#x: you were a memory that tasted like smoke & chocolate (remus) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spiltscribbles · 3 years

Note

Im so excited!!!! Here’s a little “It’s always been you. You and only you.” sprinkled in with Green-Eyed Epiphany

~Notes: OMFG bubby!!!! You are so beyond adorable! Thank you So SO much for the sweetness!! I really hope you like this XS and fingers crossed this fits the promptXS <3 <3 <3

Prompt Smash Game | Send Me A Prompt💜 | A Reblog Is Like A Huge, Warm Hug!!!

~R: my mom’s working the night shift at the clinic👀👀

~S: Kinky😏

~S: I can be there in 15

~R: make it 20 and get Chinese x

~S: sometimes I think ur j using me for the food

~R: and bring henny😈

It’s seventeen minutes since Remus sent the last text when the front door of his modest ranch house begins to thump with a familiar wrapping that’s three quick knocks followed by two slower ones, and he has to wrestle down the eager grin from his face when he swings it open to find one of his closest friends standing at the threshold in that customary weathered, leather jacket that he found two summers ago when Remus had taken him thrifting for the first time, and an impish sort of smirk that definitely would look ridiculous on anyone else, but only makes Sirius all the more maddeningly attractive.

“What took so long?” Remus asks mildly, pulling him indoors by the sleeve and gesturing for him to set the goods on the kitchen counter once they cross the small foyer.

“You wound me, Lupin.” Sirius retorts, quick-silver eyes flashing before he pins him against the island and puts his hands on either side of his waistline with more gentleness than Remus would’ve expected before they began this whole sorted affair— Okay, maybe that’s the wrong word for it?

It’s not an affair, or tryst, or carrying on or whatever the fuck else Lily says when she’s teetering on the wrong edge of tipsy and thinks it’s her right to call Remus out on his bullshit— on his stupid, beyond obvious crush he’s been fostering for one of his closest friends since junior high.

It’s none of those things— It’s not nearly as dramatic.

It’s just— Just that yes, Remus has been harboring a tiny infatuation for Sirius ever since that first day of the seventh grade when he had moved to this tiny, coastal town after his parents divorce. But how could he have not? Sirius is hilarious, and a genius, and so gorgeous that sometimes it feels like his insides are twisting up whenever he glances over at him. And on that first day, he had just caught Remus’s eyes from across the library shelves before classes begun, and smiled in that uniquely electric way of his, and asked if Remus could put slime in a very specific locker, (Snape’s), for a very specific reason, (Because he kept following Lily around like a creep), on account to no one suspecting the new kid. And yeah— Remus was lost on him an embarrassing amount from then on.

Sure, it can be regarded as kinda pathetic on Remus’s end— kindling this nest of emotions so close to the chest— but also it’s not as if he’s been lovestruck by his crush, like it’s some sort of waterlogged scarf he’s got dragging him down. His attraction towards Sirius is like a soft melody that’s swelling in the backdrop of all their interactions, nothing overwhelming— not a flood plane, not yet at least. It’s warm, and it’s familiar, and it’s persistent like a flutter of a humming bird’s wings. And Remus doesn’t mind pining over someone as fantastical as Sirius Fucking Black.

Graciously, in some strike of incredible luck, Sirius never caught on to Remus’s silly feelings, not until that night when they were watching an old movie in Remus’s basement while James and Lily were celebrating an entire year together— save for all their sudden stops and just as speedy starts— and Peter was visiting his grandmother in Tampa Bay. It was the first time they had been alone together since Remus broke up with Caradoc for the final time, and Sirius just looked so fucking good in that casual, white v-neck and his skinny jeans that make him look like some echo of James Dean on his best day. And Remus isn’t sure who exactly moved forwards first, or how the fuck Meg Ryan wandering the Seattle streets was some sort of aphrodisiac, or why Sirius— who could have any guy he would ever want— was actually humoring him, but one second they’re lying down on the sofa— Remus caged between Sirius’s expanse and the cushions behind them— and the next he’s tasting PBR on Sirius’s lips, and has got a fist full of his dark hair, and is thrilling at the feeling of Sirius’s thigh between his legs. And yeah— it just happened like those sort of things are want to do, and by the end of it they were sticky and breathless and diffident in ways they never been around one another, in ways Remus reckons Sirius has never been around anyone.

But the next weekend, when Sirius’s latest sorta— but not really— boyfriend had canceled on their dinner plans, Sirius wandered over to Remus’s bedroom window and it was another tumbling of frenzied hands and loosen buckles and thrusting hips. And then it just became an easy release— a sort of poetry, an understanding in all but name.

And that’s fine. They don’t have to talk about it. Remus knows that Sirius isn’t the type to settle down with a partner, to go bowling for a date, or texting countless messages that amount to nothing at all at the end of the conversation, or putting up with another dude’s parents taking photos of them before leaving to prom or homecoming or whatever the fuck else. And Remus is sorta sick of the idea of love, of trying so hard only to end up heartbroken and eating a gallon of Chubby Bunny in his favorite sweats and cursing John Hughes for pretending Hollywood romances can happen to ordinary high schoolers.

So yeah— This thing they’ve fallen into with each other is good. They’re friends— best friends— and they have fun and they’re apparently really fucking good in bed together, and Sirius never looks at Remus with pity when he spots him gazing at his profile absentmindedly, and he doesn’t mind when Remus traces invisible designs against his skin when they’re soaking in the after glow, and he never treats him any different. Sirius still slings his arm around Remus’s shoulders when they walk down the halls, and he still buys him his favorite chocolates when he feels poorly, and he still faces Dorcas's disapproving wrath when he drags Remus out of the library to have a little mischief— whether it’s smoking a blunt in the abandoned skatepark in town or playing some stupid prank on those assholes in their year.

For all intent and purposes, they still behave the same they’ve always acted around one another, but just with the miraculous addition of mind-blowing and dulcetly ductile sex.

This is good, this is fun, this is completely untethered from the bull shit of romance.

And if Remus mouths against the juncture of Sirius’s neck a little too intensely— trying to pry off the memory of the hickey Sirius had been sporting after spending the weekend with Gideon Prewett— Well no one has to be any the wiser, and by the sound of Sirius’s hitched breaths, he seems not to mind even slightly.

“Except my apology?” Remus asks, more coy than he ordinarily acts as he drops his arms around Sirius’s neck, and leans on the balls of his feet to whisper against his temple.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” Sirius retorts, labored as all get out, kneading his fingers into Remus’s ass that’s only covered by the thin layer of his plaid pajama bottoms. “You are going to have to do a lot more for me to forgive the lip.”

Remus laughs in a stammering sort of way as Sirius tugs him along, walking backwards to his room that he’s become incredibly intimate with since the first time they did this three months ago.

“Sirius, the spring rolls— they’re gross if we have to heat them up again.”

“I’ll postmate us knew ones,” Sirius insists, covering Remus’s mouth with his own with fervor. “C’mon babe, do not tease me like this.”

Sirius must’ve caught his mistake, because he suddenly goes as red as Remus feels— The pet name was to close for comfort considering their strictly friends with benefits nature, but Remus is already half hard, and he really does not want to end this, so with a sly wink, he returns to nipping at Sirius’s jawline, rutting against him in a very unambiguous way. “Fine, if you really don’t think you’ll need the nourishment for your stamina?”

The words have their intended effect, and Sirius makes a small growl deep in his throat before practically tearing off Remus’s shirt, and dipping beneath the waistline of his pants, scooping him up and racing to the bed.

And they get lost in one another beneath the pale glow of Remus’s lamplight and the moon spilling through the window, relearning each others every patch of skin for minutes on end that wax and wane like the delta of ocean waves, unspooling into something tangible and tantalizing with every kiss punctuated with teeth that Sirius trails across Remus’s collarbone, and the way Remus palms greedy hands up and down Sirius’s back until he gets the hint and undresses.

“Well come on, you’re not an invalid, Lupin.” Sirius jeers and Remus chuckles as he follows suit until they’re both finally, blessedly nude. And with an easy assurance of them having done this more than a dozen times now, Remus crawls into his lap and kisses him straight on the mouth, preening how Sirius moans against him— canting up wantonly and grabbing at his hips with a sort of intensity that will probably leave bruises in the shape of the pads of his fingers, and Remus absolutely adores the idea of that, feels something hot and needy and desperate unfurl in his gut as he presses their mouths more forcefully together, going buzzed when he gets to relish in the sensation of their tongues running against one another, and the taste of the ridges on the roof of Sirius’s mouth, and the slide of the soft skin of his inner cheek— gasping when Sirius pulls away abruptly, panting an almost reverent, “Mother of God, Remus,” and tackles him flat on his back before they commence, with the addition of both their hard, leaking cocks thrusting against one another and Sirius’s hand in Remus’s hair pulling that bit more forcefully while his other one roams the dips and planes of his side— skirting against the divots of his stomach muscle before he wraps it around the pair of them and begins to pull in earnest, to the rhythm that Remus swears was strung from the heavens above.

“Oh— Oh, yeah— Sirius,” Remus breathes out in a haggard sort of way, words that he refuses to ever call a mewl even if they’re stretched out and crackle with emotion.

“Yes—, just say that again,” Sirius practically demands, his mouth completely covering his ear in a wet, hot heat— his teeth scraping against the soft shell. “Remus, baby, just say my name, tell me you want it.”

And God, Remus is feeling so heady— like he’s floating and he couldn’t possibly come back down— that he probably would’ve listened to anything Sirius asked of him, especially if he does that thing again, when he squeezes the slick length of them with a tad more force than they usually play at. “Sirius, Sirius. Sirius, please, I’m close,” Remus shrills in an unsteady staccato— his normally smooth tenner going pitchy and pleading, and he can feel his toes curling, can feel the eminent release coming— What he does not expect is to feel something poking at his entrance, didn’t expect to be struck dumb by the sensation of the tip of Sirius’s large, dry finger poking right there, right against the fluttering hole, while he’s still pumping them in tandem, and the second it hooks inside Remus goes a startling sort of static , sees blasts of white blotching his vision and his head thrown back and his dick spirting out heavily against Sirius’s deliciously defined torso.

And he’s just breathing heavily now, during the come down, can barely make out anything through the heavy weight around him, the one cushioning his head— but he does graciously feel Sirius’s cock fucking into his own hand against Remus’s thigh and then idly the feeling of his come splattering him, but then after that he can just barely hear the distant padding of feed against floorboards, followed by a wet washcloth being dabbed against his skin. So when he finally forces himself to focus, he sees Sirius cleaning himself off, wrapping it into the pair of joggers Remus was wearing earlier and tosses it to the corner of the room.

“Rude,” he scolds with no heat, shuffling closer to him when Sirius lies down besides him once more and circles an arm around his torso.

“THat’s what you get when you’re acting like a lazy fuck,” Sirius counters, smug as all get out while he threads a hand in Remus’s hair.

“Hmm, didn’t see that in the papers recently. Is it a new law?”

“Yeah, actually just past on the senate floor.”

“Interesting… Well considering that only one of us has a senator for a father, I really have to ask to see the power-point you shared with him to get this bill through the stalemate,” Remus’s head bounces against Sirius’s chest from the force of his laughter at the barb.

“Oh, stuff it, Lupin.”

Hiding his smile into Sirius’s skin, Remus does as told, and they both just lie there, as if everything’s gone suspended just for the pair of them, just so Remus can count out the beats of Sirius’s heart pulsing against his sternum, and can feel the way their legs tie into one another, and can feel Sirius mouthing against his temple, blowing his curls with every exhale.

And Remus thinks that he’d do anything to remember this exact moment for every single day from here on out.

But then the quiet is abruptly and permanently punctured by the sound of his phone chirping, and he has to breathe in deeply before separating from the warmth of Sirius, and fishes down for the device that’s still crammed into the side of his bed from where he had hidden it after that initial text.

“Is Dearborn still on your ass to try again?” Sirius asks, a bit stilted.

Remus wonders if he’s just imagining the tension twisted in the question, but reasons that Sirius’s never been Caradoc’s biggest fan, so he just shrugs it off— really doesn’t want to get into some stupid argument about his asshole of an ex when he’s still feeling so content. “Nah, ’s James. Still trying to force me to go to the homecoming dance with you guys.”

“Oh,” Sirius retorts, lips pinched while watching Remus redress. “You should go, Marls is pregaming and you know she always gets the good shit.”

Remus shakes his head while puttering over to find a new pair of sweats and a sweater. “Nah, just not feeling it this year— Erm, you’re taking Gid I assume.” He’s not sure why he asks it, supposes he’s always a glutton for some pain and shitty feelings to inspire his playlists habit, but also maybe it’s him trying to sober himself. Trying to remember that despite this— despite everything they just did and how easy it’s always been for them to fall into step with one another— Remus isn’t good enough to be seen with Sirius in the light of day. He’s probably not handsome enough or cool enough or something else that makes Sirius absolutely revolted from the thought. Probably that he’s beyond bookish, and looks painfully virginal and isn’t nearly as sly or snarky as his other conquests.

Truly, Remus should just be thankful that Sirius wants this at all, he shouldn’t be so crazed over the why nots of the situation— it’ll only kill him trying to be something he never could actually affect with any credence.

Schooling his features to something passably indifferent, Remus pivots to face him again, is startled when he finds Sirius still naked and staring at him with a burning sort of intensity in his storm cloud eyes.

“He hasn’t said anything, but I guess he’s assuming as much,” he finally says, running a hand through his overgrown fringe, that familiar twitch of the corner of his mouth grabbing Remus’s attention. The one that tells him Sirius is actually irritated about something he’s not letting himself say out loud.

“Erm, good? Gid’s a decent guy.” Remus mutters, head ducked once it gets to a point that he can’t stand Sirius looking at him like that— Not after how blissed out and ferocious he had been groping every inch of Remus only moments ago. “You guys are nice together.”

And it’s like the breath before the worst of storms when his words collapse between them, making the pregnant silence go suddenly suffocating.

“Right,” Sirius intones once Remus levels their gazes, hurriedly standing and collecting his own clothes, fracturing the moment completely. “Right. Whatever, yeah. I’ll go to the fucking dance with fucking Gideon Prewett. That’s good.”

“Sir—“

“No, it’s fine. You can just stay home, and mourn over that douchebag Dearborn some more, even though you ending it with that dick was the best decision you could’ve made, Remus, and I’m not even saying it just because I’m petty. He is a prick, and you need to finally get a clue how much better you deserve, damn it!”

Remus’s head feels like it’s swimming. Why is Sirius so angry all of a sudden? Does he not like Gideon? Why can’t he just cut it off like so many times before? And why the hell is he petty over Caradoc? The entire situation feels like someone’s just handed him a wedge of Swiss cheese and told him to knit it back together.

“What is up your ass?” He decides is an appropriate enough question for his floundering, and shutters back only slightly at how fuming Sirius looks when he rounds on him— clothes disheveled and fearsome glower heavy on his face.

“Whatever Remus, if you can’t see that Dearborn is bad news—“

“I’m not pining for Dearborn,” Remus interjects, really doesn’t feel like listening to one of Sirius’s ridiculous diatribes about him, not now. Not when he’s still so bewildered by everything else. “Why would you think that?”

The fire in Sirius’s eyes vanishes as quickly as someone blowing on a candle, and it’s his turn to gawk, gaping at Remus, shoulders dragged down and eyes wide. “Wait— You’re not?”

“No…. I haven’t even thought about him for weeks.”

“Oh.” Sirius looks contemplative for a moment, before the righteous anger that only he could ever wear with such conviction, melts over him once more. “All right, then what the fuck is this?”

Remus stiffens, feels his veins lace with ice, an his breath catch somewhere in his throat, really does not think he’s ready for this conversation. “This?”

“Yes, Remus, this!” Sirius demands, sounding harsh in comparison to the barely croak Remus had spoken with. “Listen I don’t care if you want me to wait some more, if you need to lick your wounds or whatever. But why are you like pushing me on other people? Why do you want me not to be around? why do you want me to go out with other dudes?”

Remus lies back on the chest of drawers now, feels beyond dazed. “What the hell are you talking about, Sirius?”

Sirius clenches his teeth right then, the hinge of his jaw going taught

before he skulks closer, not letting Remus drop his gaze. “Is it me? Is it that you just can’t see me that way? Are you just stringing me along or something? Because I really didn’t think that was your style, but if it’s that, then Remus—“

“Stringing you along?” Remus asks in a voice barely above a whisper, just needs to feel his lips forming the absolutely risible words, even if it makes it so something dark passes across Sirius’s beauteous features.

“Remus, I swear to God! Stop repeating everything I’m fucking saying!”

“Then start making some damn sense!” Remus snaps, suddenly heated as he straightens and pins him with a proper scowl. “What in holy hell are you going on about?”

“God! Do I have to spell it out!” Sirius barks, cutting the final step dividing them and grabbing for Remus’s shoulders with a tight squeeze. “I know you just wanted to fuck around with someone after Dearborn showed his extreme dickitude, and listen, I was so fucking ecstatic that you wanted me for it. But I can’t do this in-between shit anymore! I’m sorry, but I can’t! And I get if this is annoying, but I’ve been crazy for you for so long. And I just can’t keep myself at an arms length anymore, not now that we’ve really had each other, not after you let me actually touch and taste and fuck you and— Damn it, this isn’t coming out the way I wanted, all right! Damn it, maybe Evans was right and I should’ve made queue cards like some dumb ass— But then James pointed out how unromantic that was, and Marlene said—“

Gently, Remus puts his shaking fingers against Sirius’s lips, effectively killing off anything else he’s about to say. And slowly, everything is beginning to slot into place, and he’s so spiteful over how they’ve been such idiots this entire time— swears to put salt into Lily’s coffee next time he sees her.

“I didn’t know you actually were into me Sirius.”

Stunned, Sirius’s dark brows hike up to his hairline. “How the hell didn’t you know?” He demands against Remus’s fingers, thunderous and insulted looking.

“Because you never fucking said as much!” Remus defends himself, feels a mangled sort of laughter squirming out. “God, we’re idiots.”

“We’re?” Sirius asks, hesitant and red faced before Remus moves his hand to peck softly against his mouth.

“I’ve been half in love with you for years you absolute ass-wipe, it’s always been you! You and always you.” Remus tells him breathily, still fighting down the last remnants of his actual, god forsaken giggle— like he’s thirteen again and getting buzzed off his mom’s peach wine coolers. “I only never said anything because I never thought I’d have a chance with someone like you— Someone so— so— Someone so amazing.”

The smile Sirius favors him with right then is something absolutely incandescent, and his eyes shimmer with a very distinct sort of joy that Remus wonders if anyone besides him has ever witnessed. “Then you’re definitely the biggest idiot between us, Lupin.” Sirius declares, knocking their foreheads together, and lacing his hand into Remus’s own before squeezing meaningfully.

“Fuck off,” Remus snorts, presses forwards for another languorous kiss, not feeling in danger of being swallowed whole any more— finally letting himself drown and knowing that Sirius will be there to pull him back up no matter what.

“Oh, I could get used to this,” Sirius smirks, snakes his arms around Remus’s waste that bit tighter.

“Hmm, there is the problem that I usually don’t put out until at least the third or fourth date,” Remus says mildly.

“Pff, ‘s fine, Lupin,” Sirius insists, grinning beatifically. “I like you being a hussy for me!— Oof, careful with the merchandize, you were speaking some real exaltations about that part of my anatomy not too long ago.”

Moving his knee from the point at hand, Remus sticks out his tongue at him. “See if you ever get any ever again, Sirius Black.”

When Sirius laughs, it sounds like the strike of lightening against unmarked land, and the honey cloaked side of a knife’s edge, and like everything splendid Remus has ever known. And he thinks that yes, he could get used to this right back.

#WOLFSTAR #REMUS LUPIN #SIRIUS BLACK #REMUSXSIRIUS #SIRIUSXREMUS #WOLFSTAR FLUFF #Spilt Ink

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youcantbesirius · 3 years

Text

WHEN WE WERE YOUNG | S. B.

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader, platonic Regulus Black x reader

Warnings: swearing, plot changes, character death

Y/h - your house

Sirius watched the y/h halfblood witch sit on the table in the courtyard taking a crispy stick from her Hufflepuff friend putting it in between her lips imitating smoking. And as she let the puff of imaginary smoke go a smile broke on her lips as her shoulders shook likely. Her laugh was one of the most contagious things ever. The way you wheezed in bits of your laughter made even the coldest person crack up.

As your eyes met his, his world seemed to stop. He was loosening his tie seemingly short for breath. You, on the other hand, hopped off graciously and hopped over to the young Gryffindor wrapping your arms around him.

"Sirius! Long time no see" you chuckled as you swayed him from side to side.

"Hi..." he chuckled resting his chin on top of your head.

It was quite funny how the noble heir of the Black family was with the halfblood witch. Yet, it made perfect sense. Your mother was a nanny for the Black brothers. And you were simply there, helping her make some money after she was cast out of the pureblood community for being with a muggle.

Walburga and Orion were hard people. But they paid no attention as long as you were doing what you were told. (Depending on your house) They were, however, very pleased that Slytherin got such a talent. And then your mom found better job at the ministry and your time with the Blacks was over. Regulus and Sirius were your best friends and not being able to see them much was painful.

"I haven't seen you much since the sorting ceremony..." you stated in concern. You knew better than anyone what it must be like for him.

"Yes...I, you know how my parents are" Sirius's hands found yours. Both of you, touch starved kids found solace in your hand holding.

"To the dogs with them as my mum would say" you scoffed looking deep into his eyes "you know I am always there for you, both my mum and I are" and he nodded at your statement smiling softly.

As a friendly, defying in spite attitude, you showed that your attitude was very different than the most. You didn't have to be talented at divination to forsee what type of person would you become.

And the years went by, you were still very much the same, if not even harder. Many things happened, you matured quickly and with it stress came. Sirius and you drifted apart a bit. You were a bad girl of your own and he was a bad boy of his own. The only person who truly knew you inside out other than him was Regulus Black, your guardian angel.

"Lay off the alcohol, y/n/n" Regulus took the bottle from your hands handing it to your Hufflepuff best friend to take.

"I need to let loose, Reg, I need to..." you were leaning your forehead against his chest struggling to stand.

"I know..." he looked around catching the sight of his womanizer brother. Sirius's face, even though tipsy, held so much concern.

In a few quick steps he approached them, ditching his previous conquest. His hand landed on the small of your back as he turned to his brother.

"What's wrong?" Sirius looked down at his friend who was struggling.

"Her mother was hurt, bad this time" Regulus whispered.

"Shit..." Sirius closed his eyes.

"Well, that is the wonder of being an auror, never home, never there but it brings money and might leave your kid an orphan" you spoke bitterly.

And for that reason Sirius decided the Potters were better choice. They had money and he would only burden your mom, not to mention his parents would kill you both if you were to take him in.

"Fucking hell..." Sirius moved the hair away from your face that was still resting on Regulus.

"Let's take her to her dorm" he said to Regulus.

Next morning was probably the worst. Your head seemed like it was about to explode. You shifted on your bed only to meet the eyes of your amused dorm mate.

"I could not believe it when Black brothers brought you up. Like I wasn't so surprised seeing Regulus, but Sirius too. Damn baddie" she chuckled as you silently rubbed your face.

Hogsmeade day, you thought. You cleaned yourself up, ditching your uniform and grabbed your leather jacket. Your rock style was very much refreshing to the school. Tight grey jeans, chain, baggy tucked in t shirt with some random band you loved and of course your black leather jacket. You did your makeup to hide the evidence of last night and decided it was time. So upon arriving you sat on the table in Hogsmeade park, your feet resting on the bench, a cigarette in between your lips to so desperately calm yourself.

Once cheerful, now surrounded by darkness of your aura, still touch starved in desperate need of love. You thought about your life. Of the goals you wanted to reach.

"Pads, I don't think it is a good idea" you could hear panicked Remus.

"Yeah, what if she throws hex at us" the squealing voice didn't help your migraine.

"I know her, Wormtail. She wouldn't" you heard Sirius's annoyed voice.

"Come on guys, what is the worst that could happen" James Potter said.

"Well, I am not sure if this is upgrade from when we were young or a downgrade. Your looks are definitely upgrade" Sirius smiled causing you to raise a brow.

"Are you flirting with me, dear Sirius?" You spoke even though cigarette was still between your lips, shuffling through your pockets to find that bloody lighter.

But Sirius beat you to it, lighting it for you.

"Thanks" you took a puff and looked at the group.

"We need your help" Sirius spoke taking your free hand in his. And just like when you two were young, you felt calmer, but there was something new. Adrenaline rush surged through your body.

"With what?" You took the cigarette out of your mouth looking at the rest of them, your eyes only meeting James's who quickly dropped the eye contact.

It happened with most of the boys. The only two that were able to maintain it, Black brothers.

"W-we heard you are outstanding with nonverbal magic and we need you to help us" Peter, you assumed, spoke but quickly hid behind Sirius as you looked at him.

"Peter, I don't shoot laser nor hexes out of my eyes, I won't hurt you" you stated annoyed.

"I suppose it has something to do with your problem, Rem" you looked at the boy who looked up at you in shock.

"How do you know?" He asked nearing closer to you.

"Animagus, mum thought it would be safer for me. Accidentally saw you guys on my run" you shrugged.

"Did you speak to anyone about it?" James asked.

"Do I look dumb to you? Of course not, your secret is safe with me, Rem" you looked at him and he met your look.

"Thank you so much" he smiled.

"What is your animagus?" Sirius asked "I am hurt you did not tell me"

"You weren't talking that much to me, lover boy. To answer your question it is (your patronus animal or your favorite animal)"

"Nice" James smiled.

As you were about to light another cigarette a hand quickly pulled it out of your mouth and you faced annoyed Regulus.

"No more for today" he scolded earning a laugh from his brother.

"Do we have a deal, (nickname used for your animagus form)?" He asked you as the boys began to leave.

"Mhm, meet me in the library after lunch" you winked at him and for a second you could swear you saw Sirius Black blush.

It was the last year. You and Reg drifted this time, due to his affiliation. Not that you did care about that, bit his excuse was "I am doing this to keep you safe, damn it!"

It was a painful goodbye that still tasted salty. The news of his death brought you more pain that anything ever did. But his heroic act was what brought Voldemort to be defeated and not be a threat ever again. As a part of the Order, your new friends, the Marauders and Lily and well Snape, it was funny how you two became friends. You sat both him and Lily down, locked them in a room, much to James's dismay until they sorted it out. You were in 12 Grimmauld place preparing to leave.

"Stay..." Sirius took your hands "Please..." he looked down at you, at your softly lips.

"Okay..." you whispered looking up at him licking your lips a bit.

"Can I-?" He gulped earning your quick nod.

"Yeah?" And it was the best kiss you ever had in your life, with your childhood friend, crush and the only man besides Reg, that you felt peace.

"Took you two long enough" is all you could hear Kreacher mutter.

Kreacher and you were close. Not only because of Regulus, but you would not let him overdo himself and would send him to rest.

You chuckled at the remark looking up at Sirius.

"Glad to have your blessing, Kreacher" he smiled at the muttering house elf who went to his chamber.

"Now that we are alone..." Sirius smiled leaning back in to give you a long kiss.

"You are insatiable, Sirius" you giggled.

"Don't pretend you don't like it " he cornered you against the table lifting you up on it.

Your love was very affectionate, full of touching, almost like you were attached to a hip. That is why ever since you were younger you were comfort for each other, you were safe haven, you were made for each other.

And after years, there you stood with him watching your children run around with your godson Harry, laughing at James who ran after them trying to get them inside to eat. You looked at Lily who was shaking her head.

"Remus and Severus will be here soon" she notified.

"Good. Haven't seen my touch starved, sarcastic friend in a while" you gave Lily a look making her chuckle.

"Hugs for Severus and chocolate for Remus it is then"

You got old together, had many memories you decided to store. The funniest being you becoming grandparents. Sirius broke into a fit of sobs seeing his first grandchild.

"See dad, now you represent your initals S.O.B." your son Regulus teased.

"Shut up" Sirius hiccup looking at the little princess of the Black family.

"Maybe her dad won't be as protective as her grandfather will be" your daughter Arabella laughed.

"Oh no boys until 20!" Sirius hugged you as you laughed at him.

"Tsk, you are in position to talk you womanizer" you teased.

"See! I AM! Because I know boys are scumbags, I speak from experience!" He said.

"What if she likes girls Sirius?" You teased.

"Same goes, you were a bad girl!" He attacked your cheeks with kisses earning an ew from your children

"WHEN WE WERE YOUNG!" you protested.

#sirius black one shot #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #sirius and regulus #sirius orion black #sirius imagine

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nevillelongsbottom · 6 years

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for: @siriusprotectionsquad sirius and ships event honesty, or the art of living when everything around you has fallen apart pairing: sirius black x percy weasley wc: 2659

Twelve Grimmauld Place is a fucking shithole, so Sirius stays instead at The Burrow: there are no more Potters to turn to, but the Weasleys are similarly kind-mannered, and within a matter of days he’s moved into Percy’s room, taking up a duvet on the floor.

Percy’s room is terrifyingly immaculate, as if it’s never belonged to someone with a childhood: it’s made mostly up of various bookcases, dusted and kept in alphabetical order of author surname like a library, and even his wardrobe is simply a collection of identical pressed shirts of varying inoffensive colours and perfectly-hung smart trousers, his Weasley jumpers folded up and in neat piles in baskets at the bottom. Sirius has never known Percy, but his room is intimidating; he’s sharing with a neat freak, someone who appears to have about as much personality as the clean slate of table that makes up his desk, furnished with a neat pile of seventh year textbooks, a quill, and some folded-up letters from the Ministry.

“Where is he?” Sirius asks when he goes to fetch himself a cup of tea; the kitchen is busy, because it’s one in the afternoon and everyone is clamouring for something to eat, and it’s almost a pick and mix of who to ask.

“Trekking around the forests with Charlie,” Ginny replies, taking the helm of the question. “They’ll be back soon, I’m sure. Percy’ll complain that the trees are ruining his trousers, or something like that.” She passes a sugar cube to Sirius, who watches it dissolve in the warmth of his Earl Grey; he takes it back upstairs, and almost feels bad about staining the table.

But it gives it personality.

Percy returns late afternoon, and he’s not what Sirius was expecting at all. His ironed clothes aren’t so ironed on him, rumpled like he’s been wearing them a few days too many, and his hair has grown out of its neat cut and is on its way to becoming a mullet of curls; he walks strangely, like he’s forgotten how to put one foot in front of the other without conscious thought, and his eyes are glazed over, unresponsive to the new mess that Sirius has added to his room. He almost misses Sirius at all on his way to sit down at his desk, only noticing because the chair is already occupied.

Percy looks at him. “No-one told me you were here.”

Sirius sets down his mug. It feels like a declaration. “Well, I am.”

Percy says nothing, and simply takes a seat on the end of his bed. He looks as if he’s never had spirit; Sirius knows the feeling.

Sirius runs out of tears to cry on the day of Fred’s funeral; Remus’s is that same morning, a small service that seems to pass by like a whisper in the wind, and he finds himself leaving Fred’s early. He can’t watch them all cry because he thinks that’s just too much in one day, and takes a stubborn seat on someone’s memorial bench, lighting a cigarette with a bright yellow Muggle lighter. He has a bar of chocolate tucked in his pocket, and yet somehow, it feels inappropriate.

He says nothing when Percy takes a seat next to him, eyes red as the prick of blood and his cheeks stained with floods of tears, his breath still hitching when he reaches for more. Percy says little to him, seeming to exist in his own bubble of thought, so of all people, Sirius is surprised that it’s him Percy is here with. He has a family, and friends, and Sirius falls into neither of those categories, just a fringe figure on the edge of Percy’s life.

Sirius holds out the bar of chocolate; Percy stares blankly.

“It’s not gonna lift all your worries or bring him back, but it’s something, alright?”

At this, Percy accepts the bar, fumbling for a moment to tear it open; the wrapper reads Dairy Milk, something he’s never had before. It tastes sugar-sweet, but it’s nice, and he finds himself several squares deep before he’s aware of what’s happening. Sirius grins.

“What’d I say?”

Percy smiles, and it’s the closest Sirius has ever seen to one that’s real.

He steals a piece, just because he can’t help it, and Percy rests his head on Sirius’s shoulder in the moments in which he starts to cry again, feeling the rise and fall of Sirius’s breath, comfortably irregular. “Will this feeling ever go away?”

“No,” Sirius says, wordlessly scourgifying Percy’s half-muddy brogues, wet with summer showers. “Because people never do.”

Percy and Charlie make near-daily walks through the forests behind their house, and, despite Percy always returning with scuffed knees and torn trousers, he makes no characteristic complaints on the state of them, simply fixing them up with magic each night until Sirius offers him a pair of jeans for the job. They’re a tad on the large side, because Percy is thin and tired-looking, but Sirius is used to taking things in with housekeeping spells and sorts him out.

“Haven’t you seen all of the forest by now?” he asks, pinching in the waist. Percy shifts.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says. “I like it. I like - the way that it’s quiet out there, and that you can forget what goes on at home and forget that there’s ever been something outside of the forest.” He sighs. “And I missed Charlie.”

“You mind if I come with you?” Sirius asks, trying to retain his laughter at how odd it looks: Percy, the style connoisseur, wearing black jeans stabbed with multicoloured pins and still adorned with loose thread from when they had been decorated with patches.

“No. I’d like it,” he says.

They don’t do much exciting hiking, tracing well-worn paths with bent-back trees, but Percy isn’t wrong: it’s like being somewhere else, in a world separate from the rest, and there’s a wonderful bliss to it. The only noise is the crunch of their footfalls, the shift of the tree branches in the wind, the birds singing sweetly back and forth.

Sirius has never been one for nature or quiet or reflectiveness, but suddenly he finds himself quite okay with it. He feels better almost automatically, and even Percy seems to have allowed a gentle sprinkling of his personality back through, lightly snipping at Charlie for having apparently poorly packed their sandwiches in the way that brothers do, with an easy chemistry.

“Here you go,” Percy says, passing Sirius his tuna sandwich. “We brought some mini rolls, but you can have those after.”

“What do you think I am, five?” Sirius scoffs. “I can eat my lunch in order.”

“I think you’re Sirius Black, and that you’ve been studiously avoiding eating your vegetables all week, so I thought that I ought to make sure you ate your main course this time,” Percy replies, letting through a well-meaning smirk that Sirius is surprised to find his heart flutters at. He’s not seen Percy like this, the whole time he’s been here, and it’s nice: he’s still there, still human, still playful. “And, need I remind you, no chocolate roll for you until I see those sandwiches eaten.”

“I’m older than you,” Sirius points out stubbornly, but eats the whole sandwich anyway as Charlie snickers. “There’s no mayo in this.”

“Dragons don’t like mayonnaise,” Charlie responds immediately.

“He’s not a dragon,” Percy points out. “He’s a person - though, I’ll admit, the smoking does bring to mind dragons.”

Sirius is definitely more pleased when they bring out the chocolate mini rolls, sharing a small tray of them. He battles hands with Percy as they reach for one, more playful than he’s felt in a long time, and they compromise on sharing the last one, though Sirius takes a slightly too large bite of it and receives a withering look for it.

The world crashes back down when he takes his first steps back out of the forest, though when he looks back, Percy is still pushing through the branches, and when he looks up at Sirius, he glows.

“Hey. Hey, shh, I’ve got you.”

It takes Percy what feels like an eternity to realise where he is: that he’s in his bedroom, wrapped in his duvet, and not in the middle of Hogwarts as it crashes down around him, that he’s not holding Fred’s dead body, that his dreams are just nightmares and Sirius Black is here, holding him, not screaming under a crucio that never ends. Here, in this moment, he’s okay, and Sirius’s hands are warm around his shoulders, and Fred is dead, but that’s okay because he’s not really; Percy can hear him in George’s laugh, or Bill’s, or Charlie’s, or anyone’s.

“It was just a dream,” Sirius is saying, reassuring, and Percy nods, suddenly aware that he’s sweating and that his hair is plastered to his forehead and that he must look a state. “Do you want me to go get you some water?”

“I’ll come with you,” Percy mumbles, but he can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Sirius first, holding tight to his warmth, listening to the beat of his heart. He misses people. He feels like he doesn’t know anyone anymore, but this, this is so close that he feels like suddenly he’s not so alone, that maybe there’s someone he can know still.

Sirius pours him a cold glass of water, and fetches Percy another set of pajamas as he showers. He knows the nightmares. He knows the fear.

The colour has returned to Percy’s face when he steps back out. He looks somehow even smaller than usual, wearing thin cotton pajamas and with his curly hair flat with damp and combed back. There’s something peculiar about Percy, a wiseness, something about him that seems old, like a fifty-year-old man in a twenty-year-old’s body, but suddenly he looks like what he is: lost, a seventeen-year-old who didn’t know what to do with himself and is suddenly too many years older and equally as lost.

He falls asleep on the sofa with a cup of tea, and Sirius lets him be. If anyone deserves that sleep, he thinks it’s Percy.

Sirius has been living in Percy’s bedroom for a flash-forward four months when Percy tells him that he’s going to move out. With Oliver Wood, Puddlemere’s Keeper; Sirius is beginning to think that he’s having a surrealist’s dream, but when he pinches himself it hurts, and when he thinks of his room without Percy it hurts worse. He’s developed an everyday, and he’s about to lose it.

“I’m sorry,” Percy says. Sirius is not quite sure how to feel, or what to say. He’s never been good at this.

“Don’t be,” he replies. He could come up with a proceeding witty comment, but they somehow all die on his tongue, because four months have both sped by and been a lifetime, but regardless, he finds it bizarrely difficult to remember what life felt like without Percy Weasley and his half-ordered room and without the sound of his asthmatic snores and without the way Sirius can just feel him in the room. It’s stupid. Sirius decides he’s thinking too hard, and yet - he can’t shake these thoughts, or these feelings.

Percy packs his bags two months later, once the finances have gone through and he’s found his place, a nice flat in a nice neighbourhood in a nice borough. He talks incessantly about it to his family, but never mentions it to Sirius.

He’s sorry he has to go, but he knows that he’s feeling too much. He can’t handle or hope to understand these feelings, and he wants instead to push them away.

But he tells Sirius how he feels now, a daily exchange born out of post-war worry that takes place cross-legged on Percy’s bed over cups of tea. Sirius has accidentally expanded a hole in a pair of jeans by tugging at it over these sessions; they couldn’t make eye contact while discussing their emotions if they wanted to. Percy can’t, in general.

“You can’t just say feelings,” Sirius says. “There are a lot of feelings out there. Describe them.”

Percy’s mind stammers over the words and grasps for them, racks itself for simple adjectives in which to summarise the swelling in his chest. It finds words he doesn’t want - words he can’t understand, either.

“I want to be honest,” he says.

“Aren’t we always?”

“Not when it’s scary.”

“Are you scared of being honest right now?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’m scared of how you’re going to react.”

“Be honest with me.”

“I want to kiss you.”

Sirius’s breath audibly shudders. Percy looks up, but Sirius avoids his eyes. “I’m too old for you.” He knows it’s fucking bull, and Percy knows it’s fucking bull, and his heart is racing and he wants nothing more than to kiss Percy right back, bury his fists in Percy’s summer hair and push him into the mattress and never let go, because there’s nothing else left for him now but this.

So he does.

Percy moves out before Sirius wakes up.

Sirius moves out, too, eventually. He kicks dust around in Percy’s room, but everything in it is just a reminder of him, a reminder of his careful smile and that he used to sneak Ron’s chocolate pudding up to share for supper and the way he had looked on their last night together, as if, even if it was simply just for those moments, everything in him had clicked.

He doesn’t move back into Grimmauld Place; instead, he finds a cramped Diagon Alley flat above a dingy and loud pub and takes a job in a newly opening shop. He reads somewhere in the newspaper that Percy is dating Oliver.

He knows that this is good and right, that Percy is dating someone his age, someone that can make him happy. But he tears the page out and makes a paper aeroplane with it instead, and he wants to burn it but instead puts it in a drawer somewhere, one he doesn’t go into very often.

Life goes on.

Percy never forgets a date; he remembers, immaculately, when important events happened, and on precisely what day. He knows, therefore, when it’s been five years. He’s not with Oliver, anymore; he’s not even in London anymore, having left the country for a teaching job in Ilvermorny, Massachusetts. He spends his weekends wandering, with a picnic basket filled with tuna sandwiches and chocolate rolls that the students swear are intended for two people.

“Do you have a secret boyfriend, sir?” a mouthy third year Thunderbird asks him during a lesson. He taps his fingers against the solid oak of his desk.

“No,” he says. “I’m just waiting on someone.”

Five years. Percy thinks he’s waited long enough. He takes the week off school well in advance and organises work to be done in his absence that he knows will never be started, let alone completed, and cites a family meetup. He calls it a “bash”, to try and fit in, and the word feels strange on his English tongue; his students laugh, and he joins them. His laugh touches his eyes; in fact, it lights them up. He’s told to have fun.

On the five year anniversary, he knocks on Sirius’s door. He has a speech planned, because he’s Percy Weasley and he knows no other way, and it leaves his perfectly organised mind as Sirius looks at him, because he’s been waiting for this look for five years, craving it like nicotine.

“Can I be honest?” he asks. Sirius chokes on his answer, and instead nods, his eyes slowly welling. Percy has never seen him cry. “I can’t wait another second for this.”

Neither of them truly initiates the kiss, because they both do, without hesitation.

And they belong.

#i write shit #hp #sirius black #percy weasley #sirius x percy #percy x sirius #hprarepairnet #rarepair #hp rarepair #fanfic #fic #siriusprotectionsquad #userleochampagne #azkabqn #azkabcn

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