#while clinging to Sirius' side

[static-x3]

Static, running on half charge and 2 hours of sleep, watching over Sirius the best they can: *anxious robor noises*

Also Static, having to stay at Titans and see him regularly: ..................im sure some of these thoughts are in the bible right . Surely .

@obsessivecelestial @titan-star

[kazrz]

TEN YEARS TOO LATE ⛥ sirius black

ten years ago, bellatrix lestrange’s child was thrown onto your doorstep without warning. ten years later, you’re not sure if you’re living the life you’d wanted — but you do know that mattheo is your son, and no one else’s. [1.6k words]

TAGS: sirius is harry’s godfather, reader is a single mum to mattheo riddle, hurt/no comfort, angst, lovers to strangers/borderline enemies ngl, voldemort died after the first war, reader and sirius are both meanies

🐦‍⬛ — everyone say hi to my baby mattheo! I wrote this fic smiling and all but best believe I’ll never have a child in the future. too much work.

p.s. this fic is inspired by ‘he looks like his father’ by @/marauder-misprint! that fic changed lives and one of them was mine.

“He’s not your kid.”

You’ve endured many offensive questions about Mattheo’s parentage ever since you took him in. They sent you spiralling downward into the deepest depths of your mind, wondering why everyone needed to have their noses in your business. They made you second guess your parenting skills, doubting how you raised Mattheo and whether he truly is the boy you nurtured him to be.

While you weren’t normally so tongue-tied in these situations, it didn’t help that your old, repulsive Hogwarts fling was standing right before you — closer than he’d ever been in more than a decade — confidently claiming that your son wasn’t yours.

It was a huge, fucking relief that the kid had inherited his biological mother’s shamelessness.

Mattheo pushed past only a few irritated students and parents on his way to you. Sirius’ words were as clear as day to him. They ignited a flame that wasn’t known for its swift ceasing.

“Who are you to be the judge of that?” he gritted out, fingers clinging onto yours by habit. You smiled down at him, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “Last I remembered Mum telling me, you ditched her after graduation and never reached out. You have no right to even be speaking to her.”

Your son’s words sizzled a hole into your heart. You hadn’t expected him to remember the measly details about a man who was irrelevant in his life. The last time you’d mentioned Sirius, Mattheo was merely five. He’d asked, “Mama, why don’t I have a dad?”

How could you not answer him?

Eighteen years ago, you would have laughed if someone said you’d be a single mother. Sixteen years ago, you would have laughed, along with Sirius, at the prospect of being parents.

Ten years ago, you held in your distaste for children and took in a three-year-old.

And you wouldn’t let the man who’d left your heart in pieces disregard the hard work you’d put in.

Sirius’ dry laugh left you clenching your teeth, hands itching to curl into fists and punch him square in the face. “Stay out of this, kid,” he snapped, not even bothering to glance at Mattheo.

You sent him a right hook straight to his chiseled jaw, hearing a soft crack sound at the impact.

Silence fell over the courtyard like a thick, suffocating blanket, but not before gasps echoed from every corner of the open space. Sirius held trembling fingers to his left jawbone, lips parted in absolute bewilderment. He stared off into the empty space beside Mattheo.

A few rustles sounded as someone shoved past students clad in their black robes. Harry froze, halting just before he ended up in the middle of the ongoing catfight.

A dazed Remus materialised from behind him, eyes widened as he took in the scene.

“YN,” the lanky man rasped, eyes flitting between you and his best mate. Sirius still had his hand pressed to the side of his insolent-looking face, but now he was glaring you down, brows virtually stitched together. “YN, you’re here.”

Mattheo tugged on your arm and you stepped back, the greater distance between you and your ex clearing the haze from your mind. You tried not to roll your eyes at Remus’ quite apparent observation.

“Yes, I am, Lupin.” The edge in your voice gave way to pure rancour, eyes hardening when Sirius righted himself with a groan. You had half the heart not to utter the next few words. “You’re not the only one with a child.”

By now, the prying eyes of passers-by had redirected somewhere else, no longer interested in your dispute with two of the Marauders.

Remus’ gaze lingered on Mattheo — his dark curls, his defined brows, his nose, the scar that marred his cheek intimidatingly. He looked close to nothing like you, save for his body language, graceful yet sharp, and his clothing choices, casual yet sophisticated.

Even if the kid wasn’t your blood, it was painfully blatant that he was raised by you.

The professor swallowed the lump in his throat. “Riddle’s yours?” The question was stupid, but he was too dumbfounded to think of another one.

Sirius groaned, running a hand down his face. You relished in seeing him wince at the pain that struck his jaw. Mattheo, on the other hand, seemed more than ready to rip him apart.

“You might wanna stop there, Moony, or she’ll have you puking out your guts,” Sirius sneered, the unfamiliar sound sending a tremble down Harry’s spine. His godfather had never been so agitated before. It might’ve just been your presence that irked him, given the woeful tone Sirius would adopt whenever he shared stories about your relationship back then.

You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips. “You wouldn’t know what it’s like to have someone claim your son isn’t really yours, would you? Because Harry isn’t your son. He’s your dead best friend’s son.”

A brief flicker of hurt crossed Sirius’ grey eyes. It tugged at your heartstrings, but you shoved the feeling aside. You had no compassion for him. He’d shattered you — how could you possibly go back to him?

Mattheo turned to you with a plea in his eyes. While he normally would contribute with some snarky comments of his own, he didn’t want you getting into a brawl. Especially when this was the topic at hand.

“Mum,” he tried, voice firm but holding a semblance of vulnerability he’d only ever show around you. “Don’t do this. He’s not worth it.”

At that, Sirius whipped out his wand and jabbed at your chest with the tip. Mattheo almost broke the man’s ribs, but you pushed him aside before he could get caught in the altercation.

The former Gryffindor looked nearly like a rabid dog with the way he snarled and growled, wand tip digging painfully into your collarbone.

“Not worth it? That’s what I was to you? What you told your son I was?” His voice sank deeper than the depths of the ocean. Harry didn’t recognise the man who looked like his godfather.

You gripped his wand tight, nearly snapping it in two if Sirius hadn’t yanked it away harshly. “The moment you abandoned me on my own doorstep, you became a stranger!” you raged, keeping your volume in check before another crowd formed. “When you didn’t call, or even send a bloody letter, I gave up waiting on you. What could I do? Cry all night because you weren’t there to hug me? Trudge around my house blindfolded because everything reminded me of you? I knew better than that. I moved away, and you weren’t there to stop me. So why are you here now, claiming my kid isn’t mine and acting offended that he thinks you’re of no worth to me?”

Mattheo held his breath when you spat the words you’d been holding in for years. He knew you were tenacious and resolute in all your glory, but he’d never witnessed you so livid. He had little to no knowledge of how Sirius had left you so wounded and exposed, though now, your words began assembling the puzzle pieces he’d collected over the years.

He noticed whenever you stopped for a moment, looking longingly at an object that meant nothing to him, but a lot more to you. You would sometimes, subconsciously, style his hair differently when it grew too long. Right now, as he glanced between you and Sirius with his waves, he realised why.

“Seriously, Sirius?” He heard the crack in your voice when your ex didn’t respond. Out of guilt or fury, he didn’t know. “You made your decision, and I have made mine.”

You shoved the dark-haired man off of you, causing him to stumble backwards and lose his footing. Remus darted forwards, barely managing to catch Sirius in his arms, sparing him from the unforgiving impact of the ground. Hushed whispers were exchanged as the latter righted himself, sending you a glare while holding his injured jaw.

It was only after a quiet, indignant huff that you turned to your son and placed benign hands on his shoulders.

Leaning down slightly, you brushed a stray hair away from Mattheo’s forehead, smiling as tenderly as you could. “Are you ready to leave, Theo?” you murmured sweetly, a stark contrast to your previous bite. The sudden shift in tone induced whiplash.

Mattheo flashed a charming grin that reminded Remus of your own. Whatever Sirius had said about the Slytherin boy not being your son was possibly the most erroneous statement ever uttered.

You mirrored his expression, though yours was gentler and didn’t reach your eyes. Your son’s enthusiasm flickered for a moment, but when you stood to your full height and led him away, Mattheo began cheerfully rambling about the recent happenings at Hogwarts and his own escapades.

Sirius couldn’t believe that he’d just seen you for the first time in more than a decade. He especially couldn’t fathom the fact that it had gone terribly.

He shouldn’t have said Mattheo wasn’t your kid. That isn’t something you say to your ex you’ve been thinking about for sixteen years after you ditched her. Now that he’d put it that way, he realised how horribly he had acted towards you and your son.

Your son. It was a foreign term to him, principally when it came to you. The you he’d known in Hogwarts had an unyielding repugnance for children. But, he figured, you were really only averse to the toddlers who didn’t listen. You must have raised Mattheo well.

“That was awful,” Harry quipped, raising an eyebrow at his godfather. Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face and wincing when his jaw decided it was too much.

He sighed, brows stitched together. “I know.” But what did it matter?

Remus patted him on the back. “If you’re lucky, you might see her again,” he reassured his friend, though skepticism snuck between his words.

“If she even wants to see me again.”

Harry had a feeling that you didn’t.

navigation ⛥ sirius black

[tealeavesandtrash]

Wolfstar Micro Fic - @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: First I Love You - 289 words

The first time Remus says ‘I love you’ he doesn’t mean it. Sirius knows he doesn’t mean it because he’s half-asleep, fresh off the back of a full moon and obviously a little dopey from the pain potions. 

Sirius sits on the hospital bed next to him, recounting the day's events that Remus missed, Remus absentmindedly playing with Sirius’ hands while he talks—tracing random patterns on his skin with sluggish fingers. 

The hand-holding is new. It may be Sirius’ favourite thing about the recent development in their friendship. Or maybe it’s the kissing. Or the cuddling. It’s all his favourite. 

“You doing okay there, moonbeam?” (The pet names are also new and a contender for favourite thing.)

Remus’ eyes flicker up, lagging a moment behind with a hazy, lopsided smile. “M’okay.”

“You seem a little tired.”

Remus scrunches his face, gives an exaggerated shrug. Whatever Pomfrey pumped him up on has sent him halfway to Twinkle Town and it would be hilarious if he wasn’t so damn cute.

Sirius kicks off his shoes, swings his legs up onto the bed and Remus responds immediately. Despite all his gangly long limbs, Remus sleeps like a limpet. Curls into Sirius’ side and clings steadfast to him.

It comes as a muffled, half-asleep whisper as Remus drifts off. So quiet that Sirius isn’t sure he heard it properly.

‘I love you.’

And it's still early days, too early into their relationship to know for sure. (Except Sirius is sure, has been sure for ages.) And it is clearly some half-conscious ramblings that don’t mean anything and that Remus won’t remember.

But it’s enough for now. Enough to make Sirius’ heart skip a beat. Enough until he’s ready to say it back properly.

[imsojo]

Poly!Marauders x Reader

—thinking about being hot, sweaty, & sticky in the middle of the night w the marauders

*ੈ✩

Of course on the hottest night of the year, your air conditioning had to break, causing your home to rise to temperatures what felt like 30 degrees. Inside, while you were trying to get a good night's rest.  

You cursed your past self for agreeing to sleep in the middle with Sirius, his arm around your waist and James on your other side half on top of you. You peeked over Sirius to look at Remus in envy, as much as you loved that Sirius chose to inflict his affections on you, your body temperature was becoming unbearable, sweat beginning to form on your body. 

You lay there and considered your options, push James off of you, or shove Sirius’ arm off of your middle. Both options would be nice but you knew the quickest choice to get at least some relief would be to get Sirius’ arm off of you.  

You grasped at Sirius’ wrist and began to pry him off of you when he clutched back on. “Sirius,” you whisper yelled, “You’re awake?!”. He laughed quietly, “Course I am, how can you sleep in this heat?” 

“Well get off me, I’m severely overheating”

“No”

“No?!” You began trying to get his arm off again, shrieking when he rolled on top of you. 

“What’s wrong?” James asked rousing from the movement and your voices, he sat up and felt around for his glasses.

A laugh came from the other side of the bed “They’re just messing around”. “Remus,” you said, finally pushing Sirius off of you to sit up and look at him “You’re awake too?” 

James, who finally got his glasses on, turned to look at you “I was too, couldn’t fall asleep, it’s way too hot”.

You felt slightly betrayed at that, “So you two,” you gestured between James and Sirius “thought it was a good idea to transfer your sweaty body heat onto me while being consciously aware of how hot it is?”

“How can body heat be sweaty?” Sirius asked, and before you could utter your annoyance James joined along in the teasing “Not sure, Moony you know”. 

You all looked at Remus who simply responded with a small laugh and a shake of his head. “Everyone needs to go to sleep, and get off y/n”. 

“Thank you!” you exclaimed, “I don’t need you two mauling me all night” 

Sirius shot Remus a look and James made his discontent with your words clear “I love you, can’t I hold you?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes and instead brought your gaze to where Sirius was crawling into Remus’ lap. “If we can’t cuddle y/n we’ll cuddle you” Sirius smirked, nuzzling his head into the crook of Remus’ neck. 

James immediately got on board with this suggestion and set his sights on using Remus as a human pillow the way he used you, manoeuvering himself around you until he could flop on Remus and Sirius. 

“Really,” Remus groaned but made no effort to remove the two men clinging to him “Can’t you two go one night without needing to touch someone?”

“Y/n is the worst for that!” James accused you. You ignored him and instead took over his prior sleeping spot, splaying out as much as you could in the small space. 

“Here,” you said, reaching out to the cuddle-puddle that is your boyfriends “You can hold my hand”.        

James quickly grabbed your hand, and, to your overheating horror, began tugging you toward them all, “James!” you laughed, trying and failing to get away from his strong grip.

You huffed as he turned from Remus and Sirius to hold you in his grasp. 

“There we go,” he said softly, brushing his hand down your cheek, “now we can all go to sleep” 

“What?!” You exclaimed, “This is literally the same situation we started in!”

“No,” Sirius drawled, “Now Remus gets to be involved”. 

[lovecoatedwords]

Bad nights (part two)

A/N: hi everyone!! Bad night was the first ever fix I posted and I am very glad everyone liked it so much!! I wasn’t expecting more than 20 likes? But this is crazy and I am overjoyed! This took me a lil while since I started working on this request I got which is a very interesting idea, but thank you sm <333

p.s: I reread this 3 times and used grammars for spelling mistakes if there are still any, do tell me!

Summary: Remus got clingy cuz of the full moon, James lost a match, Sirius has problems with his parents and you aren’t well. How Will this situation turn out?

Read bad nights part one, here

The tension in the room only deepened after Remus pulled back, He was always the calm one, the one who understood the unspoken language of their relations, but today, with every emotion piling up, even he was slipping.

You could feel the heat from his body as he stepped away from you, the silence hanging in the air, thick and uncomfortable. Your stomach churned in response, both from the physical ache and the emotional weight of everything around you.

James finally broke the silence, though his voice was very much with frustration. "I get it, Sirius," he said, barely holding back the anger in his tone. "You’re upset, and I’m upset, but don’t act like you have it all figured out." His hand clenched into a fist by his side. "This—this whole thing—it’s not just about losing a match, alright? It’s about everything. Every bloody thing that's been piling up lately." He paused, glancing at you as though the weight of his next words was too much to carry alone. "It’s about her. About how she’s always there for all of you, and… I can’t even seem to be enough for her."

Your heart squeezed at his words, but before you could say anything, Sirius snapped. "Enough? Enough? What about me, huh?" His voice cracked an that made your chest tighten. "I’ve been fighting off my mother’s poison for years, I’m constantly keeping my own demons at bay, and I’m the one who gets left behind! She’s always there for you, James, and for you, Remus. Always comforting you, holding you up, and I’m just… just here, trying to keep my head above water." His face was twisted in anguish, eyes wild. "And all I get is the scraps—the leftovers."

"That’s not fair!" Remus’s voice was raw, , "You think I want to cling to her like this? You think I’m not aware of everything she does for me? But I need her, Sirius. I’m barely holding it together after last night—" His voice wavered, and you saw the raw hurt in his eyes as he turned to you for comfort once more, even as he fought back his own tears. "I’m not asking for more than what she can give. I’m just asking for her to be there when I can’t be there for myself."

Sirius's glare softened for a split second before he snapped again, his frustration morphing into something darker. "Yeah, well, we all need her, don’t we?" he spat. "But it’s always you, Remus. It’s always you who gets the comfort, who gets the attention. And I’m just supposed to wait in the damn hard moments , pretending I’m fine when I’m falling apart inside." He was pacing now, his voice rising with every step. "I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending I’m okay when she’s the one holding everyone else together."

The words hit harder than anything you could have prepared for, and it was like a pressure released in the room. You knew he didn’t mean it like that. You knew he wasn’t blaming you specifically, but the weight of it settled over you like a suffocating wall. You wanted to shout at him, to tell him that you weren’t some object to be fought over, that you couldn’t be everything to everyone, but the words wouldn’t come.

"You think I’m okay?" James's voice cut through, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and hurt. "I’m the bloody Quidditch captain! I’m supposed to lead everyone, make everything perfect, and now I can’t even—" He stopped, voice cracking, fists clenched at his sides, looking away from both of you as if his words were too much to handle. "I’m so sick of failing."

s. That broken crack in James that you had never seen before. You wanted to walk over, to hold him, to tell him that it wasn’t his fault, but as soon as you moved, Remus took a step toward you, his eyes pleading, like he was afraid to lose you in all this madness. and Sirius’s hurt eyes, his unspoken plea, were just as raw.

But your body was betraying you. The nausea was getting worse, and the headache was growing more unbearable. You couldn’t hold on any longer.

“Stop,” you whispered, barely able to keep your voice steady as you stood between them, your hand resting on your stomach. "Stop. All of you. I… I can't do this anymore."

The room went silent, and for a moment, everything stopped.

You felt tears pricking at the edges of your eyes, but you held them back. "I’m trying so hard for all of you. I can’t be everything. I can’t be the one you all lean on all the time." Your voice was shaky, but you pushed through it. "I… I’m struggling too. Do you not see that? I’mtrying, I’m hurting, and no one’s even asking if I’m okay. All I do is try to hold everyone else together, and no one sees it until I’m falling apart. I just… I need… I need a break."

You didn’t give them time to respond, didn’t let them apologize or tell you it was fine. You turned on your heel and walked away

But in the quiet, as the seconds passed, you realized something. You weren’t the only one struggling,It was time for them to see that.

And you weren’t sure if that would make them love you less, or more.

Read the next part here!!

alright so I think part three will be out more soon and will be the final part!!!!

taglist: @almostjollypizza @setayeshmohseni @navs-bhat @treefairy-28 @may-madness @ameliaweasley @maysrain @reggieswriter @meowmeowbby @hiireafstuff @flowerytombx @hcqwxrtss123 @unstable-cucumber @aleatorio1234 @penned-musings @plk-18 @iheartpieck @livia7137 @liviessun @eeviee4 @marvelsmarauder @amatoanima @minejungwoo

[writtenbymoonflower]

hi lovely! in your fic with reader being loopy, jamie mentioned the time when HE was super loopy and cried the whole way home- and i was just thinking ab if you maybe could write ab this? i can just see him clinging to reader and practically being on her lap and the other boys just laughing at his possessiveness, while still holding his hand bc he'll cry even harder if they let go!!! if not lovie that's okay, ilysm and i hope you have an amazing day/afternoon/night !!! MWAHHH !

I love this! another shortie, I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting! poly!marauders x fem!reader

cw: brief mention of surgery, general loopiness

wc: 447

“Oh goodness. Oh my god! Prongs, please be careful.” Remus sighed, clearly over this situation before it had even really started. James could not seem to care about his boyfriend’s distress less, he seemed more consumed with the lizard scurrying on the pavement. 

“Look at him! Look at him, pads. He’s so fast! Hi little guy!” James clambered towards the critter. You all would’ve allowed him his whimsy, if he wasn’t at risk of toppling over and falling flat on his face. His face that had already been cut and stitched up that day. 

“Jamie, please be careful, my love. You’re scaring me.” You chuckled lightheartedly. His head whipped around towards you, comedic panic overtaking his features. 

“Scared? Why are you scared? I’m so sorry lovey. I’m not scary, I promise.” He began rushing over to you, leaning all his weight on your side. You were grateful for the car door to stabilize yourself. 

“I’m not scared of you baby. But get into the car will you?” You consoled him. He obeyed immediately, attempting to pull you in alongside him. You settled into his side, behind Sirius. 

“Is everyone buckled in?” Remus turned around from the driver's seat, checking everyone before putting the car into drive. 

James began to paw at Sirius’ shoulder. “Pads. Pads.” He whined. “I miss you.” 

Sirius chuckled from the front seat. “I’m right here, James.” 

“No you’re not.” James protested. “I’m here. You’re over there.” 

Sirius sighed endearingly and turned around, grabbing James’ hand. “I’m here. It’s okay.”

Jame huffed. “Where’s Remus?” He looked around the car. 

“Remus is right here, love. He’s just driving.” He settled your hand on his bulky shoulder. He looked at you with a tearful expression. “Jamie, it’s okay I promise.” 

“But, I want Remus here!” He sniffled. 

“I’m here, prongs, I’m right here.” Remus reached behind him to grab his hands as well. “The minute we get home I’m all yours.” To James' dismay, he had to pull his hand away to make a sharp turn. 

“Why did you let go?” James tried to pull his hand back. 

“He has to drive, love.” You tried not to laugh. You never thought James could get any more expressive in his adulation, but apparently he could. He just cried more. 

“It’s not fair!” He moped. 

“I know it’s not. We’re almost home.” You soothed. 

“I really hate seeing him so upset.” Remus mumbled, sad. You could tell that his inability to be with James at this very moment was getting to him. 

“I know. He’s okay though.” Sirius looked at James and squeezed his hand. He turned to look at James in the backseat. “He’s even already asleep.”

[colouredbyd]

Sweater Weather

Regulus Black x fem!reader

synopsis: Regulus, notoriously bad at expressing love, spends an entire fall knitting you the world’s ugliest sweater, yet you wear it anyway

warnings: fluff, insecurities, ugly sweaters, regulus being a love sick softie, and even more fluff

w/c: 4.7k

a/n: i love soft reg <3 (not proofread)

masterlist

There is a softness to winter mornings at Hogwarts that you adore, a kind of stillness that feels almost sacred. Frost clings delicately to the windows, tracing lacework patterns across the glass, fragile and intricate, as if the castle itself is caught in the delicate grasp of some ancient enchantment.

Breath mists in the chill of the corridors, curling like pale wisps of smoke, mingling with the warmth of whispered secrets and stolen laughter that flutters from the lips of students bundled in scarves and heavy cloaks.

You love it—the quiet magic of it all—the way the world seems to slow and hush beneath the weight of fresh snow, footsteps muffled and echoes softened, as though the very air is holding its breath. And you love how that magic seems to linger on your skin, settling there like snowflakes that refuse to melt, shimmering faintly in the early morning light, a fragile reminder that even in the coldest months, there is beauty.

Regulus hates it. You know this because he tells you, every single morning, his voice low and sharp-edged, threaded with the kind of irritation that never seems to thaw.

There is always something to complain about—the cold that seeps through stone walls and nips at his fingers, the brightness of sunlight reflecting off snowbanks like shards of glass, the way the castle seems to creak and groan with the weight of frost.

He mutters his grievances beneath his breath, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his robes, shoulders hunched against the chill as if the very air is an inconvenience meant solely to test his patience. His scowl is etched into those fine, aristocratic features, sharp and unyielding, like it was carved there long ago and never quite managed to fade.

And yet, despite his endless grumbling, he still meets you by the stairwell every morning, just as he always has, waiting with the sort of resigned sigh that makes you laugh when you catch it.

His presence is constant, unspoken, as if written into the rhythm of your days—the shadow that lingers just a step behind you, the steady heartbeat of winter mornings that would feel incomplete without him.

When you bound up to him, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair tousled by the wind, you greet him with a smile that is impossibly bright for such an early hour, eyes shimmering with the warmth he pretends not to crave.

And though he greets you with a grimace, lips pulled into something almost petulant, you have seen the way it softens when you are not looking. It is fleeting, barely there, the ghost of something gentle that flickers at the edges of his expression before he smothers it with a practiced indifference. But you catch it sometimes, that brief surrender to warmth, and it is enough to make you believe that maybe winter is not so harsh after all.

You met him through the Marauders. They were your closest friends, the ones who tugged you into their mischief and laughed with you until your sides hurt, but Regulus had been the curious exception.

Sirius had never been quite able to understand it, always watching the two of you with narrowed eyes, as if trying to solve a riddle that kept slipping out of his grasp. Remus would only chuckle and shake his head, while James insisted it was just “some sort of cosmic prank.”

But you knew better. You always had.

There was something that tethered you to Regulus Black, something unspoken but deeply rooted, woven through your days like threads of silver light. It lingered in the quiet spaces between conversations, in the gentle pauses where words were unnecessary, where silence became a language only the two of you could understand.

It was not grand or ostentatious; there were no sweeping gestures or declarations shouted into the wind. Instead, it was soft and unhurried, a kind of devotion that thrived in the delicate moments—those fragile, fleeting seconds where time seemed to hold its breath.

It was in the way his hand would linger just a heartbeat too long when he passed you a book, fingertips brushing against yours with a softness that felt almost accidental, yet always intentional.

It was the way he would walk on the outside of the pavement whenever you wandered through the cobblestone streets of Hogsmeade, his gaze sharp and watchful, his hand hovering near your back when the crowd grew too thick, like he was ready to pull you closer at the first sign of trouble. He never spoke of it, never gave name to the way his touch felt like a promise, but you felt it all the same—steady and unyielding, like the pull of the moon on the tide.

There was no need to pin it down with words, to shatter the fragile magic of it by making it solid. It existed in the spaces between breaths, in the glances that lingered just a moment too long, in the way his fingers would brush the back of your hand when he thought no one was looking.

It was there, unbreakable and steady, carved into the marrow of your days together, silent and certain as the turning of the seasons.

Regulus Black was a storm cloud personified—dark and swirling and distant—but you had always liked the rain. He once told you, during a particularly bitter October, that he adored your cheerfulness. You had only laughed, nudging his shoulder and remarking that his grumpiness was practically medicinal for you, like a tonic that kept your head from floating too far into the clouds.

He had not smiled, but his eyes had softened, just a bit, just enough for you to see it. It was the closest thing to affection you would get from him, and you had treasured it like a secret.

And perhaps that was why, despite the way he huffed and scowled and complained, he always waited for you by the stairwell every morning.

He would be there, hands stuffed into his robe pockets, expression fixed into that familiar look of begrudging patience, but he was there—always. And perhaps that was why you always came running, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, breath puffing out in soft clouds of frost as you bounded up to him as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

He would roll his eyes at your cheeriness, mutter something about "too much energy for this hour," but you had seen the way his shoulders relaxed the moment you came into view, the way his gaze would soften ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, like the first thaw of spring.

And maybe that was why, even when the corridors were crowded and the air too frigid to feel your fingertips, the world seemed a little bit softer with him there, even if he would never admit it. You felt it in the way he would shift his books to his left arm just so his right could hover protectively at your side, guiding you through clusters of students without a word. You felt it in the way his gaze would flicker to your hands sometimes, brow furrowing if you forgot your gloves, and how, without fail, the next morning a pair would be waiting for you, no note, no explanation, just the softness of wool threaded with silent concern. He would brush off your thanks with a scoff, cheeks a touch pinker than usual, but the warmth lingered all the same.

But as the weather grew colder, so too did Regulus begin to act a little strange.

It was subtle at first—a missed breakfast here, a hurried excuse there, nothing glaringly obvious but enough to leave you tilting your head in quiet confusion.

His presence, once so steady and familiar, began to slip away like fog burning off with the morning sun. You would catch glimpses of him in the corridors, his gaze flickering away too quickly when you tried to meet it, his hands buried a little deeper into his pockets as if holding onto something secret.

He would disappear for hours, sometimes entire evenings, and when you asked him where he had been, his responses were clipped but gentle. "Busy," he would say with the smallest of smiles, brushing off your questions with a kind of practiced patience that left you with a thousand more. His eyes would soften, though, just for a moment, as if he wanted to say more but couldn’t quite bring himself to unravel that thread of secrecy.

More curious still was the time he had begun spending with Pandora. It was not unusual for them to share the occasional conversation—Pandora was sweet and curious, a bit like bottled stardust, fluttering around with wild hair and ink-smudged hands, always speaking in riddles that left you smiling and a little bit bewildered.

But now they seemed to be together constantly. In the library, heads bent over something you could not quite see. By the greenhouses, hands moving in gestures that spoke of plans and secrets. You would see them huddled together in the courtyard sometimes, her hands gesturing wildly as she spoke and his head bowed in concentration, nodding along with something you could not hear.

When you asked him about it, his gaze would flicker to you with something unreadable before he smoothed his features back into something softer, more familiar. "Nothing important," he would say, voice quiet and unyielding, before changing the subject with a soft sort of insistence that left no room for prying.

But you saw the way his hands would flex at his sides after you asked, the way he would glance at you out of the corner of his eye, like there was something caught in his throat that he could not quite bring himself to say.

And though you trusted him—you always had—a part of you could not help but wonder what secrets this autumn had coaxed from him, what fragile thing he held in his hands that he was too afraid to show you.

He still met you in the mornings, still walked you to your classes and stood with you in companionable silence by the frost-covered windows.

He was not distant, not cold—just different. A touch more secretive, a little more preoccupied, and when you asked him if everything was alright, he would only smile and tell you not to worry, and you would pretend that you were not worried at all.

Regulus shuffles his feet, cheeks dusted a delicate pink against the bite of winter’s chill, and his hands tighten around the fraying cloth bundle he cradles behind his back as if it is something precious, something breakable.

His eyes flicker to yours, soft and uncertain, before flitting away again, skimming over the frost-bitten hedges and the towering spires of Hogwarts that rise like shadowed sentinels against the pale, wintry sky. Snow drifts lazily around you, swirling in gentle spirals that catch on the hem of your cloak, the world hushed and still, as if holding its breath just for the two of you.

"I wanted to..." He pauses, the words slipping from his lips like fragile things, delicate and unsure, barely loud enough to be carried by the breeze.

His shoulders tense, and he straightens almost instinctively, like he is bracing against some unseen force, eyes dropping to the patch of snow between your feet. "I wanted to make you something. For the cold."

His voice is so soft, so uncharacteristically tender, that it takes you a moment to process it.

Surprise flickers across your features, warm and bright, your eyes softening with the kind of gentleness that always seems to unspool something tightly wound inside of him.

"For the cold?" you echo, your voice light with disbelief and something else—something softer, sweeter—that threads through the space between you like a whisper.

He nods, gaze still fixed on the snow as if it holds the answer to something unspoken. "You’re always complaining about being cold," he murmurs, so quietly it is almost lost beneath the whisper of the wind. "I thought… I thought maybe I could help."

There is a tenderness in the way he says it, a kind of careful vulnerability that makes your heart ache just a little. He shifts his weight, rocking back and forth with a nervous energy that is so uncharacteristic, his knuckles white where they clutch the bundle, fingers flexing as if bracing for impact.

"It’s... it’s not good," he rushes out, the words stumbling over one another in their haste to escape. "Not even close to good, actually. It’s probably the ugliest thing you’ve ever seen, and I wouldn’t blame you if you hated it. I wouldn’t—" He swallows, voice faltering just a little, his gaze still fixed on the snow at his feet.

"I wouldn’t even be upset if you didn’t want to wear it."

You watch him, the way his hands tighten and loosen around the bundle, the way his eyes flicker with that nervous, flickering light, and your heart softens with the weight of it.

He is bracing himself for rejection, for ridicule, and the realization makes your chest ache with something warm and tender.

You tilt your head, a soft smile curling at the corners of your mouth as you watch him ramble, his voice a little higher than usual, his hands fidgeting like he can’t quite find the right place for them.

"Regulus, my love," you say gently, and his eyes snap up to yours, wide and startled, silver flickering with something like hope and fear and every unspoken thing he’s never quite managed to say. "I’m sure it’s perfect."

His mouth opens, then closes, his gaze flickering away as if he is struggling to decide whether or not to argue. "I—no," he says finally, shaking his head with a furrowed brow.

"It’s really not, amour. It’s—Pandora helped me, but she said I knit like a drunk troll, and honestly, I think she’s right."

A laugh bursts from you, bright and sudden, the sound curling through the frostbitten air, and his expression softens just a bit, the corners of his mouth twitching as if suppressing a smile.

"A drunk troll?" you repeat, voice laced with mirth, and he rolls his eyes, cheeks flushing deeper, the pink spreading like watercolors beneath pale skin.

"It’s bad," he insists, voice dropping to a murmur, softer now, like a confession whispered against the edge of dawn, fragile and almost transparent in the chill of the morning. "Really bad. I just… I just wanted you to be warm."

You step closer, the snow crunching beneath your feet like the soft crackle of embers, and reach out without thinking, fingertips brushing against his knuckles where they grip the bundle with a desperation that is almost sacred. His hands are cold, trembling just slightly beneath your touch, and when he looks up at you, eyes wide and uncertain, it is like staring into something raw and unspoken, something delicate enough to shatter.

"You made something for me," you whisper, voice feather-light and trembling at the edges with wonder. The words settle between you, soft and gentle, curling into the spaces left empty by winter’s chill. "How could that ever be bad, Reggie?"

He blinks, and for a moment, it seems as if the frost caught in his lashes might melt from the heat in your gaze.

His blush deepens, spreading like the first flush of dawn to the tips of his ears, and the sight of it, of him standing there with snowflakes caught in his hair and cheeks dusted with pink, is something almost ethereal. Like a painting come to life, brushed in soft hues and fragile light.

"Because you deserve beautiful things," he says quietly, the words so soft you almost miss them, like they are meant for the snow at his feet rather than for you.

His gaze drops again, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks, and his grip on the bundle tightens, knuckles white against the fraying edges of the cloth. "And I don’t know how to make beautiful things."

His voice is so gentle, so unbearably tender, that it feels as though the air itself stills to listen. There is a vulnerability in his words, a kind of delicate confession that unfurls between you like petals in bloom, and for a moment, you cannot speak, cannot breathe, because Regulus Black is standing before you with frost in his hair and his heart in his hands, and you think you might never want to be warm again if it means staying in this moment a little while longer.

You want to tell him that he is wrong, that everything he touches is beautiful because he is beautiful, but the words tangle in your throat, heavy and aching. So instead, you just squeeze his hand, gentle and reassuring, and offer him the only thing you can: the softness of your smile and the unyielding warmth in your eyes.

"Show me?" you ask softly, and he hesitates, eyes flickering back to yours, searching for something fragile and unspoken. His hands tighten around the bundle, knuckles pale, and for a moment you think he might refuse.

But then he takes a breath, a trembling thing that ghosts white in the morning air, and nods.

"Yeah, sure, 'kay," he whispers, voice cracking just a little, eyes shining with something raw and tender. "Okay."

The cloth slips away slowly, unfurling like the petals of a flower, and there, nestled within the worn fabric, is a sweater.

It is not perfect—the stitches are uneven in places, and one of the sleeves is just slightly longer than the other, but it is yours.

It is your favorite color, threaded with hues that catch the winter light and turn it into something soft and gentle. There are places where the yarn loops a little too tightly, where the fabric bunches just slightly, but you can see the effort in every knot, the tenderness in every crooked seam.

He had made this for you, painstakingly, deliberately, as if weaving together the very threads of his heart.

Your hands move without thinking, reaching out to trace the fabric, fingertips brushing over the soft, uneven stitches with something close to reverence.

It is warmer than you expect, soft and inviting, and you look up at him with eyes that shimmer in the morning light, filled with something that makes his breath catch. He is watching you carefully, nervously, like he is afraid you might laugh or turn away, his hands now empty and fidgeting at his sides. His gaze is fixed on you, searching, waiting, as if bracing for rejection.

"Regulus," you breathe, voice feather-soft, and he stiffens, jaw clenching just slightly. "You made this for me?" The words are almost a whisper, delicate and fragile, as if saying them too loudly might shatter the moment entirely.

His gaze drops to his feet, and he nods, just once, barely more than a tilt of his head. "I—I know it’s not good," he murmurs, voice small and cracking at the edges. "I tried to fix the stitches, but it just… I couldn’t get it right. I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to wear it."

You do not even let him finish before you are slipping it over your head, the fabric catching on your hair before settling around your shoulders, heavy and warm and perfect.

It smells like him—like cedarwood and parchment and the faintest hint of mint. You pull your hands through the sleeves, letting them hang just a bit too long past your wrists, and then you look up at him, beaming, bright and unrestrained.

"It’s perfect," you say, voice brimming with something soft and unyielding, something that catches in your throat and makes your heart ache.

"It’s perfect, Regulus." You twirl in place, laughing as the hem flares out just a little, catching the light like the glimmer of frost on snow. "I love it," you add, more earnestly, the words spilling from your lips without hesitation. "I love it so much!"

He stares at you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, and for a moment, it seems as though he has forgotten how to breathe. But then his gaze drops to the sleeve, where your fingertips are brushing against a small, messy patch of thread—a sun, unevenly stitched, its rays crooked but unmistakably bright.

You pause, running your fingers over the stitches, and then you look up at him, eyes glimmering with curiosity and wonder. "A sun?" you ask, voice gentle, reverent. "Why did you…?"

He looks away, fingers fumbling at his sides, the blush creeping down his neck. "Because," he begins, voice low and unsteady, the words coming slowly, like he has to pull them from someplace deep inside his chest.

"Because you are my soleil," he says softly, eyes flickering back to yours, and his gaze is so earnest, so tender, that it makes your breath hitch. "Mon rayon de soleil dans l'hiver," he continues, voice turning delicate and fragile, like glass spun too thin. (My ray of sunshine in the winter)

And for a moment, everything else falls away—the snow, the cold, the distant towers of Hogwarts. It is just you and him, standing there in the hush of winter’s breath, the sweater warm against your skin and his eyes soft with something unspoken, something infinite.

His words wrap around you like the sweater itself, warm and fragile and threaded with something achingly tender.

Something catches in your throat, the soft ache of yearning and something deeper.

And when you look back up at him, beaming, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling, he stares like he has never seen anything quite so beautiful in his life.

The sweater drapes over you like it was made from sunlight and spun with care, each thread a testament to hands that worked quietly and patiently in the stillness of winter nights. It is imperfect, a little rough at the edges, but you love it more for that—the way it hugs your shoulders, the way it spills just past your wrists, the way it smells faintly of cedar and parchment, unmistakably him.

When you look up, your smile is incandescent, eyes shining with something that catches the fragile morning light and makes it feel like the first breath of spring. Before you can think twice, you are in his arms, pulling him close with a burst of warmth and laughter that rings out like music against the frostbitten air.

Regulus stiffens at first, the way he always does when affection is given too freely, too brightly, but his hands find your back, tentative and soft, fingertips grazing the fabric he crafted with his own hands.

His touch is gentle, almost reverent, like he is afraid you might slip away if he holds too tightly. But you do not slip away. You hold on, and he melts into it, his breath warm against your shoulder, steadying himself in the cradle of your embrace.

You pull back just enough to see his face, and your smile only widens, brilliant and unrestrained, cheeks flushed with something deeper than the cold.

"I love it," you whisper, voice trembling with sincerity, and then louder, bursting with joy that cannot be contained, "I love it, Regulus! It’s perfect!" The words spill from your lips like sunlight through cracked glass, filling the space between you with something pure and unyielding.

"I absolutely love it," you insist, the words tumbling over each other, bright and breathless.

"It’s my favorite thing I’ve ever owned." You spin then, arms stretched wide, the sleeves fluttering like wings, and snow dusts the air around you in shimmering spirals. Laughter spills from you, ringing out across the courtyard, and you look so alive, so impossibly beautiful in your joy, that he is struck silent.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, and he turns his head away, gaze dropping to the snow at his feet.

But he cannot hide the way his mouth quirks up at the corners, the way his eyes soften when he looks back at you, just for a moment. "You—you don’t have to say that," he murmurs, voice so quiet it almost disappears into the crisp morning air, but you shake your head firmly, sending snowflakes scattering like stars.

"Are you kidding me?" you laugh, spinning once more for good measure, the sweater flaring around you. "I’m going to wear this every single day," you declare, your hands smoothing over the uneven stitches with the kind of tenderness reserved for something sacred.

"It’s beautiful, Regulus! I don’t care what you say. I’ve never loved anything more."

There is something in your voice, something bright and unyielding and real, that makes him pause. His eyes flit back to yours, searching, waiting for the catch, for the punchline, for the hesitation that never comes. You are looking at him with so much light, so much unguarded joy, that it sends his heart stumbling in his chest, unsure of its rhythm.

He shifts his weight, a flicker of nerves flaring in his gaze, but you do not let him pull away—not this time. You catch his hand in yours, fingers curling around his with gentle insistence, grounding him there with you, in this moment. And for once, he does not resist. For once, he stays.

You press up on your toes, hands still clinging to his sweater, and you kiss him. Softly, sweetly, the kind of kiss that is more sunlight than heat, more promise than demand. His breath stutters, and he freezes for just a moment before he melts into you, the tension unraveling from his shoulders like loose threads.

When you finally pull back, your eyes are sparkling, cheeks dusted pink, and you’re still holding onto him as if you are afraid he might disappear with the snow.

"Thank you," you whisper, and it is so gentle, so full of something tender that he forgets how to breathe.

"You’re… you’re really going to wear it?" he asks, voice cracking just slightly at the edges.

Your laughter spills out, bright and unrestrained, tumbling over itself like sunlight streaming through fractured glass.

"Are you kidding? I’m never taking it off. Not even in the summer. I’ll suffer just to wear it," you declare, eyes shining with mischief, voice threaded with a warmth that cuts through the morning chill.

The words are exaggerated and dripping with dramatic flair, but you mean them, every last syllable. He must know you mean them too, because the blush that sweeps across his cheeks blooms all the way to the tips of his ears, spreading like wildflowers beneath the frost.

And you don’t.

Through frost-laced mornings where your breath fogs the air in delicate tendrils, through snow-dusted afternoons where the sky hangs heavy and gray, you wear that sweater like it is armor, like it is a piece of him you get to carry with you.

Even as the threads begin to pull loose, even as the sleeves fray and unravel at the edges, you wear it proudly, shoulders squared and chin held high. It becomes part of you, woven into your everyday

And every time Regulus sees you in it—bright and beaming amidst the gray wash of January, cheeks flushed with cold and eyes alight with joy—it is like watching sunlight crack through a frozen lake.

He will never say it, not in words, but the way his gaze softens, the way his shoulders ease just a little, is enough. You are enough.

What you do not know is that Regulus begins knitting another one. This time in secret, this time with softer wool that glides smooth and easy over his fingertips, this time with the precision and patience of someone who has learned that good things are always worth waiting for.

His hands work in steady rhythm, each loop and pull a silent promise, each stitch woven with the quiet hope that this one will be better, this one will be worthy of the way you beamed up at him like he had hung the very stars for you.

He does not rush. He takes his time, lets the winter days bleed into each other as he perfects the weave, his fingers aching and his brow furrowed in concentration.

He pictures you in it sometimes, wrapped in its warmth, cheeks flushed with that same bright joy, and it is enough to make him press on, enough to make him believe that maybe, just maybe, he can make something beautiful after all.

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely! I’ve been wanting to request to you for while bc I love your writing so much but I’m not used to requesting so idk 😭

Ok so I LOVE the way you write for wolfstar x reader. I was wondering if you could write smth where reader gets drunk (or just tipsy) and, bc of the alcohol, she gets more confident and starts being super verbally affectionate when she normally isn’t. It’s not that she’s shy but she just isn’t really a verbally affectionate person.

Thank you lovely!

cw: alcohol, inebriation

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

“You don’t just casually brush a customer’s hand unless you’re hitting on them!” Sirius insists as he jimmies his key in the front door. “And right in front of us, too. The gall!” 

“I’m sure he didn’t mean to.” He can practically hear Remus’ eyes rolling. “He wasn’t hitting on me.” 

“Our angel and I didn’t get felt up when he gave us our drinks.” 

Something suspiciously giggle-esque comes out of Remus. “He didn’t feel me up!” 

“I think you just don’t understand how handsome you are,” you say in a voice made of dandelion fluff, soft and light and pure. “People like you more than you realize. It’s sort of sweet how you don’t notice, though.” 

The lock finally gives. Sirius opens the door gallantly, allowing you and Remus to spill inside first. You’re clinging to your boyfriend like moss to a tree, and Sirius is endlessly grateful for Remus’ physical stability even in inebriation so that he doesn’t have to support the both of you himself. 

Sirius never sets out to be the most sober at the end of the night, but Remus only had as many drinks as Sirius and has somehow ended up twice as tipsy. Sirius’ theory: the bartender took a liking to him and poured him doubles as a token of his affection. Considering Remus’ tall frame, Welsh origins, and the fact that he’s been able to drink Sirius under the table since they were fifteen, this seems the only reasonable explanation. 

“Me?” Remus sounds genuinely surprised, a bit of bashfulness creeping into his tone. 

“Mhm,” you hum. “Remember that barista last week? She liked you, too, but you couldn’t tell then either.” 

“She liked me because I had a simple order.” 

You shake your head, smiling up at him all soft and adoring. “No, she liked you because you’re lovely.” You reach up, tracing the lines of one of his scars with your fingertip. “Very, very lovely.” 

Sirius is inclined to agree, even as Remus’ face goes a very, very lovely rosy hue. You’re in rare form tonight, honey-tongued and expressive in ways you’re usually not inclined to. You’ve been overflowing with declarations of love and sweetness since you all left the bar. 

“Do you want something to drink, my loves?” Sirius asks as Remus tries to collapse to the floor as carefully as he can so that he can take his shoes off with you stuck to his side. 

“Awe, Siri,” you turn to him with a look of wonder, “are you gonna make sure we’re fed and watered?” 

Sirius can’t help himself. He crouches beside you, slotting his hand alongside your face. You’re positively moony-eyed. 

“I sure am, sweetness. Is that okay with you?” 

You nod, rubbing your cheek against his palm. “I love you when you take care of us. I mean,” you get very serious, “I love you all of the time. It’s not conditional, just, this is a bit extra.” 

Sirius is smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. “Noted,” he tells you. 

You continue to look at him with that sweet, dreamy expression, and Sirius realizes you’ve likely forgotten he ever asked you a question. He’d be content to do this with you all night, except the only thing that sounds better than sitting here holding your face is getting to hold both you and Remus once he gets you both in bed. 

Also, now your boyfriend is watching the two of you with a lovelorn expression, clearly feeling left out, and Sirius can’t have that. 

“Do you want some water, darling?” he asks him. 

Remus’ cheeks pinken again at being caught. “I wouldn’t mind some. I can get it.” 

“No, you say here.” Sirius stands, setting a fond hand atop his boyfriend’s head. “Why don’t you two take your shoes off, and I’ll bring it to you.” 

Sirius can hear you and Remus whispering and giggling to each other from the kitchen. Your voices intertwine in a sweet, steady susurrus, as much as part of your home as the hum of the refrigerator or the creaking of the pipes. When Sirius comes back with a cup for each of you, you’ve waylaid Remus on the floor, your torso half atop his and his hands cupping your face. You’re both smiling tenderheartedly. One of your shoes is still on, the clasp undone. Sirius sits by your feet.

“My lovely dovely,” Remus is murmuring, sozzled, squishing your face between his hands. You look nearly ready to melt into a puddle on their floor when you feel Sirius pulling off your remaining shoe and look back at him. 

“Sirius.” You appear delighted to see him. “Did you have a fun time tonight?” 

He presses cups of water into both of your hands. You sit up to drink yours, whereas Remus tips the cup half on his face when he tries to drink it lying down. 

“I did,” Sirius replies. He clasps Remus’ hand to help him up, and the other boy lets him. “Did you?” 

Remus runs his fingers up the length of Sirius’ forearm. “Did you really?” he asks. There’s a small divot of worry between his brows.

Sirius frowns. He leans forward, kissing it away. “Of course I did, lovely. Why are you asking?” 

“We were just saying,” you answer for him, “that we hope you did still have a good time, even though now you have to look after us.” 

A little laugh puffs out of Sirius, relieved. “Oh. Well you’ve got nothing to worry about there, yeah? I love looking after you.”

You glance at Remus, smiling. “That’s what I said.” 

“Next time,” Remus says somberly, “you can get as drunk as you like, and we’ll bring you home and feed you water.” 

“And massage your back,” you add. “And give you cuddles, if you like.” 

“I like the sound of that very much,” Sirius agrees. “Is this your way of telling me you’d like back massages and cuddles?” 

You smile at him dopily. “I love you,” you say. 

Sirius rolls his eyes. “I love you too. Alright, you win. Back massages and cuddles if you both finish your waters and get in bed.” 

[iamgonnagetyouback]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀────۶ৎ caught in the middle

synopsis: sirius is stuck between you on your period and remus nearing the full moon—both of you are emotional messes, and he has no idea what to do. one second you're yelling at him, the next you're crying, and then you’re both clinging to him like he’s your favorite pillow. completely panicked, he calls james for help content warnings: lots of mood swings, fluff, and sirius suffering (affectionately)

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 984

Sirius paced back and forth in the small living room, his fingers raking through his long hair, muttering under his breath. He could hear you and Remus in the bedroom, murmuring, laughing, then suddenly going quiet—an eerie calm before the next storm. He winced, thinking about the past few days of chaos.

You were on your period, and Remus was nearing the full moon. Mood swings? More like a tsunami of emotions, and Sirius was caught right in the middle.

He glanced at the bedroom door, half-expecting one of you to storm out, shouting at him for some unknown reason, or worse—crying uncontrollably over something he didn’t even understand. It had been like this all week.

"Merlin, what am I supposed to do?" Sirius whispered dramatically to the air. He grabbed his phone and dialed James’s number.

“Pads? What’s going on, mate?” James answered, sounding cheery.

“They're driving me mad!” Sirius whispered harshly. “Y/N’s got her period, and Remus is so close to the full moon he’s practically howling, and they’re both—both insane! I swear, James, they’re like… like pregnant women! And I’m in the middle of it all!”

James chuckled, but Sirius wasn’t amused.

“It’s not funny!” Sirius snapped. “I don’t know whether they’re going to shout at me or cry or smother me in affection! Yesterday, Remus hugged me for ten minutes straight, and then Y/N told me I was the worst person in the world because I didn’t put the dishes away properly!”

James was practically wheezing with laughter on the other end. “Mate, you’re gonna have to deal with this yourself. It’s called being in a relationship!”

“Oh, brilliant, thanks for the help. Maybe I’ll just die here in a storm of emotions while you and Lily live happily ever after,” Sirius grumbled.

“Pads, relax,” James said, still laughing. “Just go check on them. See what they need.”

“Oh no. No, I am not going in there. You don’t know what it’s like! One minute they’re calling for me, all sweet, and the next, I’m getting death glares because I forgot to buy extra chocolate! It's a bloody blood bath!”

As if on cue, your voice floated down the hallway. “Sirius, can you come here for a second?”

Sirius froze, eyes wide with panic. “See?! They’re plotting something!”

“Mate, you’re being dramatic. Just go. You’ll be fine,” James said, completely unbothered.

“I won’t survive this,” Sirius muttered darkly, hanging up. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for whatever awaited him on the other side of the door. With a final prayer to Merlin, he walked into the bedroom.

You and Remus were sitting on the bed, both looking at him with big, pleading eyes. Sirius’s heart clenched. Oh no, here we go again.

“Sirius,” Remus began softly, his voice a little shaky, “I’m sorry for snapping at you earlier. I didn’t mean it.”

You nodded, looking equally regretful. “Yeah, I’m sorry, too. We’re just… so emotional right now, and everything’s overwhelming.”

Sirius blinked. “Wait, are you… both apologizing?”

Remus smiled, though his eyes were tired. “We are.”

You reached out for Sirius’s hand, and he stepped closer, letting you pull him down between the two of you on the bed. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus followed suit, resting his head against Sirius’s other shoulder.

Sirius could feel the tension slowly melting away as you both wrapped yourselves around him. He let out a deep breath, wrapping his arms around the two of you. “Well… this isn’t so bad,” he mumbled, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“We love you, you know,” you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Remus hummed in agreement. “Yeah, you’re the best, Pads. We don’t deserve you.”

Sirius chuckled softly. “Finally, some appreciation.”

But just as he started to relax, you suddenly lifted your head, your brows furrowing. “Wait… did you eat the last of the ice cream?”

Sirius’s smile froze on his face. “What? No! Why would you—”

Remus sat up too, narrowing his eyes. “Sirius. You know how much we needed that.”

“I didn’t eat it!” Sirius exclaimed, eyes wide. “I swear!”

But you both stared at him suspiciously, and just like that, the storm was back.

“I knew it!” you accused. “You don’t care about us!”

“Oh, Merlin, help me,” Sirius groaned, his head falling back in exasperation. “I’m not gonna survive this.”

You crossed your arms, looking deeply offended, while Remus sighed heavily, clearly upset again.

Sirius pulled out his phone, sending a frantic text to James and Lily.

Sirius: Send help. I’m not making it out of this alive.

“Sirius!” you and Remus shouted at the same time, drawing his attention back to you both.

“Okay, okay!” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “I’ll go buy more ice cream. Just… please stop looking at me like that. I feel like I’m in the middle of a war.”

Remus and you exchanged glances before looking back at him. “Hurry,” you both said in unison, and then, as if nothing happened, you both wrapped your arms around him again, squeezing him tight.

Sirius sighed dramatically, feeling your heads resting on his shoulders once more. “I’m doomed,” he whispered under his breath.

James's response came through.

James: You’ll be fine, mate. Just wait till they start crying again.

Sirius groaned, muttering to himself. “Why did I ever think dating both of you was a good idea?”

“Because you love us,” you whispered sleepily.

“And we love you,” Remus added with a small smile.

Sirius smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and Remus’s. “Yeah, I do.”

But then, just as the moment turned peaceful, you both tensed up again. Remus sat up abruptly, eyes wide. “Wait. Did you really eat the last of the ice cream?”

Sirius groaned dramatically, falling back onto the bed. "Merlin’s beard, I'm dead."

© iamgonnagetyouback ⋆.˚ please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my work.

[bradleysass]

crowd - @rosekillermicrofic - wc: 691

The music was loud. Not just loud like "we're having fun!" loud, but loud like "someone's going to break an ankle and no one will notice for two hours" loud.

Evan usually thrived in scenes like this—frat houses overstuffed with glitter, noise, sweat, and boys who thought they were funnier than they were. But tonight, something was…off.

The music grated. The lights—flickering red and blue and seizure-inducing—felt like they were pulsing straight through his skull. The crowd moved around him like an uncoordinated wave: sticky hands, loud laughs, the sour tang of spilled vodka and cheap beer on the air.

He couldn’t breathe right. His skin felt too tight. His heart was thudding in his ears, out of rhythm with the music.

Barty had been talking to James Potter near the kitchen, both of them laughing about something dumb and loud and competitive—beer pong maybe, or which one could jump from the roof into the pool without cracking a rib.

And Evan had tried to last. He had. He'd leaned into Regulus' shoulder for a bit, clutched his red solo cup like a lifeline. Regulus had given him one of those rare, quiet looks—eyebrows drawn in, lips pressed tight—before James distracted him with something shiny and stupid.

Now Evan was standing still in a room of motion, and it was like his body was underwater, his mind fuzzed.

He didn’t notice Barty until he appeared at his side, eyes sharp.

“Evan,” Barty said, low, cutting through the noise like a blade. “You good?”

Evan shook his head once, fast. “No.”

Barty didn’t waste time.

"Alright. Time to go," he said, already reaching for him. His hand slipped around Evan’s wrist, then waist, tugging, turning. “Sorry, babes, no time for dignity.”

“What does that mean—Barty!”

It meant Barty tried to lift him.

Tried.

Evan was not unfit, but he was taller than Barty, and gravity was an unforgiving bitch. What resulted was a near topple, a few shouted apologies, and then Barty muttering, “Fuck it,” and dragging Evan through the party like a man possessed.

People barely noticed—too busy dancing or yelling or making out in corners. They stumbled past Regulus and James on the couch (Regulus: arms crossed, unimpressed; James: shirtless, yelling something about body shots). Barty shot them a glance.

“Emergency,” he grunted.

“Is he dying?” James shouted.

“Yes, of fashion sense, now move!” Barty snapped.

Evan huffed out a soft, desperate laugh, clinging to Barty’s jacket with one hand while the other pressed over his heart. Barty bulldozed through the crowd until they hit the front door, shoved it open, and let the cold air slap them in the face like a blessing.

Outside, everything was quiet.

Well, not quiet-quiet. The muffled bass still thudded from inside, but it was background noise now—manageable, like a heartbeat, not a scream.

Evan sank down on the porch steps.

Barty followed, kneeling in front of him. “Hey, hey, look at me. You're okay. Just got too hot in there, yeah?”

Evan nodded slowly. “Couldn’t think.”

“I know.” Barty pulled a flask from his back pocket and handed it over. “It’s just water. I’m not that insane.”

Evan took a sip, grateful. Barty’s hands were on his knees, grounding him. They weren’t shaking. That helped.

“Sorry,” Evan murmured.

“For what?” Barty’s tone was casual but his eyes were sharp, serious. “You don’t need a reason. You want out, we’re out. Fuck ‘em.”

Inside, someone let out a whoop. Sirius Black probably. A second later, Remus Lupin stumbled out from the side of the house, shirt untucked, biting back a grin. He froze when he saw them, lips twitching.

“We’re not making out,” Barty said preemptively.

“Okay,” Remus said mildly, disappearing back inside.

Barty turned back to Evan, sighing. “We’ll leave in five. You okay to sit with me 'til then?”

Evan nodded again, curling into Barty’s side. “Yeah. Thanks for dragging me out.”

“Anytime,” Barty said, pressing a kiss to his temple. “But next time, let me pick you up properly. Don’t make me manhandle you like a broken scarecrow again.”

“No promises.”

[loverangels]

jealous sirius black x reader I beg

jealous, jealous boy

pairings: sirius black x fem!reader

a/n: hope you like this I rushed it so much 😭🩷

The bass thudded through the floor, a constant, pulsing rhythm that seemed to vibrate in your chest. The air in the club was heavy with sweat and cheap perfume, but none of it really mattered because Sirius Black was by your side, his arm casually slung over the back of your chair.

He was grinning at you, that wicked, lopsided grin that always made your stomach twist in ways you tried not to think about too hard. His dark hair was falling into his eyes, and he looked so effortlessly good, dressed in a leather jacket and ripped jeans, his shirt clinging to him just enough to drive you insane.

The thing about Sirius was, he knew he was trouble. He’d been trouble from the moment you’d met him years ago, a too-pretty boy with a sharp tongue and an even sharper smirk. But lately, it was like that trouble was directed entirely at you. The teasing, the lingering touches, the low murmurs of love and sweetheart—he was shameless about it. And you were shamelessly falling for it.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be different. It was just a night out with the group: James and Lily were glued together as always, Marlene and Dorcas were lost in their own world on the dance floor, and Remus was perched in the corner nursing a pint and watching the chaos like he was above it all.

And then there was Sirius, sitting so close to you in the booth that your thighs were pressed together, his head tilted toward yours as he murmured something that was probably meant to be funny but was absolutely designed to get you to look at him.

“You’re too good for this place, you know,” he said, his voice low enough that it sent a shiver down your spine.

“And yet here I am,” you shot back, arching a brow. “With you.”

He smirked, leaning back. “Lucky me.

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your cheeks flushed. “Hold that thought, Black,” you said, slipping out of the booth. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

“No promises,” he called after you, his voice laced with amusement.

You made your way through the crowded club, pushing past bodies that swayed and stumbled to the music. The bathroom was a mess of bright lights and a broken soap dispenser, but you didn’t linger. You washed your hands quickly, eager to get back to the booth—and to Sirius.

But when you stepped out of the bathroom and glanced toward the bar, the sight that greeted you made you stop in your tracks.

There he was, leaning casually against the counter, his back to you. And hanging off his arm—clinging, really—was some blonde girl you didn’t recognize. She was tall, sleek, the kind of girl who probably spent more on her outfit than you did in a month. She was laughing at something he’d said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her other hand trailing up his arm.

And Sirius—Sirius was smirking down at her, that easy, careless smirk you’d thought was meant for you.

Your stomach twisted, a sharp, ugly thing that felt a lot like jealousy.

You weren’t sure what you’d expected. Sirius had always had this effect on people, this gravitational pull that made them flock to him. He could charm anyone, and he usually did. But after weeks of teasing and flirting, of him calling you “love” and “darling” like it actually meant something, you’d started to believe you were different.

Apparently not.

Your jaw tightened as you turned away from the bar, your eyes scanning the dance floor. If Sirius wanted to play games, you could play them too.

Your gaze landed on a tall, dark-haired guy near the edge of the crowd. He wasn’t bad-looking—broad shoulders, sharp jawline—and more importantly, he was already watching you with interest.

Perfect.

You walked up to him, your heart pounding for all the wrong reasons, and flashed him a smile. “Want to dance?”

He looked surprised for half a second before he nodded. “Yeah, of course.”

He placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer as the two of you started to move. The music was loud, the rhythm infectious, and it wasn’t hard to lose yourself in the beat. You let him guide you, let his hands linger on your hips, your fingers brushing against his chest.

It wasn’t about him, though. It was about Sirius, and the way you could feel his eyes on you from across the room.

You glanced toward the bar, just to confirm what you already knew. Sirius was staring at you, his expression unreadable. The blonde girl was still talking, but he wasn’t paying attention to her. His jaw was tight, his gray eyes dark, and he looked like he was about two seconds away from losing it.

Good.

You leaned in closer to your dance partner, your hand resting on his chest as you tilted your head up, pretending to laugh at something he said. That was all it took.

Sirius was across the dance floor in seconds, his movements deliberate and predatory. He stopped in front of you, cutting between you and the guy with a hard, dangerous smirk.

“Alright, mate,” he said, his voice low and sharp. “Let me have a dance with my girl.”

The guy blinked, confused. “Your girl? She asked me to dance.”

Sirius’s smirk vanished, replaced by something harder, darker. “I wasn’t asking.”

You opened your mouth to intervene, but before you could say a word, Sirius’s fist flew. The crack of it connecting with the guy’s jaw was loud, and the force of it sent him stumbling back, clutching his face.

“Sirius!” you shouted, shoving against his chest. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“He had his hands all over you,” Sirius shot back, his voice still tight with anger.

“And you had some blonde draped all over you five minutes ago!” you snapped, your voice rising.

Sirius blinked, the fight draining from him in an instant. “That’s what this is about?”

“You’re unbelievable,” you muttered, grabbing his arm and dragging him off the dance floor. You didn’t stop until you’d hauled him into the hallway by the bathrooms, shoving him against the wall. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I can’t stand seeing anyone else with you,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You froze, your chest heaving as his words sank in.

“I’ve been trying to ignore it, but I can’t,” he continued, his gray eyes locking on yours. “You drive me mad, you know that? You always have. And tonight, seeing him touch you—I lost it. I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “You can’t just—just say things like that, Sirius.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing your cheek. “I can’t stop, love. I’m in love with you. Have been for years.”

The air left your lungs. “You…”

Before you could think it through, you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft or hesitant—it was messy and desperate and perfect. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer as your fingers tangled in his hair. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, his grin so wide it made your knees weak.

“Finally,” he muttered, leaning his forehead against yours.

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and dragging him back to the group. By the time you returned, both of you looked thoroughly ruffled, and James was grinning like he’d won the lottery.

“Have a good chat?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“Shut up, Potter,” Sirius muttered, but his grin gave him away.

The others burst into laughter, and for the first time all night, everything felt exactly as it should.

[yasministration]

Precious, drunk boyfriend - Remus Lupin

Summary: In which Remus gets more drunk than he ever has and clings onto his girlfriend for dear life. Warnings: Public sex (but the room is empty), fingering, drunk sex (but consensual), established relationship wc: 1.4k

It was odd, to say the least. Remus Lupin was usually the more put together of the four boys; he smoked a cigarette by the open window with a beer in his hand, watching as the party roared around him. He would laugh at the sight of his best friends embarrassing themselves and always had open arms to welcome his girlfriend in, hugging you tightly as you drunkenly slurred words of affection at him. James now wondered if this was just payback for all the nights Remus had to look after them.

Remus hiccuped loudly, his head leaning back on the pillows. He tried straightening up with a wobble while James and Sirius exchanged a look of worry. "Where is she?" Remus slurred, looking around as he finally stood up. "She's gonna fucking kill us if she sees what we did to her precious boyfriend" Whisper-yelled Sirius as he and James rushed over behind Remus, who was confidently strutting over to where you and Marlene danced together. "Rem! Since when do you dance?" You giggled upon seeing your boyfriend, only to squeal when his hands snaked around your waist, harshly tugging you towards him.

You gasped, putting both your hands on his chest and looking up at him curiously. You were drunk enough to enjoy the special attention from your boyfriend, but not too much to miss the fact that this wasn't the ordinary Remus. "Remus?" He hummed distractedly, beginning to pull you towards the other side of the common room, where you instantly made eye contact with three very guilty looking teenage boys. "Peter, talk." You said, pointedly looking at the boy, knowing he could never lie to you. "Shh, don't look at Pete. You don't need him, just me." You couldn't help but laughing as your boyfriend pushed you down onto a couch. He sat down next to you, digging his head into the crook of your neck where he immediately started leaving kisses, whilst his hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

Your eyes widened when Remus started to suck on the soft skin on your neck and you looked back at James, Sirius and Peter. "What did you guys do to him?" Peter looked down at his shoes, beginning to mumble under his breath, but it was Sirius who finally spoke. "Well, we all took a couple of shots together but that was it! The rest was all him!" You looked at them suspiciously, trying to push away Remus's head from the crook of your neck.

"Rem? Remus, sweetheart?" He pulled away from your neck, only to trail his kisses upwards, pressing some on your jawline and the side of your face. "You're so beautiful." A kiss on your jawline. "How can you be so beautiful and smart and kind at the same time?" Another kiss. "Fuck, when you come to me and sit on my laps after classes..." He took a long pause, and for a second you thought he was asleep "You make me feel so important. I love you. Only love you." You smiled down at him, brushing a strand of hair away from his eyes.

He wasn't going to remember anything in the morning.

"Rem?" "Mhmm?" "Want to come for a smoke with me?" And he was immediately up on his feet, tripping over air so that James had to clutch him by the shoulders so he wouldn't fall. Nothing would separate that boy from his cigarettes. You nodded your head towards the back of the main common room, making your way to a more secluded room within the common room, heading straight to the window. Remus blindly followed your footsteps, sitting in front of you on the window nook. He watched intently as you opened the window from your side, and leaned forward towards your boyfriend. You opened his jacket, reaching for the inner pocket where he kept his cigarettes hidden.

"You're not warm? Don't want to take it off?" He nodded, shuffling so he could take off his jacket, leaving him in a plain black tank top. Your eyes raked over his exposed muscular arms and you chuckled lightly, looking down at the box in your hands. "What? Too handsome for you?" Remus muttered, leaning back on the wall behind him with a smug grin on his face. You shook your head, getting on your knees to move closer to him. You didn't get the chance to sit back down before Remus' hands were on your hips, lifting you up slightly so he could plant you on his laps.

You moved to straddle him, directly facing him, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. One of his hands immediately migrated from your hip to the back of your neck, deepening the kiss so you were forced to open your mouth, allowing his tongue in. The hand on your hip moved to your front, beginning to unbutton the trousers you wore. You broke the kiss, panting "Remus, we can't!" "There's no one here though." "You're too drunk." He shook his head, both hands now working on your trousers, tugging them down your thighs as best he could with you straddling him.

"You're not taking advantage of me. Jus' wanna make you feel nice." His hand slipped down the front of your lacy underwear, immediately finding your clit, which he started rubbing circles on. You gasped, hips immediately bucking away from his cold touch. "Light?" Murmured Remus, looking up at you, then down at the pack of cigarettes in your hand. You nodded, reaching for a cigarette and lighting it up before putting it to your lips and inhaling deeply. You guided it between Remus' awaiting lips, and he mimicked your movements, blowing the cigarette away from your face. His hand continued its movements, and he inserted two fingers in your wet entrance.

He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a slow pace, watching where they connected with your entrance, his second hand holding your underwear to the side so he could see. You cried out, his pace quickening, his palm applying pressure on your clit every time he pumped his fingers inside your pussy. You tried squeezing your thighs together for more friction, throwing your head back in disappointment. "So needy. I'm already giving you my fingers and you want more?" You nodded your head at him, but whined when he laughed, grinding your hips down on his stilling hands. "Please, please Rem." You begged, your head digging into the crook of his neck.

You mimicked his earlier actions, starting to suck hickeys on his neck as his pace began to slowly increase again. His free hand followed your arm that was hanging over his shoulder, and he snatched the cigarette from between your fingers. He inhaled again, his breath hitching when you sucked on his sweet spot and he coughed out a moan, the white smoke dispersing in the room. You smiled against his neck, which he must have felt, because his pace on your cunt became unforgivably fast, the pressure on your clit becoming too much for you.

Your thighs started shaking and you rolled your hips, riding Remus' hand in search for your release. He twisted his hand, hitting a new angle inside of you which had you unraveling on top of him, almost as though he had just been teasing you the whole time. You moaned loudly, trying to bury your moans in Remus' neck, but they still echoed in the small room. You whimpered as Remus removed his hand from your cunt, the burning sensation in your thighs beginning to soothe. Your jaw went slack, gaping at Remus, who put his fingers in his mouth, humming contently as he tasted your juices. He wiped the excess saliva on his trousers so he could help you back into yours. He zipped and buttoned you up as you observed him, still in a daze.

Remus smiled up at you, offering you what was left of the cigarette. You took a long drag, settling down on Remus' laps, who tapped you on the ass as a sign to get up. "Come on sweetheart, let's go get you cleaned up." You staggered up, and Remus, now seemingly sober, took your hand in his as he re-pocketed the cigarette pack, leading you out of the room. When you got to the main common room, heading towards the stairs, you made eye contact with Sirius, who grinned widely at your shaky figure, eyes going back and forth between you and a satisfied Remus.

[ddejavvu]

Omg! I saw that fic you wrote based on friends tv series and i love it! Its so freaking cute!! Reading that fic remind me of another scene of friends tv series if you dont mind writing it?

Where chandler is having a bath and everyone just comes in at one point and start having conversations in the bathroom.

Maybe reader is like the therapist of the group and everyone wants her opinion on smtg and while reader is taking a bath, one by one just starting to enter and start having conversations with her and the rest until one of marauders (reader’s bf) start shooing everyone out so reader could have a peaceful bath?

i changed this a teeny bit, i'm sorry! but i've never seen friends so i think that's okay

--

"Y/N," Sirius is the first to interrupt your warm bath with James, meant to soothe his sore muscles after Quidditch practice, and lull you to sleep against his chest. Thankfully, James has poured a liberal amount of strawberry bubble bath into the water, so there's foam up to your necks.

"What's'a matter, Pads?" James answers for you while you try clearing the almost-sleep from your brain, but the man scoffs at him.

"Prongs, no offence, but I need help with makeup. And you're the last person in this castle I'd come to for that."

Before James can make an affronted retort, you pipe up, smoothing a soothing hand on James's thigh beneath the bubbles, "What do you need, Sirius?"

"Black or blue liner?" He shows off his outfit, then the two eyeliner pens in his hand.

"Black," You decide with a wrinkled nose, "Blue doesn't match your earrings."

"Thanks," Sirius grins, tossing the blue pen onto the counter and leaving with the black one, "Oh-! Sorry, Rem, go ahead."

Just when you'd been about to settle back against James's chest, Remus steps in, clearly having run into Sirius on the way out. James groans, but Remus incurs less of his wrath than Sirius often does, the price of becoming siblings as well as brothers.

"I left The Nightingale on your bed," Remus informs you, "Can I take Falling Leaves?"

"The smaller one," You nod, "Not the special edition. Sorry, Rem, I know you're careful, but I can't afford a chocolate stain on it."

He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, but he'll respect your wishes. After all, he's careful in lending out special editions of his books, too.

"Thanks, Y/N!"

"Remus," James calls at the retreating form of his friend, "Do me a favor: close the door behind you!"

Remus does so, and James hooks an arm around your waist beneath the suds. It's warm and slightly pruned, and you sink into it gladly, reclining once more against his bare chest.

"Now that that's over," He gripes, his hand travelling below your waist, fingers hooking into the pudge of your thighs, "We could..."

"Don't even think about it," You pinch his thigh, just above the dome of his kneecap, ignoring his yelp in response, "This bath is to fix your sore muscles, not make new ones."

"I'm fine," James insists, burrowing his nose into the nape of your neck where fine droplets of water cling to your wispy hairs, "Please, darling, I swear I can-"

"Y/N?" Lily calls, the sweet tone of her voice matching the strawberry scent heavy in the air, "I know you're bathing, I'm sorry, but it'll only take a moment."

James holds his breath, but you use yours to call, "Come in, Lily," And he releases his in a scoff, fingers finally abandoning your thigh.

"I was just wondering if I could borrow your green sweater," Lily hums, politely avoiding any eye contact with James's muscled shoulders as he drapes his arms over the sides of the bathtub.

"G'head, babe," You smile sweetly at her, "You going to Hogsmeade?"

"The whole dorm is," She nods excitedly, "You wanna join?"

You consider it despite James's hand plunging back into the water and latching tight to your hip. Finally you decide, "No, but I might end up joining you if James can't learn to keep his hands to himself."

"Hey!" He tears his hand away from you once more, spilling water over the side of the tub when he finds purchase against the edge, "If you keep letting people barge in here, we won't be able to do anything anyways."

"Excellent point," You nod thoughtfully, and James's exasperated groan brings a smile to Lily's face that she shares giddily with you, "Lily, if you happen to see Professor McGonagall on your way over, send her in."

[dismalflo]

... how about poly!marauders x reader who has paranoia at night/nightmares? the hurt/comfort would go crazy jsksks <3 sending you lots of love flo

Thankyou for requesting! lots of love to you anon <3 I hope you enjoy

poly!marauder x reader who has recurring nightmares ✩ 1.6k words

cw: hurt/comfort, established relationship, mentions of death and loss of loved ones

The night stretches endlessly, darkness clinging stubbornly to the world, refusing to give way to the light. You lie awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to let sleep take over. Not when the nightmare waits just beyond your reach, lurking in the shadows of your mind. It’s always the same—a loved one, perhaps more than one, slipping away from you in the worst way possible. And you’d rather suffer in silence than face the terror of waking in a panic, drenched in sweat, just for a few hours of peace.

So, you lie between James and Remus, an arm draped over your waist, with Sirius on the other side of James. The soft rhythm of their breathing, the quiet snoring, fills the space around you. It’s comforting, soothing, to know that they’re here, safe, beside you. Still, a small knot of worry tugs at your chest—what if these nightmares are more than just dreams? What if they’re omens of something worse? You never told them about the dreams. Maybe it’s better to bear it alone, to keep them from worrying. After all, better for one of you to suffer than for all of you to face it.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t notice the subtle change in Remus’ breathing, the way it slows before he shifts beside you. But he notices you, startled to find you awake and alert in the middle of the night. 

“You’re awake?” you breath hitches at the sudden intrusion to the quiet of the room. “Are you okay?” he asks, softly. 

“Im fine, Rem, go back to sleep.” there's a tightness in your voice at getting caught, and Remus, perceptive even after just escaping sleep, notices.

You lie there, motionless, trying to regulate your breathing, willing the anxiety to subside. But Remus' voice, soft and concerned, pulls you back to reality.

"Are you sure?" His voice is almost a whisper, but there’s no mistaking the way it cracks with worry.

You try to smile, to brush it off, but the effort feels like lifting a mountain. "I'm fine, really. Just... can't sleep."

Remus doesn't buy it, and the way his hand gently brushes your arm sends a small ripple of warmth through your chest. It’s not the physical touch that makes your heart ache—it's how it makes you feel seen, noticed, in a way that’s both terrifying and comforting all at once.

"You know," he starts softly, "I’ve been awake for a while, too." He doesn't mention how long he’s been lying awake, observing the subtle shifts of your body under the blankets. You’re not sure if you should feel relieved or guilty. The idea of him lying there, aware of your tension, makes you feel exposed.

Silence hangs in the air as he stares at you through the darkness. Something about his gaze catches you off guard, and before you can even process it, a sob rips from deep within your chest. The sound is sudden, jagged, and it catches both of you by surprise. You can't stop it. The sobs pour out, uncontrollable, as the weight of everything you've been holding back crashes down on you—the dread, the fear, the relentless gnawing of nightmares that haunt the stillness of the night.

You didn’t want to break down, not like this, not in front of Remus, but now it’s too late. The rawness of your own emotion feels suffocating, as if each breath is weighed down by the burden of all the things you’ve kept inside.

And then, the rustling of covers behind you slices through the air—a clear sign that you've disturbed the others, waking at least one, if not both, of them.

Remus' hand tightens around your arm, warm and steady, pulling you closer as you tremble under the weight of your own distress. His voice is soft, a whisper in the dark, meant to comfort but barely touching the pain inside. "Hey, it's okay. You're okay."

But then you hear Sirius shift behind you, his voice cutting through the quiet with that familiar groggy concern. "What’s wrong, doll?"

You shake your head instinctively, as if denying it could make it go away. But Sirius doesn’t wait for an answer—he leans over, flicking on the lamp. The sudden light feels harsh, but it doesn’t matter. James is already there, his presence solid and close, wrapping around you like a quiet promise.

"You need to tell us what's going on, angel," James says, his voice barely more than a breath, but full of concern. "You're worrying me."

You don't want to say it. Not like this, not when you're already a mess, when your emotions are spilling out like a dam that's finally broken. But the warmth of their bodies around you—their concern, their care—it overwhelms you . You can feel Remus’ heartbeat against you, as his hand gently rubs your arm. Sirius is just on the other side of James, his hand resting on your shoulder, steadying you. James' presence looms beside you, his leg brushing yours, grounding you in the moment. They’re here. They’re not going anywhere.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, your voice breaks through, small but steady. "I have nightmares. Every night. About losing you. About... about you slipping away and me not being able to do anything to stop it."

The words hang in the air, heavy and raw, a secret you've buried for too long. You can feel the shift in the room—the weight of your confession sinking in. It’s quiet for a moment, and the silence is almost too much to bear, as if everyone is trying to process what you’ve said. Then, Remus, always the calm in the storm, speaks first.

"I’m so sorry, love," he murmurs, his hand still brushing over your skin, warm and steady, trying to soothe away the tremors. "You don’t have to bear that on your own. We’re here, okay?"

His words, gentle as they are, feel like they should have been enough. But they’re not. Not yet. Not when the fear still claws at you from the inside, when the nightmares still come every time you close your eyes, threatening to drag you under.

Sirius shifts closer, his hand your shoulder, moving up your neck to cup your jaw, as if offering his own silent reassurance. "We’re not going anywhere," he says, his voice firm but full of tenderness. "I promise. You’re not gonna lose us, not like that."

But still, the ache inside you lingers, the doubt that maybe one day, the nightmares will come true. That one day, you might wake up to find them gone—slipped away like smoke, leaving only the bitter taste of loss.

James, always the one to make you feel like everything will be okay, leans forward, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft with a mixture of concern and determination. "We're right here. All of us. And we’re not going anywhere. We won’t let you go through this alone." His voice is firm, but the love beneath it is palpable, wrapping around you like a blanket, trying to shield you from the storm inside.

“I don’t want to drag you into my fears,” you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if saying it out loud would make it real. “I don’t want to burden you with this.”

James is quick to shake his head, his fingers gently brushing over your wrist. “You’re never a burden, sweetheart. Never. We’re all in this together.”

Remus lets out a soft sigh, his thumb tracing circles on your arm in a soothing rhythm. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmurs again. “We can help. Just... let us help.”

You nod slowly, the tension in your body slowly starting to ebb. It doesn’t disappear completely, but it softens, just enough to make the weight of their love feel like a comfort instead of a reminder of everything you fear.

“I’m scared,” you admit, the words coming out in a small, broken whisper.

“I know you are,” Remus says, his voice full of understanding, and he shifts closer, pulling you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you like a shield. “But you don’t have to be scared alone. We’ve got you. We won’t let anything happen to you. I swear.”

The words sink into your heart, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the nightmare loses some of its grip on you. Slowly, you can feel the warmth of their bodies surrounding you—Sirius on your other side reaching over James, his hand now resting on your waist, steady and unyielding; James’ voice low and steady as he murmurs reassurances, his hand tucked around your back, pressing you closer. All three of them are close and safe.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper again, guilt gnawing at you for causing them worry. "I didn’t mean to make you all wake up…"

"Shh," James cuts you off gently, pressing a finger to your lips. “No apologies. Just… stay with us. Let us be here for you.”

The soft, reassuring weight of their bodies against yours, the feel of their arms wrapped around you in the quiet dark, offers you a sense of calm, even if just for now. And when the fear threatens to rise up again, you can’t help but cling to them a little tighter, feeling the solid strength of their love, like a lifeline in the middle of your storm.

With their warmth surrounding you, the nightmares don’t feel as terrifying. They still linger at the edges of your mind, but now, you know that you're not alone in facing them. Not anymore.

[777heavengirl]

the one with the family matter

sirius black x reader ! - 2,157 words masterlist bags masterlist A/N: Early chapter today! i usually post rlly late at night... what would you guys prefer? morning/afternoon like this one/the usual night update? lmk <3

Most mornings at 717 were nothing short of blissful. Or at least they used to be.

More often than not Sirius and you got lost in your cloying domestic bubble. The early morning hours passed by you like the rest of the world simply did not exist. By the time you crawled out of bed, which wasn't late by any means, Sirius had been up for a while. He rarely slept, properly that is, always restless and full of adrenaline. Sometimes he'd make breakfast, or fetch something from a nearby bakery, greeting you with a smile and teasing nicknames. His record player hummed songs that were engraved behind your tongue, the repetition of them causing them to be forever in your mind. Like a reflex. Other times, when you could tell he felt poorly, dragged by the weight of his family and his nightmares— you'd wake up to an empty apartment and a note on the counter. The neon pink Post-it from the muggle office supply store stuck to the handle of your coffee cup.

At Prongs's!

or the more vague,

On a ride!

He always signed it off with an - S, his quick slanted cursive and the small smiley face he always drew on it made the corners of your lips twitch up. Every morning your mug with coffee, prepared the exact way you liked, waited at the corner of the table, regardless of his presence. A heating charm on it so it'll never grow cold. 

Recently, this pattern had vanished. When you had work you’d still do it, make his coffee, two sugars with cream, and stick a post-it on the handle. Sometimes with a happy face drawn right in the middle of it, other times with a small message,

don’t forget to help James build the baby’s crib!

picking up pastries for tonight!

have a good day!

But they largely went unmentioned, but Sirius didn't say much these days anyway. You both danced around it, good mornings and the rare good nights were said but not much else, there was no baking together on your off days, no impromptu trips to the fresh market, no rides on the tube clinging to each other. No, you went alone now, and when he did go with you— only when the apartment was finally completely barren of food, the two of you apparated in and out. Silently. 

On your off days when your eyes watered looking at his closed door— you didn’t even know if he was in there or not— you’d go knock on Remus and Peter’s door. Sometimes only one of them would be there, sometimes both of them, they’d greet you with tea, or sweets, and Peter would ramble on about his shitty lower-level ministry job while stuffing you full of cookies, Remus would talk to you about his mother’s swaying health and how his job at the muggle supermarket was actually kind of enjoyable, how he was trying to quit smoking, but I keep smoking the whole bloody pack the closer it gets to the full moon. Other times, Remus would see you through the peephole and knock back, Sirius is there. You’d slink back up to your apartment without further refute. You missed him, dearly, you hadn't woken up to a coffee or a note since you told him about your job. You didn’t dare say anything.

The two of you still sat, on opposite sides of the couch now, to watch your soaps every other night. It was the small bit of comfort you held onto. Sometimes he left halfway through, like water slipping through your fingers. 

You kept finding empty cigarette packets all over the apartment.

It felt kind of silly, you didn't understand what his problem was. He should be happy he isn't pouring his entire trust fund down the hatch with you. He was disowned, whatever money was in his safe at Gringotts was it. No more. To be fair you had not a single clue about how much was in there anyway- but it really isn't any of your business.

This morning was one filled with his absence. You tried not to worry, but you couldn't help it, his absence feeling like an omen. The apartment motionless and cold, the way the air feels right before the rain. This morning wasn't any different, the darkness of the sky settling a gloom over you. You hugged the coffee close to your chest between sips, your fingers twirling the red marker as you completed the crossword on the Daily Prophet. You pondered calling your mom briefly or going down a floor to pester Remus and Peter— What use is it to live in the same buildings as your closest friends if you can't bother them? As you resolved to do just that, a harsh knock rang through the apartment. You faltered, Sirius had a key, not only that but he'd never knock that way. It was particular, heavy and urgent. 

A second round of knocks broke through your thoughts, so you padded over to the door.

If you didn't know better you would've said it was Sirius. But you could see, even through the small opening of the peephole, their clear differences. You swung the door open.

"Oh- my apologies I must have the wrong place- good day" He was quick to do a quick bow and turn away.

"Regulus?" The younger boy's eyes widened, and there was a stutter in his step as he turned back towards your door. It was startling, to see him. They were so similar, the high cheekbones, the darkness of their hair. Regulus sported a white streak, combed neatly along with the rest of his short hair. You could hear Sirius through your thoughts, mommy's boy. It was uncanny, to look at him, the roundness of their lips, the way their brows twitched in confusion. His eyes were greener but not any less piercing than his older brother's. They missed the warmth that emanated from Sirius’s gaze.

"What are you doing here" 

He opened his mouth and closed it quickly, piercing eyes analyzing your face as he finally figured out who you were. You tried not to take any offense. 

"Are you looking for Sirius?" The boy simply nodded and approached the door as you motioned him inside. "He's not in right now but I can- just come in I’ll find him for you-"

"I'm sorry I thought this was where he lived" You motioned him to sit at the stools of your high kitchen table as you closed the door behind him, the wood creaking as he hesitated between standing and sitting. It was strange to see cold, quiet, and clean-cut Regulus, with his dark sharp tailored coat between the warmth of your house. Between the mismatched furniture and portraits on the walls. So out of place, but you supposed he and Sirius were always out of place when compared to one another.

"He does, he's just out" You gave him a sweet smile as you started brewing some tea, marking the phone Lily insisted on installing in their house, and pressed your ear against the phone's receiver. 

"Hello?" Lily's crackly voice came through as she picked up, but you could hear Sirius and James chatting animately even through the static of the phone line.

"Lilykins please tell me my roommate is at yours… he has a visitor-" You stretched the cord as far as it could as you walked to get a mug out, the cable rolling back into its curls as you walked close again. 

"Tell him it's urgent please" Regulus spoke up as you spoke, and you could hear it now, the small twinge of panic in his voice. His foot bounced sporadically as if he was reminding himself he shouldn't bounce it but would still forget to stay still.

"Urgent matters apparently-"

"Get him out of my house please- I don’t know what lover’s quarrel you two are going through but hash it out soon will you? my sister's coming soon and I need to clean-" You chuckled, forced and breathless, and ignored the fact that she knew something was wrong between the two of you, you wondered what he had said about it. You didn’t ask. You bid goodbye and hung up the phone back in its holder. Regulus’s quiet dragged you back down, you could feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your figure as if he was analyzing you. You pursed your lips as you worked on his tea, mulling over what you’d say to him, it wasn’t often he came around. Or ever. He had never been in your home.

You had met, if you could call it that, Regulus Black exactly two times. 

One was at school, during your sixth year when Evan Rosier’s taunts finally broke through Sirius’s hard facade and he finally swung at him. It wasn’t pretty, the long-haired boy pinning down Rosier as they both landed blow after blow at each other. Both you and Regulus pulled your respective friends away, the boys bloody and bruised. It wasn’t much of an introduction nor did you even speak, but you could see even then the soft, blue state of Regulus as he looked at Sirius. Sad and alone. 

It reminded you of Sirius when he was younger. Of when you first met.

The second time you saw Regulus Black was at graduation, right after Sirius handed you the matching key. Between bubbling excitement and clinging to each other, Sirius’s face broke, a flinty stare taking over. I’ll be back love, his lips pressed against your temple as he moved away. You could see him arguing with Regulus behind a pillar, mirrored expressions on their faces. 

It was eerie, like watching Sirius through a funhouse mirror. The same but- not. Almost but not quite. 

Reflections of one another, but neither measuring up.

“Can I ask what brings you here?” You poured the tea into his mug, bringing it over to him. His hands immediately wrapped around it and he took a sip.

“I’m afraid it's a private family matter-” you hummed in acknowledgment, brows raised as you asked:

“Thought Sirius wasn’t family anymore,” You didn’t mean to be hurtful, you knew how hard Sirius’s disownment had been on Regulus too. It was quite possibly the only thing Sirius ever spoke about regarding leaving his family. How heartbroken he was to leave his brother, how shattered Regulus had been too.

“Sorry that came off harsher than I intended-”

“No- you’re right, but I reckon he still deserves to know,” Regulus refused to meet your eyes, staring deeply into the liquid in the deformed pink mug you had made with Sirius sometime last spring when he insisted on taking a pottery class. Your skills weren't quite there. 

The two of you stayed quiet for a beat, fighting the urge to ask again. Regulus fought not to tell you. 

“Are you engaged yet?” You almost spit out your tea.

“W-what?”

“Did Sirius ask you yet? To marry him?”

“Sirius and I aren’t together-” You felt your cheeks warm, you were lucky if Sirius even spoke to you these days.

“Oh…” His expression paled, eyes wide as he tried to understand what you were telling him. “My apologies I just thought… never mind-” He looked away again, taking slow sips of the tea again, “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay…”

“I just- he’s always talked about-” The air crackled with a small crack and pop, interrupting Regulus, Sirius stood in the middle of the room now. Regulus stood up, the tea abandoned on the table as he faced his older brother.

“Sirius-”

“What do you want? How do you know I live here-” Regulus took a step back, a deep breath inflating and deflating his chest as he looked at you, and then back at Sirius. Sirius got closer, barely two steps away from his brother. Looking at them now, side by side, you could see the differences. Not physical, no in that aspect they were two sides of the same coin. But Sirius stood tall, proud, and defensive like he was made of iron like nothing could hurt him. Teeth bared, ready to bite his way through. Regulus stood the opposite, straight but restrained, almost as if ready to take a hit, arms behind him and clutching his wrist with white knuckles. 

“May we talk in private?” 

“I’ll leave-” You made to move, 

“Stay put- No, just spit it out Regulus-” You could see the sadness crack through Sirius’s tough demeanor. You could tell from the red rim in his eyes, and the way he stood straighter, face raised ever so slightly. As if ready for a fight. You knew he could never physically fight his brother, but if Regulus stood in your kitchen any longer Sirius might break and cry. 

You thought of calling James.

“Mother is dead… didn’t wake up this morning”

[myjealouseyes]

Request from an anon: ravenclaw reader x Harry where she meets James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, etc for the first time when coming over for a holiday dinner or something?

A/N — hello Nonnie! This actually cuts off right before they meet so if you want a part two with them actually meeting just request and I’ll be happy to write it for you <33

Request Drabble here.

Part two

“You’re sure the house apparel is okay?”

The words tumble out your mouth as you smooth out your blue sweater for the fifth time over the ten minute walk back to Harry’s Parent’s house. You thought meeting his family after your date instead of before would ease some of your nerves, but the opposite had occurred. Dinner had giving you more time to ponder over all the things that could go wrong.

While you don’t doubt that his family is just as amazing as he is, meeting them is working you up a little. For some reason, meeting them just feels so official. Not that you aren’t sure about Harry. You plan to cling to his side until he’ll no longer have you. (Which you hope is a day that’ll never come.) It just sends a kaleidoscope of fast-fluttering butterflies to your stomach to know things were getting serious. That he was serious about you.

“I’ve told you, it’s fine.” He squeezes your hand And kisses the side of it. The affection is almost enough to make you drop the anxiousness completely. “They won’t pay much attention to your sweater. And even if they do, you look great. Better than that. You look perfect.” His words bring a warm flush to your cheeks as you nibble on your lip, now with something akin to bashfulness.

“I just want this to go—“

“—perfectly, I know.”

His smile is calm and kind, like you’re being completely reasonable and not freaking out over nothing. “If I’m honest, I don’t see how it could go any other way. You’re perfect, so everything you do is just as. By extension.” A sheepish giggle bubbles from your throat as you squeeze his hand. “Science?” You tease as your shoulders start to relax “Hardly. Everything you do is magic,” he stops walking to give you a little smirk. “Literally.” You reward him with another, louder and more boisterous, laugh. (Next time he wants to go for full belly.)

As you approach his house, you look at him one more time for reassurence. He presses his lips to your cheek. “They’ll love you. Seriously, what’s not to like?” He kisses your other cheek. “And even if they don’t—which won’t happen—they’ll have to warm up to you because I really, really like you. More than that. I love you.” Your eyes widen like saucers, but he chooses is to ignore it for now. “So this’ll be fine, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for your answer as he pushes the door open, dragging you through the door.