#regulus black blurb

[mischievousmoony]

hello, i’ve been loving your summer kickoff event! may i please request a burger with regulus and the prompt: “of course i remembered, it’s your favourite!” thank you so much!

𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚕 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚢

⟢ pairing: regulus black x reader ⟢ summary: it's a completely ordinary day, except for the part where regulus realizes he's in love with you ⊹ 1.2k ⟢ contains: brief/vague mention of walburga/family troubles

note: hi anon! so this is still part of my event, but i accidentally ended up doubling the word count i was aiming for and really loving what i wrote, so i’m posting it as a oneshot! im quite proud of this and i hope u like it too! <3

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“What’s this?” Regulus asks, his voice soft in the way it only ever is with you.

He’s in your kitchen doorway, eyes on the porcelain cup you pressed into his hands, the warmth still lingering where your fingers briefly stilled over his before withdrawing.

“Tea,” you answer, like it’s nothing, turning back into the kitchen to tuck everything away.

But it’s not nothing. Because the second the warm tea hits his tongue, Regulus’ eyebrows twitch up in surprise.

“This is…” he starts, but the rest falters in his throat.

“Earl gray, loose leaf,” you say without looking up, your focus on wiping down the counter with a gingham dish rag. “From the tea shop on the corner of Birch and Cross. Steeped for four minutes. Splash of milk. No sugar.”

“How did you-?”

“I’ve watched you make it more times than I can count,” you say, a fondness in your tone as if recalling a cherished memory.

His eyes follow you as you bustle about the kitchen, placing dishes in the sink, putting the milk back in the refrigerator. There’s a slight tilt to his head, like he’s trying to figure out just how much attention you’d have to pay him to notice he steeps his tea for exactly four minutes—no more, no less. To have caught the name of the tea shop on the bag during the few seconds it sits on his counter while he moves the leaves to the unmarked tin in his cabinet.

To be able to read his mind when you’re not even looking at him.

“Of course I remembered. It’s your favorite.” You glance at him briefly, a knowing smile playing at your lips. “You always drink it when you’re having a rough day, at least. And I know today’s been a long one.”

He hadn’t told you that, but it’s true. He can feel it in the way his body holds itself—shoulders tight, spine rigid, jaw clenched—his stress intertwined in every muscle. And beneath it all, a bone-deep exhaustion. If he were to look in the mirror, he could expect to find sunken eyes and his face drawn.

Spending the morning with his mother tends to have that effect.

Normally, he would escape to the quiet of his flat after a day like today. Spend the rest of his evening in solitude, and—you’re right—pacify his emotions with a cup of his favorite tea.

He doesn’t quite remember when he started coming to yours instead. Choosing your company over quiet isolation. Where he can swallow his frustrations. Tough out his turmoil. That’s what he was used to, before you. Before you were there, gently encouraging him to do the last thing he thought he wanted: talk about it. And yet, he knows he’s better for it.

Regulus realizes he’s never had a friend like you before. Or, maybe, something more than a friend. Maybe the quiet ways you take care of him and the way your gentle touch always seems to linger have been indications of your true feelings. Maybe the way a smile comes more easily to him and the warmth that swells in his chest when you’re near are indications of his.

The realization catches in his throat. What this is, what you are to him. Over a blood cup of tea… he feels ridiculous.

But isn’t it better to be ridiculous than afraid? He never liked to think about it before—you, this. Putting himself in the vulnerable position of placing his heart in your hands, where you could so easily break it. Abandon it.

His heart still races as he thinks about it now, but for a different reason entirely.

Perhaps it’s your patience that changed him, never asking to put a label on what this is. Your constant presence, showing up even when it would’ve been easier not to. You let him learn, in his own time, how to lean on someone else. And he finally realizes it’s okay to lean on you.

Maybe it’s partly that, and partly because he knows you’re worth the risk.

“Is it alright?” you ask, a hint of worry sneaking into your tone, because he’s just been standing there. Tea resting idly in his hands, cooled down to the point where steam no longer wafts from the pale surface. You could have put too much milk. Or not enough. Or you needed to let it steep for longer.

“Of course,” he quickly reassures you. Reading the insecurity on your face, he’s desperate to squash it. “It’s lovely.”

He takes a long drink of the tea. “It’s perfect,” he adds, between sips, savoring every drop. The fact that it was made by your loving hands make it taste better than any cup of tea he’s ever made himself.

The tension leaves your shoulders as you watch him, mirroring the way his had eased several minutes ago. He hadn’t even noticed it, the weight lifting. But he knows it’s your presence that did it.

He slowly places the cup on the counter, staring at it for a moment. Hesitating, before his eyes flash to you, and determination sets in his gaze.

In a few long strides, he rounds the counter. You drop what you’re doing as his hand comes up to the side of your face, his fingertips lightly brushing across your cheek until he gains enough confidence to firmly cup your jaw.

Your breath hitches as his eyes flicker to your lips. He waits a moment, giving you the space to back away if this isn’t what you want. When you lean into it, he brings his free hand to cup the other side of your face, too. Any lingering hesitation promptly vanishes when his lips finally meet yours.

There are no fireworks, like the romantics said there would be. Time doesn’t stop, the stars don’t collide.

The one thing they did get right? The way the world fades away, insignificant in the face of you. He soaks up the warmth of your presence as your hands find his chest, sliding across the cool, crisp fabric of his black button-up, the press of your palms a gentle comfort.

Regulus feels like he belongs in this moment. In this kiss that he didn’t know he was longing for, as your soft lips move against his. He’d stay here forever if he could, but he has to come up for air eventually.

For a moment, you just stay there. Still, foreheads pressed against each other, sharing heavy breaths as you both come back to reality.

First to break the silence, a shaky murmur shaped like a joke slips past your lips, “Must’ve been some cup of tea.”

Regulus laughs, a happy sound from deep in his belly that stirs up a warm swirl of affection in your chest, and he kisses you again.

He doesn’t imagine that he’ll ever really stop.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

[dismalflo]

retreating to rain

Regulus Black x reader ✩ 3k words

summary: When Regulus suddenly pulls away from you, arguing and ignoring you, you decide to mirror his behaviour. how long can this avoidance last?

for this request here!

cw: angst with a happy ending?, Regulus doesn't deal with his feelings in a healthy way.

Regulus Black is many things. Some of them good – brilliant, fiercely loyal – and some of them not so good. Lately, it seems he’s chosen to lean hard into the worst of it: avoidant, closed off, stubborn to a fault. Almost overnight, he shut down, retreating behind an invisible wall that no one’s been able to scale.

The fight that followed shouldn’t have happened, but it did. Tension had been building for days, maybe weeks, until it finally cracked. What came out were clipped words, cryptic excuses, cold eyes, and raised voices. You knew exactly what he was doing, pulling away, keeping you at arm’s length. And you knew why. Years of being close to him had taught you the patterns, the ways Regulus handled pain or fear. But this time felt different. Sharper. Colder. Worse.

Now, he’s barely there at all. He slips in and out of rooms like a shadow, avoiding eye contact, changing direction the moment he sees you. You haven't spoken properly in weeks, and really, you've hardly even seen him. Just fragments, his back disappearing around a corner, the edge of his voice drifting through a corridor. Like he’s haunting the place more than living in it.

You see him first at the end of the corridor, all sharp lines and quick steps, his satchel slung over one shoulder, head down like he’s got somewhere important to be. It’s a lie, of course. You know his timetable. You know he has charms in fifteen minutes, and that it’s three doors down from where you’re standing. There’s no rush. He just doesn’t want to be intercepted. Doesn’t want to see you.

Which is exactly why you step out from the alcove you’ve been leaning against and into his path.

He hesitates, just barely, but it’s enough. His gait falters for half a second before he smooths it over. You can see it in the way his jaw tenses, the flicker of annoyance that crosses his face before it shutters again.

"Regulus."

He doesn’t stop. Doesn’t even glance at you. Just keeps walking, brushing past like you’re no more than part of the scenery. A Stone wall. A speck of dust. Irrelevant.

"Regulus," you try again, firmer this time, planting yourself more squarely in his way. “Seriously? You’re just going to pretend I’m not here?”

He veers around you with surgical precision, not so much as a grunt of acknowledgment. It’s almost impressive, the way he navigates the space like you’re nothing but air.

Your chest tightens. “You’re unbelievable.”

Still nothing. His footsteps echo down the corridor, growing fainter, lighter, until all you’re left with is silence and the low, familiar simmer of humiliation blooming under your skin.

You stand there a moment longer, watching the spot where he disappeared around the corner, feeling something inside you snap, a thread pulled too tight and finally giving way.

Fine.

If Regulus Black wants to rot in whatever self-made hell he’s wrapped himself in, then so be it. Let him. You’re done chasing after shadows. Done trying to break through walls that were never meant to let you in.

You turn on your heel, fists clenched at your sides. There’s no relief in the decision, just an exhausted sort of fury curling beneath your ribs. Bitter and brittle and long overdue.

You’ll make it simple for him.

-

Ignoring Regulus becomes a discipline, something sharp and deliberate. Like learning a new spell, it’s difficult at first, but easier with repetition. You stop aching when he enters a room. Stop scanning the corridors for the flash of his robes or the angle of his jaw. You stop checking your watch and counting the minutes until your paths might cross, because now, it doesn’t matter.

He’s nothing to you now. Nothing. Or so you say.

In the common room, you take your place in the circle of armchairs closest to the fire, the way you always have. He sits two chairs away, as he often does, silent, motionless, legs crossed and posture rigid. It’s almost normal. You don’t look at him. You laugh at something Barty says, your hand curling around the steaming cup of tea in your lap, and don’t notice the way Regulus’ head lifts just slightly, or the way his eyes linger too long.

You’ve gotten very good at not noticing.

In Potions, you partner with Mary Macdonald. She's competent, efficient, and doesn’t ask you why you’re not working with Regulus anymore. People do notice, of course but you give them nothing. When someone nudges you during breakfast and asks, “Is Regulus alright? He seems a bit off lately,” you just blink and say, “I wouldn’t know.”

And that’s the truth. You wouldn’t.

You don’t know what he does with his evenings now, or whether he still takes his tea with two sugars. You don’t know if he’s sleeping, if he’s eating, if his nightmares have returned. You’ve stopped wondering. Or at least, you’re pretending you have. It's almost the same thing.

Even when you catch glimpses of him – half-reflections in windows, the blur of his profile at the end of the dining hall – you hold your ground. You don’t let your eyes linger. You don’t allow yourself the indulgence of curiosity. You don’t break.

Because Regulus may be hurting, unraveling quietly under the weight of whatever silent war he’s waging, but he made a choice.

He chose to push you away. To make you feel small and unwanted and forgettable.

And you won’t let yourself be made to feel that way again.

-

The rain seems inevitable. The clouds hang heavy in the sky above, a promise of something cold and unforgiving. You’re already late for Transfiguration, but honestly, it’s the last thing on your mind. 

You spot him in the courtyard before he notices you, and you correct your course. A quick detour around a column, a turn of the corner, a speedier pace to your step, and you'll be out of his reach.

But no. The second your foot hits the cobblestone, there's a hand, rough and cold, seizing your arm. You know that touch.

You look up, meeting his eyes for the first time in weeks. Regulus Black looks awful. His eyes are shadowed and hollowed-out. His hair is a mess, falling too far over his forehead, his robes unkempt, like he hasn’t been sleeping, like he hasn't been doing anything except falling apart.

You want to look away. You don’t. You keep your eyes trained on him, but that deep pit of anger in your stomach is still there, sharp and heavy.

“What do you want?” you ask, softer than you should, though anger tints your voice.

He doesn’t answer, straight away. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks at you, and for just a moment, you see it. The shame. The apology, maybe. The confusion. It’s all there, hiding under that practiced mask of indifference he wears.

"I just want to talk," he finally mutters, his voice hoarse, like it’s been a while since he’s had the chance to speak to anyone at all.

You laugh, bitter and short, shaking your head. "Oh, and whatever Regulus wants, he gets, right?" You can hear the venom in your tone, and you can’t help it. It’s all that’s left.

Regulus flinches at the sound of your laugh, like you slapped him across the face. For a moment, he stands still, unsure how to react to the accusation, or maybe to the bitterness that coats your words. His grip on your arm tightens for a second, then loosens again, as though he's testing how much distance he can maintain before you pull away completely.

"I didn't want to hurt you," he says quietly.

You stand there, staring at him, heart pounding in your chest. The rain is starting to fall in light drizzles, little droplets sliding down the cobblestones, soft and relentless. You want to scream, to ask why, to demand something – anything – from him. But your voice is caught somewhere between your chest and your throat, the words tangled and useless. So, you stay quiet.

Regulus’ eyes shift to the ground, like he can’t bear to hold your gaze any longer. His hand drops from your arm, and he seems to fold into himself, his composure slipping. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump, in the way he shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

“I know I fucked up,” he mutters, voice hoarse, barely audible against the rain. “I know. I thought... I thought you’d be better off. And I can’t–”

You cut him off, not out of anger, but because the words don’t even make sense to you. “That wasn’t your decision to make,” you say, voice quieter than it should be, but the sting is still sharp. “I’m more than capable of making my own choices, Regulus.”

His face tightens. He looks like he’s about to say something – his mouth opens, but no words come out. He swallows hard, forcing something down that’s threatening to choke him. He opens his mouth again, but nothing. Again. A third time, and still nothing.

A fresh wave of frustration bubbles in your chest. You’ve had enough. He can’t expect you to stand here, waiting for him to speak the things he’s too afraid to say, too proud to admit. You’ve been waiting for weeks, and all this silence is suffocating you.

“I need to go,” you say, your tone flat and final. You push past him, careful not to make contact. Every step feels like it weighs a tonne, like it’s taking everything in you to turn your back on him. To walk away. It should feel good, shouldn’t it?

But as soon as you make it halfway across the courtyard, you hear his voice crack like thunder.

“I need you.”

The words stop you dead in your tracks. You freeze, caught between the weight of the words and the weight of the rain beginning to fall more steadily now, the drops slicking your hair to your neck and drenching your robes.

You don't turn around. You can't. If you do, you’re afraid you’ll shatter. But you can feel his eyes on you, burning with something you can’t quite place.

“I hate that I do,” he continues, his voice raw now, desperate. The words sound like they’re being dragged out of him, like every one of them is fighting against the pressure inside him. “But I can’t go on pretending I don’t.”

“What… what are you saying?” The words come out quieter than you expect, a little shaky, but you can’t help it. It’s like you’re underwater, and the only thing that matters now is the sound of his voice.

Regulus steps closer, but the distance between you still feels insurmountable. You don’t turn around. You won’t. If you do, you're afraid you’ll be swept away by whatever this is, and you’re not sure you can survive it again.

He runs a hand through his wet hair, clearly frustrated. The damp strands stick to his forehead, his eyes dark.

"I'm a fucking mess," he says, the words tumbling out with a force that seems to shudder through him. "Everything around us is a fucking mess. There's all these expectations being put on me, I feel like I don't know anything anymore, like I don't know what I'm doing, or where to go."

The sincerity in his voice, the rawness of his words, makes something inside you twist painfully. A part of you wants to reach out, to understand, but all you can feel is the knot tightening in your chest.

Why is he doing this now? After everything.

Anger, sharp and sudden, flickers through you. It surges up from the pit of your stomach, leaving no room for uncertainty. You turn around then, and when you do, you can’t help but raise your voice, a crack of frustration breaking through the dam you'd built around yourself.

“What does that have to do with me?” Your tone is biting, louder than you intended, but you can't help it. He’s breaking apart in front of you, and you're the one left holding the weight of his mess, of his silence. 

Regulus flinches at the sharpness of your voice, like you've struck him physically, and his eyes flicker with something that’s unmistakably guilty. His mouth opens again, then closes, his brows furrowing, struggling to hold himself together. The words he wants to say seem just out of reach, lost in his tangled thoughts.

"I–I don’t know," he breathes, hands trembling at his sides, water dripping from the end of his soaked sleeves. "But I need you to understand, this isn’t about you… it never was. It’s me. It’s always been me, and I…" His voice cracks on the last word, admitting any of this is costing him. Rarely, if ever, does he talk so openly about anything, let alone this.

You can’t stop looking at him, the mess he’s become. His hair plastered against his forehead, his face drawn, like he’s seen more than he can handle. And it hits you then, how hard he is trying.

You swallow, trying to keep the lump in your throat from choking you. “I don’t care about the reasons, Regulus. I don’t want to care anymore.”

The words sound like they’re coming from someone else, someone who doesn't know the ache of seeing him like this, standing in the rain, looking like he’s falling apart at the seams.

He stares at you, his face crumbling realising how much he’s lost, how much he’s pushed away. He steps forward in the rain, desperate, but you don’t move. 

“Please,” he says, and the desperation in his voice hits you in the gut. His voice is so raw now, jagged, almost broken. “Please don’t walk away from me. I can’t–I don’t know how to fix this, but I need you. I need you, and I don’t know how to say it any clearer. I’m an idiot. A fucking coward who pushed you away because I couldn’t face what was staring at me.”

It’s too raw, too vulnerable. But you're already too tired to be angry, too worn down by the silence and the coldness that he wrapped around himself. And yet, here he is – breaking down in the middle of a thunderstorm, looking like he might just drown in it if you don’t say something, anything.

"I’m in love with you," Regulus blurts, as though the words are being ripped out of him. His breath shudders in the rain, and you can see his chest heaving with the effort of speaking.

“I—what?” 

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, louder now, the words crashing through the storm. His eyes pierce yours, his whole body tense. “And I’ve always been. And I can’t do this anymore. I can’t pretend I don’t need you when I do.”

Regulus moves again, his hands reaching out to you, tentative but insistent. He’s closer now, his chest barely an inch from yours, the rain soaking both of you.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion that’s been building up between you both. Maybe it’s the silence that’s finally broken. But without thinking, you reach for him, pulling him closer by the collar of his damp robes.

“I hate you,” you whisper, even though there’s no venom in it. There’s something softer in your voice now, even as your hands grip him tightly to stop him from disappearing. “I hate that you did this. I hate that you made me feel like nothing.”

Regulus’ eyes flicker with pain, but his hands are on your face now, gentle and desperate, as though he’s terrified you might still walk away.

“I know,” he breathes, his lips barely brushing yours. “I know. I don’t deserve you. I never did. But I’m here now. Please, please, let me fix this.” His voice is barely a whisper, terrified.

And then, before either of you can say anything more, the distance between you collapses.

His lips crash against yours, hungry, urgent, desperate. It’s a collision of everything – weeks of hurt and silence, years of unspoken feelings. The kiss is messy, raw, as though he’s pouring everything into it, everything he’s kept locked away. You feel it in the way his hands clutch you, pulling you closer, like he needs to prove something.

Rain washes over both of you, but it doesn't matter. You kiss him harder, and he meets you with the same urgency, as if each second you’re together is a second worth fighting for. It’s not graceful or perfect..

And when you finally pull away, breathless, your forehead resting against his, you realise that for the first time in weeks, everything feels like it could be okay again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice cracking again. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I never meant to.”

And this time, when you look at him, you don’t look away. You let him see everything in your eyes. Hurt, anger, confusion and something softer.

“I know,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion. “I know.” masterlist <3

[iamgonnagetyouback]

꒰ james who's against potter!reader's relationship with regulus ꒱

james potter had always known one truth that no one could change― his little sister deserved the best.

and the best certainly did not mean regulus arcturus bloody black with his pressed uniform and his too good for anyone attitude.

so yes— james had a right to sit three feet away in the library and "casually" read while glaring holes into the back of regulus’ head.

and yes, in his mind, he was fully justified in assembling backup— even if said backup consisted of the least discreet people in all of hogwarts.

sirius and remus were standing near the bookshelfs 'very subtly', and peter was 'casually' talking with ms. pince about the latest books in the library. together, they were absolutely certain they were invisible. even an eagle, they swore, wouldn’t catch them.

regulus— who obviously didn't identify as an eagle— whispered to you, without looking up from his book, "your brother's hiding behind the quidditch through the ages, holding it upside down, may i just add."

"and pete— bless his poor heart— has been listening to ms. pince go on about her love for books for fifteen minutes now. i think he hasn't blinked once."

"and my dear brother and lupin have been quiet for too long. i am suspecting they're snogging but that's just me."

you raised a brow, "the chances are more certain than we'd like believe."

regulus smiled as he looked back down at his book again. he tried to concentrate — he really did — but james, who kept glancing up every few seconds to spy on the two of you, was doing a fantastic job of ruining any hope of focus.

it wasn’t the first time james potter had been a distraction. it was, however, the first time regulus had to resist the overwhelming urge to laugh in his face about it.

so with a smirk, he exchanged a look with you and put his hand on your thigh, close enough to make james faint but far enough to keep it comfortable.

and the expected reaction came when james coughed so loudly ms. pince broke eye contact with peter and threw a dirty look at him.

"i think your brother may be dying," regulus chuckled. "should we call madam pomfrey?"

"no, he'll survive," you shrugged. "he deserves to choke a bit after spying on us."

right on cue, remus and sirius emerged behind the bookshelf and subtly walked by near you. they 'appeared' to be chatting but stopped as soon as they were close enough and gave a nervous chuckle simuntaneously when you made eye contact. "y/n, reg, we didn't expect to see you here."

"funny, cause i wasn't even aware you knew the way to the library, sirius." regulus raised a brow.

"i was just here to get...." he nervously looked around and grabbed the nearest book from the shelf, "... the copy of ancient runes."

"firstly, you're holding charms for charmers: impressing dates with magic and modesty, which i didn't think you had an issue with." you pointed out as regulus continued.

"and secondly, you dropped out of ancient runes two years ago."

"well, i am... revisiting." sirius stammered.

regulus tilted his head slightly. “you know, if you’re revisiting your studies, i’d be happy to tutor you.”

“in ancient runes?” sirius asked, suspicious.

“in subtlety,” regulus replied, deadpan.

"okay, enough. you both know, we know, james knows, peter knows and even ms. pince knows why we are here." remus started, rubbing his forhead as if having a migraine.

sirius opened his mouth.

“don’t,” remus cut in, not even looking at him. “you’re holding a book on magical flirting. the subtlety ship has sailed.”

regulus stifled a laugh and muttered. “and sunk.”

james taking the moment, barges over to the table, "alright, regulus keep your hand away from my sister, and y/n you're grounded."

"you can't ground me." you argued.

james put his hand on his heart, "yes, i can. i emotionally can."

"how does that even work?" you asked indecorously.

"it doesn't, so we're not doing it." remus interuppted. "y/n, regulus, we just want to ask you both, very calmly about what your intentions are with each other?"

"i'll take it from here, moony." sirius slid on the chair in front of you. "so, where were you the night of your first hogsmeade date?"

james, also slid next to sirius. "i told you he's not good for you."

"he didn't force you into anything, right?" sirius whispered to which you and regulus gave him a concerned (for him) look.

"he dresses up too nicely. that's suspicious."

"how often do you guys fight? is it more than how you guys kiss?"

"he wears a pressed tie, that's so weird."

"did you know he once kicked our family cat in the morning while walking down the stairs?"

"he once sat on a bug and didn't even apologize to it."

"he-" sirius continued but was stopped by you reaching over the table and holding them both by their ears. "ow ow ow ow! woman, are you crazy?"

"say that you won't speak a word until me and reg are done talking. say it!"

when they didn't budge, you pulled harder on their ears, "your sister is crazy!"

"she learnt it from mum. okay, okay, fine. we won't speak a word."

you eyed them suspiciously, "you promise?"

"we promise."

you released their ears hesitantly as you settled back into your seat. "okay, so obviously we're not going to answer your questions/accusations. but to calm your dumb minds, i'll just say that we're not just messing around. we love each other. we are in love."

"you are?" james asked as sirius looked as if he was half about to cry.

you and regulus looked at each other for a second as you smiled, "we are."

"oh my little sister and my.. regulus (?) i'm so happy for you too." james gushes as he nearly jumps over the table to hug you both. sirius on the other hand had a breakdown already with remus rushing over to comfort him, "they're in love. that's the sweetest thing i've ever heard."

"james, i can't breathe." you muffled out from between his very powerful hug.

james chuckled. "of course you can't silly. because regulus here stole your breathe."

"no, dummy. i genuinely can't breathe." you smacked his head. "i think you can call pete over now. that boy hasn't blinked for so long he's crying. but i think madam pince thinks it's because of her emotional book ending."

peter walked over a minute later with tearful eyes, "she wouldn't stop. she thought i related to the protaganist."

requested by ! anonymous

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[crescenthistory]

May I please request ‘Whispering "Oh you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up."’ with Regulus?

for the journeys & journals mini-event <3

prompt: "oh you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up"

wc: 0.7k

cw: gn!reader, alcohol, being drunk, vague allusions to regulus' childhood, very fluffy, platonic!bartylus and regdorcas

It’s rare for Regulus to get this pissed.

Tipsy, sure. He was adamant to disprove the prude allegations, not to mention that he enjoyed holding something in his hands during social gatherings to ground him. Eventually that something became your hand, but to begin with he wanted to avoid public displays of affection. 

He had an extensive past of drinking with Barty during their teenage years – to drown our merriful sorrows, Barty would always say – but he only really got proper drunk when in the company of the select few he trusted most. For years, that had been Evan, Barty, Pandora and Dorcas, no others.

Then, you happened. That's how he put it. 

Thus, he was currently leaning on the very person he trusted the most. All around you, though, were far many more witnesses than he ever preferred.

Dorcas’ birthday bash was always a grand event, something to look forward to. Once Marlene with her fratboy-esque party games and whoops joined in on the planning of it, it quickly became the greatest party of the year. Not only that, but it was a party Regulus actually saw the point in, as Dorcas remained one of the people he would put himself out of his comfort zone for.

After a few years outside Grimmauld’s Place and an evergreen found family blooming around you, it was perhaps also a bit easier to let go. At least that’s how you rationalised it as you tried to draw the connections between the red-nosed, giggling boy with his head on your chest.

Regulus was always very beautiful, his whole family was. Yet, there were moments like these where he still managed to surprise you with the pure depths of his beauty. Rosey cheeks, tousled hair and fond hands. Eyes that sparkled with both rosé and love.

His cheek against your chest, his arms around your waist where he had more or less tackled you down onto the sofa opposite your other friends. Your legs were a mess and his eyes were scrunched up with laughter at Barty and Evan’s running bit.

“Baby Black, are you quite alright?” Marlene interrupted from where she leaned her hip against the armrest beside Dorcas, who was wearing the most gorgeous tiara. Sirius behind her looked torn between horror and amusement.

You knew Regulus was completely gone when he didn’t scowl at the nickname. “Never better,” he hiccuped, making Evan fall into Barty with laughter.

You just smiled. There was a nice buzz flowing through your own veins, and you considered drinking some more to increase it and match your boyfriend’s. But as you looked down at him in all his drunk glory, you decided you wanted to make sure you remembered this clearly.

“Are you alright, amour?” you murmured into his hair, fingers dancing over his back. 

He turned his face to beam at you, reaching out to pinch your lips shut with his cold fingers. “That’s my name for you, don’t steal it,” he admonished, words slurred.

“I’m terribly sorry,” you managed to push out despite him silencing you. It sounded choked and it made him break into more giggles, which again pushed Barty, equally pissed, into further giggles.

Regulus tried to kiss you, but missed twice, disorientation taking over. You wound up grabbing his cheeks and kissing him soundly yourself, eliminating the incoming frown. 

“Mm, you’re warm,” Regulus murmured.

“So are you, baby.” He merely shook his head at this fact, ducking his head down to peck you all over your neck. 

You tangled your fingers in his hair, scraping carefully at his scalp as you noticed his kisses slow, almost like he was forgetting what he was supposed to be doing. Around the same time, his breaths began to slow and a content smile spread on your face as you connected the dots.

You leaned down to kiss the top of his head and whisper to him, while looking out at all your closest friends having a great time. “I love you, Regulus.”

When he didn’t reply, you knew he was drifting off. Another kiss to his head, and then you added, “Oh, you’re going to be so embarrassed when you wake up.”

[sunskisser]

stars & spaghetti | r.b.

a/n: here i go again, not taking a break 😭 i swear i just needed to write this! thank you @lovemenotts for encouraging me to post it 🫶 i love you lily

tw: eating disorder recovery

Regulus knows where to find you, but he also knows better than to act like he was looking for you with two bowls of food in hand.

“Hey.”

You almost jump at the sound of his voice. You turn around from where you’re sitting on the porch, giving him a small smile. “Hi.”

His heart drops a little when he sees your face, with your sunken eyes and tired expression.

“I didn’t realize you were home already. Did you come through the back?”

He hums an affirmative, sitting down next to you on the steps leading out the house.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches as you slouch onto the railing on your left, blankly staring out at the road. “How’s your day been?”

Regulus casually twirls his fork into the spaghetti in his bowl before bringing it to his mouth. Maybe he believes he’s being slick, you think, but it’s obvious that he’s got twice his usual serving.

“Today’s been fine, yeah. Just busy. How was work?”

He nods in response, “Good, actually. Mark finally sent me the files I needed to get that huge contract signed, and —” He presses his fork into the pasta again, but this time brings it up to your mouth (hoping you’re too distracted to mind).

His heart drops and how instantly you swerve backwards, almost crashing into the step behind you.

“Reg,” it comes out as a betrayed hiss. You take a shaky exhale before sitting back upright. “I don’t want any; I’ve eaten dinner already.”

“Have you?”

“Yes, I —“

“Then why’s the kitchen completely clean?”

Regulus never takes a harsh tone with you, and he wasn’t going to start now. There’s nothing but quiet, genuine concern in the way he asks. Guilt claws at the back of your throat anyway.

It was one of your worse days; thoughts of excessive calories and not having worked out being all you could think about. You’d stared at yourself in the mirror for what seemed like hours, cursing every flaw of your body and wondering why me.

Without your boyfriend home, it had just felt like there was no reason to fatten yourself.

“Hey,” Regulus mutters, laying his palm facing upwards on your lap. You take it. “You’re getting in your head again.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, lovely girl.” He reaches out to gently brush a stray hair away from your face. “But do you think you could try to eat something? Please?”

Your heart stops, and it’s like your mind is reeling back into its hiding spot already. No lies on the tip of your tongue.

“It doesn’t have to be a lot, dove, he continues quietly, rubbing your fingers. “Just a few bites. You need fuel, you know.”

Regulus is looking into your eyes with that silent look now, the one which makes you feel like he’d do just about anything to save you from yourself. You don’t think you could ever say no to him.

And it wasn’t like you’d eaten anything today. You were allowed this, for your boyfriend, right?

“Fine.”

He smiles softy and tugs you closer, stamping a kiss to the side of your forehead and picking up the bowl of pasta from beside him. “So, remember that bouquet I bought you last week?”

He starts to make casual conversation as he feeds you, and you do your best to listen. It goes all the way from those flowers were expensive! to maybe we should get a cat — or a new apartment — but NOT a dog.

The food gets lodged in your throat every now and then, but you force yourself to swallow. The ‘full’ feeling starts to creep up on you like your shadow.

Regulus can sense it. “Okay, but why the hell do you like dogs?”

You decide to indulge him and go off on a tangent about the fluffy beasts, which pulls your mind away from its dark corner. The conversation makes the chore of eating easier.

You’re sure he knows what he’s doing, but you’re going to let him anyway.

Before you know it, you’re laughing so hard you don’t even realize the bowl is empty. He stands up to put it away before you get the chance to think too hard about it.

Regulus sits back down next to you. He starts to tell you about the stars, then, and you listen intently. It’s late, but you wouldn’t know what time it is. Time didn’t exist in your little bubble.

At one point you’ve curled into him the furthest you can. Your eyelids are being pulled down by the weight of fatigue, his comforting presence lulling you closer towards sleep.

He thinks you don’t hear it when he murmurs a soft I’m proud of you. You do.

[slut4prongs]

sunshine

regulus black x gn!reader

411 words

description: you and regulus are complete opposites, yet you couldn’t be happier together.

(sorry i died for a month. i don’t really like this but i wanted to post something again)

Regulus Black is, by all means, a quiet person. He keeps to himself and his select group of friends and to all else he is a dark and intimidating person.

You are a social butterfly, bouncing around various groups of friends from every house, smiling everywhere you go. All in all, you’re the opposite of Regulus Black.

Which is why it came as a shock to everyone the day he bid a goodbye to you, when you went to sit with your separate friends, by pressing a quick kiss on your cheek.

Though over time everyone around you both became accustomed to small occasional gestures of affection between the two of you, that is everyone except for Regulus.

He still finds it completely inconceivable that you, basically the sun to him, want to be with him.

So he still jumps a little when you suddenly appear behind him in the hall, wrapping your arms around his waist whilst he is in the middle of a idiotic conversation with Barty.

The second he hears your voice, all bubbly and excited, all thoughts of that previous conversation were out the window.

“Regulus!” You gasp excitedly as you squeeze around his waist gently.

“Hello, love.” He responds while quickly turning himself around in your arms to face you.

“You won’t believe what happened in transfiguration today!” You say while bouncing up and down on your toes.

Regulus quirks an eyebrow as a silent gesture of telling you to continue.

“Okay, okay, so..” You begin to ramble excitedly about some silly thing James had done to impress Lily, but Regulus wasn’t exactly listening.

Well of course he was listening, he listens to everything you’ve ever said, but at this very moment he was enraptured by just watching you.

The way your eyes sparkle in the light beaming in from the windows, how your hair is slightly messed up from the school day, but especially the glowing smile on your face as you talk a mile a minute.

Eventually Regulus snaps out of his little trance, glancing behind your head seeing Barty and Evan laughing and mocking Regulus, who's always been stone cold, melting before their eyes.

But what snaps them all out of their silent mocking, is when you finish your story.

“I mean I just can’t believe Lily finally agreed to a date with him.”

All three boys snap to your face when you say that and at once they speak.

“She said yes??”

-

[lovings4turn]

☆ page-turner (r.a.b.)

— trying to read your book whilst sat in regulus' lap proves a harder task than you first thought

+ contains: smut, fingering (f!recieving), edging, teasing, praise

+ nsfw — minors please dni

"that's it, darling," regulus coos, his chin resting on your shoulder. "keep going."

you're sat in his lap, your back flush to his chest with your legs spread wide as you clutch your book with white-knuckles. his fingers expertly slip in and out of you, his thumb deftly working at your clit in an intoxicating combination that makes your mind cloudy.

regulus has made the rules of this exchange pretty clear: you stop reading, he stops moving.

at first, you had thought he was merely teasing, wanting to see just how far he could push you. but when you had first dropped your book, head falling back against his shoulder to let out a shaky moan, he had pulled his fingers out instantly with a reprimanding tsk. it was only when you started up again, voice shaking and cracking around the words, that regulus resumed his prior motions.

every now and then, he curls his fingers up to press against your g-spot, a wicked glint in his eye as he watches you stumble over the current piece of dialogue you're reading

"reg, please-" you breathe, eyes screwed shut as you feel your orgasm slowly build. the muscles in your stomach tighten, and in an effort to finish faster, you grind down onto his fingers.

"ah, ah," regulus hums, using his free hand to cup your cheek and redirect your face towards your now forgotten book. "told you, love. have to keep going. y'doing so well for me."

you're so close that if he stopped now, you're sure tears will escape your eyes and roll down your cheeks, a pathetic display of desperation. your only option is to continue reading.

the words become blurry as you fight to keep your eyes open, and you're only half sure that whatever you're saying is even comprehensible as you stumble through paragraph after paragraph.

all it takes is the pad of regulus' thumb swiping over your clit particularly roughly for you to see white. your book hits the floor with a thump, drowned out by the sounds of your moans and mumbled thanks. regulus holds your hips as you writhe in his lap, pressing kisses to your shoulder as you come down from your climax, all the while muttering praise and compliments.

"did so well, love," he hums, kissing your temple. "wanna see how well you can focus w'my cock in you, now."

[sugaryplum]

regulus black hyperfixation going strong ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ reggie x reader (no specified gender), established relationship, some small sexual innuendos, nothing explicit <3 reader is a talkative, innocent-ish cutie, regulus is surprisingly opened up. basically 700 words of morning fluff. i recommend listening to laufey's while you were sleeping & silver lining & valentine while reading, although they're not too related to plot — just pure vibes.

here's my masterlist if you want more <3 + navigation is pinned :)

when he wakes up, you're still asleep, crumbled half on him, half next to him. he sits up a bit, looking down at you. you look peaceful, even with a few hair strands stuck to your forehead and a crumpled pillow imprinted on your cheek.

he sighs gently, hesitating between waking waking you up or letting you have some more of the much needed sleep. saturday mornings are beautiful when it's so quiet, but in the last weeks and months he, to his own surprise, found himself appreciating them more when filled with your chatter and laughter and lips on his shoulders and face.

that's why he rubs your arm, naively thinking this is just what it takes. rubbing turns into gentle shaking and a few wake ups are said before you hum and frown, slowly coming back to reality.

"what?" you ask in a yawn, in a tone indicating offence, your eyelids half up as you realise what's happening around you. you fix your position to lay more comfortably. then you close your eyes again, planning to get back to your sweet dreams.

"no, don’t—" he gently pats your cheek to keep you awake, a small smirk, almost a chuckle playing on his features.

"give me some time to wake up." you say, it but your voice is already drifting away. he pokes your cheek, keeping his grin when you groan with frustration.

"reggie, i’m your girlfriend, you’re supposed to lay here and admire me! not wake me up like a cruel man."

"i’ve been laying here this whole night, do you want me to admire you all day too?"

"you could." you hum dreamily and smile. "besides, you’ve been sleeping here this whole night, not admiring me. now you should let me sleep and let yourself stare lovingly."

he breathes out a laughter. "are you implying i wasn’t admiring you while i was asleep?"

"how can you admire me in your sleep?"

"by dreaming about you?"

"you did not dream about me." you laugh.

"and how do you know that?"

"what was i doing in your dream?"

he pauses. "you don’t want to hear that." he grins but the slight awkwardness is clear on his face. you furrow your brows. "what does that mean?"

"it means i refuse to tell you."

you turn to your stomach, leaning your head on your hands. "why?"

"because you’re a sensitive flower and what i was dreaming about was anything but sweet and innocent. you’d blush too much." it's ironic with the blush creeping on his own face.

"you’re funny." you roll your eyes but understanding what he means, you do get a little shy. there's a quiet moment until you notice he's closed his eyes.

"now you’re going back to sleep?" to say you sound offended is an understatement. "after you woke me up so cruelly?"

he doesn’t open his eyes, but smiles, holding in a chuckle.

you shake your head in disapproval. "you got too comfortable with me." you smile, roll your eyes and get up from the bed, supporting yourself on his body.

the boy opens his eyes. "where are you going?"

you stand in front of the closet. 'it’s cold, aren’t you cold?"

"i wasn’t until you got up. now i am." he watches you closely, now actually noticing the cold of the air around him, since his personal heat source is gone.

"you got so talkative recently." you tease, picking up a jumper of his to put it on. he scoffs and sits up, his hair falling in his face. "maybe you’re rubbing off on me." he picks up a book from the bedside table but it quickly gets put back down by you, when you sit down on his lap.

"is that good or bad?"

he gently wraps his arms around your body "i don't know, you tell me."

the words are lighthearted but there is some uncertainty in his mind. you are rubbing off on him, shockingly quickly so. it's new and it's scary, it's easy to admit that in his head. but it feels natural, easy, strangely normal to be like this around you.

"it's good." you say after a pause and rest your head on his shoulder. it's good.

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐮𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤

summary: your parents set up an arranged marriage with regulus black and you make an attempt to keep it a secret for as long as possible. through it all, regulus is there for you in a way you wouldn’t ever had thought possible.

cw: fem!reader, arranged marriage, walburga black, angst, comfort,

<3

July 17th, 1977

Following your fifth year attending Hogwarts greater tensions arose between pure-blood families throughout the entirety of the wizarding world. Previously, tensions had already existed between those who supported the joining of the dark lord's forces and those who sought to protect their children from his reign. Your loyalties lie with the latter but your parent's do not, so you keep silent.

The day of your sixteenth birthday your father informed you of his plan to marry you off. The news came to you as a surprise, but not because you didn't believe your parents would do such a thing but rather because it was truly unexpected. Initially, you didn't know how to handle the news and it only became more difficult to understand when your father told you that you would be betrothed to the youngest Black brother, Regulus.

You're a Gryffindor from a line of Slytherin purebloods. You're not surprised by the fact that you're being engaged to a Slytherin but you never would have thought it would be to Sirius's brother. You suppose your parents want someone to keep you in line and according to them, Regulus is perfect for that.

You aren't aware of the complex history and values of the Black family but you aren't naive. You notice the way Sirius and Regulus carry themselves at Hogwarts. From an exterior perspective they are very different. Sirius flaunts his rebellion and appears arrogant while Regulus suffers quietly but much more noticeably. So, from an interior perspective the brothers are very much the same and it's most likely a result of their relationship with their family which is known for being supportive of the dark lord.

The last thing you want is to marry into the house of Black. But you also have no other choice and your father has made his decision on that very clear. He said it was the best decision for your future and the future of the family. (Probably more so the future of the family, he never usually had your best interests at heart). So as soon as your father came in contact with the Blacks they were more than happy to offer up Regulus.

And that is how you find yourself sitting in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place, silent and sat up straight, attempting to tune out the discussion the adults are having on behalf of you and Regulus. Soon to be husband and wife. You cant even imagine yourself as a wife, tending to the home and children. Merlin, you weren't ready for that and you can't even apparate yet let alone hold all the burdens of being a wife. Besides, you have always believed in the notion for marrying for love. Unfortunately, that dream is being cut short by your betrothal to Regulus.

12 Grimmauld Place is cold, all the furniture made of near-black wood and the textiles heavy. Ornate candelabras light the room, although it still has the distinct feeling of overall darkness. The fireplace isn't lit, though it would probably do a lot in the way of comfort. The old piano, shrouded in cobwebs, disguising its elegance, is playing itself, surely enchanted in order to keep your and Regulus's ears distracted from the conversation your parents are having. You and your father are seated on a black couch with an abstract gold print across from Orion and Walburga, seated on an identical couch. Regulus is on a bench in front of the piano eyes glued to the floor. He hasn't even looked at you.

Entirely reassuring.

You on the other hand can't stop sneaking glances at him. He's a good-looking boy, you'll give him that. And it's not as though you never saw him at Hogwarts but you never payed attention to him until now. His features differ from Sirius's but he still exudes that obvious, easy charm and a certain haughty look that they share.

Regulus was just a bit thinner, just a bit shorter. Still with the dark and curly locks, but not as long as Sirius's. His eyes are dark and situated under heavy brows. You get the impression he doesn't know how to do anything but brood, although perhaps that's because it's all you've seen him do. There's a beautiful angularity to his face, reminiscent of a statue. You don't like the idea of him looking at you with those eyes. You know there's no way he could find you nearly as attractive as you find him.

Regulus must've heard your thoughts because before you can tear your gaze away, he looks up, eyes meeting yours.

"(Y/N)?" Your head whips around at your father's voice. He and the Blacks are looking at you.

"Yes, father?"

"You and Regulus are excused while we continue our discussion." His eyebrows raise in a look that means: behave so I can marry you off.

Regulus stands and you follow him out of the room, unknowing of what to say once you've left. The silence feels so loud as neither of you speak and you hope this is not the rhythm you fall into once you've officially married.

The hallways are dusty and suffocating from the sheer amount of unkept vintage furniture lining the floor. Your gaze wanders aimlessly, a reckless move on your behalf, the eerie atmosphere leaving a lingering feeling of despair within your chest. You dread the day you have to move into this wretched house.

At the staircase, Regulus abruptly stops causing you to step on his heels. He turns around and you mumble out a quick apology. His face still betrays no emotion much to your unease.

"Would you like me to show you to my room?" He asks. His voice is different from what you expected. There's a hint of sadness, melancholy hidden beneath his pride. It doesn't take a genius to hear it but it makes you wonder if he's allowing you to.

"I suppose I don't have much of a choice?"

Regulus shakes his head and sends you an almost sympathetic look, as if saying: you have no idea what you're getting into. And truthfully, you don't.

His room is a whole four stories up. The climb is manageable but not entirely enjoyable. You try to keep your breathing level but your curiosity keeps you occupied. You scan the walls mostly made up of portraits, presumably members of their family line. Each exudes a contrasting level of emotion, some were troubling, nightmares of a certain kind, while others carry sorrow heavy on their faces. It was unnerving, this is the family you are to be married into. Soon you'll have your own portrait on the wall.

At the top of the flight are only two doors. Regulus walks in the direction of the one of the left. You pause.

"Is this other room Sirius's?" Regulus turns and for the first time, his expressionless eyes sadden, mirroring the sound of his voice.

"It was."

You close your curious mouth, not meaning to pry, but there's a version of the story that you don't yet know and you intend to find out eventually.

As you approach Regulus's door, you see he's hung a sign. It says: Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black. He enters, but you hang back in the doorway for a moment, lost in a thought.

Your mind reels at the thought of being one of the select few granted access to his room. But the reality of the situation renters your mind and you take a hesitant step forward, feeling the weight of the arrangement pressing down on your shoulders.

Regulus turns, sensing your hesitation and for the first time the ice of his face cracks, and he smiles faintly, "You can come in. Just close the door behind you."

He sits on the only chair in the room, leaving you to awkwardly seat yourself on the edge of his bed. As you pretend to examine his room you can feel the fullness of his gaze. He looks at you now that you're alone and you think he is seeing too much. He can see that you're not the girl he'd marry if he could choose. He sees why your parents think you need controlling, to be steered away from your friendship with his disowned brother and the rest of the Gryffindor house. He can see that you are afraid. His room is surprisingly small, and you can't imagine you are more than three feet from one another.

"So," you break the silence, "Do you think I'll have to live here?"

His eyebrows raise as if he already knows the answer to your question, but his face quickly returns to normalcy. His parents probably told him to be on his best behavior.

"My parents seem to expect you to. It's what a wife does, I suppose."

You nod, making an attempt to pick your brain for something else to say. You can't find anything and silence once again houses itself in the air between you.

"It's not a good idea." He's angry again. Or at least, he looks the way he did when you first stepped foot in this house. Maybe angry is the wrong word. He looks closed off, impenetrable. Maybe angry, too.

"What?"

"You coming to live here. Us getting married. It's not a good idea." Finally, he looks away from you, focusing instead on a nonexistent point to your right, "You don't deserve to be dragged into this."

You can't mask your shock. The sincerity in his voice is the most you've ever heard from him. You want to believe your father in assuring you this is the right thing, but Regulus's tone makes you wonder if he is telling you the truth. Maybe this isn't such a good idea.

"Dragged into what?" You pry, curiosity besting your manners.

"You do realize which side of the war you now stand with, right?"

You breathe in and hold it for as long as you can. The silence lingers like dust that's taking too long to settle. You're not surprised to feel a knot of terror lodged in your throat.

"Toujours Pur." Your gaze snaps to Regulus whose eyes are directed towards the family crest above his bed, "Always pure. That's what you're getting into. I hope you know what that entails."

Regulus watches closely as you open and close your mouth, unknowing of what the respond with. You've thought about the fact that you're now on the side of the dark lord but you find your mind circling with more worries when the truth is said aloud.

"And I don't know what your father said to convince my parents to allow you, a Gryffindor, to marry me but they won't let anyone know." Regulus sighs, he doesn't mean to come off as rude but you have every right to know everything about the situation, "You'll have to learn how to be one of us."

Your eyebrows furrow and you fight the urge to stand but the space is far too small for you to without being too close.

"I don't know who you think I am but I assure you, I know exactly how to be one of you." You point out, your voice sharp with defiance, yet tinged with a hint of vulnerability, "My parents are just like yours so don't assume that I don't know what it's like."

Your eyes are fixed firmly on Regulus as he remains silent. The tension in the room is palpable, the air crackling with unspoken words and unmet expectations.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Regulus shifts his weight, his gaze flickering momentarily away before returning to meet yours. Without a word, he moves closer, his steps deliberate yet hesitant, until he's seated on the edge of the bed beside you. The sudden proximity sends a shiver down your spine, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity toward his actions.

"I'm only trying to help." Regulus admits softly, his voice barely above a whisper, before retreating once more into his stoic demeanor, "But you shouldn't assume this will be any better for you."

Your shoulders sag with the weight of his words, a heavy sigh escaping your lips as you struggle to find the right response. "It might," you murmur, your voice tinged with hope. "In a year, we can leave here."

Regulus's gaze softens slightly, a fleeting glimpse of understanding passing through his eyes before they harden once more. "You're missing a chance to be happy," he offers, the hint of regret hidden in his tone.

A bitter laugh escapes you as you shake your head, the weight of your circumstances pressing down on you like a leaden blanket, "I don't have any other choice."

Regulus's hand finds yours for a moment before his door flies open, clearly without regard for the sign, and your hands fly apart. And there stand your parents.

"Oh lovely," Walburga begins, "They're already getting on."

"(Y/n), you'll be moving in with the Black's, effective tomorrow." Your father explains and under the intense gaze of Walburga you flinch. It doesn't go unnoticed by her or Regulus, "You can pack your bags tonight. Understood?"

"Yes, father, I understand."

Your parents exit the room but Walburga lingers and her icy gaze turns to Regulus, "Our guest will be staying in here, with you," Walburga pauses, eyes narrowing in your direction, "She's your responsibility now."

<3

masterlist . regulus black masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[chocolateremus]

Stuck by the glue.

Pairings: Regulus x GN!Reader.

Warning includes: kissing, very short love fluff <3

Summary ! Regulus comforts you in need of a sickness.

Word count: 188 words

Masterlist

In a need of comfort, you stumbled yourself into Regulus's dorm, clingy onto him, Regulus wasn't really soft like this, most of it was stripped away from his mother. it came to a surprise to him when you sat in his lap, rubbing against his chest like a cat.

Flu wasn't exactly well known in Hogwarts, but you abuse it to your advantage just to get more and more clingy with Regulus. A hypocrite you are, not wanting to leave him but not wanting to get sick. sitting on his lap, whining about how he'll get sick too.

"For the last time, darling. I don't care if I get sick.''

Burying his face into your hair, smelling your shampoo and savouring the sweet smell of it.Tilting your head up, before having a taste of you.

"Well. I do hope you get sick so you can stay with me longer."

"That's very selfish of you." He hummed, letting out a chuckle, clinging to him, almost like sticking to him by the glue.

"Can you guys shut the fuck up?" Barty, shutting his curtains, away from the two lovers.

Do not repost my fics on other platforms !

[mischievousmoony]

can i request a burger for regulus with this prompt? ⋆ “no, it’s okay, you don’t have to leave - i don’t mind changing in front of you.”

yes of course! i've been loving getting requests for regulus, i've been meaning to write for him for a long time!

jolie's summer kickoff a 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐫 fresh off the grill ⋮ aka a short blurb contains: regulus black x reader, fluff ‪‪

Regulus is a very guarded individual, and you’re the only person who’s ever managed to chip through his walls.

Bit by bit, he opened up to you. At first, he didn’t trust you. When he started to care for you, he was afraid to lose you. But you were persistent in the gentlest way, and he found himself letting you into his heart.

Even after you started dating, there were still ways in which Regulus kept to himself. Being vulnerable with you is something that scared him, and sometimes still does.

Physical affection, for one, didn’t come easily to him, and public displays of it are completely off the table.

It was especially hard for him to communicate his emotions at first. He’s used to bottling it all up, dealing with it (or not dealing with it) internally.

Slowly, he found as much comfort in your touch as in your presence, and with you, conversation came with a kind of ease he wasn’t used to.

Only recently did he start sleeping in the same bed as you. The first time happened when you had been up late studying for an exam. You were both so tired, on the verge of falling asleep over your textbooks.

When you started getting up to leave, he snaked his hand around your wrist, pulling you back to him. “Stay,” he murmured, voice thick with tiredness and a longing to be close to you.

Tonight, you’re sitting on his bed, admiring him as he busies himself with small tasks around his room. He’s straightening his desk, shelving new books—just finishing up a few odds and ends.

He moves to his wardrobe, pulling out some pyjamas. You move to leave to give him some privacy.

Without even looking up, he says, “It’s okay, you don’t have to leave.”

You freeze in place, halfway off his bed. It’s like he can sense your uncertainty, because he looks over his shoulder at you and adds, “I don’t mind changing in front of you.”

Slowly, you settle back onto his bed, crossing your legs like they were before. It always catches you off guard when he so casually invites you into moments he once kept to himself.

In these moments, you suddenly become the one who holds their breath, uncertainties curling in your chest. You don’t know where to look, or rather, where he wants you to. Eyes fixed on the sheets of his bed, you sit frozen, biting the inside of your cheek.

You hear him pad across the room, crossing over to you. The shirt he was wearing hangs in his grasp now, his chest bare to you. With his free hand, he lifts your chin to place an unhurried kiss on your lips.

“We’re alright,” he says, brushing his hand over the side of your head as he straightens back up. A reassurance that serves you both.

He finishes changing and crawls into bed with you, pulling you into his chest. Your head rests right over his heart, and the steady thrum of his heart soothes you to sleep soon after.

[dismalflo]

hello!! love ur writing it’s very sweet <3

i wanted to request a regulus black x reader, where he’s nervous about asking the r on a date. because maybe he’s kind of new to the group and they don’t know each other very well or just because r is good friends with sirius or whatever you feel like

thanku <3

thank you for requesting lovely! <3

Regulus Black x Reader who is asked on a date post party ✩ 846 words

cw: fluff

After the stress of moving all your belongings to a new flat, trying to find the cheapest and cutest furniture possible, you were ready to relax. Instead of that, you have all your friends crammed into your small flat for a housewarming party.

James and Sirius had outright demanded that “you have to host, you can't deprive us of this!”, obviously you relented. 

The amount of drinks and sweets sitting in the kitchen was a ridiculous amount for your little group but you've made your way through it.

Now it’s 2am, you feel happier than you have in a long time to have been surrounded by lovely people all evening. Your flats a mess, but that's tomorrow's issue, although you do notice that someone has started to gather the rubbish into bin bags. 

As your friends start to filter out with big hugs and pats on the back in parting, you notice one man lingering. Regulus Black. A relatively new addition to your group but a lovely one. He's stoic and quiet, yes, but also he's maybe the most caring and observant man you've ever met. He's always asking questions about things you mention in passing, always listening completely like you're the most interesting thing ever. 

Looking at him standing in your kitchen bin bag in hand, you see that he's the one that's been tidying up through the night and your heart fills a little at his sweetness.

“Oh Reg, you don’t have to do that. It’s late.” you smile at him.

“I thought I’d make it easier for you in the morning”, he flushes, a pink hue filling his cheeks “and I– I wanted to ask you something” 

As he fidgets with the bag, you soften and nod encouraging him to keep speaking, not used to seeing Regulus so flustered.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes flickering to the floor for a moment before looking up at you again, his expression serious but earnest. "I—well, I’ve been meaning to ask you... if you’d like to—" He pauses, clearing his throat and his fingers nervously twisting the edge of the bin bag. "Would you like to go out with me sometime? Like, on a proper date? Not as part of some group thing, just... us?"

The words hang in the air between you two, and for a moment, you’re not sure if you heard him correctly.  Regulus Black, the quiet, reserved and prettiest man you've laid eyes on, was asking you out.

You blink, your heart racing in your chest, and it feels like the entire room goes still as you process his question.

"I—" you begin, and his eyes dart away, clearly mistaking your pause for rejection. He starts to straighten up, as if about to leave, but you quickly step toward him, gently placing a hand on his arm. The soft touch makes him freeze.

"Yes. I’d like that. I’d really like that." you say with a warm smile. 

His eyes snap back to yours, a mix of disbelief and relief flashing across his face. Then, slowly, a shy but genuine smile curves at the corners of his lips.

"Really?" His voice is quiet, almost disbelieving.

You nod, your heart swelling at how sweetly taken aback he seems. "Of course. You’ve been nothing but kind to me, and I—" You hesitate for a moment, “I like to think that I would have built up the courage to ask you out if you didn't.”

The smile that spreads across his face is so brilliant, so warm, it makes your chest tighten. Regulus, the man who usually carried himself with such an air of mystery and composure, was now standing in front of you with a look of pure joy on his face.

He glances at the bin bag in his hand again, as if only now realising he’s still holding it. His mouth opens and closes as if searching for the right words to say, clearly not as concerned with the tidying anymore. "this can wait?."

You laugh softly, not minding the mess. “I think you’ve done more than enough, yeah?”

He nods, the tension in his shoulders easing, and he steps closer. For a second, neither of you move, and it feels like the air between you has shifted – charged. Then, he gently touches your arm, leaning in just a little, and you realize he's hesitating, waiting for your lead.

Without hesitation, you lean forward, just enough to close the space, and your lips meet in a soft, tentative kiss. It’s not a rush, but a sweet, slow thing, like a promise being made.

When you pull away, you’re both smiling, and Regulus’ eyes are full of something warm, something that you hadn’t recognized before.

"Goodnight, then, I– I’ll call you tomorrow." he says, his voice thick with emotion.

"Goodnight, Reg," you reply, your heart full as he turns to leave. 

Walking down the stairs outside your flat, Regulus’ phone pings.

Did you do it then? Did she say yes?

Yes I did, and yes she did. Thank you, now piss off about it Sirius.

FUCKING FINALLY.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

hello there! i absolutely adore how you wrote for regulus and so if youre willing, I’d like to request for him with a reader who liked to collect things people consider weird (bug wings, bones found in the forest, etc) and she gives the prettiest/shiniest to him

can you also include her and pandora (+ the rest of the skittles) being friends? like reader and dory are both similar aka whimsy

idk something about reggie makes me want to give him all the weird pretty things in the world. Thank yiu and have a wonderful morning/evning/night!!

I FOUND THIS AND THOUGHT OF YOU.⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ㅤ ㅤ●ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ R. BLACK

SUMMARY ৎ୭ you’ve always loved collecting weird little things, and regulus black has always been your favorite person to give them to. you’re not really sure when it started, but now it’s a habit

WARNINGS ಇ. fluff— lots and lots of it, whimsical!reader A/N ಇ. this idea was so adorable!! ty for the sweet words too ♡

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ᡣ𐭩 words.ᐟ 1,008

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

You had always been a collector of strange things.

Shiny beetle wings, hollow bird bones, stones shaped like hearts, broken glass smoothed down by the river. Anything that made other people wrinkle their noses or laugh unkindly, you pocketed with a smile.

Pandora understood, of course. She tucked fallen feathers behind her ear and pressed petals into the pages of her books until they dried and crumbled. Dorcas mostly shook her head and called you both odd little fairies, but there was affection in it.

Regulus… Regulus was different.

He never laughed. Never looked at you like you were ridiculous or childish. When you first offered him a twisted bit of silver wire you had found tangled in the roots of the Whomping Willow — dangerous, beautiful — he had only held it in his palm and said quietly, “Thank you.”

And now it had become a thing.

A ritual.

You finding something strange and lovely. Him accepting it.

It happened again on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

The group had gathered under the sprawling oak tree near the lake, sprawled in the grass. Dorcas and Marlene were throwing an apple back and forth between them. Barty and Evan were arguing loudly about something neither probably remembered. Pandora had fallen asleep on your lap, her hair a tangle of flowers and twigs.

And you… you had found something.

It was a fragment of a bird’s nest, woven with glinting scraps of metal and bits of blue thread, abandoned and half-crushed.

You turned it over in your hands, feeling the brittle, stubborn strength of it. It was beautiful in a way most people wouldn't bother to see.

You glanced at Regulus.

He was sitting cross-legged a little apart from the others, sketching absentmindedly in the margin of his Potions notes, silver eyes flickering between the page and the lake.

Quietly, you disentangled yourself from Pandora and padded over.

You didn’t say anything at first. You simply sat down beside him, close enough that your knees brushed. He looked up, one eyebrow lifting in that careful, curious way he had reserved only for you and Pandora.

You held out the nest.

“I found this,” you said. “Thought you might like it.”

Regulus didn’t speak immediately. He closed his notebook slowly, set it aside, and took the offering from your hands with an almost reverent touch.

His fingers brushed yours. You pretended not to notice how your breath caught.

“This is…” he began, then stopped. He turned the nest over carefully, the faintest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s strange.”

“Strange,” you repeated, a little breathless. “But good-strange?”

He looked at you properly then, the way he always did — like he was memorizing you.

“Always good-strange,” he said.

You ducked your head, feeling your cheeks heat. Picked a blade of grass and twisted it between your fingers.

For a few minutes, you sat there in comfortable silence, watching the lake shift and glitter under the pale sky.

Then, softly, Regulus said, “You don’t have to keep giving me things.”

You frowned slightly. “I want to.”

He studied you for a moment longer, the bird’s nest cradled carefully in his lap.

“Why?” he asked.

You shrugged, voice light. “You seem like you need them more than I do.”

He huffed a soft laugh under his breath, almost disbelieving. "I don't even know what to do with half of them."

"You don't have to do anything with them," you said simply. "Just keep them."

Regulus didn't reply right away. He only reached out, slow and tentative, and tucked a stray leaf out of your hair, his fingertips lingering just a little longer than necessary against your temple.

"I do keep them," he said finally, voice low and sure. "All of them."

Your heart cracked a little at that. In a good way.

"You do?" you whispered.

He nodded once.

"In a box under my bed," he admitted. "Don't tell the others. Evan would never let me hear the end of it."

You smiled so wide it hurt. "Your secret’s safe with me."

He leaned in slightly, like he might say something else — something heavier — but Barty chose that exact moment to shout across the lawn.

"Oi, Black! Quit flirting and come help me beat Evan's arse at chess!"

Regulus didn't look away from you. His thumb brushed your knuckles where your hands still rested lightly between you.

“Later,” he said quietly, a promise tucked into the word.

Then he stood, pocketing the bird’s nest with the same care he might have given a pocket watch or a precious letter, and walked away without a backward glance.

You sat there for a long moment, heart tumbling over itself, the air still shimmering where he had touched you.

Later, he had said.

You thought maybe — just maybe — you would be patient for him.

After all, you had all the time in the world. And you had so many more strange, beautiful things left to find.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ౨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“You’re smiling,” Marlene accused loudly as they trudged up the castle steps.

Regulus shot her a cool look. “I am not.”

“Oh, you absolutely are.” Dorcas grinned, her face still smudged with mud from earlier. “I’ve never seen you smile that much in one day. Not even when Evan fell into the lake last month.”

“That was different,” Regulus said primly. “That was amusing.”

“That’s it,” Barty said, throwing an arm around Evan’s shoulders dramatically. “She’s bewitched him. She’s a menace. Look at him — carrying around bird nests like a lovesick magpie.”

“He’s in love,” Pandora sang, twirling a stick like a wand.

You just laughed, skipping a step ahead of them, your pockets jingling with collected bits of the day — a crow’s feather, a sea-glass shard, a handful of smooth acorns.

Regulus watched you, his hand curled protectively around the nest you had given him.

Maybe he was a lovesick magpie. Maybe he didn’t care.

You were worth it.

You were worth everything.

©iamgonnagetyouback౨ৎ please refrain from copying, translating, or reposting any of my work

[crescenthistory]

wishing you safe travels, carina! 💫 if you want, could you write regulus and the 2nd bed sharing prompt? 💞

for the journeys & journals mini-event <3

prompt: "did you know you talk in your sleep?"

wc: 0.7k

cw: gn!reader, references to the black family childhood trauma, healing!regulus, physical affection, bed-sharing, will-they-won't-they stage, post-hogwarts, very fluffy

“I can tell you’re staring, you know.”

The corner of Regulus’ mouth quirked up after his lips finished its minuscule movements as he murmured to you, his voice hoarse with sleep. It was the first sign he had given that he was awake. 

You figured he probably was about ten minutes ago – he had warned you he was a light sleeper, after all. It didn’t stop you from continuing to look at him, though. On his back with his hands resting over his solar plexus and his dark curls all splayed out on the white sheets of Pandora’s guest room, he truly looked like the prince all his friends accused him of being.

“There’s a difference between admiring and staring,” you refuted, curling further up on your side, arms around your pillow so you could get the best look at him.

That made him peel open one eye as he squinted at you. “You’re admiring me, are you?”

“Mhm.” You reached out to draw a tentative finger down the gorgeous side profile of his nose. It didn’t escape your attention how it made him shiver slightly. “Someone has to.”

Regulus rolled over onto his side to face you. The look in his eyes was one you had seen many times before by now, solidifying over the past months where you had been inching closer and closer. Whatever you had was an open secret by now, and being stashed together in Pandora’s only guestroom for the weekend getaway was the final nail in the coffin. Or on the welcome sign, depending. 

“You’ve grown more forward,” he commented, voice manufactured to be neutral, but the twitch of his lips gave it away. There was a joy there.

“Yeah, well…” You trailed off, looking between his eyes before focussing on the light splatter of freckles on his pale cheekbones. “You’ve grown softer.”

“Never let the others know.”

“I’m sorry to tell you, but I think they know.”

“You do?”

“Did you know you talk in your sleep?” The question formed itself on your tongue, a night of intrigue laid out before him.

Regulus’ face flickered with a new emotion this time, one you couldn’t distinguish as easily. A slight furrow appeared between his brows. “I don’t.” His tone was finite, but his gaze was questioning.

“Yes, you do,” you retorted, voice hushed despite the fact that everyone else was probably awake already. “Quite a chatterbox, actually.”

“I…” Regulus seemed at a loss for words, rolling back over onto his back and looking at the ceiling with a faraway gaze. “I used to. When I was little, or so Sirius claimed. But I haven’t done it since.”

The conflicted intensity of his reaction began to make sense to you. Despite yourself, you inched a bit closer to him on the bed, your knees now touching the side of his thigh. “You did last night,” you urged softly. “You must have started again recently. Maybe it began after you finally… got out.”

Regulus shook his head, looking at you sideways. “No, I’ve slept in the same room as someone else almost every day since. I slept on the sofa with Barty yesterday. He would have given me hell if I talked in my sleep then. I couldn’t have.”

You knew he was right about that. Barty was ruthless. Your voice was careful at your next suggestion. “Maybe tonight was the first time then.”

Your words hung between you, heavy but perhaps in a way that spoke of comfort and not burden. Regulus’ eyes remained on yours, and you could practically watch him piecing together the significance of your revelation.

You wondered if he would get up. If he would back away, as he so often had when confronted with his own emotions, especially those tied to his past.

Instead, his lips eventually twitched into the smallest of smiles. “What did I say?”

You returned his smile tenfold. Slowly, you reached out to put your hand over his on his chest. He intertwined your fingers. “Where to begin, songbird?”

[sunskisser]

crystals | r.b.

regulus black x whimsical!reader

“Baby,” Regulus’ voice comes out two parts affection and one part exasperation as he feels your knees pressing down into the bed on either side of him. You hum distractedly in response, mind wandering to places he knows he can never follow.

He cracks his eyes open, a small smile involuntarily making its way onto his face at the sight of you. You’re as pretty as you always are, so pretty he wonders if you’re actually a dryad of some sort. You certainly look the part, with daisies braided into your hair and miniature toadstool earrings.

He watches as you outstretch your fingers to fiddle with the chain on his neck, your eyebrows bunched in concentration. Your tongue juts out of your lip adorably as you bite down on it, and he resists the urge to kiss you senseless.

The chain Regulus was wearing was nothing more than a thick black string, but it was knotted around various small crystals, courtesy of your hobby of collecting them. When he had first asked you out with a ring, you had shyly given him this string with a single crystal hanging from it – a rose quartz. “For my unconditional love,” you had mumbled, blushing so hard he thought you mirrored a rose. But the pink that coated your cheeks was a lovelier shade than any flower he had laid his eyes on.

From then on, you would knot new crystals onto the string whenever you found them. Regulus was pretty sure some of them had to have been rocks or pebbles, but he loved you too much not to indulge you.

“Mon chéri,” he tries again, amusement seeping into his tone. “It’s 5 in the morning.”

“So?” you ask distractedly, your fingers still tugging and pulling his necklace from side to side. “5AM is when the crystals are most active, you know. This is when they pull the most power from the core of the earth,” you explain matter-of-factly, so dedicated to your task that you don’t notice his smile widening.

You sway forward slightly, unable to balance on the balls of your knees. Regulus silently wraps his palms around your hips, tugging downward until you’re comfortably seated on his stomach.

That was when he noticed you had odd-shaped stones in one of your hands, sunlight reflecting off of them to give a pale blue glow. “What are those?”

You perk up at his question, abandoning your task of trying to tie the stones onto the string. Your head tilts upwards to give him a sunny smile. “They’re aquamarine crystals, obviously.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, his smile softening. It doesn’t matter how many times you do this, it’s always just as endearing to him. The way you smile fondly at him – like he’s silly for not knowing.

“Yeah,” you beam. “I found these in the stream nearby, the one next to the big daisy field with all the horsies.”

“You walked into the water again, then?”

It’s too laden with fondness to sound accusatory, but you turn slightly sheepish anyway, nodding. Your hands find their way back to his necklace, and this time you manage to loop the string around a crystal successfully. Your face lights up, obviously pleased with your work.

He huffs out a laugh, leaning forward to run his hands down your long skirt. As expected, he finds it damp and sticky. “You’ll have to take a bath, mon amour.”

“In the stream?”

“No,” he mutters, trying but failing to conceal his amused grin. He presses his elbows into the mattress, hoisting himself upwards to press an amorous kiss to your forehead. He can’t help himself, the blush on your cheeks and the shy smile too much for his heart to handle. “In the shower, baby.”

“Oh,” you reply as a way of answer, and Regulus can’t help but chuckle at the slight disappointment in your voice. “Maybe I can shower in the water tomorrow, then? With all the ducks. These ducks are nice; they eat the bread I throw at them. You can come too if you’d like.”

“Maybe,” he replies indulgently, with absolutely no intention of letting you bathe with the ducks instead of with him — but he was never one to deny you anything you asked for.

[slut4prongs]

calming

regulus black x gn!reader

500 words

description: regulus gets anxious in a hectic environment and your presence calms him + sirius finds it baffling

You and your friends are all sitting around the Gryffindor common room, James and Peter are on the ground in front of the fireplace playing a game of magic chess.

Remus is sitting on the couch across from you reading, Sirius is laying against the arm of the same couch with his legs draped across Remus’ lap while loudly announcing every move Peter and James make in their game. 

Lily is sitting in an armchair working on an upcoming essay, while Mary is sitting on the floor leaning against Lily’s legs drawing in a sketchbook. 

Marlene is passed out in the lap of her girlfriend Dorcas, who after sneaking into the common room took up one of the other armchairs.

Also having been snuck in, is your boyfriend Regulus, who is currently sitting next to you on the couch while you read.

-

You're deeply enthralled in the story completely used to the noisiness of your common room. Unlike you, Regulus is not used to the environment, as he has just recently rekindled his relationship with his brother to be hanging out in there with you all.

You are observant of your boyfriend though and take notice when his breathing begins to get heavier and his body language gets tenser.

Carefully and slowly, as to not draw much attention from your friends around the room, you move your hand closest to Regulus off your book and gently place it on his leg and begin to rub your thumb slowly against it.

You can physically feel the muscles in his thigh relax under your touch which makes you smile softly at the book in front of you.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Regulus glance over at you which makes you look up at him and smile at him.

"What're you doing, love?" He questions you.

You lift your book slightly and wiggle it before you speak. "Reading, obviously. Do we need to borrow James' glasses?"

The corners of Regulus's lips turn up ever so slightly at your comment, before he shakes his head lightly and huffs out a small laugh.

"No, I think my eyesight is just fine,"

He takes your hand on his leg in his own and starts to twist and pull the rings adorning your fingers - most of which are gifts from him.

You smile and lean into his side more before returning to your book allowing him to mess with your rings as much as he likes.

You'd let him do whatever if he asked, if you're being honest.

-

Across the room from you on the other couch sits another couple consisting of one flabbergasted Sirius Black.

"What. The. Fuck. Moony look." Sirius nudges the boy next to him.

Remus looks up at the couple before them before turning to look at his boyfriend.

"What about it Sirius?"

"They just put their hand on his leg and he immediately calmed down!"

Remus continues to just stare at the raven-haired male, unimpressed. So Sirius continues speaking "He hasn't so much as let me poke him since he was 10!"

With a simple roll of his eyes Remus returns to his book after saying "You should just be happy your little brother has someone who makes him feel comfortable, Pads."

Sirius glances back and forth between his brother and his boyfriend for a moment before he huffs dramatically and flops down to rest his head on Remus's lap.

-