summary: You keep disappearing. Remus keeps noticing. And somewhere along the way, Spidergirl is beginning to sound more familiar every day.
tags: fem!reader. spidergirl!reader. spiderman au. friends to lovers. slowburn. genderbend spiderman x gwen stacy? blood and violence mentions related to this universe.
Sirius Black being the clingy self we all know he is, some prongsfoot and some wolfstar, platonic, romantic, idk I just love drawing Sirius clinging to people
tags: fem!reader. spiderman au. spider girl!reader. friends to lovers. slowburn. gender bend spiderman x gwen stacy? blood and violence talk related to this universe.
a/n: more worldbuilding! but i’ve added soft moments to compensate <3 enjoy!! xx
part four 🕸️ series masterlist
—
The wheels scrape and rattle against the pavement with each push, faster and faster the more the sidewalk clears. The more you raise the volume of your headphones and the more your smile spreads. For the first time, you’re not late. Or well, not as late as other times—which is yet another factor that explains your high spirits tonight.
Patrol went incredibly well, only a missing kitty and helping a little boy find his bicycle after being stolen from bullies, nor major violent accidents—and insiders have indirectly informed you that the mastermind behind Crouch Clan’s attacks is out of the city. And that’s nothing compared to, well, the actual reason you simply won’t stop smiling.
“Oops—sorry!” you step on the end of your board, just narrowly missing a rather big puddle that could stain your outfit. The man that you also narrowly miss from crashing into only waves you off. “Sorry, sorry!”
You wave at him in a far more enthusiastic manner before setting the board back on the pavement, pushing yourself a tad harder this time the closer you get to the pub. The music rattles higher and nearly pounding into your eardrums as you cross the street. Truly, nothing can really ruin this night for you. Not when, after weeks and weeks, you get a night off. No Spidergirl, no stress, no awfully tended injuries, and even better, seeing Remus. Which, well, is actually the reason you actually keep pushing your board harder and harder against the uneven pavement.
A few shop owners you recognize from your commute in and out of the pub turn when they hear the wheels rolling, waving and smiling in farewell as you pass through. You wave back, pausing long enough to let the sweet lady at the corner stop complimenting your outfit and leave with a smile and a promise to return next week to catch up—you continue your rushing towards the pub with a fizzy, almost intoxicating feeling inside your chest.
YN: i’m here!
YN: and not late. as promised :)
The texts are marked as read, and you try not to think hard about the lack of response as you give your board one last push to cross the street. Warm light reflects out the pub and into the street as you roll onto the street. Remus isn’t under any obligation to answer when you’re about to meet, maybe he’s busy, maybe he hasn’t even—wait.
Is that—
You feel the gravel scratching your skin before you can realize you’ve fallen, board flying away with the force of your fall. “Fuck. Shit—” you push yourself to stand, but not to your full height. You flick a wrist towards your board to catch it before it can continue rolling down the street. Even if it’s empty. It certainly won’t survive another accident.
“Jesus fucking christ,” you exhale sharply, looking down at your elbow and feeling the sleeve of your jumper slightly damp. Well, so much for your injury free night.
At the thought, your head snaps up, immediately ignoring the stinging sensation and the way it morphs into pure, unadulterated dread at what you see. Your friends, laughing and joking around no other than Barty Crouch Jr. And worse—him laughing back. Engaging. Letting Sirius play with his hands and tuck his hair and openly flirt with at the table. Wait—
You look back down at your phone, scrolling up your open conversations and text messages.
SB: attention
SB: free pints on me 2nite at 3 broomsticks
SB: pls pls pls don’t miss it
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whisper, each word leaving with more urgency than the previous one. Of course. Of course Barty is off duty tonight—he’s being paraded around with Sirius, as his new fling or whatever they’ve got going on. Of course. “Fuck.”
You chance a quick glance inside the pub, heart clenching with dread before slamming into your ribcage as a person comes back from the bar. Jesus fucking Christ—one thing after another. Regulus sets the brand new pints on the table, looking unusually calm and relaxed despite the times you’ve seen him before. Lately closer to Barty than Sirius, to your own nightmarish luck. And then, of course, he slides into the booth next to Remus.
YN: james james james james james jamesjaens
You glance back up, catching the way James is already picking up his phone and angling himself away from any prying eyes. Your fingers type to their own accord, mostly driven by panic.
YN: i’m outside. pls come out
Inside, James scrambles to get out of the booth, and you groan.
YN: don’t be so obvious my god.
YN: and DONT tell anyone i’m here please
The bell chimes, letting the warmth of the heater travel through the door. “Yeah, just something I… yeah. Be right back,” a pause. The door clicks shut. “y/n?”
“Down here.”
James looks around, then down at the pavement where you’re hunched down over your knees. He cuts a quick glance back at the window, making sure he’s not within sight before lowering himself to the pavement, you sigh deeply as he tries to crawl the rest of the way to you. Meanwhile, you try to ignore the fact that this is definitely an odd sight to anyone that might be walking outside or across the street—two people crouching down a pub window?
“What’s wrong?” he whispers.
“What the fuck is Barty Crouch Jr. doing here?” you whisper back, though a tad harder. Panicked, mostly.
“Who? Oh.” James shifts, freeing a hand to fix his glasses. “Sirius invited them.”
“Them?”
“Junior and Reg.”
You blink, aghast. “Junior and Reg—Fucking hell, since when are you lot on a nickname basis?”
“They’re nice.”
“No. James, listen to me. Barty Crouch Jr. may look nice, and laugh and whatever the fuck he’s been telling you—but he’s not nice. At all.”
“Well, he and Reg—”
“And don’t even get me started on Regulus Black.”
He frowns, turning his head back to study you. “Wait…” he levels you with a look, one you return with far more deadpan than his. “Are you jealous?”
“Jealous? What—James, I need you to listen to me,” you reach for his shoulders, stopping him from trying to take a peek inside again. “Those two are not nice. They’re dangerous people. They can’t be here.”
“What?” he blinks. “How can they not be nice? You’ve met Reg—”
“Yes, I’ve met ‘Reg’, and Regulus Black. And Barty Crouch Jr,” your whispers grow sharper and sharper the longer he takes to grasp the intensity of the conversation. “As Spidergirl.”
“Wait—” his head whips back to the window, where Sirius is whispering closer and closer into Barty’s ear as the conversation carries around the table. Completely smitten and in their own bubble. “He doesn’t look…”
“Why would I lie about that?”
“Maybe he’s not really part of the Clan, y/n. He doesn’t strike me as…”
“Evil?” you finish off, a bit sharp and in a way that you immediately feel guilty at the way he frowns. But your panic overrides your guilt. “James, him and his men nearly blew up a bank just last week. Held people hostage, for fuck’s sake.”
“But that was his father, how can—”
“Oh my god,” you twist, reaching for your board. “I can’t do this right now. And they can’t see me, so tell them I got sick or something, please.”
James sighs. “y/n, wait.”
You’re about to stand, nerves spiked enough to miss the way his tone changes. What you don’t miss, though, is the sound of steps shuffling towards the door. The bell chimes again.
“Thanks, I'll be back—oh. Dove?”
You screw your eyes shut, letting your head drop to your knees. Scrapped, too. For fuck’s sake.
Remus immediately plucks the cigarette from his lips, not thinking twice about walking towards you and crouching down. “What happened? Are you okay?” his eyes study a meticulous path from your face to your shoulders, they linger a tad longer on your arms and knees. “Did you fall?”
“Um,” you rub your lips together, forcing your gaze to stay down and not on him. Or your elbow or knees. “Yeah.”
He reaches for your elbow, turning it to the side and guiding it towards the light. James winces, just noticing the blotch of blood that has stained your jumper—the one you deliberately picked and fixed for tonight. You drop your head to your knees again, resigned and not at all caring about how this can be interpreted. James, of course, sighs like he understands.
But Remus misunderstands completely, and somehow it’s the reaction that aches the most. “Oh, that was a brutal fall. Let’s get you inside,” he helps you up, taking your board as well. “M’sure Sirius has a kit somewhere.”
You still, casting James a panicked glance. “Um, no, don’t worry. I’m okay, Remus—really…” you falter, in the same beat Remus does when he glances down at your board. Sticky with webs where you tried to stop it from rolling into traffic. Your heart stutters. “Ran into Spidergirl on the way. You know her.”
He glances at you. “What?”
“I mean, not that you personally know her but—well, she’s always leaving a mess behind and all,” you swallow nervously. “All that.”
Remus glances at James, then back at you. Million questions flashing across his face before he shakes his head, setting them aside as he turns to you. “Let’s get those treated.”
James’ eyes widen in raw panic. “Um, Remus. I think—actually…”
You exhale deeply, and in resignation as well. Remus shakes the webbing off your board, frowning in lingering confusion before he opens the door for you. Even with every instinct screaming at you to not step inside, a small push at your lower back is enough to lower any of your remaining defenses. Damn Remus.
James only nods reassuringly at you, already reaching for his car keys. Just say the word, he mouths at you.
Sirius perks up when he sees you walk in, scrambling to stand and not at all caring at the way he startles Barty and the entire table as he beelines towards you. His smile dims when his eyes flicker down to your scrapped up knees, then at the board tucked under Remus’ arm.
“y/n,” he sighs, exasperatedly fond. But mostly exasperated. “Again?”
“I’m… sorry?” you hesitate, trying and forcing your gaze to stay on him and not on the two figures you can make out the silhouettes of over his shoulder. “And sorry I’m late.”
He waves you off. “Late? Please, this is the earliest you’ve ever been since we met. Oh, speaking of,” he hooks an arm around yours, already dragging you deep into the pub and missing both the wince on your face and your very obvious nerves. “I want you to meet someone.”
“Now? Sirius, my elbow is bleeding.”
“Yes, yes, it’ll be quick. I promise, then I’ll go fetch the kit while you get to know each other.”
I rather not, you think to yourself. You must have made a sound that exposes your train of thought, because Remus huffs a laugh behind you. Already turning towards the bar to fetch the kit. You watch him go with barely contained panic. Then back at James, whose eyes are so wide it borders on comical. I have to go now, you mouth at him.
“Barty, this is y/n. The mastermind behind every fabulous shot you’ve seen of me at the theater department and the only one I trust with the lighting.” Sirius explains. You’d feel very emotional and touched by his introduction if he weren’t introducing you to the devil himself. “And Reg—you’ve met y/n, right?”
“I have, yes. Nice seeing you again.” Regulus says, stretching a hand out to you. His eyes glance down at your elbow when you stretch it back. “Oh, are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just fell off my board, nothing too serious,” you manage to say, somewhat calmer and stalling to not turn towards Barty. You can already feel his piercing gaze all over you. “Um, nice meeting you, Barty.”
His eyes snap back at you, and he flashes you a grin. “Likewise. I’ve heard quite about you, Sirius won’t stop raving about you.”
“He does?”
“Of course, I do. I worship the ground you walk on,” he glances down at your knees. “and fall on, too. Apparently.”
You swat his arm away. “Prick,” you grumble. Then realize who is actually in front of you, silent and scrutinizing despite the charismatic demeanor they’ve put up with your friends. “I, um, I’ve heard many things about you, too.”
Barty leans back, lips twitching in a smirk you recognize. It makes your skin crawl. “Have you, now?”
“Why are you tossers doubting my ability to speak great things about you?” Sirius muses out loud, already making himself comfortable on the booth. Nearly on Barty’s lap. “Yes, I have talked about you with everyone.”
“Even when he was in denial about your date.” Marlene quips, still busy toying with the lemon slice at the bottom of her pint. “Couldn’t shut his sodding mouth about you.”
Sirius frowns. “I don’t think that I appreciate you throwing me under the bus, either.”
Marlene answers back, then Mary joins, then Lily—and conversation goes on like normal. Like any other get together with friends. You swallow nervously, trying to ignore the way your senses keep screaming at you, acutely aware of the set of eyes still sneaking glances at you.
A hand, gentle and steady, flattens over your lower back. “Dove?” Remus’ voice breaks through your rushing thoughts, making you snap your head towards him.
At the table, Regulus lights up nearly in the same beat you do. He slides back to his previous spot, like he had been saving Remus’ spot during his time away. Your heart clenches at this, in panic and an unidentified feeling you can’t entertain right now, you don’t know.
Remus only nudges you, giving your back a gentle push towards the bar. But he only sends the table a small smile. “We’ll be right back, yeah?”
A chorus of agreements follow, and you only manage to catch James’ panicked gaze desperately trying to get your attention. Don’t leave me with them, he mouths. You hear him clearly, but Lily only frowns at him in confusion and it’s almost pathetic how quickly he scrambles to flash her an innocent grin.
“Alright.” Remus pats the barstool, already going through the kit and taking out plasters and ointments. In his other hand a damp cloth. “Let’s see.”
“Remus,” you murmur, equal parts embarrassed and fond. “You don’t have to. I’ve fallen many times, I won’t bleed out.”
“I know.” He says easily, cleaning your knees first. “Still, wouldn’t want to take any chances, hm? ‘Sides,” he pauses, eyes flickering quickly at you. “It looked like you needed a minute.”
At this, you feel the floor giving out under you. Remus only devotes himself to finish cleaning the wounds, not speaking and giving you exactly what he thinks you want. A minute.
“Was it that obvious?”
“A bit,” he concedes, standing straight to take the ointment. His lips twitch, sending you a sideways smile. “Want to get out of here as soon as we’re done?”
“What?” you blink. You’re beginning to suspect you hit your head with the fall. ”But I thought… What about Regulus?”
“What about him?” Remus asks, bending a little to spread the ointment on your marred skin.
“I thought you were, um,” you brush your hair away. Remus’ eyes flicker up, lingering on your stained sleeve before returning back to your knees. You try to find your courage. “Um… with Regulus?”
Remus huffs a laugh. “That ship has sailed, y/n. We’re just friends now.”
You cut a quick glance towards the table, noticing the way Barty and Regulus keep sneaking glances towards the bar as well. “Still…” you hesitate, head snapping back to Remus as he stands straight again. “It looked like…”
“Like we were chatting? Yeah,” he points at your arm, and you wordlessly push the sleeve up. “He was actually asking me about you.”
“About me?”
“Yeah. Just the usual stuff, how you’ve been and things of the sort,” he murmurs, divot forming between his eyebrows as he takes your arm. “Ow, y/n…”
“S’fine, barely hurts.”
Remus’ lips twitch, almost in recognition. To both your words and the stubbornness of your tone. “Having a high pain tolerance doesn’t mean you must test it every day, dove.”
“The pavement is faulty, and I was distracted.”
“Were you now?” he asks, cutting you a quick glance when you wince. “Sorry—why were you distracted? Were you texting and skateboarding again?”
“Um,” you brush your hair away. “Yeah.”
He only laughs, knowing and fond at once. The sound is enough for the hand tightening around your heart to loosen, a nervous chuckle bubbles out of you. Both at his closeness and the tenderness of his touch, tending to your marred elbow and spreading ointment with never ending patience. He flattens a plaster on your skin, thumb sweeping circle motions over the plastic and bringing goosebumps to your skin.
“Shall we then?” He asks. Your breath hitches when he leans closer. “I can’t fucking stand that tosser.”
“Who? Barty?”
Remus’ eyes flicker up to you, nodding slowly. “Yeah.”
You swallow nervously. “Why?”
He glances at the table, erupting in laughter as Barty continues speaking, hands moving around in explanation. At his side, Sirius stares at him like he hung the moon. Your expression sours, and it’s enough for Remus’ lips to twitch into an actual smile when he turns back to you.
“Should we have a reason? He’s a tosser—spent the first hour talking about his trips around the world. He’s got a personal jet, apparently.”
That you know. And you know it’s actually not as big as he probably made it sound like. But these are things Spidergirl knows, not y/n. So you have no other choice but to school your expression into one of pure surprise, and a twinge of annoyance. Though that one is far more sincere.
“And Sirius seems to like him just fine,” he finishes off, busying himself as he puts everything back inside the kit.
“Yeah, and it’s driving me insane,” you push your sleeve down. Wincing a little when you manage to notice the actual blood staining your jumper. “I told him to be careful.”
“And he is. It’s that tosser I don’t trust.”
“No?”
He sends you a funny look. “You said it yourself, he’s involved in dangerous things. He dragged Regulus with him and now I’m scared he’ll do the same with Sirius,” he closes the kit, and finally turns to you. “You mean to tell me he’s suddenly taken an interest in Regulus and Sirius… Black? Just because they shared classes one time? Just because he liked Sirius’ play?”
You blink. “So you’re saying… he’s got,” a pause, weighing your words and feeling them in your chest. “Ulterior motives?”
“Maybe.” Remus concedes, shrugging. “Or maybe he’s just a tosser, who knows. I still don’t like him.”
You huff a laugh, and Remus mimics it almost unconsciously. You’re acutely aware that he hasn’t stepped away yet, something your heart won’t let you forget as it slams and pounds inside your chest.
“Come on, then. Pizza on the way? The spicy one you like from that place?”
“You want spicy honey pizza?” you ask, genuinely startled and a tiny bit more in love. Especially when he shrugs, head tilting to the side. You mimic it almost unconsciously, and something about his expression pauses. “I thought you said it was too much for you?”
Remus only blinks, you think you’ve imagined it as he gestures at you towards the door. “I never said I’m having a slice—that one’s for you. I’m sticking to my usual order.”
“Fine,” you jump off the stool, swallowing back a wince and knowing it’s futile when Remus clicks his tongue. “You stick to your boring pizza and I’ll stick to mine.”
He chuckles. “I like my boring pizza.”
“Of course he does.” Sirius says as soon as you’re within earshot, nearly sitting atop Barty at this point. You pointedly ignore the worried twinge that overcomes you at the sight. “What? Already running off?”
“I’m feeling a bit knackered. y/n, too.” Remus explains, sending the table a sorry smile. “We’re just going to grab a quick bite before heading home.”
“You mean eating it outside on the porch instead of walking in?” Sirius jokes, and your friends follow. You try to, at least. “How romantic.”
Lily nudges him. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice!” he spreads his arms in front of him. Then turns to Barty, seeming to pick up on the way neither him nor Regulus know what he’s talking about. “y/n doesn’t like people coming into her dorm. She’s prickly.”
Your heart stutters. “Sirius.”
“What? It’s true.”
Barty turns to follow his gaze, meeting yours. “Why’s that? If it’s okay to ask, of course,” he wraps his arms around Sirius’ hip, pulling him closer. “Uni rules?”
“Yeah, something of the sort,” you answer, trying to not sound too dry. “Bit ridiculous if you ask me but, well, what can you do, huh? Um, Remus?”
Remus nods at you, then turns to Barty. “It was nice meeting you,” he says, polite and with a feigned warmth that only you and your friends spot. His warmth is more sincere when he turns to Regulus. “Nice seeing you again, Reg.”
“Of course. Catch up later?”
“Sure.”
You hug your elbows, thumb brushing over the damp fabric of your jumper in the same motion he did to your skin. Pushing down the strange feeling in your gut at the ease of his answer.
“Um, it was nice meeting you. Sorry I have to go early.”
“It’s okay.” Regulus nods, smiling politely as well.
You only wave at them, locking eyes with James and nodding reassuringly at him. He deflates in relief, slumping sideways over Lily as he watches you walk out the pub with Remus.
When you step outside, he doesn’t feign surprise when you set the skateboard back down on the pavement. Hooking an arm around his in muscle memory. Remus only smiles to himself, stepping on the side of your board to tuck it under his arm.
At your baffled expression, he laughs. “What? You think I’d let you use it after how you showed up?” he tilts his head, almost playfully and squeezing at your heart. “I’m confiscating this all the way home.”
“What!” your lips part, both in surprise and betrayal. And a bit of fondness, too. “Remus!”
Remus only gives your linked arms a small tug, careful of your tender skin. “You’ll survive, come on.”
Through the window, Barty and Regulus watch you go.
ok so i’ve been told very important information about that euphoria finale and oh my god. no wonder zendaya hasn’t spoken a single word about it i too would be so pissed off….
So... yeah, no big deal but that VOAL surprise epilogue drop has made me week in the knees and I'm going to need the whole weekend to recover now...
In other news, you made an Inhaler fanatic out of me and I cannot get over how totally and unequivocally Remus-like Robert Keating is in every video I watch of them. I am unwell.
So, anyways I love you bye 👉🏼👈🏼 👋🏼
OH? OH!!!!! I AM WITH YOU LOVELY 🙂↕️ they’re soooo i was giggling and kicking my feet the whole time! and can i confess something…. the epilogue was longer gasp…. but decided to split it into various tiny baby drabbles for our enjoyment ;) voal is forever i fear.
AND OH MY GOD???????? A FELLOW INHALER FAN? bobby IS very remus isn’t he? esp the quiet energy on stage i love him sm he’s so cutie and i am holding your hands cos yes robert keating comes with a warning label 🙂↕️
and i love YOUUU back lovely <333 now im curious to know which inhaler songs are your favorite!!!!
hello my gorgeous angel sweetheart bobbi i hope you are having a wonderful day! i saw backrooms today and it was so fucking good. i 100% recommend if you like horror.
i love love love the new VOAL epilogue. so adorable i love my babies <3
🪽
HELLO ANGEL!!! i hope you are having the most wonderful day as well <3 omg… ive heard lots of good things about that movie! i will def check it out very soon, im Sold! i also want to watch obsession so might do a horror double feature 🤔
thank you my angel!! i had so much fun writing the epilogue they’re so cutieful :’)
left my room to get a glass of water and my friend was full on SOBBING watching euphoria’s finale… i don’t even go there but what EVEN happened to bring out this reaction…..? im scared
i’m organizing all my drafts and drabbles to queue them up esp the voal ones and tell me why in one of them reader was packing her guitar and suddenly she’s swinging between buildings?????
i neeeeeeed to be more organized with my folders cos i wrote like… three voal drabbles in the holding out part 4 doc? am i okay? where’s my head at?
(I’m not going through voal withdrawal what ever makes you think thatttttt)
ask and you shall receive my lovely <3 i had lots of fun writing this, and a bit of fomo not going to lie. enjoy! xx
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader
word count: 6.5k
tags: fem!reader. rockstar!reader. modern au. rock band au. established relationship. time skip?
˚.⋆♪⋆ series masterlist
—
The crowd thunders in front of you, stomping and clapping and cheering with such enthusiasm it’s hard not to not soak up as much of the energy as you can. The sunset is beginning to set behind the waving flags, left and right and colorful enough to contrast with the yellows of the sun and endless clouds. From your side, the boys continue saying goodbye to the crowd from different angles of the stage. Of course, Remus continues dragging Sirius back from the catwalk and pretending he’s not enjoying this as much as him.
While it’s not your first time at this festival, there’s something so quietly monumental about this specific moment. How the crowd can’t seem to let you go, screaming and calling for you every time Sirius teases your set being over. Your heart rattles and thumps as you fix the strap around your torso, panting quietly and pretending it’s not exhaustion. Because it’s not. Even after all these years, this stage does nothing but raise your adrenaline to such highness it’s a miracle you haven’t fainted yet.
James’ drums pound behind you as he carries the beat of the final song, and as much as you try to carry on with your own solo, the sight is too overwhelming to not stop and soak it all up. You push your sunglasses up the crown of your head, not caring when they come clattering down with the force of your movement. The camera follows your movements, and you blow a kiss to the people that could be watching at home.
If you miss your cue for the final solo, no one bats an eye. Not when your emotions take over the moment your hand returns back to the fretboard, laughing in pure euphoria and playing by sheer muscle memory when the crowd erupts in cheering.
“Alright, alright!” Sirius breathes into the microphone, pointing at the crowd. His own sunglasses have mysteriously disappeared, since nearly the beginning of the set. “On the count of four… everybody’s gonna jump. Every fucking body, alright?”
Of course, the crowd cheers louder. You laugh, shaking your head as you reposition yourself. Remus winks at you from his end of the stage, encouraging and knowing at once. An inside joke years in the making. Sirius turns round, pointing at you and gesturing to you salaciously in what you know is his ploy to get you with him at the catwalk.
“You ready?” he asks, turning back to the crowd. Not caring how they’ve stopped listening to him as you follow after him, momentarily regretting throwing your sunglasses away when the sun rays hit your face. You’re too euphoric to care, anyway. “Ready…?”
You know he’s mostly asking the crowd, and the answer back. But he glances at you, winking encouragingly and knowing at once before counting down into the microphone.
“One, two—one, two, fucking jump!”
For a moment, you think the floor will give out under the force of the crowd. Jumping and screaming as you launch yourself into the guitar solo for your final song—The Sound. The one that, after almost a year and following months of scrutiny, articles, think pieces and stressful settlement negotiations, positioned the band as musicians and not just products to be criticized and consumed by the press and public. Sirius conducts the crowd as they jump, he points at you then the crowd and hypes them up as you hold the last note—grinning with pride at you before singing the final chorus for the song.
“Let me hear you!” he says, pulling his earbud out as the crowd answers back. Well, I know when you’re around, ‘cause I know the sound of your heart. “One more time. Well I know you’re around…” ‘Cause I know the sound of your heart.
James bangs one last time, letting the crowd consume every bit of the moment. You laugh, ecstatic and emotional and a tiny bit tired as the crowd continues cheering. You fix your strap around your torso, letting Sirius wrap his arm around your waist to pull you closer—you’re too consumed by the energy that his touch surprises you. He’s not surprised when you nearly trip, though.
You wave, breathless and startled when the crowd roars louder. It doesn’t take much to realize Remus and James have joined you for one last goodbye. Remus rights Sirius with one single arm, pressed so close together that his fingers hook in the belt hoops of your own jeans. His thumb brushes your lower back and you’re almost sure you’d hear his knowing laugh at the way you trip. Even with your experience performing, there’s something about the crowd’s response that still rattles you enough to make you trip. A fact your boyfriends tease you about but secretly love.
When you finish bowing and saying your goodbyes, James, of course, starts handing out his drumsticks in that secret routine between him and your fanbase. You do the same, laughing fondly at the way they launch themselves over the barricade to take your pick. Signed. A little surprise for them to see later.
Remus throws his arm around your shoulders when you securely return to the catwalk, tucking you to his side and pressing a breathless kiss to your temple as you walk back to the main stage. Sirius is already soaking the final moments of thundering screaming and applause, though his smiles dims in that quiet affection when he catches your eyes. Your boyfriend is such a sap you’re certain he’s storing the image in his head, of you and Remus against that crowd and sunset walking back to him after a life altering set.
Crew members begin beckoning you for your guitar, and Remus looks momentarily torn about letting go of you as he steps sideways. Too consumed in his own post show affections, even if the cameras continue capturing every second of your walk out towards backstage. The crowd’s roars are deafening when you turn to wave one last time, feeling yourself stalling enough to soak as much of the moment as you can. But sadly, festival schedules are tight and Sirius is already tugging you sideways towards the side stage with a delirious little laugh.
Like clockwork, your boot gets stuck with a loose cable. “Shit—” you breathe out, startled and giggly when you catch yourself before actually tripping. Sirius wraps an arm around you to steady you. And again, like clockwork, he pulls you towards him for a bruising kiss. It doesn’t last long though, because between the crowd still roaring behind you, it’s almost impossible to keep your giddy giggles at bay.
Sirius doesn’t take it personally, but he does take his sweet time letting go of you. You only pull your sweat damp wires out of your shirt and unpack the pack off your jeans—it takes a small placating nudge for Sirius to do the same. And still, he’s on you the moment he’s unwired.
“Love.” You laugh. “I can’t breathe.”
“If you can speak, you can breathe.”
“Sirius, let go of her, you pest.” Regulus drawls, not sounding at all affected and very amused as he steps towards you. He nudges your boyfriend away, who readily transfers his affections to Remus. Unfazed by this interruption. You roll your eyes at them in the same way Regulus does, already accepting your sweaty hug. “Jesus—that was incredible.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course it was. How do you feel?” He steps back to let you take the towel from the stage assistant.
You laugh. “I don’t know—high, I think. And hungry.”
Regulus laughs, sounding as ecstatic and emotional as you feel. “That can be arranged. But first you need to shower—you smell.”
“Oi,” you swat him with your towel, laughing at the way he recoils. “Don’t act like you didn’t snog the living daylights out of Jamie.”
“No, actually. Post-show James lands on Lils’ realm of expertise,” he points behind his shoulder, where, lo and behold, James has Lily nearly pinned against a huge amp. “I love him, but he’s not getting near me smelling like that.”
You chuckle, not quite shredding the energy off. Regulus barely has any time to react when you sling an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer for a bruising kiss on his forehead. He yelps, loud and dramatic enough to make your giggles louder and for your boyfriends to break apart to see the ruckus.
“Get off me, you minx!” Regulus complains, but still lets you guide him out the side stage and down the stairs. “You smell!”
Sirius barks a laugh. “Now who’s the pest?”
“All of you, really.” Regulus grumbles, running a hand through his curls. Untamed and slightly too long.
“And yet you love us,” you singsong, drawing the tune long enough to make him laugh. It’d work if you didn’t sound so breathless and a tad hoarse.
“Yeah, yeah,” he waves you off, reaching inside his tote bag. “And yet I love you, whatever. Here.”
You accept the lanyards he hands you, access to the festival for later and make a mental note to not keep them out of your sight. Of course, Remus immediately takes them from your hands knowing they will be out of your sight the moment you spot the catering tent.
Regulus waves you off, already turning to grab James and Lily, still busy entertaining their adrenaline crash snogging. You only wave at him before turning to your boyfriends, smiling so wide you know you must look a little crazed.
Remus only reaches for your face, thumbing at the glitter that has smudged all the way to your temples and eyebrows. His touch is tender and careful despite his own body buzzing with left over energy. When he’s done, you know his kiss is coming before he can even act on it.
“Love you,” you murmur, a tad breathless when he breaks apart. He only kisses you one last time before stepping back.
“Love you, too.” He smiles, chin jutting towards the catering tent. “Come on—otherwise Sirius will ransack the entire bloody thing and leave you without any food.”
You follow his gaze, where Sirius is already downing crisps, head thrown back as he eats them directly from the bag. Remus laughs, giving your belt hoops a little tug when it takes you a beat of fond staring to keep you moving. Sirius, to his credit, does look somewhat bashful when you join him by the catering tent. He offers you the bag, nearly empty, bless him.
“You’re incorrigible,” you chuckle, cupping his cheek before turning to see your options. Or the ones he’s left for you. “Ooh.”
Sirius chuckles, knowing where your attention has drifted off to even before he can glance down at the snacks. You immediately take a mini croissant, then a pain au chocolat that has his chuckles turning into full on laughter. Another post-show routine—your need to fill yourself with the sweetest food possible.
You’re on your second pain au chocolat when Remus joins you to take one for himself, but you’re already handing him one. The last one. He only chuckles at your bashful smile, accepting it from you and handing you a water bottle in return.
“Ready to go, lovely?” Sirius asks between sips of Red Bull. “Reg was right. You sort of smell.”
“We smell, love.” Remus corrects softly.
“Yeah, yeah, semantics,” he waves you off, setting his can down to turn to you. His thumb sweeps at the corner of your lip with a fond little smile. “Jesus, baby—just say you want me to kiss you.”
You roll your eyes, too used to his antics as you reach for a napkin. Sirius leans over the table as you dab at your chocolate stained lips between sips of water. His own stage makeup is smudged to his cheekbones, between the sweat and the stage lighting melting it off. Though Remus did try to clean it off, there’s some beginning to dry off under his eyes.
“What?” his lips twitch, almost knowing as you set your own water bottle down. You don’t answer, and he doesn’t wait for one, knowing what you’re planning as you cup his jaw to kiss him quickly. Sirius’ lips curl against yours. “You taste like melted chocolate.”
“Yeah?”
“Hm,” he pecks you one last time before pushing himself off the table. “And a bit salty, too. Come on.”
You laugh, letting him guide you out the catering tent and the backstage camp altogether. He threads your fingers together as soon as the security guards signals you into the production road, golf carts dart and technicians and crew members run from left to ride between stages. It takes approximately a few steps through the road before the first photographer approaches you, and you’re secretly grateful for your boyfriends’ insistence to touch and kiss your face—any trace of smudged makeup or melted chocolate is gone.
“Oh, before you go—can we get a few shots?” a girl asks, big camera at the ready and lanyard glistening with the lights. “Just a few minutes—I’m with Culted. I love your outfit, by the way.”
“Oh!” you glance down, feeling oddly touched about the earnestness of her compliment. “Of course, and thank you.”
“What about mine?” Sirius asks, feigning upset towards the girl. But he’s already pulling Remus behind you for the shot.
The girl chuckles nervously. “Yours, too. They’re matching, aren’t they?”
Sirius perks up, giving your waist a playful squeeze as he pulls you closer to his side. “Why, thank you for noticing. Yes, we’re matching,” he lets his head drop to your temple, all the sweat has dried off. “Not Remus, though.”
Remus rolls his eyes, not caring that this can be captured. “Yes, I am,” he takes a small step to the side to raise his shirt a little. He points at his belt, matching you and Sirius in the least fitting way possible. “What’s this?”
“See what we have to deal with?”
“Stop,” you wave them off, turning back to the girl. “Ignore them.”
She laughs. “I really loved your set,” she fiddles a bit with her camera, cradling it one hand. “Especially The Chain cover—wow.”
At this you do blush a little. “Thank you. We were going for the surprise factor, did it work?”
“Oh, absolutely.”
Of course, at your little stalling, a few more photographers approached you at the sight. Left and right they compliment and ask to pose, a few solo shots of each of you and with the boys and others asking if they can return when James is available for a band shot. And while this is an aspect you’ve grown used to with your times here, it takes a bit longer than usual to successfully walk away from the scene altogether.
“Oh my god.” Sirius exhales as soon as you’re out of the production compound. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, nearly slumping into you. “Why is being loved so exhausting?”
Remus laughs. “That’s what you took from that?”
“Yes,” he turns to you. “Tell me, doll, how do you do it?”
You send him a sideways glance. “Do what?”
“Put up with all the love?” he cups your jaw, pulling you towards him for yet another fervent kiss. It’s safe to say you would’ve stumbled towards the mud had Remus’ arm wasn’t actively steadying Sirius. “Oh, oops. Sorry, not that well, then.”
“You’re the worst,” you scrape out, trying to wiggle away from his hold. “Incorrigible—actually, you’re showering last.”
Sirius halts. “What?”
“You heard her, love.” Remus smirks, curling an arm around your shoulders and not at all caring about the halfhearted glare he receives from your boyfriend.
“Moons.”
Remus huffs a laugh. “Don’t even think about it.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”
“Oh, I think I have an inkling,” he shakes his head, giving your waist a squeeze. His lips twitch in that smirk you’re known to both love and fear. “Right, dove? Is your hip better?”
“Remus.” You murmur, equal parts fond and as warning.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I thought you were on my side.”
Sirius glances at you, already grinning at the way you blush. Whether from the adrenaline or the memory, it’s hard to tell—but his lips linger a tad longer on your joined hands is a clear giveaway of where his mind drifted off to. A small incident that included a very tiny bus shower and three overly exhausted and slightly tipsy people. One none of your boyfriends have let you live down, seeing it was your idea in the first place.
You catch his eyes. “And no, I know what you’re thinking, too.”
He gawps. “So little faith!” his voice raises in feigned upset. You share a look with Remus, fond but very unfazed at your boyfriend’s theatrics. Sirius lets out a long suffering sight. “Okay, fine. I’ll shower last. But don’t complain later, alright?”
…
Waiting isn’t that bad. Not when the distraction is this sweet and tender, and a little pleasing as well. Remus smells a lot like sandalwood and tastes like your cherry balm, lips curling against yours as he presses you deeper into the cushion.
You’re beginning to wonder if being late for the headliner is a bad idea when Remus’ hand coasts down from your jaw to your shoulder, your sides and your waist until it hooks under your knee to pull you impossibly closer to him. You’d do it gladly, if there was space. And maybe being late to the headliner is not so bad.
“Love you,” he whispers, nearly into your mouth as he kisses you deeper. Lovelier. Like his touch isn’t reverent enough for you to feel this.
His lips curl when you try to answer back, but he nips at your lower lip before your brain can even catch up. You only tug him closer, fingers threading and carding through his damp hair until he’s nearly fully atop of you. Remus only kisses you one last time before dragging his lips a path down your cheek to your jaw, then your neck.
You’re truly too content, too pleased in your predicament that the door opening doesn’t phase you at all. Remus seems to be on the same wavelength as his arm tightens around your back, lips curling against your neck.
Mary, however, does seem phased. She groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” The door snaps closed behind her, boots squelching as she walks deep past the lounge and into the back area. “I’d say get a room but, you know what? Whatever. Have you seen Regulus?”
“He’s already at the festival.” Remus shifts carefully, pushing himself to stand and wordlessly helping you up. “Lily wanted to see some DJ.”
She groans louder. “Why didn’t he say that? I came all the way back for nothing?” you watch her do a turn back towards the door. But stops to narrow her eyes at you both. “No more funny business.”
“Yes, ma’am,” you salute her, lips twitching and still slightly breathless.
Mary doesn’t walk out, but does spread an arm out towards the door. You laugh, reaching for your tote bag and Remus’ jacket sleeve before climbing down the steps. Her voice drowns out as she paces around grumbling and muttering to herself about how being your publicist has magnificently decreased years of her life. It’d work if there wasn’t a subtle tone of fondness in her complaints.
You wave at the few artists and crew members walking past, in and out of the festival. Music isn’t loud enough to identify, a cacophony of bass and cheering and crowds roaring everywhere you look. Even from the artist camping area. It’s enough to kickstart your excitement all over again.
Remus tugs at your joined hands with a knowing chuckle, well aware that you could very well run off to the festival as the music travels all the way to your little camp area. His hand coasts up to your elbow and transfers his touch to your waist, a small indulgence that you know is mostly his own post show affections as he drags you down with him to the camping chair. You pretend to try to run off, but your boyfriend already has you pinned down on his lap and your shift in muscle memory. A well practiced routine.
“Having fun?” he murmurs, already reaching inside his pocket for a pack. You readily accept it, a familiar routine.
“Hm.” You nod, flicking the lighter on and guiding it towards the tip of his own cigarette. “You?”
“When don’t I?” he blows the smoke out, away from you in the same breath you do the same. They curl together as it dissipates.
“Well, that one time we got lost didn’t look fun.”
Remus huffs a laugh at the memory. Your first time in the festival when you accidentally got lost on your way out and nearly ended up outside the grounds in their entirety. The walk back to the camping area had been humbling, and a little cold. But not any less lovely.
“I don’t know, dove. I’d say you preemptively planned us to get lost,” he levels you with a look. “Like you wanted to see us shirtless.”
You shove him lightly, laughing nervously. “Fuck off.”
Well, it was lovely and made for a very, very interesting view. On the way back into the grounds, deep into the night, you had accidentally fallen into the biggest mud patch. It was cold enough for your boyfriends to immediately offer you their jumpers to keep you warm. Humbling for them, maybe. Lovely for you? Definitely.
“That’s why I came prepared, see?” you raise a foot, showing him your high rain boots. Remus laughs, smoke coming out in puffs. The cigarette dangles between his lips as his hand travels back to your leg, pulling it up and up like he can’t quite physically stop himself from touching you. “And didn’t you listen to Mary? No funny business, Moons.”
“Touching my girlfriend isn’t funny business. I do take this very seriously, dove,” he smirks, fingers tapping the rhythm echoing from the festival against your thigh. They travel down until he’s tugging your shorts down. “Hm… these are new.”
You take a long drag instead of answering, but Remus only smiles knowingly when his eyes land on your tinted cheeks.
The door opens a beat later, and neither of you need to look back to know it’s Sirius—if the theatrics of the movement didn’t give him away. Or Mary’s voice echoing from inside the bus scolding him for leaving a mess at the lounge. A common occurrence when you’re on tour, and in general. You and Remus share a look—if she only knew the state of your bathroom back home.
“Got thrown out again?” Sirius asks easily, running a hand through his damp curls. He gestures at you, and you readily hand him to your cig. “You never learn, my loves.”
Remus clicks his throat. “Like you’re one to talk.”
“Yeah, like you didn’t shove Remus into the green room that one time.”
Sirius simply rolls his eyes, taking a long drag. But his lips curl around the cigarette before handing it back to you. Like clockwork, his eyes glance down, almost appreciative as they rove over your tangled forms. His smile spreads into a full smirk.
“Why, don’t you look gorgeous?”
Remus bites back a laugh, squeezing your thigh one last time in a knowing manner. They share a fond look at the way your blush spreads down to your neck, taking another drag as you stand. As a small mercy from the universe, the music pounds louder from the festival, a mix of sounds and instruments that immediately catches your attention. It’s at record time in which you’re scrambling for a smoking bin to put out your cig.
“Come on!”
Your boyfriends share yet another fond look before walking after you. Sirius readily accepts another drag from Remus, a secret ploy from your quietly smug boyfriend to tuck him closer. Fulfilling his own indulgence to pour out his affections on Sirius this time. They share the cigarette the rest of the walk out the camping grounds and back into the festival area.
You pat your jumper, and tote bag, looking momentarily panicked before they catch up to you. The smirk on Remus’ lips is borderline smug as he reaches inside his jacket, pulling out the lanyards he knows you think you’ve left back on the tour bus.
They bask in your bashful smile as you take it from him. Sirius only laughs around the cigarette, flicking it into a bin before reaching for your jaw—honestly, it’s a miracle he hasn’t reached over and kissed you senseless. He smells like a lovely mix of vanilla and clove oil and chestnut and nicotine. You nearly melt against him, but the artist currently playing finishes their set and you break apart.
“Come on—we’re almost late,” you gesture towards the security checkpoint and waving your lanyard at the guard. Not really necessary when he’s seen you in and out all day. “Hi.”
The man lets you through swiftly, barely casting you a glance and the music and mud and food engulf you almost immediately. Sirius instinctively steps forward before you can even think about running off, not that you’d actually, but he still sends you a fond smile when you turn to catch his gaze. His free arm curls around you, slotting perfectly and tucking you to his side.
“Where to, darling?” he still asks, knowing they’d follow anywhere you went to anyway.
You look around, taking in the ambience and energy of the festival. “Drinks first?”
Sirius laughs. “Oh, how I love you,” he presses a kiss to the side of your head before starting towards the closest drinks tent. His thumb strokes playfully at Remus’ hand as he follows after you, too content with his predicament.
The festival doesn’t stop, nor the people around you as you weave through the crowd. Some recognize you, some recognize but don’t approach. Others straight up take pictures of you when you pretend you’re not looking, and you only wait for the first sip of cider to let all these facts go. Not that you usually mind, but it’d be nice to enjoy an evening date with your boyfriends without people still lingering on rumours to come and take pictures.
You’re trying to get a peek into the Pyramid Stage between the crowd when Remus and Sirius return with the drinks. Remus hands you your cider, already open before you can even reach for the glass. His lips twitch as you immediately drink it, both thirsty and in that sweet spot of wanting desperately to relax before the headliner steps out. The Cure, no biggie.
“Time is it?” Sirius asks, looking around. The sun has long set behind the flags and crowd, and the lights are on—a blending effect to his dark long curls.
You tug a few loose ones behind his ear. “We’ve still got time,” you reassure him, not having any qualms to tame the smitten cadence of your voice. “Where to?”
Remus hums from your side, pausing his scrolling to sip at his beer. “Reg said he’s saved us a spot,” he finishes typing. “And by saving a spot he means that Lily hasn’t let James walk away from the spot.”
Sirius laughs, equal parts fond and exasperated. “Of course she did,” he reaches for you, an instinctive movement as he sips at his cider. “Poor Jamie with those two.”
You huff a laugh. “Oh, please. He’s exactly where he wants to be.”
“Oh, really?” your boyfriend smiles, mischievous and loving all at once as he draws you impossibly closer. “Just like I am with you two?”
“Are you?”
“Extremely so, yeah.”
You roll your eyes, though your lips curl into a shy smile. Even if you try to hide it with a sip to your own cider. Sirius watches it pass with a satisfying grin.
“Shall we, then?” he asks, tugging playfully at your belt. “Wouldn’t want James to get swallowed by mud and grass.”
“As if Regulus would ever allow that,” you chuckle, blindly reaching behind you. Remus immediately accepts your hand, blindly as well as he finishes typing into his phone. “M’sure he’s threatened Jamie more times right now than the entire tour.”
“Of course he has.” Remus says easily, fondly too. “I, too, wouldn’t let either of you into bed if you came in looking like James does after a gig.”
You send Sirius a knowing look. “Oh, love,” you squeeze Remus’ hand. “You’re adorable, thinking we haven’t.”
“What?”
“Where’s this supposed spot at?” Sirius asks instead, pretending to look around.
It takes a few tugs around, hand squeezing and pauses to stop for pictures with sweet fans and festival goers before you find Regulus. Nearly half an hour later, but that was mostly you getting more and more distracted by the band currently finishing their set on stage. It’s a surprise you don’t get lost in the crowd when LCD Soundsystem’s set begins right when you step into Regulus’ saved spot.
“Oh, shit, shit shit,” you nearly shriek. Like you weren’t up that same stage two hours ago. “Fuck, we almost didn’t make it.”
Regulus is already laughing fondly, nudging James aside to finally let you settle. Your friend doesn’t seem phased by this, readily curling an arm around Regulus, a well practiced routine as the beat starts building up and simmering with the anticipation of the crowd. When the first notes of the synth bass hum into the open crowded space, Remus is already smiling before you can even react to the song. He only drops a kiss to the crown of your head before turning back to the stage, nodding along to the opening song, Oh Baby. One of his favourites.
Sirius, of course, never misses an opportunity to make this known. He turns around, cupping Remus’ face in that endearingly annoying way. “Oh, baby…” he sings loudly, laughing at the way he feels Remus’ cheeks warm under his palms. “Oh, baby!”
You laugh, both giddy and excited and still a little high in adrenaline as the beat drops. The ground trembles with the force of the crowd, jumping and dancing—you included. Lily manages to extricate herself from Regulus’ arms when you catch eyes, transferring her hold around you now that you’re not high in adrenaline and sweaty from a long set. She doesn’t let you go for the first three songs, but it’s okay. You’re too consumed by the energy to even entertain letting go of your dance partner, either.
As the set continues—and you sing and laugh and jump with your friends, alternate between singing to your boyfriends and them doing the same, never caring about who can see—you’re suddenly hit by the ever present feeling of indescribable happiness that consumes you during times like these. With the crowd roaring, between stolen sips or cider and even more stolen kisses, you’re beginning to think no moment will ever top this one. Something that always happens every time you perform, or attend this festival, or go on tour.
When LCD Soundsystem’s set is over and you’re barely catching your breath, back nearly slumped against Sirius’ front, it’s a surprise you don’t fall asleep right then and there. Your boyfriends know it’s mostly sheer willpower and fanaticism that makes you power through the wait before The Cure step out.
Of course, when they do step out, both Remus and Sirius have to genuinely stifle their own needs to kiss you senseless at the way you light up. It’s a relatively easy task when their own excitement pushes over the instinct in the end.
You do end up being kissed senseless during Lovesong, though.
…
Mud squelches under each step, one after the other as you follow the row of equally tired artists and technicians through the production compound towards the artists' areas. The simmering notes of the DJ back at the festival echo all the way to this point of the grounds, bass thumping and crowd chanting and screaming behind you the farther you walk away from the festival.
Sirius simply fixes his joined hands under your legs and bum, doing a little jump and wincing when you grumble against his shoulder. He only turns his head to kiss the stretch of skin he can catch. Your muddy boats dangle from his back as he carries you out towards the camping area—his own personal indulgence. And yours as well, by the looks of it.
Remus pulls your tote back higher on his shoulder, reaching over to tug your disheveled hair away from your face and tucking them behind your ear. His heart nearly melts right then and there into the mud at the way you chase his touch, melting against his palm.
“Would you like more water, dove?”
“Hm.”
He smiles. “Yeah?”
“Hm, sure,” you nod, fixing your hold around Sirius’ shoulders. His thumb sweeps your thigh in a gentle manner that is mostly the reason you’re drifting off right now. “Later.”
“Of course.” Remus nods, lips twitching at your hoarse voice and how it matches his own. “Oh, careful there, love.”
Sirius only hums, sounding awfully exhausting himself. But he only lets Remus tug him lightly to the side, narrowly missing the massive puddle of mud right outside the gate. You drop a little kiss to the exposed skin of his shoulder, lips lingering enough to feel the goosebumps forming. He gives your thigh a chiding squeeze.
You fix your hold around him, freeing an arm to pull his jumper higher on his shoulder. He smiles, tired and sleepy but not any less sincere in its adoration as you nuzzle your face on his shoulder. Now warm again because of his jumper, or well, Remus’. From your side, Remus watches this happen with a grin that borders on embarrassing. Too good he’s too tired to care.
“Pads?”
“Yes?”
“Would you like water?”
Sirius laughs, it increases in its affection when he feels you laughing behind him. “In a bit, but thank you, handsome.”
Remus looks away, evidently not embarrassed enough to openly admire and flirt with you but definitely to be on the receiving end of Sirius’ hoarse compliments. He does take a bottle for himself, nearly downing it and silently glad when he spots the beginnings of the artists’ camping site. From his side, you and Sirius make similar grateful sounds. Though he suspects the reasons are different.
A few artists and friends wave as they reach their own camps and buses, but all of you are too spent to even entertain staying out a minute longer. Remus is barely opening the door when you’re already down, boots squelching as you land back on the ground.
Even in your evident exhaustion, you pause by the steps to wiggle them out and set them outside. Sparing Mary or Marlene an early death at seeing your muddy tracks all over the carpet. It takes your boyfriends an embarrassing beat to do the same, but mostly because Sirius nearly stumbles sideways when he tries to untie his own boot.
Remus chuckles to himself, holding Sirius steady as he tries to untie his boot. He glances towards you and feels his heart, once again, melting as you slump sideways on the bus’ steps.
“Why don't you inside, dovey? We’ll be right there.”
“Hm?”
“Fuck, finally,” Sirius grumbles, climbing the steps to avoid stepping on the mud with his socks. You shuffle sideways to make space for him. “Remind me to never wear those bloody things again.”
“You’ll end up wearing them again, anyway,” you mumble.
He shakes his head, exasperated fond as he starts on the other boot. You only push yourself up to walk inside, dragging your socked feet against the carpet and like you’re standing up by the sheer willpower of your bed waiting for you at the back of the bus.
While in the moment the outcome had been a little frustrating, you and your boyfriends are now in agreement that pulling the shorter stick to see who’d stay on the tour bus was a better option than the hotel. Mostly because your things are already packed and loaded, and because you’ve got to experience, finally, the back bedroom that comes with the bus. They can have their hotel room today, you’ll have an entire bed for yourselves the rest of the festival.
Remus carefully arranges your and Sirius’ boots outside, hidden enough to ensure they don’t get stolen during the night, before walking into the bus. He closes the door behind him and huffs a laugh when he turns to find Sirius ransacking the little fridge again.
“Love,” he pushes out a fond laugh, stepping forward when Sirius appears to be one wrong move away from dropping all the crisps from his arms. “Why didn’t you say you were hungry?”
“I wasn’t ’til I saw the food. My god, I love these.”
These, being a brand of crisps Sirius has definitely claimed to not like before, but Remus lets it slide. He cups his cheek once before walking deep into the bus, already shredding off his shirt and jumper to start changing into his comfies. Inside the bedroom, you’re doing the same. Or trying to.
“Fuck, I hate belts,” you grumble, struggling to slide it off the hoops and exhaling in relief when you do. “Why do I keep wearing them?”
“‘Cause they look great, baby.” Sirius says between chewing, already shirtless and pulling his suitcase out from under the bed. “Taking it off is only a small sacrifice to being beautiful like you.”
“It’s unnecessarily tricky, though.”
Sirius sends you the world’s sleepiest wink. “Oh, that we know.”
You only puff out a tired little laugh, shrugging your vest top on, long past any qualms to care. Honestly, it’s a miracle you manage to successfully change into your comfies without giving in to your urges to dive into the bed. Music still manages to echo from one of the half-open windows, and Sirius slides it closed as he finishes jumping into his pajama bottoms.
When they’ve managed to successfully change without any deviations or food problems, neither of them are surprised when they return to the back bedroom to find you curled up on top of the covers. Makeup wipe crumbled into a ball in your hand. And of course, neither of them are surprised when they finally let themselves give into their most exhausted yet deep urges to join you in bed.
“y/n, come on,” he tugs at the covers, enough to make you rouse enough to get inside.
“Oh,” you blink, though it looks like your eyelids weigh a ton. “m’sorry.”
“S’okay,” he answers in that same cadence, like his words weigh a ton to him as well.
You shift, doing a rather endearingly pathetic wiggling movement to get under the covers. Remus pulls them out and doesn’t take it personally when Sirius beats him to it, too tired to even realize he’s setting himself up to sleep in the middle tonight.
Darkness engulfs the back room as soon as you settle. The music is fainter now, and it makes room for every tiny little sound that follows—covers shuffling, bodies shifting closer and closer and content sighs that sound entirely too content for them to be just sleepy.
“Love you,” you whisper, not caring who it is for. Just loud enough for the words to hang in the air. “Can’t wait to come back next year.”
Neither of them have the heart to tell you that next year is a Fallow Year, and that you still have two days of festival left. But you make a small sound that sounds awfully close to a snore, and they let it slide.
update i had to change playlists cos the cleaning was turning more into a rage room meets charli xcx boiler room set. so now ive been listening to whoop there it is over and over again
