i’m just obsessed with the idea of poly!wolfstar having sex for the first time except remus and reader have been together for longer time so it’s a lot of remus telling sirius what she likes fbsibxkakx
Thank you for your request babe!
cw: smut mdni
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her transphobic agendas
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 714 words
“Sweetheart,” Remus’ voice is gentle, oh so gentle, as Sirius fucks into you, “you’ve got to tell him what you want.”
You look up at your boyfriend with wet eyes, fucked out and frustrated from chasing after the orgasm that keeps slipping away from you. You want Sirius to just know what you want, the way Remus does, even if you know it’s not fair to expect that of him. It feels mean to give Sirius directions. Like you’re saying he’s not good enough.
Remus doesn’t have the same reservations. When you don’t speak up, he turns to Sirius and tells him plainly, “She likes it harder than that.”
At the foot of the bed, Sirius’ eyebrows go up. “Yeah?” He looks at you. And there’s nothing unkind about his stare, but you still shy a bit under the weight of it. “Sorry, gorgeous, I didn’t want to hurt you. Tell me if this is better.”
The next time he pulls out, Sirius slams back into you with so much force you’re sure his cock has gotten lodged somewhere in your stomach. You arch, a choked-off cry leaving your lips.
Sirius huffs a laugh. “Suppose that’s my answer.”
“That’s it, yeah.” Remus brushes the hair from your face, his touch comforting as you reach around blindly for his cock, desperate to give something back. You’d started out asking to go down on him, but Remus hadn’t thought it was a good idea to have your mouth around him while you and Sirius were only learning your way around each other for the first time. So instead, you’re lying on his lap with your legs spread for Sirius. The way you’re feeling now, you think Remus made the right call.
“Don’t be afraid to get a bit rough with her,” he says. “She likes it.”
Sirius grins at that. “Oh, yeah?” His grip tightens on your hips, squeezing meanly. “Is that true, pretty girl? You into that?”
You think maybe all language has been jostled out of your head. You can only whine as Remus catches your hand before you can tug down the elastic waistband of his boxers, his thumb stroking over your knuckles despite the bulge you can see right beside you.
Your body answers Sirius’ question for you, anyway. His fingers tighten even more, blunt nails biting into your skin as he hisses, “Fuck, baby.”
Remus chuckles and kisses your white knuckles.
“Fuck, Remus, can you—ah—can you get her leg for me? I want to—”
Thankfully for you both, Remus knows what Sirius means before he has to fumble his way through getting it all out. Remus reaches sideways, grasping the underside of your knee and pulling it up by your chest. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Sirius pants, and then he’s fucking you even deeper than before, harder too, the dull, satisfying pain intensifying until your vision blurs. You twist your fingers in the hem of Remus’ boxers and hold on for dear life. “That’s perfect. You’re so perfect, pretty girl, does he tell you that enough? Fuck, Rem, we should—we should put a mirror on the ceiling so she can see how she looks like this.”
“Maybe we should,” Remus hums. He smiles down at you, and the last bit of sense in your brain dissolves like sugar into tea. “You’re doing so well, love. You’re being so good for us.”
When you look back on it later, you won’t be entirely sure which of you he’s talking to, but that doesn’t stop you from going warm all over in the moment. Sirius’ fucking gets more frenzied as you get worked up, until you’re trying to get Remus out of his boxers again, feeling frantic with the certainty that the climax you’d just been chasing is now chasing you.
“I can—I want to—” You try, distressed when he again catches your wrist in a firm grip. “—want to help you—”
“Shh, I know, sweetheart.” Remus strokes the inside of your knee. “Let’s get a couple out of you first, and then once you get used to Sirius, we can try. Yeah?” He looks at Sirius. “Think you can manage?”
Sirius scoffs. He hikes your other leg up higher. “Don’t patronize me. I had a bit of a learning curve, but I’ve got her now.”
summary: It’s a good love, you keep telling yourself. It’s good love that you can’t let slip away. Your boyfriends love you, you know they do. You’ve never been so in love… So why does it feel like grief?
tags: fem!reader. no war au. established relationship? lots of hurt with delayed comfort. inspired by olivia rodrigo’s new album.
a/n: so… is this anything?
—
The thing about your relationship with Remus and Sirius is, well, that it’s not conventional. It’s still something frowned upon by many people, and one that you can’t just search up advice for on books. Not when it’s relatively new, and something that you can’t easily come to your friends for advice when they don’t know what you’re talking about half of the time. So trying to rationalize the loneliness that you feel is mostly pointless. And, objectively speaking? An absurd reason to cry about.
So you stay silent.
You stay silent when Remus is nasty and easily irritable before a full moon. Not to you. Never to you. But the signs of his discomfort are always there. Maybe not clear at first, but Sirius knows. And it’s nice to know Remus has someone that can help him so well as he does. So you stay silent, because he’s in good hands. Sirius knows what he’s doing. And maybe they’re right, it’s for your own good.
So you stay silent.
You stay silent when Sirius comes home from work, when he’s stressed and sad and frustrated, when things don’t go as he hoped, when Regulus once again turns down his help to escape Grimmauld Place. But he’s kind, and lovely to you and Remus. Accepts dinner with a kiss to your cheek and listens about your day even when it’s clear he’s in his own head. Gears turning and turning to try and find a way to help Regulus, to lessen Remus’ burden and, maybe, to be more present for you. So you stay silent when you offer to help, maybe a shoulder to cry on, he only smiles and shrugs it off.
So you stay silent… until things change. And suddenly there’s a fresh bouquet waiting for you after work. Suddenly Remus’ knee isn’t troubling him as much. Suddenly you can sit down and enjoy a homemade meal, and there’s no reason for you to feel so sad. There’s no reason for you to be sad, so you only swallow it down and accept their kisses. Silent and happy that they’re home.
Until another full moon comes, or a call from Regulus in fear that things have escalated again. Or your boss has decided you’re too valuable for your job to let you go. Hours rise, missed moments, you stay silent because it’ll pass. Everything’s still fresh, you need to find your footing between them, and you can’t expect them to fully settle into this relationship when life itself won’t let them. It’s fine. You’re patient, you’re learning, and so are they. Because you know they love you, and you love them. So you wait, you stay silent and take what they give you—
“I don’t know, love,” Lily murmurs, eyebrows twitched together as she listens to you. She sets another folded blanket aside before looking up at you. “Doesn’t sound healthy to me.”
“It’ll get better,” you assure her again, almost distractingly as you trace idle patterns on baby Harry’s head. He’s finally managed to fall asleep, maybe James is right and your touch is godsend.
When you look up, trying to share a triumphant smile with Lily, she’s got a look that makes it dim. Not that it was very wide, they barely get to your ears lately. Your smiles come and go, but they never stay long enough.
Of course, you don’t let it linger too much. “Don’t worry about me, Lily,” you whisper, rising to your feet with Harry in your arms. The baby boy doesn’t rouse, nor does he wake as you lower him to his cradle. “I’ll be fine, yeah?”
Lily nods, watching as you kneel low enough to continue tracing figures on Harry’s hand, his little cheeks and forehead. Touch featherlight and lips twitched into a fond little smile, smaller and smaller as time goes on.
“I know you will,” she says after a long silence. “It’s just, y/n… you seem so sad for a girl so in love.”
You don’t answer, and Lily stands to go and put the blankets away. But her words hang in the air. Heavy in your chest and clinging to you even after you leave. Even when you get home to the lights on, hope flickering inside of you as you unlock the door. Even when you walk into the flat to see Remus and Sirius cuddled up on the sofa after a trying day. Even when you smile and offer each of them a cup of tea. Even when Sirius scoots a little to the side to make space for you. Even when, in his deep slumber, Remus reaches for your hand under the thick blanket. Even when you wake the next morning, and they’re gone.
The flat is warm, and they’ve left you a freshly made cup of coffee on the kitchen table. Probably Remus. With a note. big day at the ministry, had to rush. see you at dinner? love you. sirius xx. You set it down, next to the fresh bouquet and drink your coffee in silence.
You go through the motions right after. Put on a relaxing record on Sirius’ turntable, light on a candle and hope the lavender helps Remus’ migraines when he comes home. You tidy a bit between sips and changes of outfits, and pluck a flower from the bouquet to use as a bookmark before leaving the flat to go to your own job.
It’ll pass, you tell yourself. Maybe being sad is a downside that no one tells you about being in love. A secret code that you must discover yourself. Whatever it is, you won’t let it taunt this, because it is a virtue to not let good love slip away. Because it is, even if it’s unhealthy or sad at times—you know, deep in your bones, that this love is good. So maybe staying silent and enduring a bit of uncertainty is a little frustrating, but is nothing compared to the love you know they feel for you. And you feel for them.
At work, you busy yourself being useful. Even if it’s a bit boring at times. Marlene makes a joke that the girl working at the Level 6 coffee shop has a massive crush on her, you pile on with your coworkers that maybe she’s just nice and has nothing to do with Marlene being a retired Quidditch star. Dorcas comes down to visit at some point and steals her away, and you have a stretch of free time where busying yourself being useful isn’t doing the trick anymore.
Then, Sirius comes down from his Wizengamot meeting with a tense posture but a smile to ease any stress away. He kisses you and flirts with you before dragging you out for a quick lunch, claiming he’s famished and that maybe you should stop by Level 4 to coax Remus out of his cubicle. You let him, swallowing down questions about his meeting knowing well he’ll say it went well because he doesn’t want to worry you. You share a smoke outside the café after lunch, fussing over Remus and the upcoming full moon and how you shouldn’t worry about it because it’s the least they want for you. He dips you low with a long and sweet kiss before saying goodbye. You don’t ask where he’s going, knowing he’s meeting up with Regulus.
You do walk back inside the café to order a quick lunch for Remus, they wrap it warm and ready for you to drop it off at his cubicle on your way to yours. He looks up from his work, stressed and easily irritable. But never to you. You know it’s the full moon, and his migraines, so you kiss his head and wish him a good day before taking the elevator back to your level.
Remus goes to find you hours later, looking apologetic and wondering if he can spend his lunch hour with you. You pretend to be casual about it, smiling and preparing two cups of tea for you instead of making it a big deal. To not make it so obvious, how you take whatever they give you. A shared smoke, a shared lunch—small stretches of time of their days before you have to return home. Alone.
You water the flowers, you change into comfortable clothes and put on a film while you wait for them to return. It’s still early, anyway. The book Remus has been trying to read is on the coffee table, and maybe he won’t mind if you start reading it yourself. He hasn’t touched it in weeks, maybe if he sees you read it he’ll get out of his slump. You don’t get much into the book, but it’s nice. It’s nice to feel connected to him, somehow.
The night stretches, and you make dinner for three. Leaving their plates on the counter ready to heat up for them to eat, it’s okay. You can sit with them while they debrief about their day, they’ve already told you that it’s okay to eat before them if you’re hungry. You bring dinner to the living room, and a small glass of wine. One you mentioned in passing to love and the same one Sirius stocked you up the next day. The film you choose is barely entertaining, but the thematic cores still make you cry.
They come home later, together and very tired. Sharing murmurs and whispers, apologies about being away from each other and you for the entire day. Ready to share a small stretch of time before heading to bed. But all they find is a lavender candle on, Sirius’ wine and two glasses at the table, and their plates ready to heat up. It’s nearly midnight, and they know because of your calendar on the fridge that you have an early meeting tomorrow, so they eat in silence knowing you’re sound asleep in the room. Aware that you fell asleep waiting for them.
₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩
The next morning, you don’t go to work. There’s no meeting. Or at least that early in the morning. Not like you’ve written down in your calendar. You prepare coffee for three, and water the flowers and write them a little note for them to find when they wake up. big meeting today! wish me luck, can’t wait to tell you all about it later. i love you. yn xx. The flat is silent, but smelling like coffee and lavender when you close the door behind you.
You head directly to St. Mungo’s, to find a healer that can tell you what’s wrong with you. You’ve searched up symptoms, possible outcomes to your uneasiness and why you keep feeling the way you do. Desperate to fix whatever’s wrong with you and do it quickly, erase it before they can notice it. Before they can realize they’re what’s wrong with you.
So when the healer says you’re fine, you stay silent. You nod and let her go on about possible reasons, work, maybe hormones, maybe you’re coming down with something. You stay silent and accept her instructions for a few potions that could help, thank her on your way out and head directly to the Ministry.
When it’s lunchtime, your heart does a somersault when you step out of your cubicle to see them step out of the elevator. Remus holds the flowers when it’s obvious Sirius can’t, carrying various takeout containers from your favourite restaurant near the flat. You try not to be so obvious, how pathetically happy you feel by their presence. You try to push down your need to cling, to cling to them and accept their kisses and the way they listen to your made up stories about the meeting. In return, you try, maybe, with the confidence of this olive branch, to ask them about their endeavors. If Remus needs you to run to the shop for any wolfsbane or other potions he might need. If Sirius maybe wants company the next time he has to talk to Regulus.
So when they turn it down, brush down your help and claim you shouldn't worry about them, that it’s too much and heavy for you to bear, you stay silent. You smile and continue eating and answering their questions about your day. You nod and laugh at their jokes and try not to cling to hope when they leave with a kiss each and a promise to see you later at James and Lily’s for Harry’s six months celebration.
When Marlene returns from her own lunch break, you only suppress the weight on your chest. You smile and fill her in on your surprise visit, you ask her questions in return and she answers with a smile that rings the alarms in your head.
“What?”
She hums, turning in her chair. “Nothing, s’just… are you okay?”
You frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You just…” she scratches her eyebrow. Her nervous tell. “you just told me your boyfriends surprised you with flowers and a whole banquet for lunch, and yet you sound like someone ripped your heart out.”
You ignore the way her words feel like a crack in your heart, knowing they come out of a place of love and worry. “Have you been talking to Lily lately?”
Marlene sits straight. “Should I?”
“No.” You say immediately, turning to your desk and resume working. “I meant about Harry. Did she say what time we should be there?”
“Uh…” she looks around. “y/n.”
“I think I’ll get there earlier. Harry’s been a tad fussier lately and,” you go on, stream rolling any of her attempts to reroute the conversation to your obvious, apparently to everyone but yourself, sadness. “I’m sure she’ll need help setting everything up.”
Before she can speak, you make up a quick excuse to run to the loo. Marlene watches you go, knowing you’re not going to the loo. Not when you’ve taken your wallet with you. She only returns to her work and covers for you when your boss walks by and notices you’re not at your desk.
You don’t go to the loo. You slip out of the Ministry and head towards Diagon Alley, desperate enough to bypass any worries that someone might recognize when you step into the apothecary with the healer’s written instructions. You buy your potions and drink them in a rush, hoping they’ll ease whatever’s wrong with you before tonight. When you return to your desk, Marlene asks you about work, and you return to your normal routine before clocking out.
Before heading to the Potter’s, you stop by the flat to change quickly and collect Harry’s gift. You suck in a nervous breath before pushing the door open, knowing it’s useless to hope but doing it anyway when you step inside. It’s exactly how they must’ve left it in the morning. The mugs are cleaned and set up on the cupboard. You put them where they belong, knowing it’s an easy mistake to make. You take the old bouquet and replace it with the new one and walk into your room to change.
You take time picking your clothes, and pretend it’s not for them. You freshen up and collect Harry’s gift before walking out of the flat, heading towards the Potters with a weight on your chest that dissipates slowly with every step closer to the cottage. Before knocking, you suck in a breath and put on your best smile. Or what you hope is genuine enough.
It’s okay, though. Because James opens the door with Harry in his arms, and the pain disappears almost magically. James makes small talk, knowing what he’s trying to tiptoe around and not giving him reasons to worry. Work is fine. Remus is doing better, his knee isn’t troubling him that much lately. I think Sirius had a small breakthrough with Regulus, I heard he’s accepted to look for flats. Me? I’m okay. I can’t believe Harry is already six months old. Just the usual. When Lily joins the conversation, sending you a knowing look, you go silent.
Good thing Harry loves to fill your silences. A quiet and absurdly funny agreement you somehow managed to create with him. He gargles and giggles at you, holding your hand and asking you to walk him around the cottage like a glorified chauffeur.
When the rest of the guests arrive, one by one, you pretend to be busy helping Lily make sure nothing’s missing when you poke your head out the kitchen every time the door opens. Hoping. Hoping. Hoping. Even if you tell yourself it’s just a matter of practically, checking who’s missing before setting plates out. You’re definitely not waiting for them to cross the threshold.
Except, when they do, you barely notice.
Harry has forced you to sequester yourself to his nursery to help him sleep. Candles have been blown, pictures have been taken and gifts opened, the baby is tired and Lily is too happy and cheerful with the festivities to make her leave. So you offer to put him to sleep. You trace idle patterns on his forehead, touch tender and featherlight; your fingertip travels from his eyebrows to his little nose and cheek and up again. He falls asleep not long after and you return to the party feeling a tiny bit lighter.
“There you are, m’love.” Sirius says as soon as you climb the last step. Your heart picks up rhythm, tugging towards him where he meets you in the middle. When he plants a kiss on the side of your face, you feel stupidly teary. “I thought you went home.”
“I was with Harry,” you explain, savoring the way he hugs you. Selfishly, almost. But quick, too quick. You school your expression before it can give you away as he steps away. “Took a bit, but he’s sound asleep.”
“Thank you!” James calls out from the living room. “It’s almost a miracle how quickly you can put him to sleep.”
“She truly has the magic touch,” Sirius says agreeably, tucking you to his side. “Don’t you, love?”
“I think so,” you shrug, smiling a bit.
“You do.” Remus says, reaching for you in the same way your heart stutters with hope. With love and affection and everything that has been craving. “Hi, saved you a piece of cake while you were upstairs.”
You blink, dazed and overwhelmed by their presence. “Oh. Thank you,” you accept it, wiggling your fingers before setting a hand out and hiding the way they shake. Remus is too busy kissing your cheek in greeting to notice, and you’re eating the cake before he can start paying attention. “When did you get here?”
“A while ago,” Sirius answers, tugging you with him towards the living room for the empty loveseat they’ve left for you. He smiles as he sits, eyeing you appreciatively. You try to control the way your heart flutters. “You look lovely.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” he pats the empty spot beside him, a funny lilt to his tone. “You always do. Doesn’t she, Moons?”
“She does,” Remus agrees readily, sitting down on the armrest by your side. His arm comes around your shoulders, without thought. It’s too much. “Is this the new dress you were talking about?”
You clear your throat. “Yeah. Got it the other day on my way from work.”
Remus hums appreciatingly, too. You look down at your cake, knowing how intoxicating their combined appreciation and affection can be.
“y/n?”
You look away, searching for whoever’s calling for you. “Hm?”
Lily gestures at you from the bannister. “I think Harry woke up, can you… help me?”
“Of course,” you nod, standing up. Sirius wordlessly accepts your half eaten cake, frowning when he feels a light tremor in your fingers when they brush. “I’ll be right back.”
“Sure thing, dovey.” Remus nods, sliding down the armrest to take your vacated seat. Sirius wordlessly makes room for him as the conversation picks up again.
You climb the stairs with a knot in your chest.
When you get to the top, you’re surprised by how silent it is. No wailing Harry, not even fussing with discomfort. Complete silence, and Lily studying you quietly. Almost worryingly.
“What is it?”
“Do you need a couple of minutes?” she asks instead.
“What?”
“y/n…”
“I don’t. I’m okay.” You say quickly, feeling indescribably irritated by the interruption. For being dragged away from your boyfriends. “I’m fine.”
“Just—”
“Lily. I know, I know, okay?” you take a step back, down the stairs. “But I’m fine, I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I sort of do, love. You’re… well—”
“I’m fine,” you repeat. With finality. “Thank you, though.”
Before she can speak, you turn around to rejoin the festivities. Remus doesn’t move from the spot, but he does reach for you to sit on his lap. Not quite between them, just there. The conversation goes on smoothly, Lily climbs down a moment later and you feel guilt gnaw at your insides when your gazes meet. She sends you a reassuring smile before sitting down.
At some point, Remus stands, claiming his knee is troubling him from sitting down all day. He drops a placating kiss to your shoulder before you can ask, or offer to go home. Sirius reaches for your hands when you’re back to his side, threading your fingers together and bringing your joined hands to his lap, then his chest. You feel drunk and happy and overwhelmed all at once. You don’t mind the way Remus shrugs down your help with his knee, not when he doesn’t pull away like other times. Maybe… maybe things are changing.
As the night stretches and you say goodbye to your friends, the three of you go home with tension lingering between you. It grows and grows the more they touch you, the more they kiss you and the more you wish you could just go home and let them properly love you. And that they do. Careful and slow and steady and gentle and everything you had wanted for months. They kiss you and hold you and caress you until you’re spent and tired. You shower and share kisses and return to bed hours later into the night, even when the sun is beginning to peek between the clouds. You climb between them after returning from the kitchen, setting the mugs and the coffee grounds in hopes of sharing a quick breakfast before heading out for work. Sirius reaches for you in his sleep, and you fall asleep content and more in love than ever.
When you wake, there’s a steaming cup of coffee on the nightstand, and two empty spots by your sides. The note by your alarm clock goes to your purse along with the rest. emergency situation at grimmauld place. will not be back until tomorrow cos of the full moon. we love you, s&r xx. You return to bed and cry yourself to sleep, or at least until your alarm goes off. Then, you’re off to work.
₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩
After work, you go to the healer again, and you leave St. Mungo’s with an even heavier weight on your chest and a note with a number for a muggle healer. The mind kind. The kind that, according to her, would be of more help than anyone at that hospital. You shove the number deep inside your purse and go home.
You go through the motions; tidy a bit, prepare everything for Remus, leave his potions and remedies at hand next to his side of the bed. You change the sheets again and stock up on tea and sweets. You go to a corner shop and look for the specific kind of biscuits Sirius likes, because you know he’ll be exhausted and fragile after handling whatever emergency at Grimmaul Place with Regulus and then the full moon. Then stop for the apothecary again for wolfsbane and more potions your healer instructed you to take whenever you resorted “to feeling wrong” again. You shove the potions deep inside your purse and return to the flat.
When you get to the floor, you’re surprised to find the door lightly ajar, only one push does it to let you in. You look around, categorizing the little ways you can help. But your boyfriends have made quick work of the things you’ve left out for them. The tea has been prepared, the gauzes used and the jar of wolfsbane has been emptied and left to be on the kitchen sink. You venture deep inside the flat, not even shredding your coat or purse or boots before tiptoeing inside your room.
Sirius looks up from the edge of the bed where he’s setting a damp cloth over Remus’ head. Cold for his migraines. He makes you a silencing gesture before standing up, arm coming around your waist to guide you out the room and closing the door behind him.
You can’t help it, you still ask. “How is he?”
“He’s been better,” he answers. The same as always. Vague enough to not worry you further. “Where were you?”
“Went to… uh,” you blink. Mind going blank. Sirius frowns, bending sideways to search for your gaze when it takes you a bit to answer. You clear your throat. “Sorry, um, I went to get wolfsbane. I didn’t know if we had any left so…”
His shoulders slump. “Oh, my love,” he hugs you. And it’s pathetic how you nearly melt into his arms. “you shouldn’t have. It’s too expensive, you know I always cover that.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Still,” he squeezes you tight before letting go. You feel uncomfortably teary when he takes a step back. “You shouldn’t worry about this. I know you, it’ll make you sick with worry.”
You almost laugh. But the sound could wake Remus up, and honestly, you don’t feel like laughing. Not really. So you stay silent, and let Sirius hug you again.
Once again, you hate yourself for asking. “Is…” you clear your throat. “Is Regulus okay? What happened?”
Like clockwork, Sirius steps back. He cups your face in his hands. “He’s okay,” he answers, but you know it’s mostly a lie. His throat bobbles like he’s pushing down something else. “Just… a bit of a false alarm. But he’s okay. Nothing to worry about.”
You take it for what it is. And you stay silent, nodding and pushing down the lump in your throat when he kisses your forehead. This time, you don’t feel your heart cracking when he steps back, eyes flickering to the room like he wants to check on Remus. You wordlessly take a step aside, letting him know it’s okay before turning to walk out the door. A full moon routine—stock up, come home, do a quick check up and pretend it’s your own decision to go outside to clear your head. Knowing Remus doesn’t want you to see him like this. You leave with a heavy heart and the same question you ask yourself every full moon, why does Sirius get to stay and not you? But now, with an equally heavy purse, you leave with an additional realization that maybe they’re what’s wrong with you.
₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩
It’s the end of the month, and the Ministry is a mess, everyone’s running around and getting work done, struggling to finish on time and ultimately staying extra hours to get the job done. Which means that they’ve seen less and less of you. Even if, funnily enough, things have gotten better.
Regulus has successfully moved out of Grimmauld Place, signing a lease for a small home near Diagon Alley and turning his back to the Black Legacy. Remus has been promoted at his cubicle job, less hours and more perks. The past full moon was a cruel one but according to his calculations it won’t come back until a few more years in a strange astronomy breakthrough. Things look up for them now, but now you’re not there to be on the receiving end of said good news.
They see you in passing between shared lunches and surprise visits, sharing kisses when you run through each other in the hallways and pretend they’re not going home to an empty flat.
It isn’t until Marlene accidentally walks in on you crying in the Level 10 bathrooms that it’s collectively decided that something needs to be done. In the moment, though, all she manages to come up with is an elaborate excuse to get you out of the Ministry and back home before marching to Level 4 and not being at all surprised when Sirius is already there with Remus. Not even casual, just straight up flirting.
“You heartless little shits,” she gripes.
Sirius twists, flashing her a grin. “To what do we owe that lovely moniker?”
“Don’t act so charming, Black,” she snaps. There’s genuine anger in her tone to make him falter, even Remus sits straight in his chair.
“What’s the problem with you?” he frowns, never one to back down from a challenge. “Are you even allowed out of your desk? With all the work you’re supposed to be doing?”
“And how are you supposed to know that?”
Sirius scoffs good naturedly. “Have you forgotten?” he leans back on the edge of the desk, stealing a sip from Remus’ tea. “We’ve got the loveliest insider keeping tabs on you.”
Marlene bristles. Actually bristles. “I just found this ‘lovely insider’ crying at the deepest level of this fucking building.”
Remus stands. “What?”
“When? Now?” Sirius pushes himself to stand.
She scoffs. “Now you want to know?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I won’t explain to you what you’ve been too blind to notice,” she snaps, all sharp edges and barely controlled fury. “Go home. Now.”
Remus reaches for his coat, not even stopping to think how this might look to his boss. They’re out of the Ministry in record time, not even taking the walk home and straight up using the Floo Network to get to the flat. Hearts up their throats and a heaviness that, finally, matches the one you’ve been carrying for months.
Except, when they get home, it’s empty. Exactly how you left it that morning. The brand new flowers at the center of the kitchen remain damp and recently watered, the mugs have been washed and put away in their respective shelves. But you’re nowhere to be seen. You must’ve taken the long way home.
Sirius exhales deeply, slumping on the couch. He runs a hand through his face, calm at first before it turns cruel and painful. He rubs at his eyes and presses his heels until he sees stars, until Remus crosses the living room to guide them away. They share a silence, acutely aware of how deafening your absence is.
“She’s been quiet lately.” Remus murmurs, pacing around the coffee table. He takes the book at the center, under the candle and one he recognizes. One he’s been meaning to read for months. “Quieter than usual.”
“I thought it was because of her weird boss but…” Sirius trails off. “Fuck, I don’t know.”
Remus drops a kiss to his head, thumbing at his loose hairs before standing straight. “We’ll talk about it, yeah?” he says, soft and gentle despite his own nerves. “Now we wait for her to get home. It won’t be long.”
“I wish she would stop insisting on taking the tube.”
“You know how she is.”
“Yeah, I know,” he sighs, dropping his face to his palms. “She’s probably having an off week at work.”
“I’ll prepare the bath for her, when she returns,” Remus says, voice echoey as he walks down the hallway and into the room. “Set out her comfies and make sure she feels better when she returns.”
Sirius stands, feeling torn with guilt and hopeful with purpose. He makes himself useful around the living room while Remus prepares the room for you, tidying a bit and setting everything for a quick dinner and a few cups of coffee or tea. He waters the bouquet and makes a mental note to get you a fresh one tomorrow.
It isn’t until he’s walked a few laps around the flat that he notices Remus has gone awfully quiet in the room.
He starts towards the hallway. “Hey, Moons. You think I’ve got time to run to—” he halts by the threshold at what he sees. Remus sits by the edge of the bed. Your side, usually. The drawer under the bed is open and he’s hunched over himself, running a hand through his forehead as he reads off various notes and pages. Sirius frowns. “What is it?”
Remus shakes his head once, clearing his throat before turning the crinkled page towards him. “Did you know anything about this?”
“What is it?”
“Healer’s instructions.”
Sirius feels the floor giving out under him. “What? Yours?” he asks, stupid really. He knows Remus would rather suck it up and suffer than go to St. Mungo’s, and, last time he checked, he hasn’t stopped by, either. And the only person they could belong to— “No.”
“They’re from different dates.” Remus goes through them. Stacked together with a few potions’ instructions and the notes they’ve left for you. The first ones. “For fuck’s sake.”
“What is it?”
Remus doesn’t answer at first, but his posture has tensed up. He reads and reads and reads like the pages would change contents, turning them over and going through each before handing them over to Sirius to read. Trouble sleeping. Loss of appetite. Sleeping too much, or sleeping too little. Shortness of breath. Then, the notes. He runs a hand through his face, hand shaking and heart heavy. saw you in passing on my way out of the ministry, you looked really lovely today. love you. sirius xx. thank you for the chocolates dovey. they really help. love, remus xx. Notes and notes and more notes. It isn’t until he gets to the very last one, that he feels his heart being cracked open, to pieces and completely torn. Treatment options, Janus Thickey Ward or—
He looks up, frowning at the ripped corner. “Or what?”
Remus shrugs. “I don’t know.”
“How,” he goes through the notes again. Reading and rereading, trying to understand the words and somehow make them fit into you—surely they would’ve noticed? Right? “How didn’t we notice?”
“I thought…” Remus looks away, hunching over his knees. He runs a cruel hand over his face, elbows digging into his knees as he tries to think. “Fuck.”
Sirius paces around the room and ignores the fact that he’s left the tea to go cold in the kitchen. He sets the notes aside, on the dresser and away from his sight before doing a full turn out the room. Towards the foyer, with a shaking hand, he reaches for his jacket. Steps follow and a scarred hand is holding him back, stopping him from taking another step out the door.
“I’m going to look for her, Remus.”
“And do what?”
“She can’t be alone. It’s late, she—”
“She could be anywhere, how do you plan to find her?”
Sirius steps away. “And what do you suggest we do? Wait?”
Remus only nods, jaw tight. “Yes,” he says plainly. Eyebrows furrowed and face cracked open with guilt. “We wait for her to get home and try to talk to her.”
So they wait.
They make themselves useful, tidying the living room and cleaning the cupboards. Sirius starts on the tea again and completely ignores the flower vase, staring back at him like the proof of what they’ve done. Remus only lays down the clothes on the bed, neat and clean. He folds the notes and the pages carefully and puts them back inside your drawer, chest heavy with guilt at his blindness and for finding them in the first place. They wait and wait, they make dinner and pretend it’s normal for you to take this long to get home. They wait and shower and get into their own pajamas to wait for you.
₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩
When you return, it’s hours later. Long into the night. You look exhausted and awfully sad. Resigned, almost. It’s too late, and Remus and Sirius have fallen asleep waiting for you. The tea remains untouched, the bath goes cold and you change into your comfies in silence before settling on your side of the bed. You fall asleep crying, knowing you’ll wake up to empty sheets and an even emptier flat. A new note if you’re lucky.
Except, when you wake. They’re there.
You don’t open your eyes at first, they feel heavy and you give yourself a couple of minutes to start waking up. It’s still early, your alarm isn’t set to go off until a couple of hours. Maybe they’re having an early morning, a head start on the day before work. You lie on your back, staring at the ceiling and aware that the bed is empty but the flat isn’t.
Maybe if you go into the living room, you might have a couple of minutes before they’re set to leave. Maybe you can have a quick breakfast, or a small lie in. Maybe Sirius would let you sleep a little on the sofa with him before Remus wakes him up and scolds him for being late again. Maybe you can bring your makeup to the living room and get ready while they drink their coffee?
You glance at the door, seeing their shadows under the sliver of light. Maybe today you’ll let them be. It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ll talk to them later at dinner. You’ll try to do what the muggle therapist advised you to do and talk to them, maybe you’ll stop by the café on your way out of work for a few pastries—sweeten the conversation and pretend it’s not a coaxing technique to get them home early. Maybe it’s best to let them be, have a day for themselves before you… well, ruin it.
A lump forms in your throat, and you turn to your side, curling into yourself and pretend it doesn’t hurt. Pretend you didn’t spend the previous day crying and sobbing inside a tiny office and hear a muggle tell you exactly what you feared was wrong with you.
There’s a rasp on the door, quiet and tentative at first before it opens. Achingly slow before Remus pokes his head in. He’s not wearing his uniform, and his hair is tousled—like he’s just woken up or ran a hand through it over and over again.
“Oh,” he blinks, surprised to see you awake. “Hi, dovey. Good morning.”
You turn, clearing your throat and pretending this isn’t turning your morning upside down. Your heart, too. “Hi.”
“Uh,” he steps fully inside, looking heartbreakingly lost and confused. It makes your throat constrict, and it’s a conscious effort to not make your eyes flicker down the bed. To your drawer where you’ve shoved the therapist’s notes and written instructions. “Sirius ran to that café you like down the street for breakfast, he should be back soon. Would you like a cup while we wait?”
You push yourself to sit. The question crawls and crawls up your throat, trying to escape. You’re staying? “That’s… okay, yeah,” you turn to the clock. “I’ve still got a couple of hours.”
“A couple of hours?”
“It’s Friday,” you explain, despite yourself. Knowing how against this is to your heart’s deepest wishes. They’re here, they’ve got breakfast for you and you’re saying you have to work? “I… well, I still have to go to work. I left early yesterday, I can’t miss it.”
You regret your words immediately after you speak, Remus’ shoulder slump, nodding in understanding and you turn to sit on the edge of the bed so you don’t have to see the heartbreak that comes with his amber eyes. So you don’t have to see him walk out of the room and let you be.
Except… he doesn’t. You stand, forcing yourself to get started with your day and remind yourself that the heaviness of your chest is just something you’ll have to learn how to handle, how to endure and carry by yourself for a while. Or at least until you muster any ounce of courage to tell them about it. Maybe tomorrow night? Remus is looking at you in a way that makes you consider calling in sick—but what if it’s just for a couple of hours? What if they end up needing to go? They’re important at work now, they might be needed. But so do you. You can’t simply call in sick, even if… well, you do have a note. A reason—No, you can’t. You’ll tell them at dinner.
Right as you’re about to round the bed, start on your day and get changed, Remus stops you before you can get to your dresser. His touch is dizzying and overwhelming at once, thumb sweeping at your elbow as he tries to coax you to look at him. You want to, you so desperately want to let him hold you and look directly into his pretty eyes, but you know better. You know how weak you are, how easily you can give into the high of being on the receiving end of their attention, their affections. You know you will either let them kiss you and drag you back to bed, or end up spilling your heart open before breakfast. You’re at crossroads and Remus is looking at you like he can see it, like he knows. You wish he knew. Maybe everything would be easier… or maybe… just maybe… this wouldn't have happened, if they knew.
No. You shake your head. Don’t go there.
“...sweetheart?
You blink, forcing your head up to meet his gaze. “Hm? Yes?”
Remus parts his lips a bit, like he’s actively holding himself back and bracing for whatever he will ask you. You find yourself doing the same. But he shakes his head, too. His hand coasts up from your elbow higher and higher the length of your arm, all the way to your shoulder. It’s a nice touch, you almost shudder like your body is finally catching up and recognizing the feeling of his skin touching yours. You swallow thickly, feeling your weak defenses and self mantras dissolving when he pulls you to him into a hug.
You suck in a breath, quiet so he doesn’t hear how complete you feel with his arms around you, chests pressed together in a way you know he’d hear your pounding heart if he pressed you closer. His arms tighten in the right places, around your back and shoulders with a hand up the back of your head that makes you think that maybe… things really are changing. Maybe you can call off work and talk things through. Maybe, yes, they’re what’s wrong with you, but there’s still time to make them right. But how can you even open your mouth to speak when the tears have already won you over? So you stay silent instead. Just a couple of minutes like this. You’ll take this, you’ll take the hug and the breakfast and the extra hours of morning light and warm coffee.
His thumb strokes at the baby hairs of your neck, an absentminded sweep that one would think it’s just muscle memory if you didn’t know better. Remus’ hand splays over your back, pulling you closer like he physically wants—needs to mould you to him. It’s enough to make a sniffle escape you, traitorous and hopeful and pathetic. Naturally, more follow. Then, a sob tears right through your throat and the jumble of feelings you’re desperately trying to push down. And you can’t keep silent this time.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, a warm breath in your ear. His thumb strokes your nape again, again and again. “I’m so sorry.”
You shake your head, finding in yourself the strength to speak. “No. S’fine, I just…” your breath stutters, not quite catching up with the adrenaline of his arms around you. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me lately.”
Remus makes a sound, quiet but evident in his pain as he guides you a little away. His hands travel up to your face, eyebrows bunched together when your gazes meet and his eyes flit down to the tears in your cheeks. How many nights you spent the same way, crying, and crying and crying hoping they would come back—hoping they would hear or notice you’re falling apart between them in their sleep.
The front door opens and closes, followed by paper bags crinkling and tentative steps. You silence yourself immediately, knowing that, if he knew, if he heard… any plans to contain this would go down the drain. But Sirius has never been one to ignore the sound of your pain or the tension in the room once he notices it. Papers cling as he sets them down, boots stomping against the wooden floors as he starts towards the room.
Something primal about their worry, their combined panic and pain makes you move. You turn around, brushing your hair away and pretending nothing has happened, that you’re simultaneously choking on your own tears and the tension that has taken over the room. Sirius looks frustrated and sad and you’re desperately reminding yourself that it’s not at you. It can’t be at you. He would never.
“Hey—”
“I’ll be ready in a few minutes,” you speak over him, sidestepping Remus to get to your dresser. “Sorry.”
Sirius shakes his head. “What are you sorry for?”
You rummage a bit sharper inside your drawers, searching for what? You don’t know, but you have to move. You have to go. Their attention, while intoxicating as it used to be, now it feels like it’s cutting the oxygen of the room. You can’t tell them. You can’t, not when you’ve already ruined a perfectly good morning. Their plans for breakfast. Maybe walking you to work. All gone. Because you gave in, you clung to Remus and his touch and the way he hugged you. You can’t.
“You can’t what, sweetheart? Remus asks.
Your eyes snap up. “Huh?”
Sirius takes a step closer, deeper into the room. “You can’t… what?”
“What?”
They share a look, and alarm bells ring inside your head. You close the drawer, holding your clothes against your chest and trying to walk between them to get to the bathroom. Just a couple of minutes, a couple of steps—
“Wait.” Sirius says. His hand takes your elbow, too. It’s shaking. Or maybe that’s just you.
“Sirius, I have to get ready,” you point at your clothes.
He bends slightly to the side, searching for your gaze and finding it hard to even look at him. Not when it’s hard to pinpoint what it means. Months ago, you used to know him and his moods, the way he thought and the way he went quiet when he struggled. Now you don’t know if the frown between his eyebrows has anything to do with you. Or stress. Or how he went out early in the morning for breakfast and returned to a flat full of doom and pain. This was a bad idea. You shouldn’t have waited, you should’ve get started on your day as you woke up and head out before it could get to this point. You should’ve stayed silent.
“Can you look at me, my love?”
You don’t at first. Not because you don’t want to, you so desperately want to look at him. But first you must swallow down whatever is obstructing your breath, the weight on your chest and make yourself better until it’s time to go. You want to look at him and smile and let him kiss you and guide you to the kitchen for breakfast. But part of you, the deepest and most selfish parts of you, wants to simply bite the bullet and look up. Let him see how much you’re hurting, even if that’s the least you want. It’s useless—you still don’t know what’s wrong with you.
He exhales deeply, it sounds shaky even to your own ears. But he only takes a step closer, hand lowering until he’s coaxing your arm out of holding onto your clothes to hold it to his chest. “Why don’t you stay home today?” he asks, voice at odds with his face. Soothing himself in real time when your eyes flicker up in surprise. “I know you need to go to work, but I… we can’t let you go like this. Not when there’s still something we’d like to talk to you about.”
Your throat constricts. “Talk?” you ask, eyes flickering from him to Remus. “About what? Can’t it wait?”
He glances up, definitely sending Remus a panicked look that you do catch this time. When you try to take his distraction to step away, to give them a moment, Sirius threads your fingers together. Pressed against his chest.
“No, actually,” he says, surer this time. “It can’t. I’m sorry, love.”
You nod, swallowing nervously. “Okay. I’ll… um, see if I can call in sick at work.”
Remus clears his throat. “Why don’t you change, clean your face or take a quick shower while we set breakfast, hm?” His hand returns to your nape, grounding and heavy at once. Like the hand tightening around your heart.
A panicked and intrusive thought crashes into your mind out of sudden—what if they’re breaking up with you? What if this is it? What if all this time they were slowly pulling away to make the fall less painful, the news easy to digest? What if—
“It’s okay, dove. Nothing’s wrong,” Remus reassures quickly, like he can feel the panic radiating off you. Or picking up the way your heart pounds. Either way, it doesn’t help to calm you down. He takes a step closer. “We just want to talk, uh… catch up, more like it.”
“Catch up?”
“Yeah.”
Sirius’ thumb brushes the back of your hand, looking more and more like he wants to cry. You nod. You’d accept anything to lessen whatever tension has them looking so devastated, so sad. He mirrors it, looking a tad relieved and kissing your cheek before walking out the room. Remus does the same, giving your nape a loving squeeze before following him out.
You don’t allow yourself to process it, not yet. You go through the motions first. You make the bed, switch your clothes and tidy the room before going into the bathroom to clean your face and brush your teeth and do your hair. Then, you call Marlene. It’s a conscious effort to keep your voice even when she asks if you’re okay, and you reassure her many times that you are, that you’re only feeling under the weather and that you owe her a favour for covering for you. When she hangs up. You let yourself cry.
When you step out, a couple of minutes later, you think you’ve successfully rearranged your insides so they don’t come spilling out the moment you open your mouth. It takes a bit, and a hurried and pathetic attempt to remember everything the mind healer told you, the breathing exercises and the quiet mantras to calm yourself. They help, but just a bit. All the work comes undone when you step out the bathroom, finding the empty room and the door ajar. Whispers echo from the living room, quieter and broken despite their desperate attempts to even their tones.
You muster your courage, your strength and your pain altogether to round the bed; crouching down to open the drawer and collect your notes. A small museum of your relationship, the good and the bad. The notes and the silence, the love and the loneliness. All cramped between your clothes and old books under the bed. You fold them and tuck them in your pocket before walking out of the room. Not yet.
“It’s okay, love. It’s okay, we’re okay,” Remus whispers, over and over as Sirius holds onto him. “She’s okay. We’ll talk, yeah? We’ll fix it.”
“I don’t know.” Sirius whispers back, voice fraught and quiet. Too quiet. You stay silent, watching with a tightness inside your chest. He shakes his head. “I don’t know if this is something we can fix, Remus.”
“But we’ll try, yeah? We will.”
You look away. You stay silent. And you let them be. Not yet.
You walk back to the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and trying to ignore the dark pitch on your stomach, growing and growing. Maybe you were right. Things were changing, but it took you a bit to realize you’re not part of those changes.
This time, you don’t check the lock before the first sob escapes your lips, embarrassed and frustrated at yourself for all your attempts going in vain. For staying silent in hopes of salvaging this, hoping things would go back to normal, that your patience was a small sacrifice for a greater purpose. That you clung to them, to stop this good love from slipping away. Not noticing it was already far from reach.
You let them be, and stay silent as you cry. You cry and cling to traitorous hope that they’ll notice, or not. Or let you be. You’ve trapped yourself in a dilemma that is ultimately the result of your own actions, wanting to be seen without having to beg.
No.
You shake your head, rub your face, then press the heels of your hands into your eyes. Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. You can still make it right. It doesn’t have to feel wrong, not always. Every love has its period of uncertainty, of pain and loneliness. This is a good love, you can’t let it slip away. Even good love has to go through changes. Not yet. You will talk to them—and say what? You will try, but not yet—
“y/n?” Sirius asks, tentative at first as he pushes the door open. Slow, a contrast to the way your hands fly to clean your cheeks. He sucks in a breath.
You stand. “Sorry, I’ll be right there.”
He reaches for you, not even giving you enough time to take a step. His arms tighten around you, nearly collapsing into you with the force of his hug. His desperation. Whatever it is, you’re too raw and confused—it must rub off on you. Because it all goes downhill after that.
₊˚⊹ ᢉ𐭩
The breakfast has turned soggy, you push it around your plate and pretend you’re not eating it because you’re still too raw. Not because you fear this will be the last.
The notes and pages grow heavy with every passing minute, every hug and every silent look. How funny it all is, that you’ve finally gotten what you wanted, and you can’t bring yourself to enjoy it. Or at least not the way you’d want to. Not when you can’t bring yourself to open your mouth without feeling like you’re running on borrowed time, and silencing yourself immediately.
You set your fork down, glancing around the flat. The table, same one you’d share early breakfast and late dinners. The first piece of furniture you picked together. Then, the living room, the coffee table, the bookshelves, the turntables and the kitchen and— your hand flies to your face, choking up on realizations and grief. This can’t be. How can it be the end? This is good, you formed a home together. This is a good love, how can it end?
A chair scrapes, and Remus is already crouching by your side, pulling it aside to reach for you. His knees crack but his arms are desperate and steady when they pull you to him. This time, you have no qualms in scolding yourself for melting into his touch, his embrace that feels sacred and devastating at once. Your chest hurts and hiccups as you cry, turning your head and maybe hide away in his arms.
“I tried,” you whisper. It comes out like a whispered confession, like something that escapes your lips. “I just want you to know that I did try to keep up.”
He pulls away, but it’s Sirius who speaks first. “We know that now,” his voice is quiet, heavy with sorrow. Or grief. Whatever it is, your heart clenches. “We’re the ones who didn’t.”
“No—”
“We didn’t, y/n.”
“You had many things going on. Regulus, and the full moons and the transformations and—”
“And so did you. It seems.”
You suck in a breath, eyes flickering between them. Remus thumbs at your tears, his own eyes glassy and full of despair. “What do you mean?” They share a quick look, and the weight on your chest expands. Heavier and heavier, it cuts your oxygen. “Who told you?”
“That’s the thing, isn’t it?” Remus murmurs, thumb sweeping your cheek when tears won’t stop trailing down your face. “Someone had to point it out for us to notice.”
“Who?” you swallow thickly. “Was it Marlene? Lily?”
Remus closes his eyes, and Sirius only runs a hand over his face. “You see now?” he asks, too full of grief. “All the people who noticed before we did?”
“You had many things on your plate and I couldn’t do that to you, I knew you were struggling and—”
Sirius shakes his head. “You were struggling, too! For months!”
You look away. “I didn’t mean for it to get bad,” you confess. “I tried. I really did, I promise.” you explain. No, you beg. You plead. Because the idea of your silence being the reason they walk away is too terrifying to even entertain. “I just…”
Remus strokes your face. “Please don’t silence yourself,” his arm lowers to your lap, holding your hand in his. His scars glisten with the tears he’s cleaned. Yours, Sirius’, his own. “Don’t slip away.”
Your face twists in pain, because it is a virtue to not let good love slip away—and right now it’s beginning to feel like a flaw. For slipping away from them, for letting it get to this point. For staying silent.
“I just…” you hold onto his hand. “I just missed you, so, so much. And I didn’t know why.” Their faces crack at the way your voice catches, heavy with pain and grief and the months you had to endure their absence.
“Oh, my love—” Sirius’ voice cracks, chair scraping as he stands. You’re fisting his jumper before he can even fully wrap his arms around you, clinging and clinging, and feeling the way they cling to you in return. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. They repeat, over and over and over, and you stay silent. Because it’s starting to feel like the moment they say goodbye. And you’re clinging to hope that maybe, you can get a couple of extra minutes like this. Clinging to hope. Clinging to them.
Remus’ arms shake when he tries to fix his hold around you, and his fingers brush the pages peeking from the back pocket of your trousers. He draws back a bit, just enough to pull them out.
Your breath hitches. Then even more when you look up to realize they’re not surprised at what they find. Remus unfolds them like he had been the one folding them back into your pocket, into your drawer. Sirius steps back, hands at your jaw as he cleans your tears. And the table suddenly feels like there’s something hanging in the air that you’re not privy to.
“I was going to tell you,” you’re quick to explain, words tripping out of your tongue. Barely taking shape before you’re uttering them, barely making sense to your own ears before they make sense to them. “I just… I didn’t know how and I didn’t know…” you falter.
Remus looks up. “Earlier you said that lately you don’t know what’s wrong with you,” his voice is terrifyingly calm as he thumbs at the pages. He hands them back to you. “Is this… why?”
For some reason, you find yourself nodding. Speaking. Pushing past your dread and let the truth slip out. “Yeah,” you rub your eyes. “Yes. I… well, I thought maybe it was work at first but—turns out I’m fine. The healer said I was fine.”
Sirius dabs at his cheeks. “So you kept going.”
“Yeah. I… it didn’t make sense. What she said and how I felt.”
Remus’ hands travel up, resting on your shoulders before thumbing at your jaw, your neck. Grounding motions that only bring more pain rather than comfort. “And how do you feel?”
Even if you try to look away, his sad eyes are a sight too hard to ignore. You thumb at the pages, the corner you ripped with the mind healer’s number to hide it from them, the little love notes you clung to when uncertainty was too big to ignore. To brush off.
“I…” your eyebrows twitch together, a fleeting movement that tells them everything. Everything you’re trying and failing to put into words.
He can’t help it, Sirius shakes his head at your silence. Your struggle to find the words. “I’m sorry.”
“I just…” you run a hand through your chest, trying to suppress the weight inside. Forcing it to either dissipate or to take the shape of something that can be easy to understand. You look away, then. “You know, the first person I tried to talk about this with was Lily. One day I stopped by to visit her. I told her as best as I could, hoping she would help me understand… she listened. And all she said is that I seemed very sad for a girl so in love. And it’s the only thing that has made sense through all of this. I love you so much, and yet I’m sad all the time.”
Remus looks away, eyes slipping shut. You wonder if it’s too much for you to clean his tears, but then remember this might be your last chance, so you do. He leans into your palm, and the knot in your throat tightens. Sirius makes a sound that makes your insides rattle and freeze at the same time.
“No.”
“Sirius—”
“No. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”
Your eyebrows twitch again. The faintest of movements. “I know.”
His voice cracks. “You were supposed to be happy and… and feel loved not—” his face glistens with tears. “Not sad. Not like this.”
You run a finger through Remus’ face, touch featherlight as you follow after a rogue tear that drags a path down one of his scars. He opens his eyes with realization, taking your hand in his to lower them to his chest.
“You were sad because we kept asking you to wait, wasn’t it?”
Sirius looks back at you, fear and realization dawning on him when you don’t answer. Remus inhales sharply.
You stare back at him, focusing on his tears and finding a way to make it easier to say. To make the words and their meaning easier to hear. “I just…” you sniffle. “I knew it was out of protection, that it was for my own good,” you pause, swallowing back a sob even when it begs to escape your lips. “But you never once stopped to ask me if that’s what I wanted.”
The silence that follows is deafening enough that you feel it in your own bones, your heart, freezing with dread and refusing to stutter with hope when the words finally leave your lips. Hope that they’ll understand. Hope that you love them despite it all. And hope that they know you would’ve stayed—
“I would’ve stayed,” you whisper, dragging the back of your hand over your cheeks. “There’s nothing none of you could’ve done or said to scare me off. I just…” you take a sharp inhale, and your hand turns, covering your face as the tears start falling again. “I just wanted to be there. Not just for the good—but… the ugly parts as well. That’s all I wanted.”
Sirius shifts, bending to take your face in his hands. Cleaning your tears when all you want to do is clean his. “You can have them. The good and the ugly parts.”
You shake your head. “You don’t have to say this.”
“I do. I do, y/n. I’m so sorry,” he holds you closer, bending down and down until his forehead is nearly pressed against yours. “You can have them.”
“Just,” Remus’ hold tightens around you. “Just please stop talking like you’re already halfway out the door.”
Traitorous hope flickers on inside your chest, too fast and burning too bright you can’t bring yourself to extinguish it. You swallow thickly, hoping it dies down. You know better than to go down that road again, but your heartstrings keep tugging you that way. Back to them, to their arms, their easy affections and the way they cling to you the longer the silence stretches on between you.
You shake your head, just to yourself at first. Don’t go there, don’t go there. The more you repeat it to yourself, the higher the flame gets. Burning brighter and brighter.
“You said it, you said this isn’t something that can be fixed,” you explain. Almost pleading, pleading for them to understand you. To know why what they’re saying it’s only feeding the fire of your hope. “And maybe you’re right—”
“No.” Sirius says, with resolve and stuttering breaths as he shakes his head. “No, we’re not. Because that’s not what I meant.”
“What?”
“I don’t know if the way we’ve hurt you is something that can be fixed that easily,” he says, bending closer until he meets your equally teary gaze. “that’s what I meant.”
“We’d never think of us as something unfixable, dove.” Remus adds, voice fraught. “Never.”
“No?” your voice quietens. Why wouldn’t it? When hope keeps pressing down and down at your chest, trying to find its way back in, it doesn’t care if there isn’t room for something else. “Even after this?”
“Even after this,” he agrees immediately. “There’s nothing worth more time and effort and fixing than this. Nothing.”
“But—”
“Earlier you kept saying you tried. Many times.” Sirius steps in, voice gaining momentum. “And you’re not the only one trying. Not anymore.”
You feel like the flame inside your chest has spread throughout your body. Hope is a dangerous thing. As intoxicating as it is painful.
“I don’t know if I’d handle it again. I won’t survive it,” you confess, first to yourself before glancing up to meet their teary gazes. “Don’t make me hope.”
As soon as the words leave your lips, you brace. You wait for the moment they draw away from you, realizing the depth of your pain. What they’ll have to work with and decide it’s not worth it in the end.
Except… they don’t. If anything, they get closer.
Remus brings your hands to his chest again. “Then don’t hope.”
Your breath hitches. “What?”
“You took the risk before, and see how much it hurt you. It’s okay not to hope, and we won’t expect you to,” he goes on. “Because that’s for us to do… for us to earn.”
“If you need to doubt, doubt us.” Sirius says, thumb sweeping at your cheeks and silently relieved there are no new tears to clean. “And…” he pauses, wetting his lips. “If you need time. Take it.”
And just like that, the flicker of hope extinguishes. But Remus only holds you closer, feeling the way it dims and the way your eyes gloss over again.
“Not time away. Just time to earn your trust again, to show you that we’ll work through fixing this. To show you the good and the ugly parts.”
You nod, slowly and just once. “Okay,” you exhale deeply. Maybe the first one that actually leaves all the way in a while. “Okay, yeah.”
Sirius mirrors your nod, holding your gaze as you try to gather your thoughts. Remus brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and pressing them to his chest. In the same stutter of breath, you reach for each other again. And this time, you don’t cling as hard.
You nudge closer to him, and he turns his head to kiss your temple. So unbearably soft and tender you feel teary once again. Sirius steps back, holding your face in his hands and kissing the tears away while Remus stands. He drops a quick kiss to the crown of your head before reaching for the plates and the rest of the food to take them to the kitchen.
“Why don’t we go outside for a walk?” he says, rejoining you a bit later with a little, if fleetingly tentative smile. “The weather’s nice enough, maybe we can clear our heads. What do you think, dovey?”
“Actually,” you sniffle, brushing your hair away and feeling acutely aware of how not okay you might look right now. “I was thinking we could have a lie-in?”
Sirius tucks you to his side. “Of course.”
“But we can take a walk later.”
Remus hums, cupping your cheek. “That’s okay, too. But only if you feel like it,” his thumb strokes the corner of your lips. Feeling the way they twitch, the faintest of movements. “But first… breakfast?”
“Sure,” you nod.
“Perfect.” Sirius holds you to him a bit tighter before letting go, pushing the sleeves of his jumper up his elbows. “What are you in the mood for? I got you french toast but I reckon we can whip you up something better.”
“French toast’s fine.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course,” you stand, suddenly aware that you’re still holding onto your papers. “But, um, I sort of need a big cup of coffee first.”
Sirius points at you. “You’ve got it, my love.”
Remus tucks you to his side, and your arms come around him in muscle memory that pushes past missed times and your own reservations. He guides you back to the room, pausing by the living room to pick up his book on the way. You settle between the covers, not caring if you’ve made the bed not even hours ago. He follows after you, settling by your side and making himself comfortable.
“What did you think about it?” he asks, turning the book for you to see the cover.
It takes you a bit to pinpoint the book and its contents. “Oh,” you shift, turning to lie on your side to look at him. “You were right. S’a bit boring.”
His lips twitch. “Yeah?”
“Heavy world building.”
“Hm,” he turns back to the book, contemplatingly. “Suppose I’ll have to sit this one out, then.”
“I mean,” you reach for the covers, fiddling with a loose thread. “I think you’ll like it, but I personally found it very slow at times.”
Remus shuffles closer, arm around you. “Are you calling me slow?” he asks quietly. Both in a shared secret and like he’s trying to coax a smile out of you.
It almost works. Your lips twitch more obviously this time. You feel his lips curling into a smile when he kisses your temple.
“Read it to me?” you whisper. “Maybe you’ll get me to like it.”
He pulls you impossibly closer to him, and your arm circles around his torso for steadying. Slow at first, tentative. But Remus shifts until there’s no other choice but to hug him.
“Of course I’ll read it to you,” he whispers back. “Are you ready?”
“Now?”
“Sure. Unless you had any other plans in mind?”
“No,” you raise a hand, finger tracing idle patterns on his sternum. “Just sleep in I suppose.”
“Then you’ve asked the right person,” Sirius says as he walks in. Somehow managing to carry three steaming cups of coffee without burning himself. He sets them by your nightstand. “But wait for me?”
“Sure,” you reply, sitting straight to take your coffee. You pass Remus his as Sirius walks back out the room to get started on breakfast. “Here.”
“Thanks, dovey,” he takes it. Then winces at the scorching hot temperature of the mug. He still gives it a sip, and your lips curl around the rim of your mug as you drink yours. He sets it on his nightstand, and gestures at you to return to your previous position.
You do. Readily. Surely.
Sirius curses under his breath from the kitchen, cupboards opening and closing as he walks around preparing breakfast. You nuzzle closer to Remus, and he holds you to him before pulling the covers higher over you. Together, you wait for breakfast.
When Sirius comes back, you share bites and sips of coffee between chapters. Pauses to shift and to ask questions about the book, small debates about what should’ve happened instead and what Remus, personally, had done if he was the writer. You finish your coffee and your french toast, leaving the plates together by the nightstand and settling more comfortably between them. Listening as they argue about whether the protagonist is too romantic with her descriptions of everything or that’s just poor writing—things you thought yourself when you first read the book. Sirius asks about your opinion and you pretend you’re falling asleep. He lets you, dropping a kiss to your shoulder and pulling you to him when Remus gets too heated reading and describing an action scene.
Somewhere between that, you fall asleep. A few moments later, they fall asleep, too. You wake up later at night tangled between sheets and limbs, an arm wrapped loosely around your waist and inky black curls tickling your cheek. You sigh, turning to pull the covers higher before falling asleep again.
bartender!Remus Lupin x bouncer!Sirius Black x stripper!reader [1.4k words]
A/N: this was a request I got excited about last night and wrote it in a flurry and now it's missing from my inbox 🥲 the request was an image of two guys standing near a stage speaking to a dancer who was bending down to talk to them with the caption "the bartender and bouncer chatting up their favourite dancer at the end of the night" and then a request for whichever ship I think this would fit best
CW: fem!reader, reader is a stripper and it vaguely mentions her state of undress but barely, SFW, Remus is sweet, Sirius pretends that he's not but he's actually sweet too, fluff
A large glass of water and a prettily made cocktail appear in your eyeline, both held by a set of lithe fingers which bring an instant smile to your face.
You remember yourself and attempt to straighten, realizing belatedly that the way you’re sitting on the stage hunched over as you undid the intricate straps of your heels is likely quite un-sexy.
It’s ironic, really; the fact that your hands are more blister than they are skin at this point and the fact that you are absolutely parched, yet your heels always take priority at the end of your shift.
You were the closer for the bar tonight; not usually your favourite shift but the tips made up for it.
Mostly made up for it.
There were perhaps…other things that also made up for closing shifts.
“Here,” Remus says, crooking his fingers at you in the universal gesture for come here, “you drink, I’ll do these.”
You consider arguing but ultimately concede; your fatigued muscles and dry mouth – likely for more reasons now than the simple issue of dehydration – sees you inching your way towards the edge of the stage so that your calves hang off of it, Remus busying himself with the straps immediately.
“This bloke bothering you, doll?” Another voice drawls; the arrogant hints of aristocracy making itself known in his syllables even as he saunters over to the two of you like a blissed-out rockstar.
Remus, for his part, snorts incredulously. “You wish.”
You laugh at the bartender. “Why? Is he just dying for an excuse to have you pressed up against the edge of this stage?”
It earns you a warning tap of your (now free!) ankle as one heel is placed gingerly on the stage next to you and Remus starts on the other. “You’re meant to be drinking, you minx.”
You don’t bother apologizing, more than aware that Remus isn’t actually mad as you bring the glass of water to your lips; Sirius winking at you when you meet his gaze.
Sirius had shown up for his first shift in the pissing rain; his entire form hidden beneath a hooded jumper layered beneath an oversized leather jacket. His head and face had been covered by the soaking wet hood and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his jacket.
You’d given the owner of the club a strange look regarding the newbie, feeling that – compared to James and Fabian – this bloke didn’t appear to be all that intimidating for a bouncer. He wasn’t particularly tall – though you wouldn't call him short, either – nor was he particularly wide (granted, your point of reference in that regard is James, so, do with that what you will).
And then two, fully tatted hands emerged from the pockets in order to pull his hood away from his head, exposing a head of onyx hair pulled back haphazardly into a damp and careless bun, fierce, dark brows furrowed as though the rain personally slighted him which gave way to steely grey eyes. The length and fullness of his lashes almost threatened to take away from his edginess, not unlike those of a baby cow, but then those eyes surveyed the room with the assurance of someone who has spent countless years scanning every room for potential threats, and you looked to Minnie in apology for ever doubting her.
By the time Remus was hired on, you were smart enough not to question the matriarch.
You survey Remus, then, who’s unwrapping the last of your straps from your ankles and freeing your sore foot from the shoe. He’s not built like a bouncer, either, though you’ve seen him hand a few men their arses when they caught an attitude close enough for him to hear from the bar. You weren’t convinced that the honey colour of his eyes were capable of going ice-cold until you’d seen it for yourself.
You find yourself feeling particularly lucky to have not found yourself on the receiving end of one of those glares.
“Good shift, gorgeous?” Sirius asks the way he always does; resting one elbow on the edge of the stage as he splits his attention between you, the bartender, and the last of the patrons petering out of the doors. You give him the same answer every time.
“It was alright.”
To which he always responds with “you look great.”
You try to ignore the way he never says you looked great, past tense, but rather that you look great, presently; a pullover quickly shoved over your head as your shoulders gradually sag under the weight of the evening.
It’s, admittedly, getting harder and harder to ignore.
“She always looks great.” Remus adds, though it’s not said in opposition but rather in agreement.
“How about you?” You return the question, not sure how to respond to their unabashed compliments.
“Oh, no complaints.” Sirius sing-songs, smiling at Remus like they share a secret. “How ‘bout you, Lupin?”
Remus hums in agreement as he rests his forearms against the lip of the stage to your other side, not unlike the way he leans against his bar during lulls in orders or when he’s dedicating his attention to a customer or a dancer. “My shift was quite alright, thanks. My favourite dancer closed out the bar, so, that’s always nice.”
“Oh for-” you start, never finishing your sentence as you make yourself busy with downing the rest of the water.
“Awe, Remus; you made her shy.”
“Okay, that’s it.” You threaten with a wide smile on your face, making to grab your heels and fancy drink only to be stopped by the same hands that brought you said drink and freed you from said heels.
“Oi, where’re you going in such a rush?”
You don’t bother dignifying him with a response, merely narrowing your eyes at him as he fights against a mischievous smile. He cocks an eyebrow at you.
“To change.” You laugh, neither man deigning to correct you seeing as you’re actually not going to change so much as you’re about to get dressed.
“Well I don’t see how.” Sirius states plainly, shrugging one shoulder as he gestures towards your bare feet with his opposite hand. “You’ve not got any shoes on.”
“And, what?” You deadpan. “This isn’t exactly a no shoes, no shirt, no service type of establishment.”
You manage to elicit a cheeky smile out of him for that, the kind that exposes sharp canines and crinkles the corners of his eyes.
“We can’t have you walking on this dirty floor with your sore feet.” Remus coos in a manner you might have assumed to be being patronizing if not for the honest divot between his brows.
“Quite right.” Sirius agrees as he straightens, moving over in order to stand between your legs with his back towards you. “Up you get.”
“I beg your pardon?” You actually giggle like a sodding school girl.
“I’ll give you a ride, c’mon.”
You let out a disbelieving laugh again as you look at your empty glass, your drink, and your shoes. “But-”
“I’ve got it. Up you get, dove.”
Your cheeks are on fire but you do as told, looping your arms over Sirius’ shoulders and around his neck as he encourages your weight off of the stage.
He barely manages three steps before James is hollering at him.
“Oi, dickhead! Don’t worry about me then, yeah? I’ve got it?” He jokes as he locks the door behind the last patron.
“Brilliant! Good lad.” Sirius smiles in return, either ignorant to or in spite of the two-fingered salute he receives from his coworker.
“Oh, that reminds me: James has been hounding me to exercise more, so if he asks, doll, I’ve been working out with you.”
You try and fail to hide the burst of giggles that elicits out of you into Sirius’ shoulder.
“Why would you tell him you were working out with me?”
“That doesn’t sound like the soundest of alibis, mate.” Remus agrees.
Sirius, for his part, shrugs. “You girls are some of the fittest people I could think of; beats having James yell at me in a public gym.”
“Careful,” you tease, “I’m liable to make you come work out with me just to avoid being complicit in a lie.”
Sirius makes a rather pleased sound that vibrates in his ribs beneath you, sharing a knowing look with Remus.
“You, me, and a pole? Doesn’t sound like a bad time at all, gorgeous.”
Remus’ steps falter as Sirius makes his way down the hall towards the girls’ change room, forcing him to speed up lest he fall behind. “Well, now, hang on a second…”
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who like each other from the start ✩ 3.7k words
summary: you know Lily from a shared class, when she invites you to meets some of her friends, Sirius and Remus can't stop flirting.
cw: fluff, reader is a lil shy and insecure, the boys are very sweet, established wolfstar, pre relationship with reader
an: I really enjoyed writing this one and I think i might write a part two
You’re starting to regret agreeing to come. Lily, the sweet girl you met in an art class, had invited you out for drinks with her friends. She swore they were all lovely and that you’d fit in just fine, but the doubts are creeping in. You’re already late because of the bus, and being around new people has never been your strong suit. You try to remind yourself that the whole point of joining the art class was to make friends—backing out now would be stupid.
By the time the pub door comes into view, your hands are shaking. You’re certain you’ll need at least a week to recover from this, but despite it all, you keep pushing forward, determined not to fuck up your one chance.
Before you can even take in the atmosphere, you hear your name shouted across the room. It’s Lily, that lovely redhead you’ve been hoping would be your friend. She waves energetically, and you make your way over to her. The moment you make it over, she wraps you up in a big hug. Her warmth is a stark contrast to the cool night air outside.
"I’m so glad you came!" she nearly shouts in your ear, pulling away just enough to beam at you as if you’ve given her the greatest gift.
“Me too,” you murmur, offering a shy, nervous smile. “You okay?”
“I’m great!” she exclaims, spinning toward the group in a cramped booth. “Everyone, this is Y/N, the friend I told you about.” There’s a chorus of hellos, waves, and friendly smiles.
“You remember James, right?” she asks, pointing to a curly-haired man with glasses. You do remember him. He’s the guy who picks up Lily from art class sometimes. Always nice enough to offer you a lift, but you’ve never taken him up on it. You’ve never met a couple quite as sickly sweet as Lily and James, and you can’t help but feel a little envious of how perfectly they fit together.
You nod and give him a small smile, which he returns.
Lily guides you to the edge of the booth, and the man next to you shuffles over to make room. “Thanks,” you mutter, sitting down.
Lily continues the introductions, her enthusiasm contagious as she goes around the table, pointing to each person in turn. When she gets to the two seated on your left, her grin widens mischievously.
"And this is Remus and Sirius. Don’t listen to a word Sirius says.” She says this with such affection that you can't help but be intrigued. You look up at them, and your breath catches in your throat. They’re both strikingly handsome in different ways. Remus has that soft, almost ethereal quality, like the first light of dawn. Sirius, on the other hand, is all sharp angles and devastating beauty, the kind that could stop anyone in their tracks.
You can’t help but feel like you’re staring a little too long, and you quickly look away, hoping they didn’t notice the awe you felt.
Sirius, however, seems to have noticed. "Charming, Red," he says, making a face at Lily before turning to you with a roguish smile. "Nice to meet you, gorgeous." He winks, and you flush, unsure whether to laugh or run.
Remus rolls his eyes in mock exasperation, though there's a soft fondness in his gaze as he turns to you. “Please, ignore him. Nothing good ever comes from indulging him.”
You giggle, feeling a little more at ease. “It’s nice to meet you both,” you say with a smile. “I’ll try my best.”
Sirius grins like he’s won some kind of victory despite the fact youve just said you'll try to ignore him, his dark eyes gleaming with mischief. "You’ll fit right in, I’m sure," he says, taking a long swig from his pint.
"Stop being a menace," Lily scolds, but her smile softens the words.
As the conversation flows around you, you begin to relax just a little. It’s easy to get caught up in the energy of the group. You find yourself laughing along, the tension in your chest easing with every passing minute.
But then, Remus leans in—just a little too close—ensuring you hear him clearly. You can’t help but feel a flutter of uncertainty with him suddenly so near, unsure how to react to the closeness.
"So, what do you do?" he asks, his expression soft with genuine curiosity.
“Oh, I work in a bookshop,” you reply, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s not exactly my dream job, though…” You drop your gaze, feeling overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, avoiding the need to meet his eyes.
But Remus is persistent. He lowers his head, positioning himself so his gaze stays locked with yours. It’s impossible to look away now.
“What is it that you want to do?” he asks, his voice gentle.
“I’m not… I’m not sure yet, honestly. Still figuring it out,” you admit, shrugging as if to brush off the weight of uncertainty.
Remus mirrors your shrug, as if it’s second nature, and smiles reassuringly. “That’s okay. You’ll figure it out, smart girl.”
His words settle in your chest, a small but comforting warmth. You can’t help but smile back, grateful for his kindness.
Before you can respond, Sirius leans in, clearly unimpressed. “Stop hogging all her attention, Moony,” he says with a teasing grin. “There are other people here.”
“Leave him alone, Pads,” James adds with a playful wink. “I don’t know how you put up with him, Rem. Some bloody boyfriend.”
You're caught off guard, the teasing comment leaving you speechless. Hadn’t they both been flirting with you the entire time? You glance at Remus, your mind racing, before giving him a tentative smile.
“I didn’t realize you two were together,” you murmur, your voice too soft to carry over the buzz of the room. “You seem like a good match, though.”
Although you speak to Remus, it’s Sirius who answers, his grin wide and playful. “I’m glad you think so, gorgeous.”
The rest of the night passes in a blur of light-hearted conversation, the occasional laugh from you blending into the friendly banter at the table. It feels good to be surrounded by such warm company, and you do your best to push any lingering thoughts about Remus or Sirius to the back of your mind.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
It’s a few days before you hear from Lily again. You usually only speak through text, so when you see her calling, a wave of panic washes over you. You brace yourself for the dreaded conversation, certain that she’s about to tell you her friends think you're too quiet or strange.
But when you answer, it’s not at all what you expected. “Everyone’s been asking me to invite you again,” Lily says, her voice light and reassuring. “So, I just wanted to check in—did you enjoy yourself?”
Relief floods through you. You shouldn’t be surprised by her thoughtfulness; Lily’s always been considerate of your shy nature since the moment you met. “I had a lovely time, don’t worry,” you reply, smiling even though she can’t see it. “Thank you for inviting me.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line before she speaks again, her tone slightly more hesitant. “There’s something else too… Remus and Sirius asked for your number. I told them I’d ask if you were okay with it.”
The unexpected request catches you off guard. “Oh…” You don’t know how to process it at first, your thoughts swirling.
Lily senses your hesitation and quickly reassures you, “They won’t hold a grudge if you’d rather not give it to them. It’s completely up to you.”
You take a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “No… no, it’s fine. You can give it to them. That’s alright.”
“Okay, I'll pass it along then.” you can hear the smile in her voice. “We’re all planning on going to the beach on saturday, i’d like it if you’d come?” and god is it hard to say no to Lily, so you agree right away.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
You're unsure of the hasty acceptance of her invite now, analysing the way your body looks in the one-piece swimming costume and denim shorts, laid out on the beach while everyone else is swimming. You’ve been trying to read, but you’ve been stuck on the same page for the last half hour, your eyes constantly drifting toward Remus and Sirius. Even worse, they seem to notice, locking eyes with you every time. It makes you want to sink into the sand and disappear.
Footsteps draw closer, pulling your attention up again, only to be met with the sight of Sirius, freshly emerged from the water, droplets still glistening on his skin. Your cheeks burn.
“You look lovely, doll.” He says softly, almost as though he’s trying not to disturb something fragile.
“Thank you,” you reply, your voice betraying a hint of insecurity. It feels like you’ve been caught in some strange game all day, a competition between them, each trying to outdo the other with compliments and small gestures. It’s overwhelming, but also, rather sweet.
“But I’m sure you hear that all the time, pretty thing.” You expect to see a mischievous smirk, but instead, he’s looking into the distance, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, completely unaware of the weight of his words. “Why aren’t you coming into the water with us?”
“I don’t really… like swimming?” you say, the words tentative, as if afraid they might disappoint him.
“That’s alright,” he replies, his voice soft and reassuring. “I’ll keep you company.” With that, he stretches out beside you, lying down just a bit too close, his hand brushing against the side of your thigh.
Your heart skips a beat at the proximity, and for a moment, you wonder if the warmth you feel on your skin is coming from the sun or from him. You try to focus on the book in your lap, but the words blur before your eyes. It’s difficult to concentrate when your thoughts are racing, and the rhythm of Sirius’s voice still lingers in your mind.
You glance over at him, catching the way his chest rises and falls with each breath. There’s something disarming about the way he makes himself so present, without any sign of expectation, just simply existing beside you.
Before you can muster another word, another figure approaches—this time, it's Remus. You don’t realize how tense you’ve become until you feel his presence like a shift in the air. He’s still wet from the water, though his movements are quieter, more deliberate. When his gaze finds yours, it's different from the teasing look you’ve gotten from Sirius. There’s something warmer in it.
“Mind if I join you two?” Remus asks, a slight grin playing at his lips. It’s playful, but his eyes are soft, almost knowing.
Sirius shifts, giving Remus a nod of acknowledgment, though his body remains close to yours.
“Sure, handsome,” Sirius says, turning his head to give Remus an easygoing smile. “The more the merrier.”
“What about you, dove?”
“What about me?”
“Are you okay with us both interrupting you?”
“Oh, yeah of course” you give him a soft smile that earns you a beaming one in return.
“I was just telling her how pretty she looks, Rem,” Sirius adds with a sly grin, completely unbothered by his own flirting. You however, very bothered, pitch forward and put your head in your hands, embarrassed.
Both of them laugh at your flustered reaction, amused by how easily you become shy. Once you sit up and finally meet their gazes, the words tumble out without thinking.
“You both look very pretty…” you hesitate, panic creeping in, “or handsome, whatever… you prefer.”
Sirius leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “I think ‘pretty’ suits us just fine, don’t you, Remus?”
Remus chuckles, his eyes dancing with amusement. “Absolutely,” he agrees, his tone light.
You feel the heat of your embarrassment creeping back, but there's something strangely comforting about the way they’re both so at ease with you. The tension in your chest seems to dissipate a little as you realize that, despite the teasing, they’re not mocking you—they’re enjoying the moment with you, in their own playful way.
Sirius shifts again, this time sitting up to stretch his legs out. His proximity doesn’t change, though, and you notice how his hand subtly finds its way to rest beside you on the towel, fingertips brushing against yours. It’s a small gesture, but it sends a shock of warmth straight to your core. You glance at him quickly, wondering if he meant to or not. But when his eyes meet yours, there’s a softness there, an openness that catches you off guard.
“I meant it, you know,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost serious. “You really do look beautiful.” There’s no teasing in his tone, only sincerity.
You blink, unsure of how to respond. The words feel like they’re hanging in the air between you two, heavy and vulnerable.
Remus leans forward, “It’s okay, you know,” he adds, a little more serious than before, though his smile is still gentle. “We don’t bite. Just… relax.” He says it in such a soft way that you can’t help but nod, feeling a strange sense of safety in his words. He gives a reassuring pat to your knee but his hand seems to linger for longer than necessary.
It's starting to become impossible not to feel at ease with the two of them, lingering touches passing between the three of you all afternoon.
As the sun dips below the horizon, everyone climbs back into the cars they arrived in, and you spend most of the drive lost in a daze, staring out the window from the back seat. Remus is driving, his hand resting comfortably on Sirius' thigh. The atmosphere is calm, peaceful. Before you even realize it, the car is slowing to a stop outside your flat.
“Do you… do you want to come up for a cup of tea?” you ask, hesitant but not wanting the evening to end.
“If you’re sure, then we will,” Remus replies, his tone cautious, as if unsure of whether he's overstepping.
You nod eagerly, flashing a smile, and just like that, you're inside your kitchen, preparing cups of tea for the two men lounging in your living room. From the doorway, you can just barely make out hushed, frantic whispers. Although you can’t make out the words, the uneasy energy is enough to make a knot tighten in your stomach.
As you step into the room, mugs in hand, the whispering falls silent. The stillness only deepens the nervous flutter in your chest.
“Thank you, Poppet,” Sirius says with a grin, taking a sip of his tea.
Before you can sit down, Remus calls your name softly.
“Yeah?” you answer, your voice betraying the rapid beat of your heart as you turn to look at him.
“We wanted to ask you something, if that’s okay?” Remus says, his gaze gentle but serious.
You nod, your curiosity piqued, silently urging him to continue.
“Listen, we know this is a little… unconventional,” he starts, his words careful, “but we think you're lovely—”
“And gorgeous!” Sirius interrupts, his tone exuberant.
Remus gives him a pointed look before turning back to you. “Yes… and we were wondering if you’d want to—” He pauses, clearly choosing his words carefully, but Sirius can't wait any longer.
“Christ… Lovely girl, will you go out on a date with us?” Sirius blurts out, his voice both impatient and hopeful.
Your jaw drops in stunned silence.
The room seems to freeze for a moment, your heart hammering in your chest as you process Sirius’s words. It’s like you’ve stepped outside of your body, watching from a distance as your mind scrambles to make sense of what’s just happened.
You glance at Remus, searching his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you see is soft curiosity mixed with a hint of nervousness—just like you feel. You turn to Sirius, who is practically vibrating with anticipation, his eyes wide and hopeful. It’s almost as if he's holding his breath, waiting for your response.
"I... I didn’t expect that," you manage to say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them, and you instantly feel the flush creeping up your neck.
Sirius laughs, a deep, rich sound that echoes in the quiet room. "Sorry, I know we’re kind of springing this on you. We just… we think you’re amazing,"
There’s an undeniable sincerity in his voice now, the playful teasing from earlier gone. Remus, too, is watching you carefully, his expression unreadable for a moment before he speaks softly.
"Take your time, okay?" he says, his voice low and reassuring. "We just wanted to know how you felt, no pressure."
You open your mouth, then close it again, unsure what to say. A thousand thoughts race through your mind—about the feelings you've started to develop for both of them, about the confusion, the surprise, the fact that both of them seem so genuinely interested in you.
It’s overwhelming, but not in a bad way. It's just... unexpected. You think about Remus’s quiet intensity, the way he listens to you with such care. But then Sirius, with his bold, teasing nature, somehow managed to worm his way under your skin, too, making you feel special in a way you never thought you deserved.
“Are you… are you sure?” you finally ask, feeling vulnerable but needing to know the truth.
At that, Remus rises and walks toward you, moving with quiet confidence. When he stops in front of you, he raises his hand, palm open, as if asking for permission. You remain still, and his hand gently lands on your shoulder, fingers trailing up your neck until they cup your cheek.
“Absolutely,” he says, his voice firm yet tender, no hesitation to be found. His touch grounds you, the certainty in his words a balm to the fluttering nerves inside you.
You glance between them again, searching their faces, before your lips curve upward. “Then yes, I would love to,” you reply, a blush creeping across your cheeks.
Before you can even fully absorb your own answer, Sirius’s hand is in yours, his touch warm and eager, as if he can’t bear not touching you now.
Sirius grins widely, his eyes gleaming with excitement, and before you can blink, he's stepping closer. His thumb brushes against your skin, and it sends a spark straight through your chest.
"I’m glad," he says softly, voice a little huskier than before. There’s an intensity to him now, something beyond the teasing bravado. It makes your heart skip a beat.
Remus, who had been quietly watching the exchange, takes a small step toward you as well. The warmth of his presence, both of their presence, sends a calming wave through you. He’s not as brash as Sirius, but there’s something incredibly reassuring in the way he stands close, his gaze steady and gentle.
“You’re sure?” he asks, his voice a soft murmur, eyes searching yours with such care. His hand, still resting on your cheek, grounding you.
You nod, feeling your nerves slowly fade under their attention. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
It’s as if the world tilts slightly, shifting into something new, something full of promise. The uncertainty in your chest dissolves as the two men stand in front of you, their warmth, their sincerity, and their shared attention making you feel like you’re exactly where you need to be.
Sirius leans in first, his lips brushing against your forehead in a soft, fleeting kiss, the gesture as tender as it is electrifying. It catches you off guard, leaving your skin tingling in the best way. When he pulls back, his eyes meet yours, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
"Don't worry, doll," he whispers, his voice light but full of affection
You barely have time to process the warmth of his words before Remus steps forward, his gaze unwavering as he looks down at you. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice so quiet, so sincere, that it sends a shiver down your spine.
The question takes your breath away. You can’t help but nod, your heart hammering in your chest.
Remus’s smile is soft, almost shy, as he leans in slowly, giving you ample time to pull away if you wanted. But you don’t. You want this—want him—so badly that the moment his lips meet yours, you melt into him. The kiss is gentle at first, a whisper of sensation, but it deepens as his hand shifts to cup the back of your head, pulling you closer.
The world seems to disappear, leaving only the feel of his lips against yours and the rush of emotions that swirl in your chest. When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless, eyes locked.
“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice soft as he presses his forehead against yours.
Before you can respond, you feel Sirius’s presence behind you again, his hand brushing against your back, warm and steady. He leans down, his lips catching yours in a kiss that’s more eager than the first, but just as careful. It’s a different kind of warmth—intense, full of promise—and when he pulls back, there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes.
You can hardly catch your breath, both Remus and Sirius’s touches lingering like a slow-burning fire against your skin. The kisses, tender yet fervent, have left you dizzy and wide-eyed, unsure of how to process everything that’s just happened. But even in the overwhelming haze of emotions, you feel something undeniably special, something that’s hard to name but impossible to ignore.
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let me know what you think of this! <3 i appreciate all feedback
Summary: You and Remus buy ugly Christmas sweaters and Sirius has some strong feelings about it.
Poly!Wolfstar x Reader| Established Relationship | 1.1K Words
CW: Muggle AU
A/N: I left readers ugly Christmas sweater's description out so you guys can imagine whatever fits you best <3
"What the hell is that!?" Sirius exclaims, as he walks into your flat.
"It's nice to see you, too." Remus replies dryly, from his spot on the couch.
Sirius gives him an exacerbated look, before walking over to give the poor boy a kiss. If Remus was any more mean, he'd refuse the kiss, make him work for it, but he really is happy to see him.
"They're ugly Christmas sweaters!" You happily shout on your way out of the kitchen, a tray of tea and biscuits in your hands. Wearing an ugly Christmas of your own.
"Aren't they great!! Remus and I picked them up this afternoon!" You cheer, setting the tray down on the coffee table before reaching up to kiss Sirius sweetly on the cheek.
"There's one in that bag for you!" Pure excitement pours out of you as you point to the bag beside the coffee table, next to Remus' feet.
"There is no way, that I am wearing one of those." Sirius states, matter of factly.
"You're not even going to look at it?" The pout on your lips is over-exaggerated.
You had anticipated that this would happen. In fact, it took a wild amount of begging and pouting to get Remus to agree to buy them.
"Okay. I'll look at it, but I'm making no promises." He says, pointing his finger at you, feigning seriousness.
From the look on your face, Sirius knows his heart would allow him to do anything for you; even wear the ugliest piece of fabric he has ever laid eyes on.
As he pulls it from the bag he is met with the brightest red he has ever seen. It has plastic boughs of holly sewed onto it haphazardly, scattered over the entire thing, even the back. There are dark, red velvet bows in all the spaces in between. To top it all off, it has small tuffs of silver tinsel thrown on in random and unorganized places.
"Do you like it!?" You exclaim with a giggle.
Sirius tries to keep the horror off his face, for your sake.
"Well, it certainly matches its namesake." Sirius reasons.
"Remus picked it out! He said it would look perfect on you." You smile up at him.
"I bet he did." Sirius says dryly, looking at Remus with a scowl. Remus only offers a sly smile that he hides behind his mug of tea.
"Go on! Try it on!" You say, oblivious to the mischeif infront of you.
"I don't know, doll. It looks a bit small, no?" Sirius tries.
"No. We double checked, it's your size. Try it on!" You encourage.
"It kind of clashes with my outfit, maybe I should try it on later." Sirius tries again, desperate.
"If you don't like it, that's alright." You say, a real pout making it's way onto your face.
"You don't have to wear it of your really don't want to." You say in a sad whisper, reaching your hands out to take the sweater from Sirius. "We can give it to James, I know he'll like it."
If your sad demener wasn't enough to convince Sirius to put on the sweater, that statment was.
No way is he going to make you sad AND loose an imagninary battle against James.
"No! No that's okay. I'll put in on."
And with that, Sirius fights against every moral he's ever had, which isn't a lot if he's being honest.
"Really!" The pout a distant memory, replaced with the a smile which resembles that of sunshine.
Remus stiffles a laugh as Sirius presents himself begrogingly, armed in the uglist thing he has ever worn.
"Awe, see I knew you'd look lovely wearing it!" You practily swoon.
"Wait here. I'm going to go get the carmera." You say, running off to go find the camera.
As soon as you're out of ear shot Sirius lets out a dramatic sigh, sulking over to the couch and slumping next to Remus.
"Well don't you look beautiful!" Remus exclaims, slightly sarcastic, far too happy for Sirius' liking.
"Shut up." He grumbles, kissing Remus' shoulder before resting his head on it, leaning fully into Remus. Remus chuckles fondly under his breathe.
"I couldn't say no either." He says softly. "All she had to do was look up at me with her big, sad eyes and I was asking which one she liked best."
"She could persuade us to do anything with those eyes." Sirius agrees, sitting up.
"At least yours is semi-decant." Sirius says, his hand jestering to Remus' sweater.
Remus had to agree, he was the least ... out there. His is a dark green grandpa style sweater, with bright green garland and multi-coloured lights wrapping around the middle. Remus releases a genuine laugh.
"Y/N said this one suited me best. And before you start complaining, mine lights up and sings."
Sirius gives Remus and his sweater a once over, his eyes meeting Remus'. They share a soft laugh, Sirius leaning back into Remus.
They truly would do anything for you, sad eyes or no.
"I found it!" You shout gleefully, from a distant room.
Your appearance being anounced by the sound of your feet thumping excitedly down the hall.
"I found it." You say again, in a softer voice. Your smile causing your eyes to crinkle shut.
"Picture time!" You say, in a sing song voice.
Sirius sigh softly, "Okay, but just, don't show James."
"Too late." Remus interjusts.
Sirius looks at him with a puzzled expression.
"We bought him one too." You say, still very overjoyed. "We dropped it off earlier. He was so excited, so was Lily!"
"She was practically speechless." Remus interjucts, with slight sarcasm that you miss.
"His had a plush reindeer sticking out from the middle, and it's nose glowed! And sings!" You practically shout, your excitment growing even more.
"Oh! That reminds me! Remus' lights up and sings aswell!" You cheer, looking to Sirius.
"Yes! He was telling me all about it while you were gone." Sirius smiles teasingly.
You cast your eyes to the taller man, eyes going soft and sparkley. Your love for him radiating thoughout the whole space. Remus' cheeks flush, closely resembling Sirius sweater.
"Lily and James said they wanted to get a picture of all of us wearings our sweaters." He says softly, trying to devoldge the attention off of him.
"Yeah!" You beam. "I think I may send one to Effie and Monty as well, I know they'll love it!" You smile warmly at the idea.
"Well," Sirius says, running a hand through his hair. "Looks like we're having a photoshoot."
You let out an excited squeal, doing a small jumpy dance.
Remus and Sirius would do anything to see you this happy, even if it means wearing an abomination of a sweater.
You are worth far more than any embarrassment it may cause, especially when you look at them like they're the most beautiful people while wearing them.
“the thing about polyamory is now i have two people getting mad at me when they ask what i ate today and i tell them “coffee.” ”
and i thought it was rlly cute and was wondering if you could do something like that for poly!wolfstar :)
Thanks for requesting lovely!
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas
cw: talk of not eating (unintentional)
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 820 words
It’s not rare for Sirius to come home to a quiet house—he jumpstarts the noise, usually, because left to your own devices you and Remus are quiet as mice—but when he kicks off his shoes today, he can’t help feeling like the quiet has a different flavor.
You’re sitting at a barstool across from where Remus is working in the kitchen. Sirius sneaks up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist and smooching your cheek. “Why are we sulking?” he asks you.
You turn your head, a silent request for a real kiss which he happily obliges. “I’m not sulking.”
“Liar,” he says fondly. “Come on, it’s not even six. Too early to be upset.”
You nod at your other boyfriend, who’s chopping basil with the steady mercilessness of an executioner. “He’s icing me out.”
“I am not,” says Remus.
Sirius hums. “Everyone seems to have an idea of what they’re not doing.”
You sulk harder. “He is. He’s cooking at me all passive-aggressive.”
“I’m cooking for you,” Remus snipes. “You can’t cook at someone.”
“You manage it.”
Sirius tsks, giving your middle a pinch of admonishment. It’s not like you to antagonize Remus—not like either of you to squabble much at all, usually—but it’s especially strange that you’re doing it while he’s making your dinner right in front of you.
Sirius taps your jaw, directing you to face him. “What did you do?” he asks quietly.
You lour. “It’s silly.”
“I could use a laugh.”
Your gaze moves to Remus. He’s directing his attention pointedly at the cutting board. “He wanted to know what I ate today, and then he got fussy about it not being enough.”
“Because the answer was nothing,” says Remus.
“It wasn’t nothing! And you shouldn’t have asked if you didn’t want to know.”
“Doll. Look at me.” Sirius taps your jaw again. When you do, he does his best to look non-accusatory. “What did you eat today?”
You shrink a bit, as though you suspect the answer won’t go over much better the second time around. “I had coffee this morning, and then a couple cups of tea at work…”
Slowly, Sirius retracts his arms from around you. Your lips part with betrayal.
“So, you do understand that coffee and tea are liquids, don’t you?”
“But they still—”
“Which means that when Rem says you ate nothing, he’s not wrong, because you didn’t actually eat anything.”
Remus still hasn’t looked up, but his expression has taken on a smug hue.
“It wasn’t on purpose. I just haven’t felt like having anything.” You look at Sirius with big, sad eyes. “I haven’t been feeling very well all day.”
“I’ve got an idea as to why,” Remus hums.
Sirius has to tuck his lips in to keep from smiling. Your expression sours.
“You guys are pricks,” you decide. “Fine, I won’t complain to you about feeling sick anymore. Sorry to burden you.”
“Darling,” Remus sighs, softening a tad, “it’s not that I don’t want you to talk to me. I just wish you didn’t have anything to complain about, which I don’t think you would if you’d looked after yourself better today.”
Sirius keeps his mouth shut, watching you digest this. You gnaw on your lip. Neither you nor Remus are particularly argumentative by nature, but this is where you occasionally butt heads; Remus, who has to be right and thinks he knows what’s best for everyone (he often does), and you, who also has to be right and chafes against being told what to do.
“You’re supposed to feel bad for me,” you say, sulking still, but now with the slightest bit of humor. “You’re supposed to curse the skies and shout ‘she doesn’t deserve this!’”
Remus’ lips quirk. “Maybe next time.”
You relax a bit more. Sirius reaches for your hand, tangling his fingers with yours. When you look at him, he brings your knuckles close for a kiss. “You don’t deserve this, our lovely girl,” he says, slow and saccharine enough to bring a bit of bashfulness to your expression. “You know how you can make it up to us?”
You hum.
“Eat all of whatever Remus is making for you.”
You roll your eyes. “I was always going to eat it,” you mutter.
Sirius kisses your knuckles again happily before moving onto his next partner in need of consoling.
“Poor love,” he murmurs, squeezing himself in between Remus and his cutting board to steal a kiss. “She had you all twisted up, didn’t she?”
Much like you had, Remus rolls his eyes, but there’s fondness curled up in the corner of his mouth. He palms Sirius’ face to kiss him back, and his fingers smell like herbs.
“Next time you’ll have your script,” Sirius promises.
Can I request poly!wolfstar x reader who is feeling slightly insecure about her body for no particular reason and they notice even though she doesn’t say it?
I’m just sooo in love with your writing, it’s just *mwah* chef’s kiss
Hey gorgeous! Thank you for requesting <3
a/n: Please do not misconstrue my participation in the marauders fandom as support of JKR. If you’re new here and want to participate in the fandom, I encourage you to do so without participating in anything that would provide financial gain to her or her vile agendas
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 820 words
Sirius hardly steps inside before Remus is fixing him with a look.
He raises his hands, grease-stained from working on his motorcycle all afternoon, in a gesture of peace. "I'm going to shower."
"Be careful not to touch anything on your way," Remus says. He doesn't take his eyes off Sirius while Sirius skirts around the edge of the sitting room with his hands upheld like a surgeon's. "Y/n's in the shower, so you might have to wait."
"Reckon she'll let me get in with her?"
Remus rolls his eyes, relaxing once Sirius clears the sofa. "You can try."
You and Remus hardly ever want to shower with Sirius. You both act like he has lewd ulterior motives and won't hear his environmentalist arguments. You're not wrong, but still.
It turns out he's too late anyway. You're just stepping out of the bathroom as Sirius comes near, steam on your heels and towel halfway wrapped around you. You do it up quickly when you see him.
"Oh—hi," you say, startled. "Sorry."
"What for, gorgeous?" Sirius grins. "I'm sorry for spooking you. Do we have any hot water left?"
Whatever strange timidity had come over you dissipates, and you smile. "We should."
"Don't suppose you'll keep me company?"
Like Remus, your eyes roll. "I just got out."
"Worth a try."
There's an awkward sort of pause, and Sirius realizes you haven't moved to put on your lotion like you usually do after showering. It's like you're waiting on him.
"Okay." He tries not to drag his syllables, keeping his tone light. "Would you mind grabbing the door after me? I think if I leave any grease marks on anything Remus'll toss me out."
"I wouldn't let him," you promise, stepping forward to help.
Sirius showers quickly. There is some hot water left, but he's chased out when the spray turns cold on him, greaseless and clean-smelling. You and Remus are splayed out on the sofa when he finds you.
"Aren't you warm?" Remus is asking in a low voice.
Your reply is equally soft, though somehow more secretive than intimate. "I'm fine."
"You're going to burn up in there, lovely."
"It's not that warm."
"I'm warm just looking at you."
"Well, you're always warm." Sirius turns the corner in time to see you kiss Remus' cheek, the sort of sweet peck that makes a flush spread under your boyfriend's freckles. "And a film calls for a blanket."
"Are we watching a film?" Sirius asks.
"We were thinking," you say. "Paper Moon?"
"Sounds good to me." He eyes Remus. "Am I allowed to sit now?"
Remus waves a hand. "Don't treat me like a warden. You wouldn't've wanted the stains on the sofa either."
"You're the furniture's champion," you coo, kissing him again.
As Sirius sits on your other side, he sees why Remus is worried about you overheating. You have a blanket draped across your shoulders so it covers all of you. It wouldn't be so abnormal most of the time, but it's the dead of summer—even Sirius only put on a tank top after his shower. Remus has been giving you all a show in his boxers for the better part of a week.
"Alright in there?" Sirius teases, fanning a corner of your blanket to give you some airflow.
Your look is exasperated, if fond also. "Fine."
Sirius thinks you're lying. You've been a shade of yourself recently—not in every way, not in how you speak or your general loveliness, but in how you hold yourself. You seem to be always covering up, curving in, turning away, like you have something to hide. You don't. Sirius knows you don't, because he's seen you just about every way you can be and it's all spectacular. You make him feel like a teenage boy in ways that are honestly humiliating. He'd put his own shames on display if it got you out of this funk, though.
Once the film gets going, Sirius sneaks a hand beneath your blanket and puts his arm around you. You still, but you don't move away.
He kisses your shoulder. "Love you."
"Love you, too," you murmur.
It's a slow softening. Your breathing deepens, your shoulders relax. You sink gradually into his side. Sirius does what he can to help without calling attention to it; he keeps his gaze ahead, strokes love-heavy touches up and down your waist, rests his lips on the crown of your head when you get near enough.
Eventually, you let out a breath and relax completely.
Remus must have been watching. "You okay?" he asks.
"Yeah," you reply. It sounds less like a lie than before.
"I wish I could join the cuddle, but I think I'd pass out from the heat."
"All relationships require sacrifice," you hum.
Sirius laughs, manhandling you into his lap so he can take Remus' hand. "There. Think you can bear this?"
Hi! Can i request poly!wolfstar with casual dominance, if that's what it's called??((:
Thanks for requesting!
cw: casual d/s dynamics, reader struggles with her mental health
poly!wolfstar x fem!reader ♡ 1.6k words
The flat smells like cinnamon and sweetness when Sirius steps in the front door. It heavies the air and cups warm hands around his heart.
“Oh, no,” he feigns weariness as he bends over the back of the armchair and puts his arms around Remus’ shoulders, “you’ve remembered the crock pot again, haven’t you?”
Remus looks up from his book with a low hum. “I found it underneath the sink.”
“And I thought I’d hidden it so well.” Sirius kisses the corner of his lips. There’s a niggling bit of worry that’s made itself at home around Remus’ eyes, so Sirius gives him another. “Where’s our girl?”
“In the bedroom.” The worry digs in further, but Remus looks glad at least to be sharing it. “She said she was tired when she came home, so I’m trying to give her some peace.”
What Remus doesn’t say is that you’d seemed tired, or that he thinks you’re having a nap, or that he’s happy about it. Sirius knows well enough how to read into his silences.
He sweeps his thumb over the knit fibers covering Remus’ shoulder. “And how much peace have you given her?”
“A bit over an hour’s worth.”
“Alright.” Sirius straightens, making sure to trail his fingers reassuringly over Remus’ chest as he does so. “I think that’s quite enough peace, don’t you?”
Remus doesn’t stop Sirius as he ventures down the hall and nudges open the door to the bedroom. The smell of whatever Remus is cooking in the crock pot is less pervasive in here. You’re curled up atop the covers, facing away from the door, bent over what Sirius can only imagine is a book and doesn’t believe for a second you’re paying any real attention to. You pretend you haven’t heard him come in.
He goes around the bed to the front of you, laying down parallel to brush a kiss across your lips. “Hello.”
“Hi,” you murmur. You bump your nose against his but keep your gaze downward.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Hm?”
“Baby.” Sirius curls his fingers under your chin, his thumb pressed into the bump of it. “Look at me.”
You lift your eyes, and the look in them threatens to crack Sirius’ heart right down its center.
“What’s the matter, darling?” he asks. Softly, though not leniently.
Your head gives a tiny shake. “Nothing.”
Sirius tsks. “Try again.”
Where Remus’ expression was plagued by worry, yours is tight with shame. After a moment, you say quietly, “I don’t know.”
Sirius looks at you. You’ve been reading the same book for days; not unusual, except your bookmark has hardly moved despite the time you spend with it. He thinks it’s an excuse to lock yourself away, but maybe the attempt at distraction isn’t working as you planned. Usually it’s you who brings up dessert after supper, but lately you haven’t mentioned it. You’ve been going to work without your cup of coffee in the mornings, showering without music, neglecting to reach for his hand or Remus’ until they take yours. You’ve been denying yourself all sorts of creature comforts. Sirius doesn’t know whether this is cause or effect of what’s dimming you, but he’s certain it plays in somehow.
Remus catches up to you before Sirius can make up his mind. “Oh, dove,” he says, “why do you still have your work clothes on?”
You look down as though you’ve forgotten what you’re wearing, and Sirius lets go of your chin to pinch the starchy material of your shirt between his fingers. When you look up, it’s to his arched brow.
“Can’t be very comfortable,” he notes.
You shrug. “I just got home.”
“You got home an hour ago.” Remus rolls his eyes. He starts for the dresser, giving your foot a tap on his way by. “Get out of those, I’ll find you something nicer.”
You look to Sirius for help, but he only flicks his stare away from the bed. With a sigh, you get up, beginning to unbutton your top.
Remus helps you step into a pair of pajama bottoms and tugs one of his jumpers over your head. It nearly matches the one he’s wearing now; Sirius makes a mental note to grab his camera at some point tonight. Remus chides you in low tones about how he thought you’d at least put on cozies before laying down, and better his jumper than your work shirt if you spill cinnamon apples in a bit.
“Is that what you’re brewing in there?” Sirius asks once you’re sufficiently swaddled in soft materials and Remus is pressing a lingering kiss to your head. “Cinnamon apples?”
Remus turns to him with a lifted brow. “Is that acceptable to you?”
“Loads better than vegetable slop.”
“Did it smell like vegetables, Sirius?”
“Oh, my love,” Sirius rolls off the bed to lay a smiling peck atop Remus’ frown, “I never really know what you’ll do once you start on the crock pot. This one does smell nice, though.” He gives your bum a pat to encourage you out of the bedroom in front of him. “It’s ready?”
“It’s ready,” Remus replies. “Don’t know that you’ll get any, though.”
Remus serves you first, gracing you with a soft-hearted look when you thank him for it. He makes his own portion before listening to Sirius grovel and simper for his own, but eventually the three of you end up with spoons clinking against bowls on the sofa, Remus on one side of you and Sirius pressed shoulder to hip against you on the other.
“This is really good,” you hum around your spoon. It’s clear to Sirius that you’re trying to dredge up some extra enthusiasm for Remus’ efforts (not to say that it isn’t very good; it is). He catches his bottom lip pushing out before he gets it back in place.
It seems like Remus can tell, too, by the smile he gives you. “Thanks. You haven’t seemed much for sweets lately. I wasn’t sure if you’d care for it.”
Your look is perplexed as you scoop up your last bite. “I don’t have a problem with sweets.”
“I know you don’t usually. I’ve just noticed you haven’t seemed to fancy them as much.”
Sirius glances at Remus. It’s only once he sees the insouciant way his boyfriend is looking down into his bowl that he catches onto what Remus is getting at. His clever boy.
You’re studying Remus, too, but you still look lost. “I think it’s the same,” you say, licking your spoon.
“There’s nothing wrong with it, lovely. I just wasn’t sure if you might be going on a health kick or something.”
“Has James been in your ear?” Sirius nudges you teasingly.
It works to ease some of the uncertainty from your brow. “God, no,” you joke back. “If you catch me making protein smoothies at the crack of dawn, then you’ll know he’s gotten to me, but until then don’t worry.”
Sirius grins, and Remus gets to the point. “Then there’s no reason for you not to have sweets when you want them,” he says, finally meeting your gaze. By the way your expression sobers you realize you’ve fallen into a trap. “You can stop punishing yourself, please.”
“Remus.” Your voice is quiet. Wounded, but ashamed underneath.
Remus matches your volume. “I’m not upset with you, sweetheart. But if you’re not going to be kind to yourself, you can’t also keep us from doing it for you.”
“Ideally you’d allow both,” Sirius adds.
“Yes,” Remus agrees, without taking his eyes off of yours. You’re surely feeling the weight of both of your boyfriends’ stares, and as you shift in your seat your fingernail finds its way between your teeth almost unconsciously.
Sirius steals it away. He gives your fingers a short squeeze before bringing them to his lips. “Be nice,” he reminds you sternly.
“Sorry,” you mumble.
“You’re not in trouble,” Remus reassures you.
“Mm,” Sirius hums, “I think you could be in a little bit of trouble.”
Remus cuts him a look. “You’re not.”
“You’re not,” Sirius relents. “You’re just not taking very nice care of our girl right now, and someone needs to set that to right. That’s our job, but it’s harder to do when you’re always hiding yourself away, yeah? Could you do us all a favor and stop hiding?”
“I’m not—”
“Say ‘yes, Sirius.’”
It’s impossible to keep a straight face when you blink in such offense. The twitch of Sirius’ mouth softens your own into something reminiscent of a smile. You sigh. “Yes, Sirius.”
“There’s our girl.” He presses a smug kiss to your knuckles. “You’re supposed to come to us when you’re having a hard time, not hide away. Try and remember that.”
“Okay.” You hold his gaze. Something sweet as the cinnamon on Sirius’ tongue passes through the air between you. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t.”
“Sweet girl,” Remus shushes you, laying a heavy kiss atop your head, “would you stop apologizing? You’re fine, lovely. Do you want some more apples?”
“What?” Sirius pretends at outrage as you nod and Remus takes your bowl. “I didn’t get offered seconds.”
“The crock pot heard you slagging it off earlier and won’t give them up for you.”
“Oh, it told you that, did it?”
“Yes.” Remus has turned toward the kitchen, but Sirius hears the smirk in his voice. “We’re in confidence.”
“This is blatant, unrepentant favoritism.” Sirius throws himself across your lap, looking up at you with a pout. Your smile is his reward, though the hand you card through his hair is a nice bonus as well. “You love me, don’t you baby?”
“I love you,” you say. “You know he’ll still give you some if you go in there with your bowl.”
“I don’t know, this crock pot seems like a real bitch.”
Your smile grows enough to show teeth, and that’s what Sirius was waiting for. “Worth a try, though,” he allows, sitting up with a peck to your chin. He starts for the kitchen. “Hold on, don’t dish it all out. I’ve got some words for the crock pot.”
