto his bed. “A shared love of mild chaos, midnight escapades, and morally ambiguous hexes.”

You just rolled your eyes. “Oh, please.”

He stared at the ceiling, hand still on his chest. “I’m heartbroken.”

“You’re eating a teacake.”

“I’m grieving, let me be.”

And then, his voice softened a little, still dramatic but now with an edge of sincerity. “I mean… obviously everyone’s had a crush on you, but I didn’t think he’d be the one to do something about it.”

You blinked, head whipping to Regulus, eyes narrowing. “You’re not denying it.”

He just shrugged lightly, like he didn’t see the point.

Barty’s laughter was smug as hell. “See?” he said, sitting up.

Regulus groaned softly beside you. “Is this going to end soon?”

Barty glanced between you both, a wicked little smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “So tell me,” he said, casually now, propping himself up on one elbow, “is this a new study method? Because I must’ve missed this chapter in Advanced Charms.”

“Jun—”

“No, no—really, I’m curious,” he said, waving his teacake for emphasis. “Do you rate each other’s technique? Is snogging now a core requirement for N.E.W.T. preparation?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying very hard not to laugh. It didn’t help that Regulus looked like he was actively contemplating vanishing spells, dropping his head into his hands.

Then he softened again, leaning his chin into his palm as he watched the two of you. “For what it’s worth, Reg… you look good like this. Like an actual person instead of a walking anxiety spell.”

“I hate you,” he muttered, hands slipping from his face to reveal a withering look.

Barty beamed. “That’s more like it.”

With a smug little wave, Barty finally stood, sauntering backwards toward the door with his usual flair.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do—which, to be fair, is a very short list. Night, lovebirds.”

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