#it's all wolfstars fault | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bruisedboys · 1 year

Text

underneath kitchen lights — james potter x reader

summary — james has a crush on you, lily’s shy and unbelievably sweet coworker. you nurse a crush of your own. (based on all my ghosts by lizzy mcalpine!)

or .. you got a slurpee for free, I caught you looking at me, in the 7/11 under fluorescent lights. I spilled mac and cheese on my pants, and thought about kissing you underneath kitchen lights!

contains — shy!fem!reader, florist!reader, strangers-ish to friends to lovers, rugby player!james, modern au, flirting, mutual pining, fluff, james being a total sweetheart, sirius being a twat and a good friend, wolfstar because I couldn’t resist, kissing, lovesick!james, idiots in love tbh, and ummm lots of references to all my ghosts!!

notes — um I am very nervous to post this. but also please don’t let it flop.

fem!reader 8k words

James has an embarrassingly big crush on you. For someone he’s only met twice now, you’re very good at getting stuck in his head. It’s hardly his fault — you’re lovely. You always smell like flowers (which is kind of a given, he supposes. You work with Lily at Harriet’s, the florist’s down the road). You’re very pretty. You’re quiet and a bit shy but you’ve spoken enough that James at least knows you’re polite and friendly.

He’s talked to you a grand total of one time. You’d exchanged a few words and James had been very very quick to fall in love with everything about you. Your hands as you wrung them in front of you — a shy tell, he’d guessed. Your voice, pretty and soft, and how it’d sounded when you said his name. The way you dressed, your hair, the quirk in your mouth when he’d made a joke, the hitch in your breath when he’d shook your hand. He was a goner the second he’d met you.

“Prongs,” drawls Sirius, followed by a hard punch in the bicep. “You know you’re not as subtle as you think.”

James scowls in the general direction of Sirius’ voice. He’d been staring at you, he’s sorry to admit. You’re talking to Lily and you’re smiling about something she’s said and you just look so pretty.

He badly wants to talk to you properly, he has ever since the first time Lily bought you around to a party like this one, but he’s scared of embarrassing himself. He’s not exactly the best flirter when it comes to girls he actually likes. His tongue gets all tied and he can’t say two words without ultimately embarrassing himself. He’s not as much of a charmer as everyone thinks he is. He’s also scared you won’t like him, but he won’t get into that.

“Shut up,” he advises Sirius, rubbing his sore arm. “I don’t even know what you’re on about.”

Sirius, sprawled on the couch next to James, rolls his eyes and snorts. “Yeah, okay,” he says, all sarcasm. “S’not like you’re burning holes into Y/N’s face or anything.”

For a split second James panics. He whirls around to look at you so fast he almost snaps his neck in half. Have you heard Sirius? Do you think James is a total creep now? No — you’re still engrossed in your conversation with Lily. James breathes a sigh of relief but it’s cut short when he realises Sirius is laughing at him.

“Mate,” he guffaws. “You’re hopeless.”

It’s James’ turn to roll his eyes. “Thanks a lot,” he says dryly.

Sirius grins with all his stupidly perfect teeth. “Y’welcome.”

James sighs and scrubs a heavy hand down his face. Maybe he is as hopeless as Sirius thinks. He’s certainly feeling quite hopeless right now. With you across the room and him sitting here unable to make himself get up and talk to you. As subtle as he can he twists to look over the back of the couch again to see what you’re doing. He’s just in time to see you disappearing into the kitchen by yourself, Lily now talking with the other girls by the ranch slider.

His heart rate spikes. This is his chance.

James is getting to his feet before he knows what he’s doing. He dodges another hearty punch from Sirius, pretends not to hear Lily when she asks him where he’s going, and follows you into the kitchen on clumsy feet like a puppy on a leash.

He stumbles into Lily’s kitchen and there you are. Standing with your head in the fridge, the bright white lights cast over your skin. And there’s a lot of skin to look at. Your shoulders, your upper back. There’s a beauty spot on your back, just next to your shoulder blade. Your dress floats just above the halfway point of your thighs. You’ve got really nice legs. James snaps his eyes back up to your head before he can feel too guilty and clears his throat.

You start and then whirl around, eyes wide as saucers, one hand curled around the fridge door.

“Oh,” you say, breathless. “James. You scared me.”

James is so busy melting over the way you say his name that he almost forgets to speak. “Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry, Y/N, I didn’t mean to.”

You shake your head and your big dangly earrings jingle like bells. “No, it’s okay. Don’t be sorry.”

You smile all soft and pretty and James really thinks he might pass out. He steps forward and leans against the kitchen island as casually as he can, when really he’s using it for support lest he keel over.

You’re looking at him like you’re expecting him to say something. He clears his throat again.

“Um,” he starts lamely. He braves through. “I, um— you look really nice tonight. I wanted to tell you earlier but Lily’s been stuck to you like a leech since you got here.”

You blink at him and James worries he’s said the wrong thing. Maybe this was the worst idea he’s ever had. And he’s had a lot of bad ideas. But then you beam.

“Oh,” you say, shocked like you can’t quite believe it. Which should be impossible, really, James thinks. You’re beautiful. It’s hard not to believe it. “Thank you, James.”

James smiles back. Your shyness at being complimented only fuels him. “You’re welcome. Just don’t tell Lily I called her a leech.” At this, you giggle, and James stammers through his next words, dazed from your laugh. “So, uh— are you looking for a drink?”

He gestures to the fridge, which you seem to have forgotten about, the door hanging wide open under your grip.

“What? Oh,” you say sheepishly, and suddenly you’re embarrassed and staring at your shoes. “No, I’m…” You lift your head and blink at him under your lashes. “Promise you won’t laugh at me?”

James is perplexed, but he’s not gonna laugh at you if you don’t want him to. He licks his dry lips. “Yeah, I promise.”

You smile, then dip your head towards him like you’re sharing secrets. “I was cooling off,” you admit, sheepish. “It got too hot in the living room and Lily’s patio has mosquitos.” You hardly give him time to reply before you’re cringing, saying, “It’s weird, right?” Like you know he’s gonna think it’s strange.

He doesn’t think it’s strange. Well, maybe a little. But he’s been found in worse positions at parties. You look so embarrassed about it James is almost sorry he asked. Almost, because embarrassed you is adorable. You lean back and scrub your neck awkwardly, bracelets clanking on your wrist.

“No, I know,” he groans sympathetically, nodding vehemently. “Lily really needs a mosquito net or something, so we can open the damn door without getting eaten alive. Can I join you?”

You look baffled for a moment, and then shy all over again.

“You want to join me while I stick my head in the fridge?” You ask, an amusement to your tone that James adores.

James shrugs. “Why not?”

You smile outright then. “Okay,” you say, stepping aside so there’s more room in front of the fridge for him. “C’mon, then.”

James practically skips over to you. The moment he steps into your space he can smell your lovely scent. Flowery and sweet, something floral like hyacinth mixed with something sweet like honey. It’s intoxicating. He feels like he could drown in it. But there’s no time for drowning, not when your hand wraps around his elbow and pulls him into your side, your feet shuffling to accommodate him.

“Move closer,” you urge shyly. “You gotta get the full experience.”

James moves closer. So close his arm brushes yours and he could hold your hand if he wanted to. He very much wants to. He imagines your skin is as soft as it looks.

The coldness of the refrigerator washes over him and it’s actually really nice. Even though he can be a total party animal sometimes, he understands why you would be here instead of in there. It’s quiet in here. Nice and cool. No lingering scent of heavy wine. No Sirius to tease him and no Marlene to badger him with questions about his love life.

“This is nice,” he says quietly, over the gentle buzz of the fridge.

You giggle softly. James thinks he’d like to make you laugh a million times over. “Isn’t it?”

“Mm,” James hums. “I should do this at parties more often.”

You laugh again, delighted at his joking. “You should. Then I wouldn’t be so lonely when I escape to the kitchen.”

James laughs too. He can’t quite believe his luck right now, squished in front of Lily’s refrigerator with you, elbow to elbow, the rest of his friends and the party long forgotten.

“I think I’ll take you up on that offer,” he says, smiling big.

The next time James sees you, it doesn’t go quite as well as previously. To put it simply, it’s a disaster.

First of all, he’s late. Remus and Sirius are having a housewarming party at their new place and he’s had training all day so he’d forgotten all about it. It’s not until 9:30, an hour after the party was supposed to start, that he’s climbing in his car after training and his phone buzzes.

He picks it up, exhausted, expecting one of his teammates. Instead it’s a string of messages from Remus.

You’re late James!!!!

We started without u. Where r u????

Sirius is gonna wring ur neck

James scrolls through the messages with a mixture of confusion and dread. Confusion because at first he has absolutely no idea what Remus is talking about. Dread when he realises.

He speeds all the way home, showers at lightning speed, pulls on a rumpled shirt and a pair of jeans that he’s sure aren’t clean, and he’s out the door within ten minutes of getting home. Still, by the time he gets to Sirius and Remus’ place it’s almost 10. His hair looks a mess but it’ll have to do. He doesn’t even think about the fact that you could possibly be there. That is, until he’s finished apologising profusely to his friends and Sirius mentions you. James perks up from where he’d been slumping on the couch, feeling exhausted and sorry for himself.

“What?” He asks, too loud. He tries to tamp it down but honestly, it doesn’t really work. He’s still buzzing with nervous energy when he asks, “Is she here?”

Sirius grins, looking uncharacteristically cat-like. “Uh— yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. His stupid grin only grows and James thinks he’d quite like to punch his teeth out. “She came with Lily. Moons thought we should invite her. She’s a lovely girl, isn’t she?”

James knows he’s teasing but can’t quite bring himself to care — the prospect of seeing you has demolished all other feelings of pathetic-ness. He leaps off the couch and makes his way to the kitchen, guessing that’s where you’ll be, a barely touched drink in his hand and Sirius’ teasing following him all the way. He’s so busy fixing his shirt before he sees you that he doesn’t see you. He walks right into you on the threshold of the kitchen.

“James!” You gasp, stopping short.

James’ drink, to his horror, has spilt all down your front. His glass, previously full, is now half empty, the rest of it splattered all over your white top.

You barely have time to be surprised before he’s apologising.

“Shit,” he curses, mind blanking. His hands go to fix the damage before he realises he probably shouldn’t touch your chest, where his drink is now seeping into your top and showing no signs of stopping. He pulls his hands back lamely. “Shit, I’m so sorry, Y/N. Oh gosh. I’m so dumb, I—“

Your rush to forgive him is almost as quick as his apology. “No!” You shake your head and it’s awfully cute despite the situation. “No, it’s okay, James. I should’ve been watching where I was going.”

James grimaces. He tries not to look at the dark red stain that looks like blood on your white blouse. It is quite possibly the worst thing he could’ve spilt on you.

“It’s okay,” you say again, softer, reassuring, probably clocking the pathetic look on his face.

“Don’t, angel,” James says, shaking his head. “S’my fault.” He grabs your elbow gently and starts to pull you out to the living room, seeking Remus, who he knows will have a spare t-shirt that’s at least clean. “C’mon, I’ll find you something else to wear.”

“Wait, James. Wait.” You plant your feet in the doorway of the kitchen and James stops walking. He looks back at you, feeling guilty, hopeless, confused, and a bit endeared by you still, all at once.

“What?” He asks as gently as he can when he’s feeling like such a loser.

“I don’t wanna cause any trouble,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip so hard James is sure it hurts. You’re shy, he remembers. Quiet and polite. You probably don’t like people making a fuss over you, even though you should really. You’re pretty enough that people should be making a fuss over you all the time. “I think I’ll just go home, s’only a ten minute walk. I was going to leave soon, anyway.”

James frowns. “I can’t let you do that,” he says, shaking his head. He also can’t let you feel uncomfortable. He conjures a compromise. “Look, how about you wait here while I go ask Remus for a spare shirt? And then I’ll walk you home to make it up to you.”

He knows walking you home isn’t near enough to make up for ruining your top. But it’s the best he can do right now.

“But you just got here, didn’t you?” you say, frowning yourself.

James shrugs. That’s hardly a problem for him. “Don’t worry. I see those two asshats every day of my life, sweetheart.”

You still look unsure but James isn’t changing his mind. He’s going to walk you home if it’s the last thing he does. But first, something for you to change into. He leaves you in the kitchen and finds Remus, whom he asks for a shirt, to which Remus says, “What’s that for?” too loudly.

James explains what happened dejectedly. He’s not exactly surprised when Sirius laughs at him for it.

It’s a quiet walk to your place. You live close, which is both good and bad. Good because it means every time James is at Remus and Sirius’s, he’ll know you’re only ten minutes away. Bad … well, for the same reason.

James tries his best to fill the silence with easy conversation. It’s not hard, especially when you’re so sweet and kind and answer his questions so pleasantly. You’re easy to talk to. You don’t laugh at him when he slips on his words. You don’t make him wait for answers. You ask him questions, too, timid as you are about it.

James finds he enjoys your company even more than he was expecting. You’re like a breath of fresh air. You’ve got the radiance of an early spring morning and the softness to go with it.

It’s safe to say he’s disappointed when you come to a stop in front of your place.

“This is me,” you say, fishing your keys out of your purse. You’re in one of Remus’ band tees and James thinks you look much better than Remus does in it. As much as he loves Remus. He realises he’s staring too late, his eyes following you as you walk up your front steps.

You unlock your door and then look back at him, timid.

“Did you want to come in?” You ask, sweet in your shyness.

James would very much like to come in. He also thinks he might fall on his face if he spends much more time with you. He’s already dizzy on his feet and he’s been with you all of fifteen minutes.

“No, no, that’s okay,” he says as kindly as he can. “I should probably get back, or Sirius’ll have my head.” At least he knows where you live now. In a totally not creepy way.

He steps forward to take your wrist in his hand, his thumb pressing into your pulse point. He can feel your heartbeat. It’s not quite as fast as his feels but pretty close.

“I’m really really sorry about your top,” he tells you. He spreads his fingers over your forearm, your skin warm as late summer under his touch. “Can I do anything to make up for it? Buy you a new one?”

He wasn’t joking, but you giggle, your face lighting up, your eyes crinkling at the corners. James feels something akin to a mad swarm of butterflies in his ribcage.

“No, James,” you laugh, breathless and lilting. Your free hand lands on his forearm and his skin burns under your touch. “It’s okay, really.”

“Okay,” James breathes. His head spins as you squeeze his arm. Your skin is impossibly soft. You smell so nice. “But, seriously, let me know if there’s anything I can do. It was such a nice top, it looked lovely on you.”

You flush like James knew you would. He’s slowly discovering he likes making you flustered more than he’ll admit.

“Thanks, James,” you say, and James imagines if he touched your face you’d be burning. “But, really, it’s okay. I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. See you around, angel.”

It’s only after you close the door and James is at the bottom of the steps that he realises he should’ve asked for your number. He really is as hopeless as Sirius says.

James Potter is on your mind most of the time. You can’t help it. You’re not above admitting you have a crush on him. You are above admitting how big said crush is.

He’s really one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. Sure, you don’t meet a lot of people. But you’re sure if you did he’d still be one of the best. He’s kind, he’s funny, he’s unbelievably charming. He’s a bit awkward sometimes and you like that, it makes you feel better about your own social ineptitude.

It also helps that he’s very very handsome. You would look at him all day if you could. He’s all dark, velvety skin, inky curls that you’ve imagined weaving your fingers through more times than you can count. Deep brown eyes turned bright with his ever-present smile. Thick eyelashes, a lovely sloping nose, a quirk to his mouth that you think you could get drunk on. He dresses well, too, though you’re sure he’d look just as good in a hoodie and sweatpants. Or nothing at all. You’d squashed that thought before it could go any further.

You don’t even mind that he spilled wine all over your nicest top. Sure, the stain is never gonna come out. It’s sitting in your closet, ruined. Embarrassing as it is, you smile every time you see it. James had made up for it tenfold anyway, walking you home and telling you he was sorry about a hundred times. It would be hard to not forgive him.

“Y/N?”

There’s a call of your name from the office door. You’re in here on your lunch break, not really eating more than you are thinking about James. Margaret, the older lady who owns Harriet’s but only comes in Thursdays and Tuesdays, is poking her head through the door.

“Hi, dear,” she says. “Sorry to disturb you, but there’s a customer out here asking for you? I can tell him to come back later, if you’d like, but he seems quite insistent.”

He. Of course, your mind flies straight to James. Which is ridiculous, you know, but it was already parked and idle at James, anyway.

“He’s asking for me?” You ask, perplexed. You don’t usually get personally requested by customers. And if it is James, you’re sure he’d ask for Lily instead.

“Yes, dear,” Margaret smiles, and she looks amused.

You get up because it’s your job, not because you’re hoping like hell it’s James. You put down your barely-eaten sandwich, brush past Margaret with a small ‘thank you’ and emerge into the shop.

There, standing at the counter, is James Potter.

“Y/N!” He says as soon as you emerge. He’s bouncy. Frazzled. You would even say excited. “Hi, lovely. I’m really sorry to barge in on you like this, were you on your break?”

“Oh, um, no. It just ended,” you lie. You still had a good ten minutes left. Not that you’re gonna tell him that.

James’ smile makes the lie worth it. “Perfect. ‘Cos I need your help.”

You think you physically perk up. Like a cat when it smells food is near. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“Okay,” you smile. You’re happy to help if it’s James you’re helping. “With that?”

James explains that he needs a bouquet, your best work, better than a boring one you can get at the grocery store because he really really needs this person he’s giving it to to like it. Your smile fades at this. At the fact that he’s getting flowers for someone else. He won’t tell you who this someone else is. He also won’t tell you why he’s giving it to them. You’re sorry to assume it’s a girl he likes. Possibly Lily? Maybe that’s why he asked for you and not her. You wouldn’t be surprised, they’re close and she’s gorgeous.

Of course, you help him anyway. You recommend flowers that last the longest, colours that go together, which ones smell the best. He’s asks you what your favourites are and ends up going with those, saying he trusts your judgment.

You have to admit it’s all very endearing. And you have so much fun helping him that by the time he leaves, arms full of a huge bouquet made up of all your picks of flowers, you’re beaming. Despite the daunting fact that he’s walking out of your shop with a bouquet for someone else.

Margaret appears once he’s gone. She’s got this big smile on her face that you can’t quite make sense of.

“He’s a handsome one,” she muses. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Your cheeks go redder than the roses on the shelf behind you.

Much later, you’re in the comfort of your small home, a bowl of steaming hot mac and cheese in your lap while the TV drones on. It’s some sort of romantic comedy that you can’t say you’re very interested in. Despite the lead male being very attractive. You’re about to change programmes when there’s a knock on your door.

You start. Nobody ever comes over. You don’t have many friends, and the ones that you do have, you tend to go over to their places, rather than the other way around. You’re so busy worrying about who it is that you haven’t even stood up before there’s another knock.

You get up off the couch, mac and cheese forgotten on the coffee table. You give your outfit a once over. You’re in sleep shorts and a hoodie that’s too big for you. Not your best work, but it’ll have to do. You fix your hair with little to no care and then open the door.

It’s James. You gape. You definitely should’ve paid more attention to your hair.

“James,” you say.

He beams right back, seemingly unaware of your sleepy appearance. “Hi, sweetheart.”

You stare at him. He looks pretty as ever. It’s only just going on sunset, and the colourful sky casts streaks of orange and golden yellow over his pretty face. The last bits of sun tangle themselves into his curls and drown themselves in his eyes. He’s dressed casual, but he still manages to pull it off, like you’d thought. A hoodie and jeans, a pair of beat up converse. He’s hiding something behind his back and you think you hear cellophane crinkle when he moves.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call,” he’s saying. He doesn’t have your number. But Lily does. Is it crazy to think he’s maybe asked her for it? “Is this a bad time?”

His kindness reminds you how to speak. “Uh— um, no. S’not a bad time, I just wasn’t expecting anyone. Are you— um, did you want to come in?”

You’re rambling, you know. He hasn’t even told you why he’s here and you’re asking him to come in.

James smiles kindly and it makes it all better. He’s good at that. At making you feel okay for being a bit of an awkward loser (your own words, not his, of course.)

“I’d love to come in,” he says, all smiles. “But first, I have something for you.” He pulls whatever he’s been hiding out from behind his back and offers it to you between your chest and his. “To say I’m sorry about your top.”

You blink. It’s a bouquet. It’s the bouquet. The one you’d helped him put together. The one that has all your favourite flowers and colours and smells because despite you thinking it was for someone else, you’d still wanted the best for James. You blink again.

“James,” you say, a little breathless, a lot speechless. “They’re for me?”

James laughs and you feel dizzy for a moment. He’s got a really nice laugh. “F’course there for you, sweetheart. Who else?”

He makes you take them from him, one of his hands guiding yours around the stalks. His skin is warm and sets yours on fire. You’re surprised the bouquet doesn’t go up in flames when you take it from him.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter. “I thought …” you don’t finish your sentence. You’d thought they were for some other girl who’d caught his eye. You change tactics mid sentence, “They’re lovely, James.”

“I know they are, dove. You picked ‘em out.”

You giggle then. He’s the sweetest boy on the planet, you decide. He let you pick out your own flowers, and you didn’t even know it. You’ve never properly been given flowers before, despite working at a florist’s. It’s a new feeling. Like a star burning in your chest that doesn’t seem to want to go out. It hovers in you ribcage and stays there, buzzing madly.

“Thank you,” you say, lifting your eyes to his. You find he’s already gazing right back at you. There’s a rogue curl falling over his forehead that you’d love to push out of the way. “Really. I love them.”

James flashes you a boyish grin. “Good, ‘cos if you didn’t, I’d have to have a word with the girl who chose them.”

You’re still beaming when he comes inside. He follows you into the kitchen, where you find a vase for the flowers. You set about taking them out of their packaging, cutting the stalks and putting them gently in the glass vase filled with water.

James watches you and you can tell he’s trying to be nonchalant about it all, about being in your space, but his eyes scan your kitchen like it’s a map he’s trying to figure out. Your mismatched mugs on the counter. Your magnets and Polaroids and receipts on the fridge. Your overgrown plants on the windowsill.

You carry your flowers to your small living room and put them in the dead center of your coffee table. The bouquet is so big it would block most of your view of the TV if you sat on the couch. You hardly care. You’d rather look at them than the TV, anyway.

Setting the flowers down, you spot your half eaten mac and cheese and hope James doesn’t take you for a slob. You’re lucky he didn’t catch you on a Friday night. You’d be drowning in ice cream, probably.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, half hoping he’ll say no, because who in their right mind asks their crush if they want macaroni and cheese? It’s so lame, but you can’t take it back now. “I have mac and cheese, but that’s about it, sorry.”

You cringe and wish you’d held your tongue, but James beams.

“I’d love some mac n’ cheese,” he says. “Unless it’s boxed, that shit tastes like cardboard.”

You get him some mac and cheese, glad you made it yourself, gladder you haven’t resorted to boxed food just yet. The two of you sit in the kitchen on your tall kitchen stools under your golden lights and eat. James is easier to be around than anyone you’ve ever met. He makes you feel special but not to the point where it’s too overwhelming. He’s kind and he’s golden, he acts like you’re the only person he ever wants to talk to.

Watching him eat in your home is more of a pleasure for you than you’d like to admit. He compliments your cooking. He says he likes the bowl he’s got, which is a white one with pink flowers all over it that you bought at a market ages ago. He gets a string of cheese dangling from his lip and makes a dorky face trying to get it into his mouth without using his fingers. You think you’d like to kiss him. His lips all puckered and eyes crossed as he attempts to scoop the cheese into his waiting mouth.

You’re so busy laughing at him that you don’t notice your own bowl balancing precariously on the edge of the counter. When you go back to take another spoonful, your hand knocks the bowl and it goes tumbling. Right into your lap.

“Shit,” you curse, gasping when a dollop of hot pasta lands half on your thigh and half on your shorts. The sauce spreads like wildfire over the fabric of your sleep shorts. Why do things keep spilling on your clothes when James is around? It’s becoming a theme. Your horror grows when the bowl clatters to the floor and while it doesn’t smash, it spills mac & cheese everywhere. “Oh, shit, that’s embarrassing. Um.”

You bend to clean up your mess but James beats you to it.

“Here, let me,” he says. He slides off his chair and is quick to start scooping up the ruined pasta.

“Sorry,” you stutter, standing helplessly as James cleans up your mess for you.

“Don’t be,” James shrugs and looks up at you, his cheeks dimpling as he smiles kindly. “Go change, I’ll sort this out.”

You feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude and affection for him that makes you want to kiss him stupid. You don’t. Instead you go down to your room and find something to change into. Seeing as he’s already seen you in your sleep shorts, you suppose your checkered flannel pyjama pants aren’t really much worse. Nothing can be more embarrassing than what’s just happened, you decide.

By the time you’ve changed (plus spent a lot of extra time staring at yourself in the mirror, practicing your smile), James has cleaned up the spill and is washing your bowls in the sink. You decide then and there that you like him a lot more than you’d initially thought.

You emerge into the kitchen on light footing. You feel like a magnet being drawn to him like this. It’s bizzare, how much you want to be around him, no matter how shy he makes you. It’s something you’ve never experienced before. A rip in the ocean calling your name. You know of the danger but you don’t really care. You ignore the signs because he’s James and you don’t think he has a mean bone in his body. The warning signs basically don’t exist.

“Thank you, James,” you say, standing on the threshold of the kitchen.

James flashes you a big smile, up to his arms in soap and suds, scrubbing away at a bowl. He looks like a house husband. It’s almost more than your heart can take. “That’s okay. Hey, nice pyjamas. Y’look good.”

You can tell by his tone he’s not teasing. He’s being genuine, which is somehow worse than if he’d been teasing. Your smile is so big it hurts.

James is gonna kiss you tonight. He’s sure of it.

So far, all of his advances have gone well. Perfect, even. Unless you count the drink-spilling incident, but if it hadn’t been for that he’d probably never have found the courage to get you alone again.

He’s taken you out to lunch once. He’s been into your work twice, not including the first time. He’s invited you to his rugby game tonight, to which you’d said yes more enthusiastically than he’d expected. It’s not exactly a date, per say. But he’d wanted to see you today and he had a game and his coach would blow his head off if he’d missed it for a girl. No matter how lovely said girl is.

He’s waxed poetic about you to Sirius and Remus more times than he can count. He’s yet to kiss you. Sirius thinks this is beyond absurd.

“So you haven’t even kissed her yet?” He asks, incredulous. He’s in his rugby kit, hair up in braids, chugging a Gatorade though the game hasn’t even started yet. “What’s the hold up, mate?”

James groans. Sirius is yet to understand that some people don’t like to jump into the deep end before they’re ready. “I don’t want to scare her off,” he explains, straightening up from where he’d been tying his laces.

“Oh yeah, you’re reaaally scary, Prongsie,” Sirius drawls, dripping in sarcasm. He rolls his eyes and then clasps James’ shoulder. He’s surprisingly and uncharacteristically genuine when he says, “Look, I think she likes you enough that kissing her won’t scare her off.”

James blinks and looks up at his friend. “You think she likes me?”

Sirius makes a face. “Are you kidding? What other girl would want to watch you eat shit in a field with a dozen other sweaty guys?”

And he’s back, James thinks. Trust Sirius to be a sweetheart one second and as asshole the next.

Soon enough James is out on the field and he wants to say his mind is on the game and not you but he’d be lying.

For the first five minutes he’s distracted trying to spot you in the stands. Then the next ten minutes are spent trying not to stare at you. You’re with Remus, whom James is hoping isn’t relaying anything he’s ever said to him about you.

You look as though, to James’ extreme delight, that you’ve dressed up for this. In a pretty dress and a jacket that borders on being so big on you it swallows you up. Sure, you’d still looked pretty drop-dead in your pyjamas the other night. But this is another level of gorgeous.

The first chance he gets he bounds over to you, ignoring his coaches instructions to ‘stay with the team’. Most of the team has scattered for half time, anyway. James makes a beeline for you.

“You came!” He shouts as soon as you’re in shouting distance.

You grin and wave at him, brilliant and dazzling and so damn pretty in the early evening sun. You’re not far up the stadium and James is grateful he doesn’t have to climb too many steps — though he’d definitely climb all the way to the top row to see you if he had to.

“Hi, James,” you say, looking happy as a clam to see him.

James beams back. He wonders vaguely if he looks as lovesick as he’s feeling. He can’t even bring himself to care if he does. He’s lucky Remus is nowhere to be seen — probably loving on Sirius somewhere.

“Hi, angel,” James says, smiling around his words, which come out all sticky-sounding and fond. “I’m so glad you came.”

You beam and rock on your heels, looking one part shy and two parts delighted, your hands clasped in front of you like you’re not sure what to do now.

“Can I give you a hug?” James asks. “I’m so happy to see you, I might explode if you say no.”

He’s joking, of course. Or maybe not so much. You nod, a tad vehement, James notices smugly.

“Yes, please,” you say, breathless.

James steps into your space, heartbeat a mile a minute. You smell like flowers again. Lavender, he thinks. He definitely doesn’t smell anywhere near as good. “You’re sure I’m not too sweaty and gross?”

You shrug. “I don’t care, James.”

“You should. You look lovely.”

You make a noise that sounds half pained and half pleased and it makes James’ heart skyrocket.

“Can you just hug me?” You ask, a hint of desperation in your tone that’s actually much more than a hint but James is trying to be a gentleman. “Please?”

James thinks if you keep this up (by this, he means, acting as though maybe you like him as much as he likes you), he’ll die on the spot. He hugs you. For his own and your sake. Wraps you up in a big strong hug that’s so passionate he accidentally lifts you off the ground slightly. You don’t seem to mind. Your arms weave around his neck like they were meant to and you hook your chin over his shoulder and go all melty.

James almost moans. He can’t believe how perfectly you fit in his arms. How your body melds into his so nicely. He’s big and firm and loud and you’re quiet and small in your own way. But it works, and James is so glad it does.

“How was work, lovely?” He says into your hair. Your hair, which smells like coconut and something sweeter.

“It was okay.” Your voice is quiet but you sound just as pleased as he does to be wrapped in each other’s arms. “Lily says good luck.”

“Hey!” This is Sirius, jogging towards the stands and the, for want of a better word, lovefest. “Why don’t I ever get hugs like that?”

James releases you but keeps a good hold on your waist, twisting to meet Sirius. “What? You want one too, Pads?”

He lets go of you and holds his arms out for a hug, half joking but also half serious.

“Not from you!” Sirius scoffs, backing away from James like his hug will give him an incurable disease. “From your pretty cheerleader over there.”

Sirius plants his hands in his hips and nods his head towards you where you’re standing behind James. James doesn’t need to look to know Sirius has probably made you embarrassed.

“She doesn’t want to hug you,” he says dryly, in an attempt to save you from his obnoxious friend. “Where’s your boyfriend? You can hug him instead.”

Sirius scowls but it doesn’t last long. You brush past James and it takes him a second to realise what’s happening.

“I’ll hug you, Sirius,” you’re saying sweetly. “C’mere.”

And to everyone’s surprise, you hug Sirius. James finds it both endearing and highly annoying. Annoying because Sirius is smirking at him over your shoulder, his hands on your lower back. Endearing because it’s apparent you’re trying to make friends with James’ friends and he couldn’t be happier. The hug doesn’t last quite as long as yours and his, though. And Sirius doesn’t quite lift you off the ground like James did.

James watches, reluctantly fond, as Sirius pulls away and smiles at you all kind and un-Sirius-like.

“Thank you, m’lovely,” he says, swooping down to kiss your cheek. James shouldn’t feel jealous, because Sirius kisses everyone on the cheek, but he does anyway.

His jealousy quickly fades when you practically skip back over to him, all smiles.

“Sorry about him,” James says quickly. He’s very used to apologising for his friends.

“No, that’s okay,” you shake your head and then take James’ forearm in your hand unthinkingly. Heat licks all up James’ arm.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding more confident than he feels. “Do you—?”

The shriek of his coach’s whistle cuts him off. Time to get back on the field, it says. James groans, long suffering, throwing his head back like he’s been resigned to the worst fate in the world. You giggle and it makes it all better.

James’ team loses the game. It’s embarrassing and then it’s not, because you bound up to him afterwards and give him a hug even better than the one at half time, gushing about how good he was, telling him it doesn’t matter that he lost because he played amazing, anyway.

He sure feels like a winner as he walks with you to the parking lot, his duffel bag swept to his wrong side so he can walk as close to you as possible.

“I didn’t know you were so good.” You’re still gushing and James thinks he’s never blushed more in his life. “I mean, not that I didn’t expect it. You just never told me.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Sirius,” James murmurs, feeling overly feverish.

“What? What’s that mean?”

James gestures vaguely with his hands. “I don’t go around bragging, is what it means. And I’m not that good. We’re just a local team, babe.”

It’s your turn to flush. Head to foot you go all shy. He thinks it’s the pet name that did it. And maybe the fact that he’s pointed out your gushing.

“Right,” you say to your shoes. “Well, I think you should play for the country, is all I’m saying.”

James laughs, delighted and a bit startled at your joking, but mostly just sick as a dog in love with you. “Really? Wow, you should tell my coach that, sweetheart. I think he’d totally agree.”

You pick up on his sarcasm and burst into giggles that make James’ chest want to explode. He realizes you’ve almost reached his car and puts his plan into action.

“Hey, did you drive here?” He asks.

You look up at him and James thinks he sees an inkling of hope in your pretty eyes. “No, I caught the bus. Why?”

“Did you want to go get Slurpees with me? I saw a 7/11 near your place the other night.” Then, because he really wants you to say yes, “I’m paying.”

Maybe it’s James’ wishful thinking but he’s pretty sure you light up like a Christmas tree. He really thinks if you keep doing things like this his head is gonna get too big for his body. You beam, looking like an angel on earth in the last fragments of sunlight, skin painted in an array of bleeding golds and pinks and oranges.

“Yeah, okay,” you nod. “Except you don’t have to pay for me, James, I have my card.”

James shakes his head, grinning as he fishes his keys from his bag. “Nah, don’t worry. Pretty girls get slurpees for free.”

He’s ninety-eight percent sure you freeze up like a block of ice as he unlocks his car. He has the generosity to not mention it.

The drive to the 7/11 closest to your place is quiet. But good quiet. James puts on the radio and is delighted when you start humming along like he’s not even there, your fingers tapping along the window where you’ve rolled it down, the wind brushing over your pretty face. He can’t quite get enough of you. Even just driving in silence with you feels like cloud nine. He’s enamored. Totally lovelorn. He’s surprised he can even drive straight.

When you get there he parks the car and then tells you to wait so he can open your door for you. He holds your hand to guide you into the 7/11. It feels like walking on air.

You both greet the guy at the cashier, you much more shyly, but James is learning you’re nothing if not polite. It’s practically empty inside, which James is glad for. How is he supposed to kiss you if there’s a bunch of strangers around? He leads you over to the slurpee machine with the excitement of a kid in a candy store.

“What flavour do you feel like?” He asks, grabbing a cup for you.

“Um,” you lick your lips and James wonders, not for the first time, how it would be to kiss them. “Grape, I think.”

“Grape?” He wrinkles his nose in pretense. “I’m more of a cherry guy, but I’ll let it slide ‘cos I like you.”

You giggle and flush, to James' extreme delight. He lets go of your hand to fill your cup for you, all the way to the top. He pops on a lid and a straw and passes it to you, cold condensation dripping over his fingers like raindrops.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the cup from him, your fingers soft as they brush his.

James gives you a big smile in place of a you’re welcome, then preoccupies himself with filling his own cup. He can feel your eyes on him all the while. Practically burning holes into the side of his face. His face, which feels like it’s on fire. He finishes filling his cup and shoves a lid on.

“Have I got something on my face?” He asks without looking at you, definitely teasing but he thinks you can take it.

You groan and punch him in the arm. Punch isn’t really the right word. It’s more of a brush of your knuckles. James hardly feels a thing. “James.”

James laughs, delighted at your reaction. “What?” He chuckles, picking a straw and turning to look at you. “You were—“

But you’re gone, turning into the candy section just in time for James to see the back of your jacket disappear. He follows you, grinning like mad.

“Y/N,” he says, sing-song.

“James,” you copy, with half the enthusiasm but twice the sweetness. He can almost hear you rolling your eyes.

James can’t help it, he snags your jacket in his fingers and pulls. You squeal as he twists you to face him, his hand coming to hook around your waist. Your slurpees get crushed in between your chests. James can feel the coldness of his soaking into his shirt but he hardly cares. You’re so close he could kiss you. He’d like to. It’s what he’s been trying to do all evening.

You’re gasping, breathless from the closeness and his sudden attack. “James,” you say again, panting. “What are you doing?”

James shrugs. “Nuthin’. Did you want some candy?”

You swallow and adjust your grip on your cup where it’s pressed to his chest. You’re staring at his lips. He’s staring at yours, too.

“No,” you say, your pretty eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth and back again. “I don’t want candy.”

James licks his lips, partly because he thinks he’s about to kiss you, but mostly to tease you. “Then what do you want?”

Your eyes follow the slow movement of his tongue. “Um.”

“Do you want me to kiss you?” He asks, softer now. Less taunting. More sincere.

You stare at him. “We’re in the middle of a 7/11, James,” you chastise. But you don’t turn him down.

“So? There’s no one in here but us.”

He inches closer. His slurpee is probably spilling over with how much he’s squashing it but he can’t bring himself to check. He’s too transfixed by you, the hopeful look on your pretty features, eyes blown wide, lips slightly parted.

“Okay,” you breathe, hardly a word at all.

“Okay, what?” James says back, just as quiet. “I can kiss you?”

“Yes,” you nod once. Your hand ghosts over James’ elbow and he hopes you’ll grab it when he does finally kiss you. “Please.”

It doesn’t take much more convincing than that. He kisses you, and the very first thing he thinks is that he’s bitten off more than he can chew. Thrown himself in the deep end, chum for the sharks. Because it’s glorious. It’s better than he ever imagined, better than anything he could’ve conjured up in his mind. You taste like grape slurpee, sugary and sweet. You’re tentative like you always are, but it doesn’t mean you hold back. You let him kiss you as hard as he pleases, tilting your head up to meet him, gripping his elbow with your free hand like you never want to let go.

He kisses you firm but careful, passionate so you know how much he likes you but soft enough so you know he’s okay to go slow if you need to.

Soon enough the moment is ruined — James shouldn’t have expected anything less. The guy at the cashier is wondering aloud if James is planning on ever paying for the Slurpees now dripping condensation into both of your clothes and hands.

James sighs and goes to pull out his wallet, but not before pressing another kiss to your smiling mouth.

feedback and reblogs are very very appreciated! please please lmk if u liked it (but not if u didn’t ahahah) xx

2K notes · View notes

orange-peony · 6 months

Text

Written for @flufftober with the prompt "fireplace".

A little wolfstar raising Harry, rated T.

“He’s so irritating.”

“Tell me about it,” Sirius says. “He’s my cousin Cissa’s son.”

“And he’s so bloody posh!”

“Language,” Remus chides gently from the kitchen, busy with Christmas preparations.

“The b word is not swearing,” Harry declares with a frown, then softly, to Sirius, “is it, Pads?”

“Nah,” Sirius says, waving his hand in dismissal. “Tell me more about that obnoxious Malfoy kid.”

* ~ *

“And he’s so fucking annoying with his pointy face and his white-blond hair,” Harry says, scratching his arm where another mosquito bite is swelling up.

“Language!” Remus says, even though Sirius can’t even see him. His husband seems to have a special radar for swear words.

“Sorry,” Harry says, looking much less concerned than he probably should. Sirius feels a little guilty because he’s always swearing in front of Harry, but brushes it off as teenagers being teenagers. “And he’s just—so tall and so smart and so…”

“So?” Sirius asks with a frown.

“So irritatingly fit!”

“Wait, what?”

* ~ *

“Do you think they’re going to spend much longer snogging on the train platform?” Sirius asks with a resigned sigh.

Remus chuckles and wraps his arms around Sirius’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Summer is long when you’re seventeen,” Remus says calmly.

“But they’re going to see each other in a couple of days!” Sirius protests. “We’re dragging the brat to France with us on holiday.”

“If I recall correctly,” Remus starts, his voice like a caress on Sirius’s cheek. “The first time we parted for a couple of days, you cried and begged me to come and visit you at James’s house.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sirius replies grumpily.

He thinks a kiss is in order, at least to distract him from his godson being snogged within an inch of his life by a Malfoy.

* ~ *

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Sirius groans, covering his face with his hands and making Draco squeal in embarrassment.

He supposes it’s kind of his fault. He should have probably sent his Patronus to Harry before Flooing straight to his kitchen. But Harry is his son. And he’s been living on his own for only a week, so Sirius was worried and wanted to check on him.

He wasn’t expecting to find Draco Malfoy making himself tea in Harry’s kitchen, wearing only Harry’s oversized hoodie and a pair of boxers.

Sirius covers his eyes and makes a disgruntled sound.

“I’m going to go grab my pyjama bottoms,” Draco says. “I’ve made enough tea for an army. Help yourself, Sirius.”

“It’s Mr Black-Lupin for you,” Sirius grumbles.

“Oh, stop being impossible, Pads,” Harry croaks, appearing by the kitchen door wearing just a pair of pants and a collection of love bites. “Morning, love. Thanks for making tea.”

* ~ *

The fireplace roars to life as a green flame appears and Draco’s blond head pokes through.

“May I come in?” he asks, looking extremely nervous.

“Of course,” Remus says, uncrossing his legs and sitting up.

And Sirius should have known. He should have fucking known, because Draco send an official request to speak to him and Remus, written on the fanciest parchment Sirius has ever seen (and he grew up with a bunch of pure bloods). Draco is wearing the most dazzling formal robes, and he has a small, blue box clutched in his shaking hands. He looks like he’s about to be sick. He looks even paler than usual.

“I—I know you have your reservations about me, and rightfully so,” Draco starts, and Sirius is about to say well, of course, you little Harry-thief, but Remus places a hand on his thigh, and Sirius just exhales and listens. “But I love Harry with all my heart. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love him, and I promise I will spend the rest of my life trying to make him the happiest man on earth. So, please, I know I’m asking you an awful lot, but…”

“Can we say no?” Sirius asks, but Remus pokes him in the ribs.

“Of course, you can marry Harry,” Remus says with a warm smile, and Draco starts crying straight away, looking at Sirius, waiting for his approval.

Sirius sighs.

He should have seen this coming.

He really should have.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “But I reserve the right to tease you both mercilessly and to swear in front of your kids.”

“Deal,” Draco says with the brightest grin.

#my writing #my fics update #flufftober #drarry fic #drarry drabble #wolfstar #drarry #wolfstar raising harry

944 notes · View notes

ellecdc · 22 days

Note

Hey elle :)

requesting poly!marauders x reader (or any of them individually if you prefer) where they're at some sort of big event with cameras and press, and she feels a bit overwhelmed but sticking with the boys helps her relax? especially once they're inside the event and past all the craziness it's quite enjoyable

love ALL your writing! and feel free to ignore this if it isn't something you'd enjoy writing, all my love <3

hi sweets! thanks for your request - I opted to go wolfstar if that's alright? thanks for being here with me 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader modern band AU

CW: references to alcohol, weed, someone being 'good in bed'

You think it might have been the fifty-seventh time that your name was shouted that did you in. All of the noise turned into a steady hum and barely registered in your ears anymore.

You weren’t even quite sure why you were here. One minute you were playing in a garage band with your college friends in shitty pubs near campus, the next thing you know, you were on the red carpet at the fucking Vanity Fair Oscar’s After Party.

Though you biasedly agreed that your band was indeed quite good, you weren’t so sure that it earned you, Marlene, Sirius, James, and Remus VIP invitations to such an event. You were watching the likes of Margot Robbie, Issa Rae, Paris Hilton and other A-List celebs walk past you and Jesus Fucking Christ was that a Kardashian?

“Y/N! Over here!” Another voice infiltrated your senses, and you were reminded of the many flashing lights pointing at you.

You weren’t invited to the Oscar’s and you weren’t even an actor; surely this event didn’t require your attendance?

But you couldn’t deny that James, and particularly Marlene and Sirius were thriving in their roles as rockstars. Admittedly, it was Sirius that made this all worth it for you.

You and Remus were more understated than the rest of the group – both here for the love of music and for the love of your friends and very little else. James, being a child of two celebrities, was very accustomed to events such as these, and Marlene and Sirius were both the absolute definition of rockstars; intense, bold, fun and vivacious. You knew exactly why the crowds loved them.

You couldn’t blame them either; it was what drew you and Remus to Sirius as well.

He had the ability to make every person in the room feel like they had 100% of his attention and devotion; he was here for you. No doubt when it was his turn on this carpet, each photographer and journalist currently standing in front of you had felt very the same way.

Your relationship with your two bandmates wasn’t public knowledge, though it was absolutely public speculation that something was up with you three.

You’d like to blame it on Sirius; he was always the least likely to control his urges to ogle you or Remus or indulge in lingering touches whether everyone was watching or not. But you also knew it was in part Marlene and James’ fault – both of whom were very public with their relationships to the band manager Dorcas Meadows and a well-known photographer Lily Evans, respectively.

And finally, it was a little bit your own faults, refusing to speak on your relationship status when your fellow bandmates were far more open.

But you liked having these boys to yourself without having to share them with the public; there was the version of them that the public got and then there was the version of them that you got, and you didn’t want the line between those versions to blur.

The unfortunate consequence of that decision was having to do some of this on your own.

This, being shouted at to ‘look this way!’, ‘over here!’ or ‘turn around for us’, the last one making you very uncomfortable because you were quite sure none of the boys were asked to turn around for the camera’s.

The band had taken their group photos and horrifyingly, you were all asked to pose separately as well.

If you’d wanted to be photographed alone, perhaps you would have gone into this industry alone and not with the support of a group.

Stop complaining, you chided yourself, do you know how many people dream of a moment like this?

You were finally thanked for your time and effectively dismissed as – fucking hell – Ariana Grande stepped onto the carpet to take your place.

Your personal assistant - because you had things like personal assistant’s now – met you behind the curtains of the carpet to hand you a bottle of water.

“Okay, now they just want a quick shot of you all at the Glambot and then you’re free to enter the event.” She explained hastily as she took the water bottle back and put it in her purse.

“Great.” You muttered, trying to give yourself a little pep talk as you began to make your way to the line for the Glambot. Your dress felt too tight, your heels too high, and the various stage lighting too hot, but you found that your heart rate began to drop dramatically when you saw the likes of your two boyfriends and James and Marlene already in line.

Sirius and James cheered as they saw you approaching, causing the few people who weren’t already looking in their direction to turn.

You were sure your cheeks had the majority of your blood flow by now, and silently hoped that your makeup didn’t completely melt off from the heat radiating there.

“There you are gorgeous!” Sirius called over as Marlene wolf whistled at you.

“You guys are horrid, you know that?” You muttered as you stepped into line with them and James threw a protective arm over your shoulder.

Sirius laughed like a good sport, though you noticed that his eyes were far more sincere than his somewhat performative smile.

“I think we all ought to stick together, huh dollface? I’ve grown entirely too codependent on you lot to last more than five minutes out of your vicinity.” He commented, throwing a wink over at Remus who offered him a fond eyeroll in return.

But both of you heard it for what he was really trying to say in front of all the reporters; “I missed you, thank you both for doing this, I’m so happy to be here with you.”

“Yeah! What’s the fun of starting a band with your best friends when you have to do half of the fun stuff without them?!” Marlene agreed, gently nudging you with her elbow.

“My sentiments exactly.” You agreed.

By the time the group of you made it to the front of the Glambot line, Sirius and Marlene quickly stepped up to be the one’s talking to Cole Walliser and deciding on the group’s pose.

“Honestly, I know I was raised for this, but it’s like he was born for this.” James commented, leaning in to whisper to you and Remus.

“Never say that to him, his ego is already massive.” Remus responded, and though Sirius was in the middle of a sentence with Cole, his eyes darted over and he considered the three of you skeptically. He’d always said he had a sixth sense when it came to you and Remus, and it appeared he was right in that regard.

“I’m so sorry Cole, I think they’re talking smack. Oi! Are you guys taking the piss back there?” He said, throwing the three of you a cheeky smirk.

Marlene scoffed, adding “of course they are, Sirius.”

James quickly shook his head. “Nope! We were just talking about how good you look tonight, Pads, and how we can’t wait to take you back to the hotel and ravish you.”

Cole let out a hearty laugh and more camera’s flashed as the group of you chuckled.

“This is not helping with the rumours.” Remus muttered with a head shake, though his smile belittled any chagrin he may have been going for.

“Who said it was a rumour?” You joked, offering him a flirty wink.

The group of you had realized that playing into the rumours and joking about it was the best way to field questions and speculation. Somehow, it had grown to the point that there were theories that all five of you were in a polyamorous relationship.

“You guys are so funny.” Cole said, collecting himself from his laughter; you didn’t know if he truly meant that or if he was just doing his job as the lovely host, but you appreciated his encouragement, nonetheless.

The Glambot went well, you think. You hoped. You wouldn’t know until it was all over social media tomorrow so opted not to worry about it as the four of you migrated into the event space.

The event didn’t turn out half bad if you were honest. You got to eat and drink and chit-chat with some of the biggest celebrities of your time, you took an astronomical number of selfies, and danced the night away with your friends and boyfriends.

But if you were being super honest - the best part of the night was getting back to the hotel with Remus and Sirius.

Sirius was catching his breath like he’d run a marathon and you were sure his cheeks hurt from smiling so damn hard all night, but he was still riding his high as he fussed around the hotel room.

Remus looked just as delighted at Sirius’ obvious joy as you did but was nearly dead on his feet, exhaustion weighing down his movements as he all but melted into a wingback chair.

“Oi! What’re you doing, gorgeous? That’s my job.” Sirius chided as he swatted at your hands which were in the process of attempting (and failing) to undo the zipper of your dress.

You didn’t put up much of a fuss as he undid your dress and gently kissed your shoulders; massaging the skin and muscles along your back that the gown had been digging into.

You stepped out of the dress and caught the tshirt Remus had tossed to you before throwing it over your form and falling backwards haphazardly onto the bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been so tired.” You moaned, relishing in the luxurious sensation of the downy duvet enveloping you in a hug.

You heard both boys chuckle through their nose as you felt someone - Sirius - start fiddling with the buckles of your shoes where your feet hung over the edge of the bed.

Sirius pressed a kiss to your knee as he stood and disposed of your shoes near your suitcase before moving to Remus.

Remus groaned petulantly and went no bones when Sirius tried to help him up. “No.”

“Rem. Get up.” Sirius chuckled.

“Go away.”

“Moons, you cannot sleep in a chair, and you cannot sleep in a tuxedo.”

“Watch me.”

“Leave him there to die, Siri.” You commiserated from your own place of death.

“Yeah. Leave me here to die, Siri.” Remus repeated sardonically. “Take care of our sweet girl, yeah? Tell her I love her.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and though Remus kept up the ruse of being ‘asleep’ - you felt your heart swell at the smile that adorned his lips at the sound of your laugh.

“You wanker.” Sirius chided lovingly through his own laughter as he pecked a kiss to your boyfriend’s head and started helping him strip from his place in the chair.

You must’ve drifted off momentarily, as by the time you opened your eyes next, Sirius had just convinced Remus to stand long enough to pull a pair of pajama bottoms up his legs as Remus rubbed at his eyes like a giant overtired toddler.

“How’d you end up falling in love with two eighty-something twenty-something-year-old’s, Sirius?” You asked sleepily from your place on the bed.

Remus chuckled as he sat back down in his chair by the sliding doors, opening it up to light a joint before bed.

“I have no clue, but I’m so glad they love me back.” Sirius said as he started to change out of his own formal attire.

You could tell that the night was starting to wear on him slightly, but there were still notes of excitement and adrenaline pumping through his veins as he went about his bedtime routine.

“You’re phenomenal at this; you know that, right?” You commented, causing Sirius to pause what he was doing to look over at you, expression softening into something hopeful.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You agreed readily. “The best, really.”

He quickly finished up what he was doing and hurried over to the bed, laying down on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down at you.

“Thank you baby.” He said quietly, using one of his hands to rub absentmindedly on your thigh. “I couldn’t do it without you two.”

Remus scoffed as he made his way over to the bed, having locked up the sliding door and matching Sirius’ position from your otherside.

You both loved and hated when they did this; it felt as though they were ganging up on you, exposing all your feelings and flaws. But you also felt undeniably worshiped under their loving gazes.

“I think you’d do just fine without us there, love.” Remus spoke, gently squeezing Sirius’ hand before resting his hand on top of your sleep shirt over your ribs, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth.

“Nope. Not a chance.” Sirius denied quickly.

“You were born for the stage, Sirius. For the flashing lights and cameras and talking.” You pressed.

“Only thing I was born to do was love the two of you.” He contended.

Remus breathed a laugh through his nose as you made a cooing sound.

“This just in,” Remus started, imitating a newscaster. “Renowned rockstar Sirius Black has gone soft.”

Sirius scoffed in faux contempt as he reached over to pinch Remus’ side.

“I am trying to thank you guys.” Sirius chided, his sarcastic smile turning soft as you and Remus relented and turned to face him. “I’m so grateful to have you guys by my side through all of this, I know it’s not really either of your things. And I know you’d both likely be just as happy if we called this all off tomorrow, but…”

He seemed to trail off as he looked over your forms towards the windows. “But….” You pressed, nudging him to continue.

“Don’t go shy on us now, Black.” Remus teased.

Sirius rolled his eyes but a smile broke out across his face. “But I’m so incredibly gone for both of you. I love you, I love this. All of it.”

“I love you too, Sirius.” You offered simply, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his lips and ignoring the stiffness in your joints.

Remus, never one to pass up on an opportunity to take the piss, rolled his eyes as he let his elbow fall to lay flat on his back beside you.

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, I guess. You’re just lucky you’re both so good in bed, otherwise I’d have split up the band ages ago.”You started to cackle, overwhelmed with exhaustion, love, and probably some of the alcohol still in your system as Sirius threw himself onto Remus demanding he “take it back or so help him, God.”

283 notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 3 months

Text

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 6.2K Warnings: Use of the word fag in a derogatory way. The person that does it gets told off for it. Prompt: After the day you've had, you could really use a drink, if Rem let's you go through with it, at least. This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 31: Strange Magic

You walked all the way to the common room as fast as you could, you were hoping your little talk with Reggie hadn’t been so long that it would have Lily and Remus worrying about you. Once you arrived, the lady in the portrait gave you a bit of a scowl.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

You were taken aback. “Me? Whatever did I do?”

She arched an eyebrow at you, looking rather displeased, “You gave the password to that pretty Slytherin girl and her younger friend.”

“No,” you said with a head shake. “I’m not friends with the Slytheri–”

“Hey, Star Seeker!” You heard Minho’s voice from behind. “You gonna let me in or what?”

You winced at that, the fact that Minho had his quidditch sweater on only aggravating the situation further, the lady gave you a look and you shrugged. “I don’t ascribe to the whole house rivalry we’ve got going on.”

“That’s right!” Minho said as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer to him. “We’re transcendent mates.”

“What?” You asked, turning to him with a frown. “Transcendent mates!?”

“You’re telling me «chowol chingu» doesn’t have a literal translation that makes sense in English?” You shook your head, you might have studied many languages, but you had no idea what chowol chingu meant. “Like, umm…” Minho seemed to struggle to find the right words, trying to think of a time when he heard someone say something similar, “Best chums?”

“You almost blew my head off in the game today!”

“Not my fault you were on the other team,” he said with a shrug. “Besides, I wasn’t nearly as bad as Barty.”

You laughed. “Best chums then, all right,” you said as you shook your head. “Will you let us in?” you said, turning to the lady in the portrait with the same charming smile you used to convince Remus of silly things.

She pursed her lips, rolled her eyes and took a deep breath before leaning her head down, “Password?”

You smiled, “Boneless phoenix wings.”

The portrait opened up like a door and allowed both you and Minho to get in. “It’s so much less hassle to get into my common room,” he said with a sigh.

You hummed, “Yeah, your brick wall is nice, a lot less talkative, but the Lady on the portrait is a taste you acquire.”

“How do you know about the brick wall?” He asked, a little confused. “Wait, it was you!”

“No it wasn’t,” you said with a frown and looked around the room, Tom wasn’t too far.

“It had to be you, and it makes so much sense omg, you little–”

“Tom!” you called, the boy turned to you, and you shoved him onto Minho’s face, Minho was terrible at keeping secrets, and you weren’t about to spill the beans about the prank onto him, “Minho was looking for you, go ahead and talk,” You said with a smile before you scurried away. You noticed the blush on Minho’s neck as he threw you a desperate look and you just shrugged and shot him a wink.

You slipped towards your room, Lily had found some nice clothes for you on the bed, and you smiled and changed into them. It was a pair of snug corduroy pants and a thick sweater. It was stylish and yet simple. You cleaned up and changed into the clothes, walking downstairs trying not to cause too much attention, skidding past some with your head low until you reached the spot where Remus stood. Near the fireplace, with a cup in one hand and a plate in the other, he was wearing a quidditch sweater that fit him snuggly, perhaps a little tight.

“That’s not yours,” you said when you approached.

“Sirius gave it to me, said it fit the spirit. Left it with a note on my bed and everything.” He did not mention what Sirius had written in the note, “Wear it if we win, give it to Vix and cheer her up if we don’t”.

“Romantic,” you joked, Remus rolled his eyes, trying to avoid your gaze. “Suits you well.”

“Must be for my dashing good looks.”

“Oh… and it came along with Sirius’ personality.” He chuckled at your joke and finally turned to look at you again, almost allowing himself to get lost in your eyes. “You saved that for me, yeah?”

“In my pockets,” he said, hands still very occupied with food and drink.

“Which one?”

“Back, left,” he said automatically, not realising you would reach down and grab it “Oi! That’s the right,” he complained as you dug your hand in his pocket, brushing his arse and making him panic slightly.

“Sorry,” you mumbled and went for the other pocket “Should’ve specified which left.”

“There’s only one left!” he said in disbelief as you pulled the little flask out.

You shrugged “Never been good at knowing which is which.”

“Or… you just wanted an excuse to touch my arse.”

“Oh no!” you said ironically, “You’ve discovered my evil scheme. All I wanted was to get a good feel of those round butt cheeks.” Remus almost choked on his drink from the laugh that got caught in his throat, you smiled and extended the small flask towards him. “Cheers mate,” you said before taking it to your mouth and drinking a few big gulps.

Remus left the plate on the mantle and pulled the flask off your mouth, “Hold up, slow down little witch!” The Firewhiskey was rather strong, he was sure you’d be tipsy in no time.

You looked at him reproachfully, your lips were wet and looked incredibly juicy before you gave them a lick and collected the remnants of alcohol from them, he forced himself to look at your eyes instead “Rem!” you reproached.

“Uh-uh,” he shook his head as he raised the bottle above his head. “You tell me what this is all about and then I give it back to you.”

“I just need a drink.”

“Because of the fall? The monster in the swamp? Whatever you’ve got going on with Nightshade?”

Fucking perceptive werewolf best friend “No.” you said with a loose shake of the head, he realized you were being honest.

You sighed and reclined against the side of the chimney, staring at him through your lashes with an expression akin to a reprimanded puppy. “Can I please…?” He shook his head and raised an eyebrow expectantly. “I had a talk with Regulus.”

Remus’ eyes narrowed on you, lowering the flask as he looked at you in shock. “If he said something to you that–” The werewolf seemed about ready to throw punches, even if he didn’t think too bad of Reg in the first place, he also saw in him all the things of Sirius you did.

But you shook your head, and he could see the contrition in your eyes, “He didn’t rat us out.”

Remus tilted his head to the side, just a little, prompting you to continue. You let out another deep breath and looked to the side “So then how did…?”

“He said they got an owl,” you explained, “Must have been the creepy wizard from ‘El Maleficio', I get chills from the memory.”

“That’s the muggle but then not actually muggle magic shop, correct?”

“Where we bought the animagus recipe and this,” you said as you pulled out the necklace Sirius had given you.

“He still has the mark from it.”

“The mark?” you asked with a frown.

“I’ll tell you about it later.” Remus wasn’t sure if telling you about the bIood magic linked to it was a good idea, “So the man sent a note.”

You shut your eyes at that, and your frown deepened. “They asked Regulus, he lied and then they– they gave him veritaserum.”

“Oh.”

“And then there was the letter–”

“The one you burned down.”

You nodded, “I hadn’t gotten a reply to any of the letters I sent to Sirius and I was angry and sad and–” you sighed, “he said the letter explained it all. Poor Regulus thought I was mad at him even if I knew– And I’ve been treating him like dog shit…” You let your head fall back with a groan. It crashed onto the wall, a little loud for Remus’ enhanced hearing and he worried.

“It was a situational thing.”

“I could’ve been more rational,” you said as you opened your eyes again, a reproachful tone directed straight at yourself. “Attempt to be a decent person–”

“You’re already one of the nicest people I know,” he said “Stupid selfless if you ask me.”

You threw him a look, a half-smile on your lips “I’m not selfless.”

“Says the girl that was ready to be eaten…”

“I wasn’t ready to be eaten! I was thinking of a different approach!” He raised an eyebrow and you pushed him back playfully, “Can I please, please get my flask back?”

“Drinking your sorrows away is not a great habit.”

“What do you mean sorrows? I caught the snitch, I should be celebrating!”

He took a long sip of the firewhiskey before passing it over to you. “Don’t gulp it down again,” he warned.

“Ugh, you’re such a mom,” you replied as you took a sip.

“A mom?!? Not a dad?”

“Daddy maybe,” you snickered, he rolled his eyes at you but smiled regardless.

At some point, Marlene discovered you in the corner and dragged you to dance with her, you barely had time to hand the flask to Remus before she was prompting you to shake around in the improvised dance floor. After a while, you started to feel the strain in your shoulder and decided to lie down instead. But you were stopped by Nox, who waved at you from the side to get closer.

“Hi!” you greeted, “Glad you and Comet made it.”

He nodded in response and then hesitated as if he wanted to say something “Do you,” he scratched the back of his head, “Fucking Neil, I’m getting him for this,” he mumbled. “You see, some kids from my class and a few others who’ve joined decided to make a mini quidditch game.” You hummed in response. “Each of the teams we formed will be allowed to invite one of the pros to the game.”

“One of the pros?” you asked, an eyebrow quirked.

He nodded, “Yeah, one of the members of the quidditch teams…” he took a deep breath. “Would you… would you like to be in our team?” he asked.

You simply nodded, “Sure!” The fact that James wouldn’t be too happy about you over-exerting yourself didn’t even cross our mind “Who’s the other player?”

“It’s Alex Wood,” he told you “You’re friends, right?”

You nodded, “It’ll be nice to see him as a keeper before the official game.”

Nox shook his head “Oh no, he’s… he’s not going to be a keeper, he’ll play chaser.”

“Really?” You asked, a little shocked.

“Yeah, it was part of the rules, so the game was more balanced. We were thinking of making you a seeker, but well, it wouldn’t be very balanced, would it?”

You raised your eyebrows “If that’s your way of complimenting my seeker skills Nox, I’ll take it gladly. Especially from a Slytherin.”

“As if you needed more compliments than you already have,” he scoffed. “Anyway, how do you feel about being a chaser, or a beater?”

“Well…” you said, rolling your wounded shoulder unconsciously.

“Can’t do beater sorry,” Sirius said as he wrapped one of his arms around you, placing his hand near enough your wound, not to hurt you, but to remind you. “She needs some time to recover after the fall.”

“Puppy you’re back!” you said as you leaned onto him. “How was detention?”

“Humdrum, as you’d expect,” he replied, not giving it too much thought. “If you need a beater I could fill in for her.”

“Oh no,” Nox shook his head calmly. “She can be a chaser, it’d better actually, I believe, Solacis wanted to be a beater.”

Sirius tilted his head, and Nox swallowed “Anyway, that was what I wanted to ask, I’ll give you more details about the game during the week,” he said before scurrying off.

You turned to Sirius, “You threw him the look.”

“You shouldn’t be playing quidditch,” he responded simply and squeezed your arm a little. “You should be resting instead.”

You shrugged, “We won.”

He nodded “Peter told me,” he said with a slightly displeased nod and leaned the butterbeer he had in his hand towards you, “Want some?”

You took it from his hand and gave it a sip, “Did he tell you about…”

“The way you fucking jumped off your broom? Of course, he did.”

“Nosy little rat,” you mumbled.

“And you think I wouldn’t have found out?!?”

You shrugged. “I didn’t jump off, by the way… My broom was being coursed, I would have fallen down regardless, I just thought I’d have higher chances of getting the snitch if I leapt towards it.”

“And your counter jinx didn’t work?”

“What?” You asked, head snapping his way, eyes opened wide.

“Your counter Jinx? I assume it wasn’t working because–“ he noticed the surprise on your face. “You did try to use a counter jinx before jumping off your broom, right?” You looked at him, dazed. “Starshine…”

You gave him an apologetic look, “I guess I just didn’t… I needed to get the snitch.”

He groaned, laying his head on your shoulder. “You do know counter jinxes, right luv?” he asked, turning to look at you, still from the crook of your neck, his breath tickling over your soft skin.

You swallowed, the closeness making you nervous. “Well… I mean I know a few, not a specific one but–”

“I know a couple, I’ll teach you,” he said determinedly. “We’ll practise next time we go flying with James, I’ll be trying to throw you off and you’ll have to counter it. It’s advanced wandless magic, but if anyone can master it, it’s you.”

You leaned down and gave him a small peck on the temple, “Thanks Pups.”

“Pas de problème,” he said simply.

“Sirius we need to move,” James said as he gripped your boyfriend from his jacket and hauled him off your shoulder.

Your boyfriend groaned at the loss of your touch, “James, next time you cockblock me like this I will hex you.”

“McGonagall is coming,” James said simply. Sirius’ breath hitched.

“What’s wrong with that?” you asked.

“She gave us specific instructions to go straight to our room,” Sirius explained. “Said if we didn’t, we’d be in detention for a lot longer.”

“Invisibility cloak?” you asked looking at James, he shook his head and you took your wand out, disillusioning them both at the same time, “Go, I’ll distract her.”

“Thanks, Vix,” you heard James say quietly.

Then felt a hot breath on your shoulder. “On the hideout we used for Marlene’s party after Maggie’s gone to check our room, I’ll take the cloak.”

You turned to him with a smirk, even if you couldn’t see him, and nodded. Then you moved towards McGonagall, who was looking around the heads of students in the common room.

”Professor!” You called, she turned to you, hesitant, as if she still needed to find something, “Professor I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”

She sighed and turned to you, “Yes, darling?”

You smiled at her, charming and apologetic, “If I’m distracting you then–”

She shook her head, almost feeling bad at herself for not giving you the necessary attention, “Are you alright? That was– it was a nasty fall you took on,” she grimaced.

And then you remembered, she was going to be a professional player but fell off her broom and got injured, you instantly felt bad, your fall must have brought back a lot of memories, “I am,” you responded quickly and changed the subject. “But it’s… It’s actually about transfiguration… I thought you would ask Remus to help me with tutoring?”

She looked at you a little taken aback, “You didn’t ask him yourself?”

You shook your head “I should have?”

“Well, since you were in classes together. And you seem to be really close, I assumed you had already… Never mind, would you like me to ask him?”

“Uh… no, no, I suppose I can just do it myself.” She frowned but nodded, and then gave a step as if to go back to searching “Wait!” you said, a little worried James hadn’t gotten to his room yet.

“I’m…” fuck what do I even say, “I’d like to know about contraceptive potions.” The professor seemed visibly scandalised at your question, “For a friend,” you added meekly.

She gave you a rather stern look, I’ve fucked it up, I’ve fucked it up, but McGonagall just sighed and nodded. “It’s only natural to be curious about this stuff,” she started approaching the subject in a rather neutral and tentative tone. I really fucked it up. “Especially when it’s not a subject included in the curriculum. And believe me, I have been trying to include it for the longest time.”

You held back a gasp, looking at her surprised, “Wait, really?”

She nodded, “Generally I gather the Gryffindors in the last year to teach them the basics before they go out in the world but I suppose since you’re dating Mr. Black, and Merlin knows that boy is rather… eager–” You winced, way to throw poor Sirius under the bus. You already knew how to brew the potion, you’d gotten the recipe from a book Marlene had borrowed, given to her by her older sister, and you certainly didn’t expect to have that kind of talk with Minnie, but you had to pull through, for your friends. “So I suppose you could come to our next meeting, of course you’d have to get a letter from your parents stating you can do so, since you’re still under age.”

You nodded, trying to settle the small frown that had formed on your face. Now you’d have to find a way to fake a letter from your mom or something, “Of course,” you said, “thank you very much, Professor McGonagall.”

She gave you a look and sighed again, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You realised you were still blocking her way, and you shook your head “No, no… I’m sorry,” you responded and moved out of her way, looking at the way she disappeared through the stairs. You took a deep breath and sat on one of the sofas. Head laying back as you processed what had happened until you felt the pressure shift beneath you.

You turned to the side and smiled when you spotted him, he had a glass of something that smelled alcoholic in his left hand “Hey Pete!”

“You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Must have hurt.”

“Prick!” He said with a laugh as he shoved you with his shoulder and then proceeded, “When I was 10 my parents got me my own cat.” He said. You knew he was going to continue talking so you let him. “And we rubbed the kitten on my sister’s older cat so she would accept it as part of their family.”

You nodded, frowning a little as you tried to process what he’d said “I don’t have a kitten.”

He frowned and then realised his statement might have been a little ambiguous. “Oh, well… I mean, you know how Moony chased you fiercely last moon and he’d been chasing after you earlier too. Like, in the previous moons he’d been absolutely relentless, wanting to get in the castle, almost impossible for Padfoot and Prongs to control. I think… well I think it might be because of the way you smell? I mean I’m not nearly as good as Pads with the sense of smell but… you do have a rather strong scent.”

Your frown deepened. Strong scent? “Should I be offended?”

He shook his head quickly “NO! I don’t mean to say that you smell bad!” He was stumbling with his words “I’m just saying it’s distinctive… especially for us, probably a lot more for them since they’re canines too.”

“So… bottom line is, you’re saying I should go rub myself into Remus?!” You asked incredulously. He flushed. But then you thought about it. It wasn’t that far-fetched… “I’m around you guys all the time, the smell should already be there already anyway, right? Didn’t seem to help last Monday either.”

Peter shook his head “You’re not around us in animagi form.”

“Oh, so I’m supposed to turn into a fox and then go rub on Remus? Cross my paws he doesn’t eat me on the spot?”

“Not Remus! You could rub on Padfoot or- Prongs…. I’d say me but I’m way too small,” He explained “That would give you the smell of the pack.”

“Right…” you trailed off “And that would work? As in, if I go around, trying to get Sirius’ scent all over me, the wolf won’t try to eat me next time he sees me?”

“It’s worth a shot?” Peter said with a shrug “I mean it’s that or he’ll keep looking for you. You know once a werewolf catches a scent it’s… impossible to stop it. And you’re dating Sirius anyway, so take it as quality bonding time.”

You reclined on the sofa, trying to take all the new information in, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. Perhaps it really could work. Remus sat beside you a little after “Saw you talk to Minnie, everything all right?”

You groaned at that, letting your head fall back again as you reached for the flask in his hand and brought it to your lips, taking a sip and feeling the taste burn your throat. You sighed, “I need to falsify a letter from my mum.”

Remus raised an eyebrow “Why?”

“I asked Professor McGonagall about contraceptive potions,” you said reluctantly, as you shut your eyes.

Peter, who seemed shocked, was the one to speak next “Oi? Yes I’m coming!” he said as if someone had called him and then stood up and fled.

Remus on the other side, had tensed, but you were way too fucking preoccupied with the memory to notice. “For you and Sirius…” he acknowledged, almost bitterly, “we could’ve gotten them in the restricted section,” he added, trying exceptionally hard not to clench his jaw.

You turned to him in shock, “What?! I didn’t ask because I needed them! I needed to distract Maggie so Prongs and Pads could run off to their room, couldn’t think of anything better. I already have the recipe anyway, Ma– it was given to me.”

“Oh,” he managed to say then, as if your answer made the whole thing better. “You want help with it?”

“With what? The fake letter or brewing the potion?” You asked, diverted.

Remus shrugged, managing to slip back into a chiller demeanour somehow “Both?”

You laughed, “That’s incredibly kind of you Rem,” you responded. “I’ll tell you when I require help… For now, though, I just need a drink,” you said as you took another sip and then remembered the conversation with Maggie again “Ugh, she now thinks we’re nothing but horny teenagers.”

“She’s not wrong,” he teased with a smile and you elbowed him in response.

“Arse.”

You then felt a tug at your hair, you turned around and there was nothing. You narrowed your eyes but took another sip. And then you felt it again. You knew who it was in an instant and stood up.

“You leaving?” He asked as you did, not being able to mask his disappointment, even just having you beside him made him feel better.

“Mhm,” you said as you bit your lip, not wanting to prove his point, “I’ll go get some snacks, want some?”

He shook his head, and you started walking to the hideout. Sirius was just behind you, using the cloak to hide, his hand firmly pressed to your shoulder. You looked back, and then the two of you attempted to slide inside the tight passage, but there were already two people inside. And those two people were snogging. You pulled back, stepping on the cloak and causing it to fall from Sirius’ shoulders. The four of you staring at each other in complete shock. Two of which were a lot more mortified than the rest.

You, being distracted by the situation, did not feel the way Sirius’s hand on your shoulder tensed. And since your back was to him, you also didn’t notice the way his eyes had gone wide or the way his breath hitched on his throat.

“Oh hey Sly Sprite, wanna join in?” Tom joked as he stared at you, Sirius, somehow overcoming the initial shock gave him a murderous look, the same he had used on Nox earlier, the Black family scowl, but it seemed to have no effect on the boy. “You can join too handsome,” he winked. Earning a slap on the shoulder from Minho.

Sirius, who had been enthralled in the sight, was instantly taken aback by Tom’s words as you spoke, “Sorry to bother you boys, we’ll find a different place to snog.” You had a very apologetic look on your face as you grabbed the cloak from the floor but Minho grabbed onto your arm, eyes pleading. “Don’t worry, I’ll deal with him,” you told him, “Not a soul will find out.”

“You promise?” He asked, still apprehensive. Tom, who had looked diverted up until that point, seemed to understand the delicacy of the subject for Minho, and placed a hand on his upper arm reassuringly.

“Sirius is trustworthy, as much as Sly Sprite, no one will know unless you want it,” Tom said, he was now rubbing Minho’s arm reassuringly.

“Yes, that’s true,” you agreed, “I’ll talk to him Min, just enjoy yourself, and um… maybe put a spell up so this doesn’t happen again.” You then grabbed Sirius by the arm, and covered the two of you with the cloak.

Minutes stretched into silence as you and Sirius moved away from the spectacle, the sounds of the party fading into the background as you pulled him towards a different direction.

Up until then, Sirius Black had never seen two boys kiss. And he was experiencing things he was so not supposed to be experiencing after it. You were still dragging him towards a different section, your hand intertwined with his as you sorted through people, as he stared blankly ahead. You didn’t stop until you were both hidden on a small section near the back of the spiral staircase that you knew was also another snogging spot, but a lot less used because of how cramped it was. You didn’t mind being so close to Sirius though, you never had.

“Tom and Minho, they’re… fags?” he said once you cast a muffliato around the two of you.

“That’s an awful word to use,” you reprimanded with a frown, Sirius seemed to be taken aback by it.

“Gay.”

You tilted your head, making a rather unconvinced hm, that just seemed to confuse Sirius even more, the scene of Tom and Minho kissing replying on his head over and over and over again, sometimes with them, sometimes with different people being the ones kissing. That was the one that scared him the most.

“Well, technically Tom is Bi but–”

“By? By what?”

“Bisexual… or pan I think.” Your brain was a bit cloudy with how much you’d had to drink, and you were so not expecting to have this conversation with Sirius “He just doesn’t give a fuck about gender.”

“And Minho?”

“I think he only likes boys, but I’m not sure, we didn’t talk much about it.” You admitted with a shrug “As you can see it’s a rather delicate subject for him.”

“And you knew? About both of them,” he said with a frown. “Why did you know?”

You shrugged, “Tom told me, with Minho I sort of guessed, and he spilled the beans about… never mind. You are aware absolutely no one can find out about that, right?”

“But why? Rock singers… they too– I mean. Why do they hide it?”

“Cause people will start calling them fags if they don’t,” you said as if it were obvious. “Sirius if you were gay you wouldn’t go out and announce it to the entire world.” And then you thought about your words, and let a long sigh escape your lips “or perhaps you actually would.”

Sirius seemed to think about it for a moment but didn’t say a thing. “So you can like men and women at the same time?” he asked, brow furrowing as he tried to process the information. Of the entire conversation, that had somehow slipped into his brain, and it would mull it over and over again since you mentioned it. He didn’t know.

“Yeah,” you responded with a shrug, “I like girls too, sometimes,” you were not expecting to admit that to your boyfriend, but apparently that firewhiskey had been strong enough to let it slip by.

Sirius was surprised by that revelation, so surprised he almost let go of the initial wave of shock that had gone over him and the images that would play on his brain over and over again. Of Remus in the library, of him and Remus in the library.

His initial reaction faded into a warm smile, and he chuckled lightly, this new discovery about you allowing him to forgo his thoughts only for a second, and mask them with humour, like he was accustomed to, "Well, that's interesting. Any particular stories you'd like to share?" He had an eyebrow raised, a cheeky smile on his lips.

“Sirius.” You admonished.

He shrugged, “What, it’s kind of hot.”

You huffed out a laugh and turned to the side before looking back at him, half diverted that such a revelation garnered said reaction. Perhaps you should have expected it, you were dating Sirius Black after all.

If you had been a little less drunk, and a little less tired from the fall just hours ago, perhaps you would have noticed the way Sirius’ eyes moved rapidly from one side to the other as he was thinking, how he asked about bisexuality with such a careful, and controlled tone, as if trying to sound casual and hoping his nerves wouldn’t betray his thoughts. You would have seen the way you stated you were also bi, had given him a sense of reassurance. As if his thoughts were somehow a little more acceptable now.

But you were exhausted, the fall, the talk with Regulus –that you still had to mention to Sirius– the talk with McGonagall, you were barely holding yourself together at that point. With so many things weighing over your shoulders, too preoccupied with Minho being found out and McGonagall’s thoughts of you that you missed most of it. Letting yourself be easily fooled by Sirius’ half smile and flirty wink.

Eventually, you turned your head back, looking at him straight in the eyes, and adopting a more grave tone “Sirius, nobody will know of what happened in that closet except for the two of us, deal? Not James, not Peter–”

“Not Moony–” he finished.

You were about to tell him Remus knew but thought better of it, Sirius was so naturally curious he’d want to know why he did, and there was no good way of explaining it.

“Yes,” you confirmed.

“Okay,” he said simply. “No one will know.”

And then there was silence, something between a rather awkward situation and both of you deep in your thoughts. Sirius’ mind slipping back to the library, and the images of things that had never happened and could never happen, because he loved you. He was certain of that, and whatever the hell was going on in his brain must have been nothing more than his overactive imagination thinking of silly things. Silly tall things with big broad shoulders and brown-golden eyes. Silly things that smelled of books, chocolate and sometimes cigarette smoke. Silly things that he shouldn’t be thinking about but his stupid brain insisted on putting at the forefront of his head.

You had, at some point, gravitated towards him, letting your head fall on his shoulder with a sigh, but didn’t say anything more. He found he liked you being close to him like that. Even if you weren’t kissing, he always liked having you close, holding your hands, or giving you hugs, and you had always been eager to return those affections.

You were perfect, from your smaller frame to the way your breath tickled his neck, from the way your hands intertwined with his to the tip of your shoes clashing against his own. He looked down at you, at your eyes shut, resting on his shoulder, your lashes curling upwards and making you look absolutely angelic, he was sure it was one of the prettiest sights of his life, and yet his mind insisted on switching, the perfect image of you laying on his shoulder replaced by flashes of a taller figure in the library.

To his taller frame and his light brown lashes, to his warm breath and the way his large hand had covered his mouth. It was silly, you were perfect, and Sirius was sure, undoubtedly sure that he loved you like he hadn’t loved anyone in his entire life and yet, he kept thinking of him.

He was so engrossed in his own thoughts that he barely realised when you let out a long and silent yawn, let alone when the rhythm of your breath steadied or when your body slumped slightly a little more into his. Only noticing when you let out the lightest, most heart-warming snore he’d ever heard. He turned to you, your peaceful sleeping figure, and smiled at himself, admiring the way your eyes would tremble slightly, and the way your cheek pressed against his shoulder forcing your mouth into the tiniest of pouts.

He chuckled “ Starshine! Did you fall asleep?” he teased.

Your eyes opened up slowly, a frown etched on your face as you looked up to him. “No,” you lied shamelessly before yawning. Sirius’s little smirk just grew a tinge more.

“Come on,” he said as he patted you on the arm. “You should get some sleep, you must be really tired.”

You shook your head, or attempted to do it at least, only managing to shake it a little “I wanna be at the party… I wanna be with you.”

Sirius could tell you were a lot more sleep than awake, especially since you were complaining like a toddler, he wished he could get you on recording. “I can’t be at the party,” he reminded you softly, his deep voice echoing in your ears soothingly.

“Then just with you. I like it here.”

“In the cramped space under the stairs?”

You nodded with a confirming hum, “You’re warm.”

Sirius nuzzled his head into yours and placed a soft kiss on your cheek. “If the fall is not making your bones creak by the morning, then sleeping while standing up in the most cramped little snogging hole in the entire common room will, come on, let’s get you to your room.”

Your frown deepened “Party popper.”

Sirius had never been called a party popper in his entire life, in fact, he’d go as far as to say he was always the life of the party. But eventually, you woke yourself enough to pull back and stare at him, your eyes still hooded with sleep and tiredness, not having had a minute of relaxation in almost the entire day, and being close to Sirius had somehow gotten you to let all your walls down and rest, maybe it was the dog in him, like a service dog or something.

“You’re cute,” you said suddenly, and Sirius was so surprised that he went red. “Really cute,” you added with a satisfied smile.

He chuckled a little afterwards, “I’m going to start thinking you’re not only sleepy but also seriously drunk.”

You frowned, and yawned again “I’m neither,” you insisted.

Gently, Sirius wrapped the cloak around the two of you and guided you up the stairs, you had leaned your head on his shoulder and drifted between sleep and awake a couple of times as he walked you up the staircase. When you were finally in your room he gave you another look, you lifted your head from his shoulder and tilted it the other way “What’re you looking at?”

“At my stunning girlfriend,” he responded

“Mhm?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed, “go to bed now, you’ll feel like shit in the morning. I’ll tell James you’re not flying–”

“I AM flying!” You complained, waking up enough to argue.

“You’ll have a hangover tomorrow–”

“I had only like–” you counted with your fingers, but gave up after you finished with one of your hands, “A few sips.”

“You’re a lightweight then, go to bed.”

You scoffed, “Sirius Black, if you’re gone by the time I walk down in the morning because you convinced Prongs that I’m not coming, I’ll wake up Remus and tell him it’s your fault.”

“Remus?”

You nodded, “He gets pissed if he doesn’t sleep his hours and you’re working on your magical theory project with him tomorrow, he’ll be pissy and make you work extra.”

Sirius frowned, “You little minx!”

You gave him a satisfied smile, “So keep that in mind before leaving tomorrow. Besides, you promised we would practise counterspells.”

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0 @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @itsthequackshire

Leve a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: Well, the cat's outta the bag. A few chapters ago you were talking about Sirius figuring out Vixen is bi and I had already written this chapter, I kid you not, it was so hard to keep my mouth shut hehe. Side note: more of Sirius' gay panic, it's one of my favourite things to write ngl.