aaaaaaa

21 y.o

[crescenthistory]

Hello, I love your writing and recently I’ve been kind of obsessed with Regulus calling reader Amour, so my request would be Regulus x fem!reader where he calls her Amour like a prayer or a mantra while reader kisses his neck, jaw, lips, just loving him. Thank you for your work !

i always write french!black brothers, so regulus will always use the pet name amour for reader in my fics ✊ thank you for requesting babe<3

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: suggestive/steamy (18+, mdni), heavy make-out session, grinding, suggestive remarks, but no actual smut, gn!reader, domestic bliss, established relationship, inappropriate use of the french language, regulus' slutty waist, tooth-rotting fluff

His fingertips trailed up and down the length of your arm tantalisingly; a barely there touch, a brush spelling out the casual love simmering beneath the surface.

With closed eyes you let out a content sigh, leaning further back into the soft cushions of your sofa.

"Alright, amour?"

You could hear the smile in his voice and lolled your head sideways to open your eyes and see it for yourself. Regulus sat comfortably beside you in your shared living room, eyes still trained on the flimsy paperback he had in hand. You both abandoned any professional work you had to get done earlier, and opted for settling into the quiet comfort of the evening, enjoying the radiating warmth and affection from the person beside you.

"Can't think of any complaints right now, no." His eyes flitted up to find the teasing in your own, and let out a small entertained sound.

"No?" Regulus placed his paperback upside down on the armrest, so that he could angle his body more sideways towards you. He already had one arm around your shoulders where he grazed you absentmindedly, but now he placed a purposeful hand on your thigh and squeezed. "What a miracle that is."

"I'll have you know, I am perfectly agreeable," you quipped back, leaning into his touch.

Regulus' eyes flitted slowly between your own as the smile on his face grew steadier. It felt impeccably at home. "You're perfect, alright." His low voice rumbled slightly in his chest on the way out and felt like a soft touch against your eardrums. You sighed again, seemingly melting into him – he readily accepted your weight.

"Not what I meant," you whispered. A steadying hand placed on his shoulder as you mirrored his slow creeping towards you, faces gravitating closer.

"It's what I meant."

The fingertips that had mapped out your arm made their final journey upwards, continuing past your shoulder and grazing a sweet path up to the underside of your chin. With two fingers, he encouraged your chin forward the last few centimetres until your lips met his and you could taste his tranquil smile.

Soft lips meeting each other in greeting for the first time in an hour or two, a coming home of sorts despite having been bundled up beside each other the whole time. Regulus' fingers moved back to splay out across your jaw, settling his pinky on your neck and his middle finger in that lovely spot behind your ear. His grip was firm but still delicate, holding you with conviction and care all at the same time. It brought a smile back to your face as you thought of how his kisses were much the same.

"What's so funny, beautiful?" he murmured against your lips, swallowing your answer before you could give it as he captured your bottom lip between his own.

You fought a giggle at his antics, instead breathing out through your nose and welcoming his continued touches. Your own hands travelled up from his shoulders to his hair, brushing through it and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. His lips moved leisurely against yours, slightly open-mouthed and sweet.

When you came apart, you kissed his upper lip gently, revelling in the sigh he let out of his own, foreheads pressed together. "I just love you," you whispered.

All at once, the distance between the two of you felt overwhelmingly too large and your body ached to feel his warmth, his touch. You let your arms cross behind his neck, gripping onto his shoulders and pressing your chests flush against each other, while easing one leg out from beneath you to climb onto his lap. Regulus, who had just smiled lovingly at you, let one arm come to hold your hip and help stabilise you as you straddled him, inching as close to him as physically possible. "You love me, hm?" His eyes surveyed yours with a playful undertone.

Once you were settled comfortably in his lap, you nudged your nose into his, humming at the contact. "Allegedly," you said conspiratorially to which he gave a faux gasp.

You were quick to capture that gasp with your mouth.

If the first kiss was two lovers reuniting on the sofa they had been studying on together, then this kiss was a declaration of persevering devotion, a prayer whispered into the embrace of each other. This was deeper, both physically and emotionally as you took advantage of his parted lips to slip your tongue past them, meeting his own with a hum reverberating through you. Regulus groaned in turn, wrapping his arms tightly around your back to pull you even closer, fingers splaying out wide. His back came slightly off the cushions as he leaned against you, chasing your lips with every slight parting, and you couldn’t help the slight giggle that escaped your throat when you noticed.

“You’re acting like you’ve missed me,” you whispered as you parted from the fervent kiss to pepper smaller, lighter ones across his face as you caught your breath. 

“I always miss you, amour.” You glanced at him to see that his eyes had drifted shut for a moment, relishing in your doting affection pressed into every available crevice on his face, paying particular attention to the freckles splattered on top of his cheekbones and temples.

“That simply won’t do.” 

Your heart sang as you found his lips once more, only to find him instantly fighting to deepen the kiss, to have you impossibly more intertwined with him, one hand at last tangling in your hair to angle your head just the way he liked. You took the opportunity to let your own touches travel, dragging your fingertips teasingly down his neck and stroking across his shoulders clad in his sensible jumper. “Mind if this comes off?” you murmured in between open-mouthed kisses, tugging on his collar. 

Regulus wasted no time pulling away and dragging his jumper over his head, revealing his black skin-tight cropped tanktop beneath, though not without lifting a teasing eyebrow in reference to your intentions – which only went higher into his curly hair when he saw how your eyes took in his exposed collarbones and lower midriff. A truly sinful pair of hips on this one.

“Seems like someone’s missed me too,” he said smugly, all the while grasping a handful of the hair at the nape of your neck while dragging your face back towards his. “C’mere, pretty.”

With very little desire in your body to resist his kisses when he looked so domestic and blissed out, you abandoned your marveling of the boy beneath your hands to kiss him even more passionately. Your hands clutched at his jaw for stability when he dragged you back to him, but as soon as you were melting against his measured, satisfied kisses, you let them travel once more.

Your fingertips ghosted across his collarbones, one hand stopping to splay out across his heart and press down firmly enough for Regulus to sigh against you. The other found the v-shape on his hips, tracing them up and down, fingers occasionally hooking into the waistband of his trousers teasingly, a thrill shooting through you at the low groan that escaped him whenever you did.

“Gods, I just love you.” You whispered it against his lips, moving your hands all over his upper body as if you could not get enough; you decidedly could not and knew right there and then that if you were to die in his arms now, it would have been a happy death. “So much.”

“I love you, amour.” His voice was gravelly and breathless, coming apart even beneath such light touches – witnessing the effect you had on him never once ceased to amaze you. 

When you let your lips diverge from his own this time, you did not simply part for breath, instead trailing paths across his skin with the same attention and vigour you had given to his beautiful mouth. He let out a sigh, letting you have your way with him and shower him in the affection that seemed to be painfully bursting out of you, hands settling firmly on your hips to keep you close. “I love it when you call me that.” You pressed a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth before letting your tongue dart out to kiss at the curve of his jaw, making your way to his ear, no skin going untouched, unloved.

“Call you what? Amour?” His breath stuttered throughout his question. You merely hummed in approval as you kissed the divot at the end of his jaw, feeling his chest rattle as you did so. “I always call you that.” Beneath your lips and fingertips trailing the other side of his face, you could feel his skin moving with the tell-tale signs of his growing smile.

“And I always love it,” you whispered into his ear before catching his earlobe between your teeth. The slight hiss and groan that followed sent sparks through you, and you tugged at his ear with your bite, tasting the metal of his piercings on your tongue. 

“Amour,” he moaned then, and you would be remiss if you did not let one of your hands keep exploring further down, spurred on by his term of endearment for you.

As you moved down the right side of his throat, you kissed and lapped and bit, easily forming evidence of your love across his pale, shimmery skin. The contrast always settled happily in your stomach when you looked at it, purple on white, you on Regulus.

Your hand that had held the other side of his face slid into his hair, grasping a handful at the nape of his neck and using it to pull his head further to the left, allowing you greater access. Once more, Regulus let out a moan at the slight sting and you knew it was on purpose when he whispered another hoarse, “Amour.”

You hummed in appraisal against his throat as you kissed, feeling the vibrations move through him. Your free hand kept toying with his waistband, slipping your fingers just far enough beneath to cause his breath to catch, but never truly doing anything, instead enjoying having your love all to yourself and accepting of the doting you ached to give him. It had been a long journey to accept any form of affection, let alone worship, so now that you had him freely all to yourself, you never passed up the opportunity.

With your hand in his hair, you pulled his head further back, granting you better access to his throat and chest, pressing a soft kiss to where his throat was bobbing as he swallowed at your ministrations. You kissed your way down to the dip between his neck and shoulder, where you gave him a particularly rough lovebite. His hands on your hips jerked towards him, essentially dragging your core across his, eliciting groans from the both of you. “Oh, amour,” he whispered, looking down at you with husky bedroom eyes.

You let your tongue lap over your bite, kissing across his prominent collarbones instead, trailing them up and down with a feverish tongue. With your hand in his waistband, you slipped around to his backside, dipping the rest of your hand in to get a handful of his ass. You used the momentum of his hips bucking upwards to grind yourself down against him, smiling through your kisses at the lovely sounds he was making.

“Amour, amour, amour.” Regulus was chanting your term of endearment as if it was a prayer, a mantra to get you to continue; and you would never deny him anything he asked for. You continued rolling your hips back and forth on top of his, heat pooling in your stomach as you felt him twitch and jerk beneath you. You moved your hand from his hair to settle onto his chest for leverage, palm pushing firmly into his left nipple as your nails buried their way into his skin through his sheer tanktop. All the while you were kissing across his collarbones, nipping and then soothing the skin immediately with your tongue, leaving saliva-covered bruises in your wake. 

“You’re so good for me, my love,” you whispered into the dent between his collarbones, and he let out a sound that seemed to be the mix of a breathless laugh and a sullen moan.

“Told you I missed you,” he managed to quip out, breath hitching once more as you repositioned yourself slightly to roll your core directly against his, only separated by thin fabrics of clothing. “Comment pourrais-je ne pas le faire, alors que tu m'aimes tant?”

Your turn to groan as you leaned your forehead against his slightly slick skin. “Just love you,” you mumbled once more before continuing your attack on his lovely body.

With trembling fingers, Regulus slipped a hand across your cheek and into your hair, encouraging you to let go of the skin right above his tanktop – which you had half a mind to remove, if it didn’t accentuate his waist so beautifully – and brought your face back up to his.

The grin you were met with left nothing to the imagination as to what he was feeling, physically or emotionally. Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled your face closer and closer until your lips were hovering millimetres above his own that were tilted to the side, ready to accept you in full. “Me laisserais-tu t'avoir, mon amour?”

You shuddered and tried to close the distance between you, but Regulus had regained some control as he regarded you with nothing short of marvel, and he held your head in place. “Hm?” he questioned then, teasing aligned in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you said,” you all but whined, in a quieter voice than you thought possible. Normally, you might have made some quip about it, but at the moment you were pure putty in his hands.

“I said,” he whispered, using his grip on the back of your head to tilt your head to the side, until it was the shell of your ear grazing his lips and not your own. “Would you let me have you, my love?”

Shivers ran down your spine at his tone, your hands clutching him harder, closer, wanting always to get closer. When he turned your head to meet his eyes once more, his pupils had nearly eclipsed the grey irises you loved so much.

His smile was somehow both devilish and soft at the same time as he took in how breathless he could make you with just a few words.

“Please.”

No sooner had you uttered the word before his lips were back on yours, hungry and loving, his hands moving to your ass to hoist you up into the air and carry you against him to your shared bedroom.

The perfect night of domestic bliss.

[patrophthia]

love is sour grapes | theo. nott

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff, angst (if you squint), unrequited love but not really, everyone is an idiot, self indulgent, not beta read.

word count: 5.9K

originally posted on ao3 on: 06/28/2022

"Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Or Theodore is a quiet piece of shit and that leads to miscommunication and complicated feelings

Theodore Nott. The one constant thought that has been running through my head way too often for my liking. He was handsome, quiet, smart, lanky in all the right ways and never seemed to be engaged in a conversation —or at least one where he was talking instead of just listening and listening and listening.

Talking to him had always been one of my goals, it shouldn't have, really, it shouldn't. But somehow I had found myself more than just infatuated with him. 

Theodore was an observant person, if he noticed me studying him, he never confronted me about it. 

But, as my friend says it, Theodore Nott is sour grapes. Or, in better words, love is sour grapes. If this even was love that is. 

"I think you should just talk to him," Hermione says kindly. "I still don't think that he would be good for you but if you fancy him that much then go ahead." 

"If you want a death wish that is," Ron snickered. "Honestly, can't you have picked a better guy to fancy? I mean— Nott? Of all people."

"Do you want me to fancy Malfoy instead? Would that make you happy," I quipped, hearing Hermione hide a laugh between closed lips. "Or god forbid, you." 

Ron face contorted to one of offense. "I'm notthatbad." 

"Yeah sure," I murmured, with no malice. And turned to Harry who had been quiet about the situation ever since he found out. "What do you think?" 

Harry shrugged, looking startled. "I don't know," He said first, and then. "I think you need someone better than Nott. You're friendly and thoughtful—" he paused hesitantly. "—and you're quite awfully pretty." 

"Thank you, Harry." My eyes fell downwards with no real intention. I was none of those things. "But I don't think he'd agree." 

"What does it matter if he agrees," Hermione said loudly. "Harry's right. You're all of those things. It's his loss if he doesn't go out with you. You're fit, incredibly so. I would be happy if someone like you were to ever fancy me."

If Ron had a reaction to those words, neither Hermione nor Harry noticed. 

"Well," I said as a group of Slytherin walked into the Potions classroom. Potions would be starting any minute now, and I needed to head into class before Snape does. "I'll keep that in mind. If all fails, I'll just have to marry you, Mione." 

With a final smile, I bid them a quick goodbye and made my way into class. The three of them heading to which ever direction they needed to be. 

The class quickly starts, and Snape wasted no time in assigning me a potion to make. Invigoration Draught. The potion that energizes the drinker. How fun.

The ingredients were mostly easy to obtain. Peppermint, Honeywater, Stewed Mandrake then there's Dried billywig sting: my biggest nightmare.

I was only so tall and the shelves where the ingredients were stored stood so so high. I would've used a stool had it been free to use, but a Slytherin had already been occupying it and it would be rude if I were to take it away from them.

There was a cough behind my back, and then, a hand reached; over me and towards the exact thing I needed. Dried billywig sting: my new biggest enemy.

The person pulled back —jar filled with billywig in hand, and stood still as I turned to them. The jar had a decent amount of billywig in it, if they needed it I could still manage to ask for just enough for my potion. That is if they were kind enough to let me have some.

"Could I—" I paused mid-turn. There stood Theodore Nott in all his glory. Dark eyes, dark hair and facial features that looked like every part of him was chosen by Aphrodite herself, watching me with a raised eyebrow. "—uhm, could I have a few of those? I needed it for my potion but I couldn't reach it."

Theodore blinked once, looking unfazed and handed the jar over.

I blinked twice the time he did, opening up the jar; intending on taking out a few and handing it back over when he stopped me.

"I don't need it."

His voice.

"You don't?" I find myself asking, trying not to breathe too loud or to forget how to even breathe in the first place.

Theodore shook his head once. And reached up for something else. Had he seen me struggle and had gotten it just for me?

"Thank you," I tell him. Theodore nodded once, accepting it as it is. I think you should just talk to him. Goddamn it, Granger. "Uhm— would you like to—"

He turned to me calmly, the rest of his appearance devoid of emotions.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?"

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing.

Whether he was scrutinizing me or not, I didn't know. What I do know is that I was wrong and stupid. And my friends were wrong too.

He needed more than me. I might be friendly and kind and maybe quite awfully pretty. But Theodore needed more than me.

"You know what." I cleared my throat, smiling. "Forget I said anything. Have a good day, Nott."

•••

I had been down lately. My friends noticed that. Even Harry and Ron noticed it and they were as daft as they come. Whenever they asked me what was wrong I find myself telling them that I was just stressed over my O.W.Ls.

Which I was. But it was mostly a lie to cover up something I was more upset about. I had idiotically asked Theodore out and now I have to face the consequences of being rejected.

I think —in some ways— him having not even say 'no' or have given a clearer answer was more upsetting then if he had just said no out loud.

It was stupid of me to get my hopes up and think that anything else would've happened. It was stupid for me to even think I was in his league.

It was also late. I hated walking back to the common rooms in these hours but it was my fault for procrastinating my essay until the night before it was due so I had to rush the entire thing in an hour in the library. I had only hoped that Umbridge wouldn't punish me for being out pass curfew.

I had one more hall left to turn before I reached the Hufflepuff's barrels when someone shouted out my surname, halting me in my place.

Fast pace footsteps approached and then, donning from head to toe in pink was Umbridge. Fuck.

"What do you think you're doing out of your dorm at this time?" She asked quickly, her toad like face twitching with irritation.

"I was in the library and lost track off time," I quickly confessed. "I'm so sorry. My dorm's close by and I—"

"It was my fault professor." His voice. "I’d asked for her help and lost track of time. She was trying to head back before curfew but it seems like her efforts were to no avail. I can only hope you would excuse her and blame me for my faults."

Umbridge looked baffled. He talked? Theodore talked? She made that annoying noise that she can't seemed to get rid off. "Well." her voice laced with false kindness.

"I see no point in deducting any points." She then turned to me. "But I will be expecting to see you tomorrow for separating yourself from help at a time as late as this. Merlin knows, it's dangerous for a girl to wander alone at this time."

"Just me?" I asked, slightly confused.

Her eyes flashed with annoyance. "Do you expect Mister Nott here to be punished for wanting to make sure you got back to your dorm safe?"

That wasn’t what he— okay. Fine. Whatever.

"Now, go off," she said with a wave of her hand. "And Theodore, would you be so kind as to walk her back? I don't want to know the troubles she might cause when I let her out my sight."

Theodore nodded, doing as he was told and took a step forward. He looked behind his shoulders, his eyes meeting mine and tilted his head slightly: signaling that we should leave now before it gets worse.

I avoided Umbridge's eyes and stepped forward, trailing after Theodore. Detention. All because I was too lazy to finish my essay any other time I had.

I think I feel my eyes water. I think it feels harder to breathe. I don't know for sure how I feel exactly despite dejected and disappointed with myself.

If I had just made one different choice, I wouldn't have to have detention with the one professor known to physically harm the students. And to top it off, being walked back to my common room by the boy who recently rejected me whilst bottling up my feelings about everything I did wrong.

"You don't have to actually walk me back." I paid no heed to the crack of my voice. Theodore does though. "It's late." I pointed out the obvious. "You should go."

Theodore glanced at me quickly. His look was so quick that I suspected he had planned to only spare me a second of his time. But something about me, something about how vulnerable I must've looked, had him pausing.

"I shouldn't." He said slowly, his tone so attentively that it made me think that he had saw something in me that I never did. "I can't leave you."

"You can." I don't think I can handle being near him any longer, not when he was studying me so cautiously. "It's only a few steps away, I can assure you I'll be fine."

Theodore eyes flickered down the corridor quickly, finally tearing themselves away from me and looked forward, continuing towards the direction of my common room.

When we finally reached where we needed to be. Theodore stood back watching as I tapped the barrels carefully.

I looked over my shoulder once the path opens up. Smiling slightly when I found his eyes on me. "Thank you for taking the blame, Theo. You didn't have to and you did and spared me way too many house points. I really appreciate it."

He made a noise of acknowledgment, taking my word as it is. And then, as he was about to step away. "Goodnight."

•••

I think I hate life. I might be wrong but life sucks. Especially when you have to repeatedly write the same sentence over and over again with a magic quill that tears through your skin.

That can't have been a legal source of punishment but Umbridge made the rules so it was no use fighting her about it.

My hand hurts. Holy fuck, does it hurt. I don't even have to glance down at it for me to see my skin burning red, bleeding slightly. Curved out in the sentence. I will not be out pass curfew. 

"You alright there?" Came a voice. 

I looked up quick and abruptly, sure that I'll get whiplash from my actions; to find George Weasley watching me with interest. I smiled, subconsciously hiding away my hand. "I'm fine." 

"You sure?" He followed up. "You don't look too good."

I nodded, trying to look as reassuring as possible. "I'm fine, just got a paper cut is all." 

He fixes me a look of disbelief but let it slides. "You should go," he said with a small smile. "I think Ron's looking for you? Something about slimey snakes and what not." 

"Oh." The sound slipped out. "Thank you, I'll go find him." 

It was weird to see George without Fred but I decided that I didn't want to know why. They were probably setting up a prank and I had walked right through it. 

Bidding George a goodbye. I continued down the corridor, turned the corridor and found the trio standing by with Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott by their sides. This can't be good. 

Is this what George referred to when he said Ron was looking me about some slimey snakes? 

"There she is," Malfoy said with mild annoyance. "We've been looking for you." 

"You have?" My eyes drifted to Hermione but she only shrugged, looking as clueless as I was. "Why?" 

Malfoy took a steps towards me. "You've been with Professor Umbridge?" 

"Yes." I nodded. "Why?" 

"Did she give you the quill?" 

What was he playing at? Why was he interrogating me? "Yes." I repeated. "Why?" 

Zabini rolled his eyes and step up, seemingly having enough of Malfoy's dramatics. "Here." He handed out a bottle. "It's Murtlap essence. Suppose to help you with the cuts. Nott made it for you." 

"He did?" I asked, taking the bottle of Murtlap essence from Zabini's hand. I turned to look at Theodore, finding his eyes glued to my bleeding hand that was grasping the bottle. Jerking my hand back, I smiled, thanking him. "Thank you for this, I really appreciate and for uhm— thanks again for covering for me last night." 

Everyone —all but Theodore and I— brows raised upwards, surprised. So they didn't know about what had happened last night.

Theodore showed no outwards reaction, having just watch me with a straight face and patient eyes. Then he turned to Zabini and tilted his head slightly. Zabini seemingly understood, slapped a hand over Malfoy's shoulder and with a goodbye, steered the blond boy away. 

"Bloody hell," Ron said exasperatedly. "Did that really happen?" 

"Nott made you Murtlap essence?" Hermione asked more to herself than anyone else. "How did he even know you needed it?" 

"I—" I stopped, glancing at my hand. "—I was out pass curfew and Umbridge caught me. Nott took the blame for it. I think Umbridge was too surprised with hearing him talk to properly acknowledge that he too was out of the dorms pass curfew. She said she won't take away any house points but gave me detention as a punishment." 

"That's all?" Hermione said. "Why would Nott take the fall for it and then proceed to make Murtlap essence for you if there wasn't anything in it for him?" 

"I don't know," I told her, shrugging. "He also walked me back to my common room and wouldn't leave me when I insisted otherwise." 

"Do you think." Ron started. "Maybe that Nott fancies you?" 

"No." I was quick to shake my head in disagreement. "He's doesn't. He's made that clear already." 

"He has?" Harry asked loudly, brows knitted together. 

"Yeah," I murmured. "That day I talked to the three of you. I asked him during class if maybe we could go out on a date sometimes and he didn't say anything. Not a yes. Not a no. Nothing." 

"That's terrible," said Hermione sympathetically. "Honestly, what kind of person rejects someone then proceed to do things as if they cared for them." 

"Hermione," said Harry cautiously, eyes shifting between me and her. "I don't think that does anything to soothe her nerves." 

"Sorry." Hermione blinked in realization. "It's just— you deserve better. I don't understand a thing Nott's doing and I don't want you to get hurt in the process." 

"He could be figuring out his feelings," Ron suggested making Hermione shoot a sharp glare his direction. Ron tsked. "I'm just pointing it out." 

"Well it's not helping." Hermione said in an obvious tone. Her eyes drifted down to my hand, scanning the words then looked back up. "I think you should head back and take care of your hand. You don't want it to scar now, do you?" 

I nodded, waving. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Hermione let out an agreeing hum and went on her way, Ron pestering her from behind. Harry hadn't moved though, looking at me with furrowed brows. "Could I maybe have some of your Murtlap essence?"

"Yeah." I handed it over. "I didn't know you had to endure Umbridge as well."

"Didn't think it was important to mention." He pulled out an empty ink pot from his bag and twisted it open, pouring just enough essence to not overflow it. Harry put the cap back on and handed it back over. "Don't tell Hermione or Ron, will you? I don't want to be a bother." 

" 'course." I smiled. "I won't tell anyone." 

•••

What are the chances that I get caught being out pass curfew twice in the same week. Pretty fucking high because I was once again being called out late at night. 

Two sets of foot steps stops before me and it took me roughly five seconds to realize just how grave the situation was. Draco Malfoy stood tall and smug with Hannah Abott by his side looking tired —if a little irritated by Malfoy's presence. 

"What are you doing out, badger?" Malfoy asked. 

"I was heading back from the kitchens." Malfoy made a face and glanced down at my outfit that looked way too overdressed to be heading down to the kitchens. 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yes." It was clear that I was caught in a lie. Goddamn you, Radiohead concert. "I must've lost track of time." 

Hannah looked like she wanted to say something but bit her tongue. Not wanting any of her words to be counted as it being biased just because I was her dorm mate. 

And then, as I waited to hear Malfoy state just how many points he wanted to take away from my house. He said with annoyance, "you can go." Unfazed to the look of surprise that showed up on both mine and Hannah's faces. "Tell Nott he owes me one." 

•••

I don't think my head could —or will ever fully comprehend "tell Nott he owes me one." I don't know why exactly but that sentence feels way more ominous than it ought to be. 

ott does not owe him anything for letting me go. 

And I don't think I owe Nott anything for helping me be let go? maybe I could've phrased that better. What I meant to say is that: I owe Nott nothing for his friend's behavior towards me. At least I don't think I do. 

But things works in mysterious way. Like how —despite how ironic I find it— Nott always find out a way to help me out during potions. Especially when it came to the ingredients. 

Though that was the least of my concerns right now. My concern, for now, is revolved between the three books in my hand that I can't decide —for the life of me— which one to buy. 

On other occasions I would buy all three and went about my day but I had only brought enough money for one book and food for the rest of the day at Hogsmeade, and my friend didn't seem like they'd be heading back to Hogwarts for extra cash any time soon. 

I looked over my options once more, trying to figure out which one would be the bang of my buck. 

Option one: All Or Nothing, a novel about a girl trying to navigate relationships with the people she surrounded herself with and see whether they would react differently when she gave them her all, and then; how they would react when she gave them nothing. 863 pages. 

Option two: Glimpse Of Us, a novel about a boy who always —and I mean always, sees his ex in the girls he dates after her. 295 pages. 

Option three: Listen boy, a cheesy novel about a girl who had little to no interest when it comes to going on dates with guys but when her roommate compliments her on the socks she wore, she finds herself wanting to do nothing but go on dates with them. 530 pages. 

Both Glimpse Of Us and All Or Nothing seems like sad book. Maybe it's time for me to find some joy in my life —which seems to seize to exist after whatever happened between me Nott happened. As I turned, intending to put those two books back in their respective places. I was more than surprise to find Nott looking at me with a slight fascinated tilt to his head.

“Which is it?”

"Hmm?" I find myself humming. Should I pick All Or Nothing instead? Wouldn't that make me seem more intelligent than a book about a girl being in love with her roommate. 

"Which one have you chose?" He clarified, and I might've imagined it —no I definitely did because, Theodore Nott's lips did not just curve up at all. 

"This one." I lifted up whatever was in my right hand which just happens to be Listen boy. And there goes sounding more intelligent in front of Theodore. "It seems cute." 

"Is that all?" He followed up and it's then that I realize he was wearing a forest green that had no reasons to make him look as good as it did. Green really was his colour. "Nothing more?"

"No." I shook my head. "Ideally I would like two get these two as well," I told him truthfully. "But I only brought enough for one —technically two, if I stretched it out but that would mean no snacks for the rest of the day so it's a no." 

"I'll get it for you then," he says casually. Like it's something you say to someone you recently rejected. Like he was walking around, waiting for someone to tell him that they haven't brought enough cash for the other books they wanted. "Would you like anything else? I am more than willing to indulge you." 

"No, I don't." I stop myself. Yes, I mean. Because I really did want other books, especially if someone else was paying for it but I know that my poor heart cannot handle it. 

It is already breaking apart at how handsome he looked with his forest green jumper and black ironed pants. His hair, a usual dark brown, just the slightest tinge brighter under the sunlight (which is both a sight for sore eye and a rare view since I only ever see him in the dungeons, hunched over a bubbling pot and disgusting lightings) which flatters him in all the best way possible. 

And no, my heart is not picking up a million paces over I am more than willing to indulge you in that very tone of voice, in that very set of clothes, in very set of lighting, by that very Slytherin that I could not seem to get over.

"You don't have to," I insisted, trying to not shiver under his gaze. He narrows his eyes and it says way more than words could ever say. He knows he doesn't, he wants to. Oh lord save me. "Maybe this one? It's cheaper." 

"That was not my question," he said curtly. "I asked you if you'd like anything else, not which option was cheaper."

What are we even talking about now? Was he planning on buying me the three books in my hands and more or was he planning on letting me pay for my choice then pay for the others I couldn't afford. 

Is my face that much of an open book? Because, without even having to say it. Theodore had already answered my questions for me. "I'll buy you the three in your hands and anymore you'd like. I'd buy you the whole store if you wanted me to." 

I think I'm having a heart attack. Or dreaming. Or both. I can't tell. Maybe I'm dreaming while having a heart attack? Who knows. All I know is that Theodore Nott did not just say that. Did he? 

"No." I shake my head quickly, maybe even too quickly. "No, I— these three are more than enough. I promise to pay you back when we get back to school."

Theodore fixes me a look. One ridiculing me to the point that I wished —more than anything— that I was a bludger being hit so hard I pass through the most oblivious of oblivions. I'm so sure that that would be less stressful. 

"I mean it!" I press all three books to my side. "I promise, and I always keep my promise. I won't take advantage of your money, I will get it and find you as soon as I—"

I didn't see the point in finishing my words because he was smiling. And laughing. I think. It's a mixture of those two and it's so heavenly that I believe in everything ethereal alike. 

Theodore noticed my silence, the side of his lips curved the slightest bit (so so small and tiny that you couldn't even spot it), looking at me with clearly amused eyes. And then, "did you not hear me?" 

"What?" The words slipped out easily. 

"I told you I'd buy you the whole store if you'd like and you think I'd want my money back?" He said slowly. "I couldn't care less about the money. I just wanted to make you happy. Salazar knows, I've made you upset more often than I could count between my fingers." 

Now what the fuck was he on about. He has never made me upset —save for rejecting me that one time,  but I understood it, he didn't like me, that's that. I have gotten over. I think. But I'm more than sure that I could count that one event between his ten fingers.

Unless Theodore only had one finger? Does he? I cast a glance down to his hands and there are those ten fingers. Ten exactly. Not one short or one more. Ten and a couple of silver bands that made me want to do nothing but sit and stare at his long, pale, slim fingers. And how they would feel around my— nope, nope. Absolute not. 

"Merlin, we leave Nott alone and he goes around trying to find his girlfriend." Girlfriend? 

When the owner of the voice, Zabini, finally arrives before me and Theodore, I was no where near surprised to see the other Slytherins in their group by his side. 

Parkinson. Malfoy. And finally, Greengrass —whom I was actually friends with. 

"Well?" Zabini muttered, eyes shifting between me and Theodore, and then landing on him solely. "Are the pair of you planning on standing here the whole day?" 

"No," I said with narrowed eyes. "I don't know what he's doing here, I'm just trying to buy a book." 

Zabini raised a brow. "Is that all, princess?" 

"Pretty much." This feels like a trap. Is this a trap? "Are you planning on going somewhere with Theo?" 

"Theo," Zabini tsked with a smirk. "I've never once called him that and I've known him for about five year now. How cute is that." 

Yep. This is definitely a trap. I think I'm going to die now. 

Theodore, with a roll of his eyes, made his way to my side and pried at the books pressed to my waist. Confused, and a little daze at the warmth of his fingers grazing my hip, I let go of the three books and watched him with wide eyes. 

He seemed (and looked) unaffected by how everyone eyes were now on him. Walking around and picking another set of the exact books I'd picked out. Theodore paid for them without a word, asking for separate bags and handed a set over to me. 

And then, quietly he says. "Zabini's an idiot." He smiled a winsome one and I am so sure I'm dying and this —whatever this was— is just a figment of my imagination that my brain curated during my dying breath. "I like it. Don't ever stop calling me Theo." 

•••

Blaise Zabini is trying to be matchmaker. I'm sure of it. Or else he wouldn't be bothering me as much as he did now. I can't seem to peacefully spend time in the library without being interrupted by him. 

"Hello," he greeted, smiling as he sat opposing me. I raised an eyebrow and he was able to read me quick enough, telling me the reason he was here. "Just wanted to let you know that Nott finished those three novels he bought and he's looking for someone to talk it over with a cup of tea —or coffee, whichever one you prefer." 

Is he implying what I think he's implying? "Why is that any of my concerns." 

"I thought you might be interested." He shrugged. "Since you know, you fancy Nott and all." 

"I don't fancy Nott." I told him. An obvious lie, and Zabini knew that too. "And he doesn't fancy me so it's just a waste of time." 

"Nott doesn't fancy you?" He's laughing. He's actually laughing. What was so funny about the truth? "What makes you think that?" 

"He literally turns me down I when I asked him out," I said blankly. "It's pretty clear, isn't it?" 

"And what exactly did he say?" Zabini asked playfully, as if he was humoring me. 

"Nothing," I answered. "He just looked at me and said nothing, I don't think I need anything else to tell me that it's an obvious no." 

"Nothing?" Zabini repeated with a grin. "Have you heard of being speechless? Or better yet, you know Nott doesn't really speak right?" 

"That doesn't excuse him saying nothing when I asked him to go on a date," I countered.

"It doesn't," Zabini concurred. "But Nott's an idiot." Funny, Theodore said the exact same thing about Blaise. "Did you know Nott did Malfoy's work for a week without complain just because he let you go that one time you snuck out?" 

No. I don't say. Malfoy did say Nott owe him one but I hadn't thought it important. "What does that have anything to do with what you were talking about?" 

"Because," he says exaggeratedly. "Nott fancies you back. I suspected that he liked you since third year though he won't admit it. He won't even admit that he fancies you now but he's incredibly easy to read." 

I shut my book and looked at him. Really looked at him. Trying to gauge whether he was messing with me or telling the truth. "What am I supposed to do with this information?" 

"Ask him out again," he suggested lightly. "Give him another chance for being the biggest twat there is."

"And have him reject me again?"

"He won't," Zabini says calmly. "He'd burn the entire school down before even thinking of rejecting you." 

I hesitate. "I don't want to embarrass myself again."

"You won't," he says with a roll his eyes. "Look I know being rejected is hard, I think I get it. I've never been rejected before. But I also know that the both of you like each other just as much and it's getting tiring seeing you beat around the bush." 

"Nott won't make the first move. He thinks you hate him now for not answering when you ask so you'd have to ask again —if you still want to be with him that is. Do you? Or else I've been doing all this for nothing." 

Yes. I think. I'm pretty sure that I want to be with him. "Do you know where he is?" 

"Oh," Zabini said delightedly. "He's actually coming here right now. I told him I was coming to find you but never gave him a reason why. He'd be here any —speaking of the devil. Hello, Theo."

Theodore doesn't bother to return his greeting. Eyes heavily set on Zabini in a glare that had me shivering just from the side lines. Then his eyes turn to me and his glare on hardens. 

"Hi, Theo." I don't think I've ever since Theodore like this before. "What are you doing here?" 

"What did he do?" He asked instead. 

"Nothing," I said quickly. "He did nothing. We just talked." 

"About?" 

"Stuff."

"Stuff?" 

"Yes. Stuff." 

"What kind of stuff?" 

"Oh you know," I huffed. "The weather. Coffee. You." 

"Me?" 

"Yes." My lips fold itself into a thin line. "Actually Theo. Could I ask you something?" 

His gaze softens when he nods.I am more than willing to indulge you.I am so sure now, more than ever, that love really is sour grapes. 

"Uhm— would you like to—"

His eyes widened, large as saucers as he processed in my words.

"—go out sometimes?" I finished. "As a Date?" 

One, two, three beats passes and all Theodore did was look at me. No answer. No emotions. No words. Nothing. And I am briefly reminded of everything that happened. 

And then, "yes," he says. "Yes, I would." 

•••

Theodore really did read those books he bought me. This I knew now as I sat under the sun on one of Hogsmeade many benches with Theo to my left. 

This part of Hogsmeade was quiet, it wasn't too far from the shops but far enough for no one to frequent by. A few people passed by trying to move from destination to destination but none noticed the bench wedge into the middle of the place where two fifth years were sat, talking about everything and anything under the moon and stars. 

"So you liked it? You liked 'Listen, boy'?"

"I did." He was smiling and I wished more than anything that I'd had a camera to capture every smile he had given me during the pass hours. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes," I laugh and his smile widens. "It just doesn't seem like you. It's a cheesy and corny book and you're always so dark and broody about everything." 

"I'm not dark and broody about everything," he denied. 

"You are!" I countered. "You were even dark and broody when I'd first asked you out."

"That's 'cause I didn't know what to say," he says truthfully. "You could've said yes, that would've made it easy for the both of us," I told him. "I really couldn't. You don't deserve just a yes. You deserved everything, not something so simple." 

"But that yes would've made my week, Theo." 

Theo looked like he was about to say something before he changed his mind. "I'm sorry I didn't say yes when you'd first asked me. Could you ever forgive me?" 

I want to kiss him until his lips, his skin, his hands, his scent, every tiny bit of him is imprinted in my mind. "Yes." I say. "Yes, I think I could." 

Theodore chuckled, his nose crinkling at the motion and something between that laugh and smile of his causes me to lose it. 

My hand reached forward first, palm pressing against his cheek, pulling him closer to me and pressed my lips onto his. I kissed him once then as I reached to pull away; I find that both of his hands had found their way to my cheeks, holding me still as he kissed me back. 

Theodore pulled back, the tiniest of smile on his lips that had the smallest smudge of my lipstick attached to it. And he tells me, as if he had been thinking of this for days, years, lifetimes. "You are the prettiest girl I've ever seen." 

And when I smiled, Theo leans back in. Peppering quick kisses on my lips, my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, anywhere I would let him kiss me; he will cherish it. 

Once Theo finally pulls back —and this was for real this time, no more quick kisses. He looks at me and I know deep down that he will be the death of me when he says. "You are going to be the death of me."

— from bee: the thing about theo is that we know nothing about him so you can’t say that this is ooc :>

[crescenthistory]

I was reading your Animagus Reader fics and absolutely loved them so I had a little idea/request.

Regulus x Animagus!Reader where she is in her animagus form and she falls asleep in the library. It's already night and people are going to bed and so Barty wonders into the library and finds cat animagus reader, asleep and so bc he loves "his" treasure so much, he doesn't wake her up(surprisingly) and takes her back to his dorm where Regulus. Because Regulus is a spectacular boyfriend, he immediately recognizes his wonderful girlfriends animagus form and questions Barty why he has her. It's up to you how Barty responds and the entire conversation but, at some point Regulus asks for Barty to hand over reader to him and starts to whines and complains about how Regulus always hogs reader and he barely gets time with her, etc but, he even goes as far to say that he wants to cuddle with reader tonight but, Regulus gets her anyway(she is purring through this entire interaction).

Barty is also the type of friend I feel like who is cooing at her through this entire process even though she is asleep and can't hear it.

babe, i absolutely ADORE your vision for bsf!barty and his dynamic with regulus and reader. i wholeheartedly agree with the characterisation. i literally just expanded this exact take into a drabble, hope you enjoy mwah<3

Words: 1.5k

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, barty pov, bsf!barty intended to be platonic but can be read ambiguously for both reader and regulus, implied background rosekiller, platonic and romantic physical affection, you're asleep through this whole fic lol, an appearance of pyro!barty

Note: as always, this is whiskers, the cat!animagus!reader i have written several fics for, starting with this one

Barty was bored. Endlessly so.

Evan and Pandora were off in Ravenclaw cooking up some potion Barty was strictly instructed to stay the hells away from. Regulus was off reading some stupid bloody paperback that Barty could swear he had seen him read before yet somehow chose to prioritise above him. And you, his favourite person, had not been seen or heard from for the past few hours. Probably off doing some studying like the swot you are, much to his chagrin. 

Barty was bored and his friends were boring.

What else could he do but go skipping down hallways until he finds something to do, then?

He had made it all the way through half of the library without finding any intriguing stimuli and he was growing jittery. With lanky fingers, he fished his muggle lighter out of his pocket and began flickering with it as he walked, eyes scanning the shelves.

There was a giddy itch rushing through him as he flicked the lighter on and off, on and off, the smell of it filling his nostrils familiarily.

Until his jumping gaze suddenly zeroed in on the one figure in the Hogwarts library that might have distracted him – a perfect treasure lying peacefully curled up on a coffee table between some settees. Whiskers, in all her white and grey fluffy glory, fast asleep with the cutest crinkled nose he could have imagined.

“There you are, kitten,” Barty cooed as his long legs sprung to action, marching towards your sleeping form. In the nearly abandoned library, he did his best to remain quiet and not wake you. He crouched in front of the table so his face was level with yours and an instinctive smile spread across his lips, one you had called soft once despite his many denials.

He reached out his right hand to scratch gently against your cheek in that spot that always had you purring, his messy stick and poke tattoos melting perfectly into your patterned fur. You heaved a dreamy sigh, nuzzling your face against Barty’s touch, still fast asleep.

“What’re you doing here, hm?” he asked despite knowing he could get no answer lest he wake you – something he refused to do.

Barty threw a quick glance to one of the many clocks scattered across the library, seeing that curfew was steadily nearing. When he went scouring for something to quell his itches, missing curfew was part of the point, but he knew that for you, this was likely a mistake. Judging by the notes strewn around you and your backpack still laying on a chair behind you that seemed to have been housing someone just a few minutes ago, you had not intended to fall asleep here. 

And even if Barty’s friends were boring, he did love the suckers, so–

“Alright, kitten, time to go home.” 

With the wave of his wand, he gathered all your belongings back into your backpack and easily slid it over his shoulders. Wearing none of the smugness one might have expected of Barty in this situation – just a small, indulging smile – Barty scooped you up into his arms. He quickly navigated your form from the table to slumping against his chest, trying to minimise the amount of movement you were subjected to, all the while making sweet noises to keep your mind tethered to its dreams.

Your feline face twitched a little, but required little more than his soothing voice and warm skin to fall back into your rest. 

Barty took a quick spin around to check if he had everything and once he was satisfied, he dropped a featherlight kiss in between your ears. “Come now, you absolute nerd. The library is no place to sleep.”

In contrast to his skipping and twirling from earlier, Barty stalked steadily through the hallways as he made his way down to the dungeons, only ever occasionally swaying you in his arms if you began to stir. He opened doors with wandless magic, at last grateful for Dorcas hounding him about practicing it so much – “you never know when you’ll need it, B” she had all but growled at him. Yeah, Cas, like when our feline friend is simply too cute to be awoken to the horrible sight of the sodding library.

Still, he was Barty Crouch Junior, so he made the stairs up to the boys’ dorm two at a time, an entirely new excitement growing in him at the thought of you sleeping over – and getting to rub his unearthed treasure in Regulus’ face.

The door opened with a creak at the flick of Barty’s wrist, and as he toed it open with his scratched up uniform shoes, Regulus’ voice already sounded through the room. “Barty? Have you seen Y/N?”

Barty turned around to shoulder the door open instead, so that his back was towards Regulus under the preface of closing the door behind him. “Oh yeah, I actually saw she found herself a new bloke. Much better looking.”

By the time he turned around with a flourish – cradling you even closer to his chest to ensure you weren’t rattled by his antics – Regulus was staring at him with a deadpan that suggested he already knew this new bloke had to be Barty.

“Ha ha,” Regulus said dryly, but his expression quickly softened when his eyes landed upon your sleeping self.

He had been laid out on his bed with his head propped up by pillows, his legs crossed by the ankles and his favourite paperback resting on his stomach, but he placed it face-down on his bedsheets in favour of sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at you with a smile.

“Hi, amour. Fell asleep again?” His voice was so sweet that Barty simply had to convey his nausea through faux puking.

“She fell asleep and is still asleep thank you very much, so don’t you dare wake her with your questions,” Barty reprimanded in a low voice before turning his attention back to you. Swaying you ever so slightly, he nuzzled his face against yours, causing you to purr loudly in instinctive response. “Aren’t you the cutest when you sleep, huh kitten?” He cooed, laying it on extra thick.

“Yeah yeah, and I suppose you’re the hero for fetching her.” Regulus rolled his eyes, walking up to stand in front of Barty. He reached out a finger to stroke across your face, but Barty backed away before he could.

“Precisely,” he said with mock arrogance. “I’m the hero, so I get to cuddle with the cute cat.”

“The cute cat is my girlfriend, Junior,” Regulus drawled. “And I’ve missed her. So hand her over.”

Barty looked him up and down, grin growing disturbingly. “No. I don’t think I will. You, Black, hog her too much. Time for you to share.”

Before Regulus could reach out and catch him, Barty sidestepped the curly-haired boy and went to settle down on his own bed. Regulus huffed and stalked after him, but Barty managed to toe off his shoes and slip beneath his blankets still with you in his arms.

“Barty, you cannot be serious,” Regulus all but whined.

“No, that’s your brother.” If Regulus had rolled his eyes harder, Barty was sure they would have popped out. “I’ve missed her too and finder’s keepers. So if you’re that desperate to spend time with her, then get in.”

Barty and Evan had magically widened their beds years ago to have more comfortable sleepovers, and seeing as their third was still out with his twin sister, there was ample space for Regulus to be able to slip in beside Barty.

The other boy huffed, looking around the room as if searching for a final form of leverage. When he came up empty, he scowled at Barty before all but ripping the blankets back. “I hate you, you know.”

Barty hummed as if he couldn’t be more in agreement all the while shimmying close against Regulus once he got comfortable. 

You shifted in Barty’s arms so that your hind legs and tail curled around Regulus’ upper arm, drawing an immediate cooing sound from him that made Barty giggle. Regulus couldn’t even deign to shove his best friend for his disrespect, his grey irises seemingly glued to you. Every movement of your whiskers, the steady rise and fall of your chest, the warmth seeming to emanate off of you.

“She was in the library?” Regulus asked in a quiet voice, lithe fingers grazing up and down your sides.

“Mhm, on top of that table she likes to sit by. Overstudied, I’m sure. You two swots deserve each other.”

Regulus shook his head with a smile, leaning his weight further against Barty’s side so that he could press kisses to your hind paws. Barty was grinning down at the two of you, happy for his friends and elated at having his way.

“No. None of us deserve her.” Regulus said it matter-of-factly. At the very same time you yawned and stretched burying your head into the material of Barty’s jumper, making him coo down at you lovingly, every bit as nauseating as he accused Regulus of being.

“For once I agree with you, my sweet Reggie.”

[thatdammchickennugget]

Marii!! May I pretty please have a potion: fluff and/or hurt/comfort + Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader + lost in the woods... where they start talking about everything while "looking for the end of the woods" and then Remus starts venting because reader is so easy to talk to and so eager to listen to him, he actually feels safe with her, and when he is done he says how are we going to get out of here or something like that and reader is just "actually I know how to get out of here it's just you seemed to need a good listener Rem". Ps: while walking Remus realizes reader can make friends with literally all the creatures in the woods and finds her so fascinating. anyways totally understadable if you don't vibe with this!!

Much love

pairing -remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings - none

a/n - hope you like it, thanks for requesting💕 much love to you too!! 💕

wordcount - 1.2k

follower celebration // celebration masterlist

The moon is just a sliver tonight, a pale crescent hanging low in the sky, casting a faint silver glow through the trees. The woods are dark, the kind of dark that presses in around you, but you’re not afraid. You’ve always liked the way the world feels bigger out here, like the forest has secrets it’s willing to share if you’re just quiet enough to listen. And you’ve got company, which makes it even better.

Remus walks beside you, his hands tucked into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched. The night is cool, but not cold, and he’s been quiet, his eyes scanning the shadows as though he’s trying to find something hidden in them. You don’t mind the quiet—Remus has always been one for comfortable silences, and you’ve grown to appreciate the way he doesn’t need to fill every moment with words.

“So,” you say, breaking the stillness with your light, airy tone, “where do you think the end of the woods is?”

Remus glances at you, and you can see the corner of his mouth twitch, like he’s fighting back a smile. “The end of the woods?”

“Yes, the end,” you say, spreading your arms wide as you walk, stepping over a gnarled root. “Every forest has an edge, doesn’t it? I want to see where this one stops, where the trees decide they’ve had enough and make way for something else.”

He chuckles, a low, warm sound that makes your heart flutter. “I’m not sure it works like that,” he says. “But I suppose we can try to find it. We have no idea where we are going anyways.”

You beam at him, pleased to have coaxed a smile out of him. It feels like a tiny victory, a crack in the armor he always seems to wear. The two of you continue walking, winding through the trees, stepping over fallen branches and weaving between ferns. Occasionally, a rustle in the underbrush catches your attention, and you pause, turning to find a small creature peeking out at you—a rabbit, a hedgehog, even a fox at one point. They seem drawn to you, coming out of their hiding spots as if they’re not afraid. You bend down to offer them a gentle word or a smile, and they linger for a moment before darting back into the shadows.

Remus watches this with a kind of quiet fascination, like he’s trying to figure out how you do it. “They seem to like you,” he says softly, almost as if he’s talking to himself.

“Of course they do,” you reply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m friendly.”

He laughs, shaking his head, but you can see the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, like he’s seeing something he doesn’t quite understand but wants to. You keep walking, the path twisting and turning, and you can tell he’s relaxing a little, the tension slowly easing from his shoulders. It makes you happy, knowing that just being here with him, in this quiet place, is enough to do that.

After a while, you notice him stealing glances at you, like he’s trying to find the words for something. You let the silence stretch, giving him the space to speak if he wants to, but not pushing. And then, finally, he does.

“I’m not… good at talking about things,” he says, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Not like you are.”

You tilt your head, curious. “What do you mean?”

He takes a deep breath, and you can see the way his chest rises and falls, like he’s trying to steady himself. “I mean… it’s hard for me to open up. To let people in. I’ve spent so much time… hiding parts of myself. Even from my friends.” He looks down at his hands, fingers curled into the fabric of his sleeves. “But with you, it’s… different. You make it easy.”

You don’t say anything, just let him keep talking, and he does, slowly, like he’s peeling away layers one by one. He tells you about the things that weigh on him, the fear of hurting the people he cares about, the feeling of being different, of never quite fitting in. The way he’s learned to hide behind sarcasm and quiet smiles, because it’s easier than letting people see how much he’s struggling. And as he speaks, his words come faster, tumbling out of him like they’ve been waiting for this moment, waiting for someone to listen.

You walk beside him, quiet and patient, letting him take his time. You don’t interrupt, don’t try to fix it or tell him that everything will be okay. You just listen, and he can feel it, the way you’re really listening, and it makes him feel lighter, like he’s finally putting down something he’s been carrying for far too long.

By the time he finishes, you’ve reached a small clearing, the moonlight spilling down through the gaps in the branches above. You stop, turning to face him, and he meets your gaze, looking a little bit lost, like he’s not sure what comes next.

“Thank you,” he says, and it sounds like he means it, like it’s not just for tonight but for every little thing you’ve done since he met you. “I didn’t realize how much I needed that.”

You smile, a soft, gentle smile that makes his chest ache. “You’re welcome, Remus.” You pause, then add, almost playfully, “It’s what friends are for, isn’t it?”

He nods, but there’s something else in his eyes, something warm and grateful and just a little bit sad. “Yeah. I suppose so.”

The moment lingers, and then he glances around, a faint smile playing on his lips. “How are we going to get out of here, anyway? I’m pretty sure we’re lost.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Lost? We’re not lost.”

He blinks, clearly confused. “We’re not?”

“Nope,” you say, popping the ‘p’ and grinning at him. “I know exactly where we are.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?” he asks, but there’s a hint of amusement in his voice now, like he’s starting to catch on.

You shrug, trying to look innocent. “Because you seemed to need a good listener. And I’m very good at that.”

He stares at you for a moment, then shakes his head, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thank you,” you say brightly, taking it as a compliment. “I try.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just looks at you, and you can see the way his eyes soften, like he’s seeing you in a new light. “I’m glad I got 'lost' with you,” he says, and it’s quiet, almost like he’s afraid you won’t hear it, but you do, and it makes your heart swell.

“Me too,” you reply, and you mean it, every word. You reach out and take his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezes back, holding on a little tighter than he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go.

The path back to the edge of the woods is easier now, even though the trees are still tall and the shadows still deep. Because you’re not really looking for the end of the woods anymore. You’ve already found what you were looking for—something warm and bright, something that makes the dark seem a little less daunting. And as long as you’re walking beside Remus, you don’t mind if the journey takes a little longer.

[crescenthistory]

would you pretty please do "you can't fool me" with sirius? maybe he had a nightmare? please?

only because you asked so nicely<33

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 1 "you can't fool me" with sirius black

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: implied past trauma, post-nightmare, established relationship

wc: 809

Sirius' breathing was always different after a nightmare.

He didn't hyperventilate like one might expect he would, he didn't gasp for breath like his lungs were too small. Instead, he breathed in shortly, acutely, through his teeth and not enough, as if he was rationing air. Small breaths that rattled him more than they should as he did his best to remain entirely still.

You, James and Remus gave him grief as often as possible about how unruly he would be in his sleep now, arms and legs everywhere, but you knew that was a good thing. A learnt thing. A matter of safety.

It was when Sirius reverted back to his old ways and became still as a statue that you knew he was aching. It pained you to see – and now that you've gotten used to him taking up space, it was his stillness that woke you above all else.

"Siri? Baby?"

His back was to you, on the very edge of the bed despite there being a large amount of space for him to bask in. You could see his ribs moving rhythmically, shaking but quick and with too long in between. 

He didn't respond, but his shoulders tensed, informing you he had heard you. It was as if you could hear his thoughts in your own head, begging you, willing you to go back to sleep.

I’m alright, doll. Please fall asleep again.

You were not one for carrying out disservices to the man you love. 

Gently as to not startle him, but loudly enough to not sneak up on him, you sat up in the bed, letting the duvet pool around your stomach. You shimmied over to him so you sat with your thigh pressed to his back and a hand resting on his stomach, looking down onto the side of his face. 

Sirius’ eyes were pressed shut, skin wrinkling from the force of it. The ragged, controlled breathing continued.

“My lovely boy,” you whispered, barely a sound. Your hand dragged up and down his side in the way you knew usually helps. Just enough force to ground him. 

Sirius made a sound you think was supposed to be a dismissive huff, but his vocal chords were too tense and lungs too empty for it to become more than a quiet grunt. You sunk further down beside him, propped up on your elbow as you carefully carded your fingers through his dark curls, wild and matted with sleep.

“I’m alright,” he eventually forced out, voice hoarse. His eyes were still squeezed shut, body still turned away from you – but he was leaning into the touch of your hands, the first step. 

“You can’t fool me, love.”

No judgements, no harshness. You just tried to be a soft figure for him to fall into when ready.

Sirius’ lips tugged up into a small sad smile. They were still twitching somewhat, as if protesting him asserting control over his body again after fear’s coup d'État, but the smile remained. 

“I know.” He leaned back into your chest, turning his head ever so slightly so he could open his eyes into tiny slits and look at your sleep-riddled face. “I still try.”

You welcomed his gaze with a much more assured, wide smile. You dared drop your chin the few centimetres to press a kiss to his forehead as you hummed in confirmation. “You can keep trying if you’d like, but I won’t go away.”

Your last words seemed to strike a chord as Sirius hand shot from being tucked beneath his body to find your own. “Please don’t,” he said, hurried while quiet. “Never. That’s not what I actually want.”

Maintaining your calm energy, you kept pressing kisses around his face. “I won’t, I promise. I won’t. I know what you want and need. I can see it on you, sweetheart. Even if you were to ask me, I wouldn’t leave.” 

Sirius’ eyes were wide open now, round as ever. He blinked one more time before finally heaving a huge sigh, his lungs seemingly crying from relief. Your fingers dutifully stayed in his hair as he turned around to face you, body naturally curling up against your own.

“You’re too good to me.” He whispered in greeting, burying his face into your bare neck. “Too good.” His words were slurred by the twitching of his lips and now the closeness to his skin, but you felt them in their entirety.

It was odd how Sirius seemed to always mould perfectly against you, a harmonious presence even in his troubledness. 

“Not too good,” you murmured into his hair. “Just trying to be good enough.”

Sirius pulled back a little to gaze fondly up at you. “Now who’s fooling who?”

When you kissed him with your smile, you could feel him breathing a bit more normally against you.

[crescenthistory]

could i pretty please with a cherry on top ask you to argue for dialogue prompt 62 with sirius?? 🥹🤭

you absolutely can<33 this is a bit angsty but mostly in the bittersweet way, i promise. i just adore the thought of sirius falling for a slytherin during the war and learning to understand and forgive his brother through them...

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

i will ARGUE for prompt 62 "this means war, my dear" with sirius black

carina's 2k celebration

✶・•・✦・•・✶・✶・•・✦・•・✶

cw: fem!reader, hurt/comfort, pre-established relationship, background wizarding war, reader was friends with the slytherin skittles, implied death eater barty

wc: 1k

Sirius was always the best of the bunch to distract you.

When the meetings became longer and more frequent and when you felt you were spending more time at various safe houses than in your own bed, Sirius had become the one you would subconsciously turn to. Whether he realised the position you had accidentally bestowed upon him or not, you did not know, but he seemed to readily accept it regardless.

Prior to the Order, you never really spoke with Sirius Black, being a year below him and close friends with his little brother and the other Slytherins. Had someone told you four years ago that you would seek him out in corners and laugh quietly together, you would have thought them mad and, perhaps worse, thought yourself a traitor.

Yet, here you were. 

When you excused yourself for a glass of water, there was Sirius, ready with the cup. When you got up to pace by the window, he would sit down in the windowsill, so you weren’t alone. When you could not sleep at night, you went to the living room where you almost always found him sitting with some beat up guitar, playing some tune you never knew.

It remained unspoken, but you reckoned he kept you tethered more than you’d care to realise.

Dorcas was with you in the Order, but it was in part because you were such close friends that you struggled turning to her. So, it became Sirius. You weren’t sure how, when or why, but it became him.

Dumbledore had called the Order together to spend the weekend in Potter Manor, planning an extraction of muggleborns that were held up in Southern Wales by some death eaters there. Officially, you didn’t have any names on death eaters involved yet, but from the minute Moody described one of them as having “acid green hair”, you were mentally checked out for the rest of the day. Everyone knew, you could tell from the weight on their eyes on you, but you couldn’t focus.

You excused yourself early, and found yourself sat on the floor in front of an old record player that had gathered dust, looking through the piles upon piles of records, not really seeing any of them.

A beat up pair of black boots came into view seconds before he spoke. “Some music to drown out your thoughts?”

You looked up to meet Sirius’ eyes, already hearing the joking tone in his voice and relieved to find the same atmosphere on his face. He crouched down next to you, so you wouldn’t have to strain your neck and bumped his shoulder into yours. “What’re we listening to, princess?”

He questioned you, but he didn't hurry you, allowing you to take your time to process your thoughts and connect your mind back into a conversational mode. You gave him a weak smile. “I don’t really know, I haven’t looked at them properly yet.”

Sirius had the grace not to comment on the fact that you had been sitting before the records for a good 20 minutes – on the contrary, he looked completely unphased, still smiling that easy smile of his. The more you got to know him, the more the suspicion that it wasn’t all that easy settled into you. It only made you more grateful to have it bestowed upon you.

“Well, this is Uncle Wulfric’s collection mostly, so it’s quite outdated. None of the David Bowie, Freddie Mercury crowd, but I believe he has some Andrews Sisters, Glenn Miller and the likes.”

You sometimes forgot that Potter Manor was as much his house as James’.

“Oh, that’s alright.” You didn’t quite recognise your own voice as you spoke. “I don’t really listen to a lot of Bowie anyway.”

Sirius turned on his heels to you, grabbing your knee with one hand and his chest with the other as he gasped theatrically. “You simply cannot say any such blasphemous words to me, princess, I’ll have a stroke. I’m terribly sorry, but this means war, my dear.” 

He nodded at you gravely but squeezed your knee to show it was all in jest. You surprised even yourself when a laugh bubbled up past your lips, rumbling your body in a delightful way. 

Sirius’ eyes widened along with his smile as he took in the sight. His eyes read mission accomplished and you deigned not to think too much about its implications. 

You held your hands up in surrender as the mirth continued its dance across your face. “Fetch me a white flag to wave, would you? We’ve got enough war on our hands without me angering the Almighty Music Knower.”

Sirius dropped his chin to his chest and chuckled, looking up at you through his stray dark curls and long eyelashes.

“What do you say then, pretty girl?” He squeezed your knee again. “Can I put on some Ella Fitzgerald for you?”

Your eyes followed his gaze to the Fitzgerald plate propped up against the side of the record player. It seemed well-loved. “You may,” you said with faux recession, to which Sirius’ grin became more beaming.

He leaned over past you, putting his knee down on the ground right beside yours to reach the record player and pop the plate on with skilled precession – a comfortable action, one he has done many times before. You didn’t move to give him more room, instead you allowed him into your space, basking in how it seemed to ground you.

Sirius smelled like his shampoo and leather jacket, even when he wasn’t wearing it, and though his skin was cold whenever it brushed yours, you still ached for its proximity. 

This odd feeling going through you was perhaps something to look into after all of this, when the only war that was waged was the one between you and Sirius apparently, over what music to listen to. For now, when he gave you a smile that was equal parts fond and reassuring, you simply did your best to return it.

[incorrectharrypotterblog]

Hermione: why are threesomes only for sex

Hermione: why can’t I join in on a couples argument if I want to

[ellecdc]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Erm, no; I was quite alright here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[scuderiavale]

‘why do you read “various x reader stories?”’

first, i’m a narcissist and will not read it if it’s not about me

second, I love the feeling of people liking me

third, I was ignored as a child

[ellecdc]

saw the blurbs rq post and immediately need

“i never knew i could feel this loved.”

w barty 🙏🙏🙏🙏

ugh friggen barty - I’ve missed him! Also sorry if it’s not too good, I wrote it on my phone. That means I also have no idea how long it is!! Thanks for the prompt 🫶

Barty Crouch Junior x Potter!reader who are at the manor over the school break

CW: touch starved barty (don’t worry, he gets touched), talking about grounding exercises, fluff

The school matron always told Barty to recite the “grounding lists” to help when things got to be too much.

What a load of rubbish. Who in the hells can recite 5 things they can see, 4 things they can hear, 3 things they can feel, 2 things they can smell, and 1 thing they can taste when they’re having a bloody fucking meltdown?

Not him, that’s for damn sure.

The only time Barty could imagine being able to do that was when he was already grounded.

Like now.

From his position on the sofa, laying on his stomach and situated between your legs with his face on your stomach, he could:

See

The plush, red velvet loveseat of the living room in your family home

The great expanse of pictures that hung along the walls of your living room

The half empty bowl of crisps the two of you had been sharing as you watched a movie

The throw blanket in a heap on the floor that the two of you kicked off of your intertwined forms

And the muggle tell-a-vision that was stuck on some fuzzy popcorn type screen because the two of you were too lazy to turn it off now that the movie was over

Hear

The low, staticky popcorn sound that the telly was making

The sound of your heart beat; so full of love that Barty swore it beat louder than anyone else’s

The distant sound of your parents laughing and conversing somewhere else in the manor

The sound of his thumb brushing over the space where the sleeve of your jumper gave way to the skin of your wrist

Feel

The rise and fall of your chest with every breath that you took

The fabric of the cashmere jumper he bought for you under his cheek

The warmth of your hand where it rested in his hair

Smell

The cinnamon and nutmeg candle you lit before the movie

The unmistakeable smell of you that Barty could never get enough of

And as he ran his tongue over his lips, he could still taste you from when you’d pressed a kiss to his lips before getting comfortable.

“Barty?” You whispered as though you weren’t sure he was still awake.

“Yes, my beautiful darling angel?”

You were quiet for a moment, and Barty could tell you were smiling to yourself.

“What are you thinking about?”

He lifted his head to rest his chin on your stomach so he could look at you; your hair was rather rumpled from the throw pillows, your eyes were clearly more than a little heavy, and Barty was sure that if you were alone, you’d probably be asleep by now. But you seemed to be putting 100% of your energy and effort into the loving gaze you were shooting at him, and Barty wondered - not for the first time - what in the hells he ever did to deserve you.

“I never knew I could feel this loved.” He admitted.

You froze for a moment; the breath you were in the middle of taking paused on its way out as your brows furrowed minutely before you expertly schooled your expression.

“Yeah?”

Barty hummed in agreement and pressed a kiss to your sternum.

“That’s funny,” you said as he lowered his cheek back onto your stomach, “I was just thinking the same thing.”

[old-habits-die-screaming]

oh to be immortal and be able to consume every piece of knowledge and literature ever

[green-moonie]

breaking point

[resvarie]

the inquisition’s spymaster

(leliana fans….. come join @lelianazine… contributor apps are still open!)

[mrmumus]

The old house

[rudamaruda520]

[on the phone]

Sirius: Where are you? Dinner is getting cold!

Remus: Waiting for the bus.

Sirius: Hurry up!

Remus: Ok, I'll be waiting faster, you cunt.

[themoonyandtosaturn]

why can't gay people flirt normally

like "ur cute," "no ur cute," isn't that hard

it doesn't have to be:

"finally the flesh reflects the madness within,"

"well, you'd know all about the madness within wouldn't you remus?"

[alexsays-no]

Happy Valentine’s Day to all the friendships out there too 💕