poly!moonwater x fem!reader who wakes up from anesthesia [1.3k words]
a/n: I've been craving hospital fics lately and also haven't written for moonwater in so long so.... voila! 🤭
CW: hospitals, reference to IV line, reader is discombobulated, fluff
Your body feels cold on the inside, as if there’s ice water being pumped through your veins leaving your skin hot but your blood running cold. You wonder if that should concern you, but you can’t seem to find it in you, what with the rhythmic beeping coming from some machine to the side of your bed.
You were just beginning to grow accustomed to the feeling of your chest rising and falling under the thin blankets when the door to your room opens.
“Oh-” a curly headed bloke murmurs, all but tossing the various snacks he’d been carrying on a few uncomfortable looking chairs to free his hands before coming to stand beside your bed. He’s handsome; sweet looking, with black ringlets that are desperate to be long enough to tuck behind his ears but aren’t quite, dark and perfectly arched eyebrows drawn together in the middle on your behalf as his grey eyes scan your face. “Have you been awake long?”
You weren’t aware you’d ever been asleep, but your attention is drawn instead to the way his hand gently encircles your own, careful of an IV line expertly taped on the back of your hand.
“I’m not sure.” You offer; the words rough and grating, ripping through your throat before they force their way out of your sandpaper mouth. His brows twitch closer together sympathetically as a tsking sound escapes him.
“I’m so sorry, my love; we wanted to be here when you woke up.”
He uncaps a bottle of water he seems to have procured out of thin air and brings it to your lips, and you find that you can’t really bring yourself to question the intimacy of the moment when your mouth feels so dry. His hold on the back of your head is reverent, laying it gently back down on the pillow when you finish drinking.
“How’re you feeling?” He asks, setting the water bottle down on a rolling tray table beside your bed and perching on the edge; your hand officially being held hostage between his two delicate ones.
“I feel…weird.” You admit warily; it doesn’t seem too concerning to the bloke, though, who merely nods at you as if that was expected.
“You’ll feel better soon, amour. Everything went really well.”
You get the sense this is meant to be reassuring, but the rhythmic beeping that was coming from your side is starting to be more cause for anxiety than its former relaxation. You’re embarrassed when you flinch as the bloke moves to wipe some baby hairs away from your forehead; you’re mortified that he notices.
“Are you alright?”
“Are we- why are you here?” You blurt, too thrown by the apparent intimacy that the two of you share – or, that he seems to think the two of you share, at the very least – to carefully consider your words.
“I’ve been here the whole time, Y/N. We only left to get some snacks for when you woke up.”
You don’t have time to get caught up on the we of that sentence, almost scrutinizing him when he readjusts the blankets around you as a shiver shakes your frame.
And then you spot a beaded bracelet on his wrist.
“Reg.” You narrate; the familiar feeling of the name on your lips filling in a few more blanks. “You’re Regulus.”
Regulus’ shoulders fall in semi-relief, though he seems rather crest-fallen to learn that you feel rather disoriented.
“You’re having a hard time remembering me, aren’t you?” He concludes, smiling sadly at you when you nod your head in the affirmative. “I’m sorry, amour; that must’ve been kind of scary.”
“Not too scary; you seemed nice enough.” You placate, surprised when this elicits a sharp, surprised laugh from him. You get the feeling such blatant and spontaneous displays of emotion don’t happen often for him.
“Well that’s good; I’m very glad.”
The two of you fall into a comfortable albeit shy silence; the beeping coming from your side returning to a more relaxed cadence as you watch Regulus’ thumb brush soothing strokes just above the tape on your hand that you’ve only just decided is really very itchy.
“Do you have any other questions?” He asks gently, bending ever so slightly in an attempt to meet your eyes.
“Are we…together?”
He smiles as if he knew that was going to be your question, but his cheeks gain a dusting of pink regardless.
“Yes, we’re together.”
You fight the urge to fidget with the threadbare blanket. “You’re my boyfriend?”
He nods with a smile, bringing your hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it. You’ve never wanted to rip something off of yourself more than you wanted to pull at the IV, catheter and veins be damned. “And you’re my girlfriend.”
You let out a breath of relief, feeling yourself settle further into the bed now that your present company doesn’t leave you with so many questions.
Your eyes begin to grow heavy, and you’re only just realizing that the soothing strokes of Regulus’ fingers are not entirely innocent as your body melts further and further into the hospital bed until the door opens again to expose another, taller bloke with bottles of water and fizzy drinks in his arms.
“I didn’t know what kind you’d want so I got a few options; I’m sure one of these will appeal to Y/N when she wakes up.” He explains, his gaze pointed at the beverage haul as he clumsily sets them down on a chair next to the one holding the snacks.
He moves towards the bed to press a lingering kiss to the crown of Regulus’ head – an affectionate arm wrapping itself around Regulus’ smaller frame as he pulls him into his side – before he realizes that you’re awake.
That you’re awake, and all but glaring at him.
There’s a vague part of you somewhere deep in your psyche that tells you this is no cause for concern, but you’re pretty sure other blokes aren’t meant to be kissing your boyfriend.
“Hi, sweetheart. How long have you been up?”
You feel your brows furrow further, and Regulus answers on your behalf.
“Not too long, I don’t think. She may have just woken up before I got back.”
The taller man hums as he affectionately squeezes your hand sitting atop Regulus’; the beeping beside you performing another crescendo as your eyes flit between the two boys.
“Remus is your boyfriend too, amour.” Regulus placates with a teasing smile. “You’re alright.”
“What?” Remus asks; his brows mirroring yours as he looks between the two of you warily.
“I just had to explain to her that I’m her boyfriend and then you came barging in and kissed me.” Regulus explained dryly, though it’s clear that he enjoys pretending to be chiding.
Remus laughs, reaching blindly behind him to pull a chair towards the edge of your bed, never letting go of your hand in the process. “I’m sorry, dovey; I didn’t mean to confuse you.”
You feel like you might simultaneously shrink and bloom under the weight of his honeyed eyes and the somewhat familiar moniker falling from his lips; your blinks growing heavier once again as you fall into a content, comfortable silence save the rhythmic beeping beside you.
You find that you don’t want to close your eyes, though; you have gold and silver ones to admire.
As if reading your mind, Remus brings your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles in almost the exact same place Regulus had moments before. “We’ll be here when you wake up, dove. Go back to sleep.”
It seems a shame to waste your time looking at the back of your eyelids instead of the two boys in front of you, but the beeping seems to slow and lulls you further into sleep’s welcoming embrace; intricate lines of morse code telling you that you have nothing to worry about, you can stare at them later.
hii, entering my senior year I've been going insane over school so I was wondering if you could do an academic-sensitive reader that has a really tough time on DADA because that year had an incompetent or awful teacher? with Remus or moonwater since they'd also get frustrated with the professor (plus points if they were all doing good in previous years, this year was just a lockhart or umbridge situation) It's super understandable if this isn't doable, thank you either way ♥️
Unqualified
poly!moonwater x reader 2.7k
summary: after the new professor sets on humiliating you, defense against the dark arts becomes a nightmare. when you break down after class, regulus and remus find you and decide they’re going to make sure you never doubt yourself again.
warnings: horrible professor, accusatory comments, verbal humiliation, crying, protective remus and regulus, hurt/comfort.
a/n: this is so choppy, sorry anon </3 not proofread!
Some professors were truly the most unqualified, shit-ass, bloody teachers to ever step foot in Hogwarts and you meant that with your entire chest.
It wasn’t just that Professor Wilkes was a terrible teacher, with his monotone voice and confusing explanations. His thinly veiled, shady comments about werewolves, which left Remus tense and silent, only made him more unbearable.
But it was more than that. He seemed to take a particular delight in humiliating you.
Maybe he didn’t like how outspoken you were in class, or how you never backed down when he tried to assert his superiority. Perhaps he simply took pleasure in belittling others, a bitter soul who thrived on cruelty.
Whatever it was, today was no different.
The class had finally ended. Students shuffled toward the door in tired, aimless waves, murmuring to one another, their movements sluggish. You exhaled softly, thinking you had survived yet another of his lectures unscathed, only to hear your name cut sharply through the stale classroom air.
You froze, your chest tightening as all the conversation around you dissolved into silence. His eyes bore into yours like an accusation.
"Miss (Y/L/N)," he began, voice loud and deliberate, carrying over the shuffling and chatter as students packed up their things, "it seems you have once again submitted work that is, shall we say, not your own. Tell me, did you actually write this essay yourself, or was it borrowed from someone more competent?"
Your stomach knotted. The words felt like cold steel against your skin, loud enough for the remaining students to hear. Your cheeks burned and your hands curled into fists at your sides. You opened your mouth, ready to defend yourself, heart pounding.
"Professor Wilkes," you said, voice steady though your throat felt tight, "I wrote it myself. Every word. I researched every source and cited everything correctly. I—"
He cut you off, a thin smile twisting his lips into something mocking. "You expect me to believe that? Hours of effort, and yet the quality is so poor it can hardly be distinguished from a rushed forgery. I would almost applaud your audacity if it were not so laughably inadequate."
You blinked, refusing to let the sting of his words silence you. "I did not steal it! I worked hard! Every paragraph is mine!"
He leaned back slightly, the picture of condescension, and let out a soft, derisive chuckle. "Hard work is no substitute for talent, and audacity will not cover incompetence. Perhaps you are too naive to understand that your so-called diligence is nothing compared to the actual skill required here. Some of you will never rise beyond your limits, no matter how much you toil."
The words landed like stones in your stomach, heavy and suffocating. You felt a tremor in your hands, your vision blurring with tears you had fought to suppress.
This was not the first time he had humiliated you, and you knew it would not be the last. You had always been resilient, used to challenges, but his cruelty carried a weight that made your chest ache and your mind reel.
You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as you clenched your jaw. "I am not incapable," you whispered, though your voice cracked. "I can improve. I will improve."
He regarded you with a detached gaze, as if you were already beneath his notice, and then, without another word, turned and strode from the room.
The empty classroom seemed to close in around you, the echo of his insults lingering like smoke.
The tears came fast and hot, falling down your cheeks before you could stop them. You weren’t the kind of person to cry easily. You could handle a lot. But being singled out like that, shamed for your writing and accused of stealing it in front of everyone, spoken to like you were worthless — it cut deeper than you expected.
You knew you should wipe your face, gather your things, and leave.
You knew Remus and Regulus were probably already on their way, waiting outside to walk you to your next class or sneak you off to the library like they always did when you were having a bad day. But you couldn’t move. The tears wouldn’t stop, and the humiliation was still sitting in your chest like a stone.
So you sat there, alone in the classroom, shoulders shaking as you cried into your hands.
You fucking hate him so much. You really, really do. But it’s no use crying over him now.
You wipe your cheeks with your sleeves, trying to catch your breath and swallow the hiccups bubbling up.
You shove your quill and ink back into your bag with shaking hands, clutching your parchment to your chest like it can somehow stitch the pieces of your heart back together. Just as you're about to walk out of the classroom and leave this entire humiliation behind you, the door creaks open.
Regulus steps inside—calm, composed, and stoic as ever—but the second his eyes land on you, his expression crumbles. His frown deepens, sharp and immediate.
Without a word, he drops his bag onto a desk and rushes over, concern breaking through every part of his carefully built façade.
You don't hesitate.
You rush forward and crash into him, burying yourself into his chest like it's the only place left that makes sense. His arms wrap tightly around you on instinct, protectively, as if he could shield you from whatever hurt you.
The moment you press your face into his robes and sob without restraint, he stiffens slightly, then softens with worry, gently rocking you.
“Mon amour,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “What happened? What is this? Why all these tears, hm?”
You shake your head against him, trying to talk, but it just comes out in hiccuped fragments. Regulus tries to tilt your chin up, but you only push your face deeper into his chest.
He exhales slowly and nudges you back a little, his hands warm as they cradle your cheeks, thumbs wiping your tears.
“Hey. Hey, look at me,” he says softly. “Tell me what happened. Please.”
“It’s—” your voice breaks, and you clutch his wrist, grounding yourself. “It’s Professor Wilkes. He—he said I was stupid. He embarrassed me in front of everyone and I—I didn’t even do anything wrong. I tried. I really tried and he thinks I steal my work and—”
The door bangs open again.
This time, it’s Remus.
Worried doesn’t even begin to describe the look on his face. His eyes dart between you and Regulus, scanning your tear-streaked cheeks, trembling shoulders, and the tight quiver of your lips. He crosses the room in seconds, hands already reaching for you as his voice rushes out in pieces.
“Dovey, what happened? Are you hurt? Who—what—what’s going on?”
You bury your face in Regulus’s chest again, muffling a sob, but your body shakes with something heavier than sadness. Remus moves in, gently tugging you from Regulus’s hold and wrapping you in his arms.
His warmth presses against your skin, steadying, grounding, like a tether to reality, but your chest heaves too hard, too fast, and the fury beneath the tears begins to stir.
You take a shuddering breath, trying to let the grief subside, but it only feeds the frustration that has been building over weeks. Every humiliated glance, every belittling comment from Wilkes, every night spent pouring over notes only to feel invisible—it all surfaces at once. Your hands clench into fists at your sides, nails digging into your palms as the tears continue to flow.
“It’s not fair,” you whisper, voice breaking but trembling with something sharper now. “I try. I work. I study. And he… he just—he treats me like I’m nothing. Like I’m not even trying. Like everything I do is worthless.”
Regulus’s hand brushes against yours, a silent plea for patience, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging inside you. Your sobs turn harsher, voice catching with each word, and finally the tears bleed into anger, spilling over in a rush of sharp, jagged breaths.
“I’m done with him!” you yell, the words shattering the quiet of the room. “I am so done being the idiot he sneers at, the punching bag Wilkes drags out whenever he gets bored! I’m done pretending I understand when I don’t! I’m done sitting there while everyone else—everyone else—zooms past me like it’s effortless!”
“Love—” Remus starts, cautious, but you spin on him, eyes blazing and hands trembling with intensity.
“No! Don’t! Don’t give me some calm, reasoned speech. I already know what you’re going to say. ‘It’s just one assignment.’ ‘He’s a terrible professor anyway.’ ‘Let’s prank him.’ I don’t want jokes. I want him fired. I want him humiliated. I want him to regret ever speaking to me in that tone!”
Regulus exhales behind you, slow and measured, and you whip around to face him, voice raw, cracked, every syllable weighted with both sorrow and anger.
Your hands shake as your rage spikes again. “He had the audacity to say my essay was copied from someone else!”
“Hey, hey,” Remus says, stepping toward you, warm hands on your shoulders, steadying. “Love, slow down. Don’t let him get in your head like this.”
You shake your head wildly, voice rising again, cracked and furious. “Don’t call me that like it’s going to fix this. Nothing’s going to fix this! I’m just some stupid girl who got lucky with a wand and unlucky with a brain.”
“That’s not true,” Regulus cuts in sharply. “Don’t say that.”
You laugh bitterly, stepping away from both of them. “It’s not a joke. I’m failing. I’m failing and it’s humiliating and my dad is going to think I’m wasting everything and—”
“Stop.” Remus’s voice is firm but kind, the kind that doesn’t scold, just grounds you. “Stop running laps in your own mind, love.”
Your lips tremble, and you glance between them, eyes glassy. “I just… I feel so small. Like I’m incapable of doing anything right.”
“Don’t say that, ma belle,” Regulus murmurs, stepping closer, voice soft but steady. “You are never small. You are clever, you are capable, and no one, not even that insufferable professor, will convince us otherwise.”
Remus steps closer, hands cupping your face gently, thumbs brushing over your cheeks. “Look at me,” he says softly. “You are extraordinary, and anyone who tries to make you feel less than that is not worth your time. We will help you, and we will not let this diminish you.”
You glance down, chest tight. “I don’t want to bother you,” you whisper. “You both have your own work.”
Regulus shakes his head, calm but firm. “You’re not a bother, ma belle. Honestly, we’ve got good grades already. Helping you won’t slow us down.”
Remus leans closer, steady and warm, his voice a gentle anchor. “Tonight, after dinner, if you want. Bring all your notes, we’ll go through everything together, slowly. You will see, everything will be alright.”
Your throat tightens and a small sob escapes, eyes darting towards Regulus. “You really mean that too?”
“Of course, amour,” Regulus says, a soft smile tugging at his lips, fingers brushing lightly through your hair.
“We will not leave you to struggle alone. And it is not just about the grades—you will feel better knowing we are here, by your side.”
Remus squeezes your face gently, thumbs brushing over your jawline. “We have you, dovey. No one will make you feel alone in this.”
You shake, tears spilling down your cheeks, and without thinking you lean forward, burying your face into Regulus’s chest, once again.
He wraps his arms around you immediately, holding you tightly, murmuring soft reassurances into your hair. He then leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple.
You blink up at him, lips parting, but before you can say anything, Remus is already reaching out with both arms open, smiling in that gentle way that always manages to undo you. “Come here. Give me a hug, baby.”
You step into him without hesitation. His arms close around you, grounding, steady. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of parchment and honeyed tea.
When you finally pull back, you smile—small, sheepish, still rimmed with tears. “I am sorry for crying like that,” you whisper, voice tinged with shame. “It was really stupid.”
But Regulus cuts you off immediately. “Non, non, amour,” he says, brow furrowing slightly as he cups your cheek, his thumb brushing away a lingering tear. “What did I tell you about apologising for crying, hm? None of that.”
You let out a soft giggle, nose wrinkling as you nod. “Yeah. Right.”
“Exactly,” Remus says, brushing your hair back with a fond, patient look. “Crying does not make you weak. It makes you human.”
“Quite a magnificent human at that,” Regulus adds, matter-of-fact and tender all at once. He leans closer, tilting your chin up gently, his lips brushing your forehead before moving to wipe your teary cheeks with deliberate care. “Besides, you are my baby. You can cry to me as much as you want.”
You swat his chest playfully. “Hey! I am not a crybaby!”
He chuckles softly, leaning in again, pressing a gentle kiss just under your eyes. Between kisses, he murmurs, “Ma douce et sensible fille… toujours magnifique.” You can’t help the giggle that escapes, light and unrestrained.
“Come on,” he says after a moment, pulling back with a faint smile. “Off you go to Remus.”
Remus immediately envelops you in a warm embrace, steady and grounding. You nuzzle against his chest, sighing softly. “Where are you going?”
Regulus presses a lingering kiss to your temple. “I’ve got something to deal with, ma belle. But I will be back in an hour, and I promise… we will tutor together, all three of us.”
He leans over and presses a soft kiss to Remus’ temple, whispering, “Take care of her. I’ll go deal with it.”
You stiffen slightly in Remus’ embrace, a flicker of confusion passing through your mind—take care of what, exactly?—but you don’t voice it.
As you watch Regulus leave the classroom, a small knot of worry forms in your chest, though you cling to Remus’ warmth.
“Come on,” Remus says, snapping you out of your thoughts while guiding you back toward the sitting area. “Let’s go rest for a bit.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, voice heavy with fatigue. “I think I need a nap… until Reggie comes back.” You pause, blinking up at him. “Wait… where did he say he was going?”
Remus brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch soothing. “Don’t worry about it, love. He’s probably dealing with something… important.”
You nod, letting yourself be led away, leaning against him as you finally feel relief wash over you.
Unbeknownst to you, Regulus was off making sure Professor Wilkes would never bother you again. After all, he and Remus could not bear the sight of their sweet girl crying.
poly!moonwater x reader who doesn't know how to ask for what they need ✩ 911 words
summary: Being comfortable in a new relationship is hard, especially when your unsure of how to ask for what you crave - touch.
cw: fluff, comfort, newly established relationship, touch starved reader
an: first poly!moonwater work because i love them ahh
You’re tucked into the corner of the sofa, a blanket draped over your legs, eyes aimed at the TV—but you’re not really watching. Not properly. Your mind keeps drifting, snagging on the narrow space between your foot and Regulus’ thigh. The few inches might as well be miles.
They’ve been together far longer than you’ve been in the picture. There’s a rhythm to the way they move around each other, a seamless, quiet understanding you haven’t quite caught up to. It’s not that they’re always physical with each other—they're both careful with touch—but when one of them reaches out, the other always seems to know how to meet them halfway. It's natural. Intuitive. And you can't help but feel a step behind.
You know it’ll come with time. That closeness. That ease. But right now, you’re stuck in your own head. You don’t know how to ask for what you need without sounding needy. You’re scared that wanting something so gentle—so simple—might come across as selfish. And worse: you’re terrified of how much it would hurt if they pulled away.
A soft shuffle pulls you from your thoughts. Remus enters the room carrying a plate of snacks, setting them on the table. If only he could hear the noise inside your head. But you don’t say anything. Can’t.
“Are you okay, dove?” Remus asks, voice low and gentle as his eyes land on you. They soften immediately. He sees you. “You look a bit pale.”
You nod automatically, not trusting your voice, and Regulus hums inquisitively before moving. His hand reaches for your forehead without hesitation, fingers cool against your skin. You freeze—not because you don’t want it, but because you want it too much. Your body stiffens, like you’re afraid any movement might scare him off.
He won’t pull away, you remind yourself. He’s your boyfriend. He loves you. They both do. But the fear still lingers, soft and persistent.
When his touch finally lands, it’s grounding. Your shoulders sag under the weight of relief, tension uncoiling from your spine. Regulus’ brows draw together, concern written across his sharp features as he glances toward Remus, silently asking is something wrong?
Remus catches your eye again, and you flush under the attention. Your face burns, caught in that spotlight of care.
“Come here, lovely,” Remus says gently, rising from the chair he’d just settled into. The offer is quiet, but it opens a door.
You don’t think—you just go.
He gathers you into his arms the second you reach him, pulling you in without question. His embrace is warm and steady, and the moment your body touches his, something inside you clicks into place. You hold on tight, fingers curling into the back of his jumper like you might fall apart if you don’t.
“Hmm,” Remus hums, mostly to himself. “Thought so.” He kisses your forehead softly, his lips lingering for a beat longer than necessary.
Regulus, watching from the couch, tilts his head. He’s catching on too. “Have we not been giving you enough attention, amour?” he asks, voice laced with both concern and a teasing edge. Not mocking—never mocking—just wanting to make it easier to answer.
You shake your head too quickly. “No, it’s not that. It’s just…” The words stick in your throat, fragile and knotted.
Remus gently tilts your chin up, coaxing your gaze to his. “Just what, darling?”
You exhale, shaky and small. “I know you don’t always want touch. And I don’t want to ask if it’s not… something you want.”
Regulus doesn’t hesitate. “We like it when it’s with you.” His voice is firm, steady—like it’s the most obvious truth in the world. “You don’t have to question that.”
Your breath catches at the certainty in his voice. You glance between them, finding nothing but softness and love in their expressions.
“You never have to be afraid to ask for affection,” Remus says, brushing your hair gently from your face. “We want to know what you need, so we can give it to you.”
His hands cup your face then, holding you like you’re precious. Like you’re theirs.
“We want to love you the way you need to be loved,” he adds, and the words settle into the quiet places of your heart, chasing away the doubt that had nested there.
You nod slowly, your body growing heavier with the kind of relief that makes you feel lighter all at once.
Without needing to speak, Remus guides you back toward the sofa where Regulus waits, arms already open. You sink between them easily, like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Remus presses a kiss to your temple, his lips warm and reassuring, while Regulus rests his chin on your head, one hand stroking your arm in gentle, soothing passes.
“Is this alright?” Remus murmurs, voice barely audible.
You nod, voice catching with emotion. “Yeah… it’s perfect.”
Regulus smiles against your hair. “Good,” he whispers, and you can feel the truth in it
The TV hums in the background, but none of you are really watching. You’re wrapped in their arms, surrounded by warmth and steady breaths and the kind of love that asks nothing but gives everything.
And when Regulus leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips, and Remus rests his hand on your thigh in quiet comfort, it’s not about proving anything—it’s just them loving you, completely and deliberately, the way you never have to ask for again.
This if my first ever poly piece so let me know if you like it. Requested by @alittlechaotics-blog so I hope you enjoy! ☺️
Your boys are so pathetically in love with you.
“You’re so pretty.”
“Rem, you can’t even see me!”
A long sigh followed the accusation, as well as a, “which is currently a big issue for me,” and then a trail of giggles from you.
For a month the three of you had been dying to get some one on one time, some quiet time, a break from it all. It had been weeks since you’d all shared a bed together for a full night or even eaten dinner as a group. And it wasn’t for lack of trying either. Multiple times there had been dates in the diaries, heels on feet and at the last minutes something, anything, had popped up.
First it was missions. Hundreds of them. Day and night. Too many really. By the time any of you had gotten back from a mission, the idea of getting dressed up and going out again sounded frankly disgusting. If anything, they seemed to drain the intimacy out of a person, too grossed out by whatever horrors they’d just seen.
Then it was Regulus’s ‘bloody brother’. Since escaping the hell hole that housed the screaming matriarch of the Black family, both brothers had become increasingly close. Which seemed, for your relationship, both a blessing and a curse. Whilst it did mean Regulus had become much more affectionate, it also meant that there were other things to organise. Namely, Sirius. By his orders, the two of them had to spend at least one night together a week. No cancellations (or else). On numerous occasions it had been pointed out that that was more time than both you and Remus got with Regulus. Combined. This objection was merely shrugged off with a “well, I guess that’s a you problem,”.
So now, as you took a final glance in the mirror, you really couldn’t blame Remus for being quite so desperate to get the evening started. You could see that to him, once the night started it could not, would not, be stopped. Frankly, you agreed. That hadn’t stopped you however, from taking the extra few minutes to make sure neither of the boys had seen you get ready. Which really was quite cruel of you, seeing as that part of the night had often been described as their ‘absolute favourite’.
But now, you thought, it should have been worth it. You stood in front of the floor length mirror dressed in the same dress you had worn on your first ever date with them. Although it had obviously become slightly snug at the hips (nothing a quick charm won’t fix), it still held the same charm, the same romance. It held memories of that night, although definitely not perfect, still wonderful, still yours.
You could shuffles coming from behind the door, as well as some overly dramatic sighs, before a new pair of footsteps made their way to the hallway with a groan.
“Would you quit huffing and puffing and just open the door?” came the disgruntled drone of your more impatient boyfriend.
“She might be changing, Reg. I don’t want to interrupt the process!”
A brief pause echoed between them, followed by a sigh and the words, “You’ve seen her less than naked more than a million times, Remus. Now is not the time to get shy.”.
Then a light knock sounded at the door and searching grey eyes found their way to your delicate frame. The question of ‘Are you nearly ready?’ seemed to just die on his lips as they parted to take in your figure. A rush of air flooded from his mouth, soon breathing in your ethereal beauty, your winning smile.
He was soon pushed aside by your honey coloured boyfriend, desperate to get a glimpse of the show. Golden eyes drooping in comfort as he took you in. Honestly, it was all quite pathetic and that’s why you loved it.
No words were spoken for a few seconds, and then Remus took a step forward, rested his hands upon your face and breathed out, ‘I knew you’d be pretty.’.
as a last minute, spur of the moment decision, i've decided that i will, in fact, be participating in kinktober 2024! here's the lineup for this month!
week one (3/10); poly!wolfstar; remus and sirius show off your party trick – coming on command – ft. james potter
week two (10/10); poly!marauders; remus reverses the roles and lets you have a crack at being in charge – particularly of sirius.
week three (17/10); poly!rosekiller; barty and evan work you up and put you in subspace.
week four (24/10); poly!moonwater; remus shows regulus the ropes of your dynamic.
week five (31/10); poly!jily; you teach james how to eat pussy.
I’ve made the executive decision that we need more endo fics!!! (Specifically marauders and Spencer Reid but they’re my babies so I’m biased!) not jsut the run of the mill “endo is a heavy period” bs, the other shit that doesn’t get spoken about- shooting leg pain, brain fog, constant fatigue, aches and pains and headaches so bad lights hurt. It’s not jsut a heavy period, and it can happen even when you’re on the pill (much like I am!) the pill only stops the bleeding for some, not the pain, and the frustration of wanting to be okay and normal again, not knowing if you’re gonna wake up the next day in more pain or if it’s gonna be a good day. I need the comfort 😭
hi!! i recently discovered your blog and i'm afraid you've singlehandedly brought back my harry potter hyperfixation. i didn't even know moonwater/darksun wasn't a thing until your posts ... i've been so out of loop
i was wondering if you could write about moonwater and a reader who's too nice for her own good. regulus being in a secret relationship with reader and remus, seeing reader being bullied and trying to teach her how to be scary or fight back but she's too adorable for it. so he just says fuck it and hard launches their relationship by walking her everywhere to scare away her bullies himself
such a cute prompt - thank you for your request! I hope I did it justice <3
poly!moonwater x whimsical!reader who's too sweet for her own good [1.1k words]
CW: fem!reader, reader is from Ravenclaw, her housemates are sort of bullying her, the boys are protective, Regulus threatens pain and torture, hard launching an up-until-then private relationship, fluff
“Dovie,” Remus cooed in that way that Regulus could tell he was sort of trying to be chiding but really couldn’t bring himself to be as stern as he wanted to be, “where is your scarf?”
You paused in shucking off your robes to look down at your scarfless frame as though you’d only just realised it was missing. “Oh, well, it wasn’t on the coat rack that I normally leave it on when I was getting ready for class this morning.” You explained breezily. “So I just left without it.”
“Do you have any idea where it could be?” Regulus asked carefully as he fought against the protective ire threatening to bubble over; daring to draw closer to you in the privacy of one of the study rooms that the three of you often secluded yourselves in.
The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus wasn’t exactly ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious.
“No, but it has the habit of showing up in the most peculiar places.” You replied, ever present smile adorning your face as Remus and Regulus shared a sympathetic and concerned gaze over your head, respectively.
“Like where, amour?” Regulus pressed.
Your lips pursed as you considered him. “One time it was hanging from the rafters in the great hall; that was very tricky to get down. Oh! And another time, it was wrapped in a bow around a pot of venomous tentacula; very cute, but the plant did nip at me when I tried to retrieve it.”
“Sweetheart,” Remus cooed again as he sat forward in his chair, clearly feeling very sorry on your behalf, “who keeps doing that?”
Your brows furrowed at Remus’ obvious displeasure. “Well, I’m sure it’s probably my housemates? They have easy enough access to my things.”
“Things?” Regulus interjected. “Plural? They do this to your other stuff too?”
“Oh, all the time.” You agreed simply.
“And you let them?” He continued, earning him a reproachful “Regulus…” from Remus.
“Well,” you offered with a shrug of your shoulders, “they seem to have fun doing it.”
“No, absolutely not.” Regulus declared as he stood. “Amour, stand up, we’re putting an end to this.”
“An end to this?” You asked curiously, though you stood as Regulus directed you to, allowing him to position you in the middle of the room.
“Pretend I’m your roommates.” He instructed, fixing his robes and standing straighter as he ignored Remus’ snort of laughter who simply watched with intrigue. “Tell me to keep my filthy fucking hands off of your godsdamned things.”
You pulled your lips in between your teeth as you looked at Remus nervously. “Erm…could, well, could you please keep your…filthy fucking hands off of my things…please?”
“Amour,” Regulus chastised, “stop saying please. Don’t say please.”
“Well, it’s just that it’s a little rude, Regulus.” You explained as though Regulus might not have known.
“I know it’s rude, amour. That’s what happens when people steal your things, yeah?”
“They’re not stealing my things.” You argued. “They…borrow them; I get them back eventually.”
“Yeah? Remus, do you often have to fight venomous tentacula’s for your things?”
“Not once.” Remus answered quickly, keeping his interested gaze on you.
“No? Why’s that?”
Remus shrugged. “I’d probably be very rude to them if anyone tried to steal my things.”
“You’re not rude, Remus.” You insisted, causing Remus’ teasing smile to soften to near painful levels. Regulus thought it was disgusting adorable.
“I’m not rude to you, dovie. But you also don’t steal my things or play mean pranks on me.”
Your face fell somewhere between bemused and crestfallen. “You think they’re being mean to me?”
A pained sound actually emanated from the back of Remus’ throat.
“Well…I don’t think they’re being very nice to you, mon cœur.” Regulus offered softly, shooting a grimace over at Remus.
“Well…why would I want to be rude like them, then?” You asked honestly, and Salazar’s saggy balls, if Regulus didn’t completely agree with you.
“You know what, amour? You’re absolutely right.” He agreed; lips threatening to turn up at the corners at your relieved smile.
“Well, hang on.” Remus started. “What are we going to do about her things?”
“Salazar help me, if you don’t tell me where the fuck you’ve put her scarf I will have you chained to the bottom of the Black Lake so godsdamned fast, Merlin himself won’t be able to help you.” Regulus hissed, one hand fisting the collar of a beady-eyed Ravenclaw and one hand shoving the tip of his wand into the bloke's jugular.
“It-it’s hanging in the Hippogriff pen!” He offered quickly, struggling in Regulus’ grip.
“Good lad.” Remus offered patronisingly from behind Regulus. “Now go get it for her.”
Regulus released his hold on the bloke's collar the second he nodded, and the Ravenclaw couldn’t have taken off towards the Beast's classroom faster if he had tried.
“Anyone else have any of Y/N’s things they’d like to cough up before we come looking for them?” Remus asked jovially, smiling at the cautious crowd that had formed when they heard Regulus Black and Remus Lupin of all people were on a warpath.
“Uhm,” a witch squeaked as she stepped towards you, keeping her nervous eyes pointed at your boyfriends, “sorry, L/N…I, erm, I seem to have come across your History of Magic textbook.”
You smiled as though she was handing you a gift. “Thank you, Clarissa; I kept getting detention for showing up to class without it.”
Regulus was sure Remus could actually hear Regulus’ teeth clench from his place beside him, but Remus simply placed a placating hand on his elbow.
“If I so much as see you even looking at her things again, Clarissa-”
“You won’t!” Clarissa yelped, interrupting the end of Regulus’ threat before taking off down the hallway.
“Do you have all of your things now, dove?” Remus asked after you, watching you look down at the book in your hands.
“Almost, but I’m sure the rest of my things will start showing up now.” You responded happily. Remus nodded in agreement, Regulus narrowed his eyes at the surrounding crowd as if threatening ‘they better’.
The relationship was new - not tentative, yet delicate - and Regulus hadn’t been quite ready to welcome the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw to what he deemed to be quite precious.
But if welcoming the attention that being a Black and a Slytherin could draw is what it took to keep you happy and safe, well, he was more than willing to pull out all the stops for his sweet and too-pure-for-her-own-good girlfriend.
