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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

hi hun!! i have another in a week :]] it's a little less cute than sunshine reader, but i read the fic where reader swore at someone and everyone was shocked and i thought it was so funnyy

i was thinking a.. hothead!reader who's got a sailor mouth and quick temper, so naturally she curses a LOT. and the boys dare her to try not to curse for just one day, and she accepts it, but without them even doing anything mischievous to tick her off, she drops something and she's like "fuck- shit, damn it!" and the boys are just giggling their head off and constantly reminding her to put money in the swear jar

ooh and maemae, i love the way you write descriptions omgg <333 especially when you write from james' pov, he's such a sweetheart!! ahh you're such an amazing writer, your stuff gives me all the warm fuzzies :] i hope you're taking care of yourself in the midst of writing all these requests!!

- ✏️

Thank you my love!

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poly!marauders x hothead!reader ♡ 677 words

You know your boyfriends are plotting something. You eye them suspiciously as Sirius whispers to James, both of them giggling like children.

“What,” you say flatly.

James doesn’t even bother trying to hide his grin. “Nothing, sweetheart.”

You huff, biting your lip before you can call him any name that’ll make you lose your prize. It’s nine in the morning, and you’ve only got about sixteen hours to go with no cursing. Twelve if you go to bed early as a measure of self-censure.

Remus had raised an eyebrow at you after a particularly colorful stream of expletives the night before, asking as you made your contribution to the swear jar, “Do you think you could go even one day without swearing like that?” You said you could, and Sirius had pounced on the opportunity for a wager, betting you that you couldn’t go the entire next day without using a single curse word.

You’re sure the boys were hoping you’d forget overnight, but you weren’t accustomed to losing, and damned if you weren’t going to get your prize. Sirius had so little faith in you that he’d agreed to letting you pick what movies you all watched for the next month if you won the bet. The next month. That meant a month-long reprieve from those stupid fucking heist movies they all loved so much.

You’re also certain that, failing their first plan of your poor memory, your boyfriends are going to be cooking up some other scheme to make you falter. One of their famous pranks, to be sure. They tease you incessantly for your short fuse, and they’re bound to try and ignite it any way they can today.

You wonder what it’ll be. Dog breath potion slipped into your water bottle? Stink pellets tossed into your room? Or maybe something so simple as salt in your coffee?

You look down at the mug Remus handed you a minute ago, sniffing at it. They always use Remus when they want to be inconspicuous; it’s so hard to suspect him. But he wants you to lose the bet as much as anyone.

You stand, carrying your still-full mug into the kitchen.

“Not this time,” you mutter.

Remus looks up from his paper, frowning at you as you stomp over to the sink. “Dove, what are you doing?”

“You must think I’m so gullible,” you drawl, pouring the hot coffee down the drain. “There’s no way I’m ingesting anything you—” the handle of the mug slips from your grasp, the dish shattering in the sink “—ah, fuck!” You look up to see Sirius’ eyes widen, glee sparking to life, and realize what you’ve done. “Shit. Damn it!”

Remus puts a hand over his mouth while Sirius hoots, and James simply collapses in giggles, disappearing behind the couch.

“Tha—that was too easy,” Sirius cackles, using his forefinger to wipe under his eyes. “We didn’t even do anything yet!”

“Sweetheart, I’m almost disappointed,” Remus says, shaking his head even as he grins from ear-to-ear. “I thought you’d make it to the afternoon at least. Get your money for the jar.”

“That’s, what?” James' voice comes from behind the couch. “Three dollars?”

“Five,” you say gravely, holding up your favorite finger on each hand. “Fuck you, you assholes.”

“Pretty sure that’s six, babydoll.” Sirius cheeses at you. “Gestures count, don’t they Prongs?”

“A dollar per hand,” James agrees, now recovered enough to sit up on the couch.

You seethe at them, and Remus comes into the kitchen to help you clean up your mess, patting your shoulder consolingly.

“We’ll put it towards date night,” he says.

“Good idea.” Sirius kicks his feet up on the table, making a show of lounging in his chair. “I’m thinking tonight, we order in from that Indian place and watch The Italian Job. What do you think, lads?”

You bristle, but Remus sees the comeback sizzling on your tongue and squeezes your shoulder warningly. “Save your money, dove. Want me to make you some more coffee? Seems like you might need it today.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

In a week-

I saw you did royal Bodyguard poly!marauders to sunshine!reader, ans I was wondering if we could get something like that but instead reader is a little sneakt bitch who uses escaping her bodyguards as a fun pastime?????

Thanks for requesting!!

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bodyguard!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 979 words

You’re about to take a sip from your cup when your wrist is gripped by a strong hand, stopping it from reaching your mouth.

“You have no idea what’s in there.”

“Hi, Jamie,” you shoot him a smile, warm and loose all over from the drinks you’ve already had. “Sure I do. It’s a rum and coke. Pretty straightforward, actually.”

“He means,” Remus says, prying your fingers from around the cup and setting it on the bar, “that you probably weren’t watching to see if anyone slipped something into it, and unfortunately for you, we weren’t here to do it for you.”

You don’t have to look around to know Sirius will be here as well, your three bodyguards relentless and nearly impossible to shake. Still, you’re a bit proud you’d managed to get free for a little over an hour tonight. That’s not an easy task.

“No one here is going to drug me,” you say, though you know that’s not strictly true, and you go on before one of them can contradict you. “How’d you find me anyway?”

James gives you a deadpan look, the closest thing you ever get to anger from him. “If we told you, you’d just figure out how to get around it next time.” He sets a hand on your shoulder, pushing you gently away from the bar. “Come on, let’s go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you say, and despite your best intentions, your voice comes out with a petulant edge. “Why can’t we stay here?”

“You know very well you’re allowed to go out,” Remus says as he and James steer you towards the exit. “But we haven’t had time to look around this place, and you’re supposed to be studying at Kate’s.”

“So this is a punishment.” It’s not a question, but Sirius answers you anyway, draping an arm around your shoulders as you meet him by the door.

“Yes, it is,” he says lightly. “You almost killed Remus tonight, doll, and attempted murder deserves a time-out at the very least.”

Even whilst scolding you, Sirius’ voice is teasing. Between the three of them, you know he’s the least upset with you. He might be a bit frustrated, sure, but he seems to also harbor a tiny bit of respect or understanding for what he calls your ill-timed rebellious phase. Though to be fair, you’d never had much cause for rebellion before your mom had forced a security detail upon you. You were used to doing whatever you wanted, and what you wanted had never seemed so wild until one day you needed permission to go outside and your privacy was blown to smithereens.

You step out into the cool night air, and Sirius rubs your upper arm when you shiver. Remus leads you all towards the parking lot, and you’re secretly glad to be able to get into a warm car even if you’re still stubbornly yearning for the mundanity of the bus.

“I know you think of running off as trying to get back some sort of freedom,” James says, and his voice is gentler now if not quite friendly, “but it’s not going to feel like freedom if while you’re off by yourself one of your mom’s…critics,” he decides, using the most delicate term possible, “takes the opportunity to kidnap you.”

“Or kill you.” Remus says gruffly, his posture extra-stiff as he scans the parking lot, eyes skimming over every dark corner and potentially occupied vehicle.

“Their issue is with her, not me,” you sigh, somewhere between frustrated and resigned. “You should be protecting her.”

“She’s got her own detail,” Remus reminds you. “And it wouldn’t be the first time extremists have targeted a politician’s family to get at them.”

You’re silent at that, and the boys let you stew in it, the memory of your mother’s face when she’s gotten the news that her coworker’s son had been killed in their home. She’d grieved for her friend that day, but her panic had been for herself. For you.

“We’ve got to find a way around this need to escape, angel,” James says, opening the door to the backseat and offering you a hand in. You nod hello to Marcus, your mom’s driver, whose duties have apparently been extended to picking you up when you go “missing” for an hour or two. Sirius gets in on your other side, Remus taking the passenger seat. “Are we really so awful to be around?”

“No,” you say, though you know the question was meant in jest. They deserve to know anyway. “You guys are great. It’s your job that’s the problem.”

“Unfortunately, it’s still our job,” Remus says, turning around to fix you with a look. It works, and you shrink in your seat. Remus is such a kind, gentle soul, especially considering his profession, so when he focuses his disapproval like this, it always leaves you feeling thoroughly shamed. “Every time you slip off, we have to act as if you’ve been kidnapped, even if we know better. And you very well could be kidnapped. You just—” He shakes his head, and guilt sprouts, winding and thorny, in your gut. “—I don’t think you understand the danger you’re putting yourself in when you do this.”

You nod, forcing yourself to look him in the eye so he knows you’re really listening. “I’m sorry. I’ll…” you sigh, indignation eating at you even as you give in. “I’ll try to work with you guys more.”

“That’s all we’re asking, sweetheart,” James says, bumping your shoulder with his lightly, and you know you’re at least mostly forgiven.

“For tonight,” Sirius drawls, “are you going to actually stay in your room, or is one of us going to have to tie you to the bed?” He winks. “Because if you need me to, I can totally do that, dollface.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

any chance you'd be willing to do disassociating!reader with sirius as a fade into you prompt?

Thanks for requesting!

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cw: mentions of blood, reader is in shock/dissociates after injury-related trauma

Sirius Black x reader ♡ 1.1k words

You’ve long since stopped shaking by the time you get back to your apartment, but it still takes you a few tries to get the key in the door, your movements robotic and seeming somehow separate from you.

“Hey, you’re home late,” Sirius greets you as you walk through the door. “I was just starting to think about dinner. How would you feel about…shit.” He stops as he comes into the living room, gaze snagging on your legs, dried blood staining them from the knees down. Your shoes, which used to be white but are now a rusty brown. “What happened to you?”

“It’s not mine.”

“Okay.” He’s still standing a good few feet away, like you’re characters in a play, reciting your lines without moving. “Whose is it?”

“Macy’s.”

“Alright.” The word is meaningless, but not any more than the rest of them, you suppose. Sirius steps closer, slowly, as if wary of spooking you. “Is she okay?”

“She, uh.” You swallow. “Yeah, she’s okay. Or she will be. She fell and hit her head, but they said she’ll be okay.”

“Who said, darling?”

“The nurses. I just got back from the hospital.” You remember the ambulance ride there, the ridiculous quiet of it all. You’d thought that when someone was hurt that bad, hospitals were all beeping and yelling and people running around. But they’d only asked Macy questions in calm, measured voices, no beeping or alarms to be heard. What did you have to eat today? Do you know why you fell?

“Sweetheart.” Sirius looks gutted, and you don’t know why he’s using that tone with you. You’re not the one who cracked your head open. “You should have called me, lovely. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

“You were at work.” It’s simple, a fact. “Anyway, there was nothing you could do.”

Sirius takes your face in his hand, and it feels like he’s touching someone else, your skin waxy and foreign. “I would have left work to be there with you. It sounds like it was an awful thing to have to deal with by yourself.”

You guess it probably was. You’d had to put pressure on Macy’s head until the paramedics got there, kneeling in a pool of her blood as it seeped from the wound and time seemed sluggish and unreal. You know, objectively, that it was one of the more awful experiences you’ve had, and you’ll probably be dreaming about it for years. But it doesn’t feel that way right now. Nothing feels any sort of way right now.

“How long were you at the hospital for?” Sirius asks. “When did this happen?”

You don’t know. It was…the sun was still out, when she fell on the sidewalk. But the length of time you were sitting there with her, or the time in the ambulance, is all stretched out and murky. You know you got back to your car and drove home, but you can’t recall any part of the journey. You leave that last bit out of what you tell Sirius, but his frown deepens anyway.

“That’s okay,” he says. “Let’s get you cleaned up, huh? Here, let me take those off.”

He bends over, untying your shoes for you, and you watch as dried blood flakes off the laces where they bend unwillingly. Sirius doesn’t comment on it, slipping your shoes off one after the other and setting them by the door. His hands are delicate about your shoulders as he steers you into the bathroom, sitting you down on the toilet. You’re distantly cognizant of him moving about, opening and closing a cabinet and turning on the faucet, but it’s not until he crouches in front of you that he enters your awareness again.

Sirius takes your ankle in his hand and begins just below your knee, rubbing a warm, wet washcloth over the blood staining the skin there. He’s talking, still, in a low voice, but the murmurings don’t seem to have much importance other than placation. It’s more ambient noise than anything else. He works the washcloth down your leg, the rough fabric scrubbing gently at your skin. He presses harder in some areas where the blood is stubborn, and that’s where you feel it most. The beginnings of real sensation, connected to you rather than some shell that you occupy and that moves when you tell it to.

By the time he starts on your other leg you feel as though you’ve been thinking through a dense fog that’s beginning to lift; you’re able to feel the warm droplets of water running down your calf and make out some of the quiet words spewing from your boyfriend’s mouth. He finishes with your legs, and you hold up your hands, now trembling again. The blood there is cracked around the lines of your palm, and Sirius takes your hand in his, wiping it away gently. You can feel the cloth even more there, where it brushes against your sensitive fingertips. You can tell now that Sirius is telling you stories, various anecdotes of when he or his friends had gotten hurt.

“It’s scary to see someone you care about in pain,” he goes on at a murmur. “Even when you know they’ll be alright, I think it hurts worse than when we’re in pain ourselves.”

A tear dribbles down your cheek, landing with a splat on your thigh, and Sirius looks up, surprise morphing into heartbreak when he sees your expression. He drops the cloth on the floor, rising to an awkward height so that you can put your head against his shoulder when his arms come around you.

“I know, baby.” His voice sounds almost fragile, as though he’s feeling this as acutely as you are. “I’m so sorry you went through that. Are you feeling a little more like yourself?”

“Yeah,” you sniff. Your tears are still coming slowly, and you know the majority of your panic is still buried somewhere safe inside of you, but this is enough for now. “Sorry, I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

Sirius pulls back, thumbing away your tears as he studies your face, eyebrows set close together in concern. “I think you’re in shock, sweetness. It makes sense, that’s a lot for anyone to have to see.” He strokes at your hairline, just beside your eye. “Do you want to talk about it? If not, we don’t have to. We can just watch a movie or something, try to forget about it for tonight.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find the voice inside yourself that usually tells you who you are, what you want. It’s still quiet, but you think that’s answer enough. “The second one, please. I don’t think I’m ready to think about it yet.”

“Alright, whatever you want.” Sirius nods, rising and offering you his hands to help pull you up. You take them, and he presses a kiss to your forehead as soon as you’re standing. “Whenever you feel ready, lovely, I’ll be here.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Hello you wonderful, WONDERFUL creation of brilliance! I have another request for the 1k if thats alright.

I think it would be two ghosts?? But its reader x remus (again) where she know hes a werewolf without being told and uses halloween to tell/show him because she can see how guilty he feels for not telling her and scared to tell her.

How/why she knows and how she tells him is up to you love!!

Thank you love x (hopefully that's coherent, toddlers suck and ive only slept 3hrs 😭)

Thanks for requesting (and omg, I hope the toddler(s) become more manageable) <3

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Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus comes to the door looking endearingly rumpled. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and a wrinkled t-shirt, his hair is fluffy from lying in bed all day, and his pillowcase has left a faintly pink crease on his cheek. You gather all this from the split second between him opening the door and promptly shutting it in your face.

“Remus?” you knock again. “Come on, let me in.”

After a moment in which you can picture him sighing laboriously on the other side, the door cracks open just wide enough for you to see one eye, narrowed with displeasure. Were it anyone else or under any other circumstances, you’d really be quite offended. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

You hold up your bag. “I didn’t think you’d want to face the slew of trick-or-treaters bound for your house alone. I brought movies for us and candy for them. Or, well, the candy can be for both, actually.”

Remus is silent for a moment, and you press at the door insistently. “Let me in, Rem.”

He capitulates with a sigh, stepping back to let the door fall open. His apartment is dark, every curtain drawn, and it takes your eyes a second to adjust after stepping out of the sunlight. There’s half a dozen empty takeout containers strewn about the coffee table, and the space has the stale aroma that comes from lack of movement.

Remus has that aroma, too, you realize as you step closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek regardless. He looks like he could use it.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says dully. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Course you weren’t,” you wave him off. “How could you have been? You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

Remus closes his eyes as if this conversation is already too much for him, and you feel instantly guilty.

“It’s okay, honey,” you say gently, stacking the takeout containers to clear some space for your candy. “You’re allowed to take some time to yourself. It’d be nice if you’d let me know in the future, but I’m not upset at you. I promise.”

His features relax slightly, a tension you’d barely noticed around his eyes easing. “Thanks, love. Sorry.”

“It’s really alright,” you promise, taking him by the hand to pull him down onto the couch with you. “Listen, you seem like you’re not feeling well, so I know you might not want company right now, but would you be open to just having a relaxing night? We can watch Halloween movies and eat sweets, and I’ll handle all the trick-or-treaters.”

“Yeah?” Remus looks at you with something between hope and sadness, and your heart breaks for him. You squeeze his hand lightly, like your boyfriend is a sponge that you can squeeze all the woe out of and force to absorb your love instead. “That sounds really nice, dove. Thank you.”

“Course,” you say brightly, and you’re unable to resist pressing your lips to his cheek again before you turn back to your bag, laying your small collection of movies on the table. “Okay, we have some options.”

Remus hums. “Well, there’s Halloween, the obvious choice.”

“But too obvious?” you muse. “I mean, we definitely have time to watch more than one, but we only get to watch these at a certain time of year, love. Let’s not be hasty.” He chuckles, and your heart flutters. “I know The Exorcist is a classic, but it might be too scary for me, honestly. Um…Dracula is good…oh! This one’s my favorite.”

Remus looks to where you’re pointing. “The Werewolf of Washington?”

You pretend you don’t hear the slightly hoarse quality of his voice. “Yup! It’s so funny, and I like that it’s technically a Halloween movie even though werewolves aren’t really scary.”

He pauses. “You don’t think so?”

You do your best to appear blasé, knowing you have to tread carefully here. “No, of course not,” you say, as if the mere idea is foolish. “I mean, they’re dangerous, sure, but as people, they don’t really mean any harm. It’s not their fault.”

Remus is being oddly quiet, and you babble on anxiously.

“If I were a werewolf, I’d hope my friends wouldn’t care about me any less. It’s not like it’s me, it’s just something I have to deal with once a month. I mean, would you stop loving me if I turned out to be a werewolf?”

“No,” Remus says slowly, eyes narrowed to the point where they’re just amber. The circles under his eyes look really dark, you note with concern. You wonder if he hasn’t been sleeping. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?”

You take a breath, gnawing on your lip. “I think it’s more about if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

He slouches into the cushions, features slackening in resignation. “Seems like you already know.”

“I’m sorry to do it this way,” you say genuinely, grateful that he hasn’t pulled his hand from your grip as you run your thumb over his knuckles soothingly. “I know it’s your secret, and you should get to tell anyone whenever you like, but I’ve known for awhile, and when James told me how down you’ve been this week—”

“What,” Remus says sharply, “did James say exactly.”

“He only told me that you were sick. I asked if you might like a visitor, and he said he thought you’d rather be alone.” Remus sighs, tipping his head back against the couch. You can see the strain of the upcoming full moon on his face, his features pale and gaunt.

“He didn’t have to tell me, honey,” you say quietly. “I guessed on my own. I know it’s a big deal, and I’m sure it’s been a massive burden for you." You run your thumb tenderly over the dark circles under his eyes. “I just wish you wouldn’t assume it’d be a burden to me, too. Give me some credit here, Lupin.”

You feel his cheek twitch as he resists a smile, however small.

“I don’t care, you know,” you go on, emboldened. “I just want to be there for you. It’s killed me not being there for you every month. I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Remus opens his eyes, and your heart swells at the fondness in his gaze, even if it's mingled with wariness.

“Would you watch some movies with me, please?” you ask enticingly. “Or we can nap, or just sit here. Whatever you want to do.”

“You sure you want to stick around?” he asks, and you know he’s talking about more than just tonight. “This time of the month is not pleasant. I’m not pleasant.”

You let your hand slide from his face down to his shoulder, rubbing delicately. “I don’t need you to be pleasant,” you tell him. “I just need you to let me be here.”

Remus sighs. “Alright, but we’re watching Halloween. That werewolf movie is shit.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

This celebration is so cute ahhhh

Two Ghosts - send autumn/Halloween-specific prompts!

anyway, imagine picking out your halloween costume with the marauders

Remus is so supportive of whatever (as long as you don't make him do anything too weird), James wants to do something that matches, and Sirius is all like "this one would make your tits look great, ah babe this one would show off your lovely thighs, I've always wanted to fuck a nurse :)"

I hope I'm doing this right, this is my first time having the pleasure of participating in a celebration!

-🔮

You're good, lovely! Thanks for participating :)

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poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 474 words

“No,” Remus says as Sirius comes pulls up yet another picture of a group costume. “Pads, my one condition is that I get to be fully clothed. I’m not going to change my mind.”

“But we’d look so hot as the sexy Scooby Doo gang,” Sirius whines, but when Remus’ expression doesn’t change, he switches tactics. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to see me in a collar, Moony.”

Remus rolls his eyes, seemingly unaffected. “I could have you in a collar anytime I wanted to. Next.”

“Ooh, I like this one!” James says, swiveling his laptop around for you all to see. “We could be smurfs!”

Sirius sighs heavily, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. “None of you sees the vision,” he laments.

While you can’t say you’re totally on board with Sirius’ plan of walking around in essentially underwear on what’s bound to be a chilly night, you agree with him about this one.

“I don’t love the idea of painting my face and everything blue,” you tell James gently. “Haven’t you seen the videos where it won’t come off?”

“What if we just all went as ghosts,” Remus suggests, patting James’ head consolingly when he pouts. “It’s simple, it’s easy, we all already have sheets.”

“Ghosts,” Sirius says severely, “are not hot.”

“You know what else isn’t going to be hot?” Remus counters. “The weather, on October thirty first.”

“I’m sure we can find a compromise,” you say, moving further onto Sirius’ lap before he can get too amped up. You lean your head against his chest placatingly, looking at the screen of his laptop. “Merlin, these are skimpy.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Sirius murmurs, kissing the crown of your head absentmindedly. He scrolls a bit further, and then you feel him perk up in excitement even before he speaks. “Okay, okay, compromise: nurses and doctor. Rem, you can be a doctor if you want to wear, like, pants or whatever—” he shakes his head as if such a desire is unbelievable “—but the rest of us can be sexy nurses. Look, sweetheart, this neckline will make your tits look great.”

You gaze at the tiny bits of white fabric covering the model in the picture, dread settling like a weight in your gut. “It’s…a lot of skin.”

“Yup.” Sirius nods, pleased with himself. “Gotta show it off, sweet thing. And I get to show you off in the process.”

James gets up, peering over your shoulders to see. “Merlin,” he breathes. “Alright, I’m willing to freeze my ass off if you guys are. So long as we’re doing it together, yeah?”

“We’re gonna be so cold,” you agree.

“Aw, don’t worry sweetheart.” Sirius rubs your shoulder eagerly. “I’m sure Moony will lend you his doctor’s coat if you need it, won’t you handsome?”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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Congrats on 1k love!!! Im so happy for you, you deserve all the love 🩶

Could i request a ravenclaw!reader who's a little volatile (i suppose like dark acadameia) that the slytherins have kind of adopted (because shes volatile not violent and they think its cute). But shes been in a relationship with Remus on the down low and they realise at a halloween party?

I imagine Remus as an angel while reader is a devil and the slytherins were already concerned by the costume but then they notice you and Remus and just loose their marbles. Barty's having a meltdown, evans im shock and Sirius is cackling because Regulus is trying to stand tall but Remus is so much bigger than him its just impossible.

Anyway, tysm for your wonderful self and feel free to twist this however fits you, love!!

Hi lovely, thank you so much! I'm assuming you meant this to be for the Fade Into You part of the celebration since it's a specific reader, and also I don't know the Slytherin boys very well so I feel like my characterization could be wayyyyy off but I hope this is alright!

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Remus Lupin x Ravenclaw!reader ♡ 930 words

You’re dancing with your friends when your drink is plucked suddenly from your hand.

“Hey!” You spin around to find the thief, and then your tone changes completely. “Hey, Remus, you came!” You crash into him, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. Remus hugs you back the best he’s able, a drink in each hand. “And you wore your costume!” You grin as you pull away, resting a hand on either side of his face to admire how soft and sweet he looks in seraphim white. “Is that glitter on your cheeks?”

Said cheeks grow warm under your hands. “That’s Sirius’ touch.”

“You look very pretty.” He grins, and you stand on tiptoe to whisper sweetly in his ear, “Now give me back my drink, pretty boy.”

Remus’ smile doesn’t waver, but he becomes a tad more serious about the eyes. “How many have you had?”

“Oh, don’t be such a drag, Lupin,” Barty pipes up, coming up behind you to sling an arm around your shoulder. “She’s fine, and not that it’s any business of yours, but we won’t let anything happen to her.”

“She just seems like maybe she’s had enough,” Remus replies, and his tone is far from unkind, but there’s an edge of admonishment to it that has Barty bristling noticeably. He turns back to you, voice softening. “What do you say, lovely, want to go sit down for a little while?”

You look at Barty, who raises an eyebrow at you. Behind him, Reggie stands with his arms crossed, looking bored with the whole thing.

“I won’t be gone long,” you say in apology, and Barty scoffs disgustedly, but releases you.

“Fine, go play with your costume buddy,” he says. “We’ll be here when you get sick of him.”

You take Remus’ hand in one of yours, flipping Barty off with the other.

“Are we really going to sit down?” you whisper hopefully, and Remus chuckles.

“Yeah, we are. Sorry, sweetheart, but you’re not exactly walking in a straight line right now.”

You grin, tugging at his hand playfully. “That’s just ‘cause I’m a rebel. The boys would never let me hang out with them if I walked the straight and narrow.”

“That so?” Remus hums, pulling you down onto a couch beside him. “Have I mentioned how nice you look yet? You really do.”

“I’m not supposed to look nice.” You roll your eyes, shuffling closer to him. “I’m a devil, Rem. I’m supposed to look hot and salacious.”

Remus graces you with a smile, brushing a piece of hair from in front of your eye. “You do look hot, but you look nice too. I don’t think you can help that one, dovey.”

“Yeah?” You bat your eyelashes, moving into his lap. Remus’ eyebrow quirks up slightly, cheeks glittering with the movement, but he doesn’t stop you. “Is it just that I radiate sweetness?” You kiss his jaw. “And patience?” Remus’ cheek is faintly pink where you press your lips. “Innocence, certainly,” you tease, breath hot on his ear, “but what else?”

“Dove,” he whispers, “I think your friends are watching.”

“Hm?” You look up, and sure enough, Regulus, Barty, and Evan are standing just a few feet away by the punch bowl, expressions ranging from bewilderment to abject horror. “Oh. Oops.”

“I—I can’t,” Barty sputters. “I can’t be seeing this. Are you plastered? Get off him.”

You don’t, but Remus does it for you, standing and setting you on your feet as Regulus stalks forward. He stops with his arms crossed in front of the two of you.

“Is this who you’ve been ditching us for lately?” he asks you.

You start to reply, but Barty talks over you. “No.” He shakes his head. “No, there’s no way. There’s no way.”

Others have started migrating toward you to watch the show, among them Remus’ friends. Normally you wouldn't care, but Remus is beginning to squirm, so you try to calm things down for his benefit.

“You guys are overreacting,” you say, as peaceably as you’re capable of. “As if it really matters what house my boyfriend is in.”

“Boyfriend?” Barty despairs, and you should have known better than to think anything could quell his dramatics once they’ve begun. “God, as if the costumes weren’t bad enough, you have to throw lovey-dovey terms like boyfriend around.”

A peal of laughter sounds from somewhere nearby, and you look around to find Sirius, eyes already wet with mirth as he watches his younger brother. “Reggie,” he manages between giggles, “are you trying to look taller than him?”

Reg raises an unimpressed brow, and anyone who didn’t know him well might not notice the flicker of embarrassment in his gaze. “Don’t be stupid,” he says, but his posture is better than you’ve ever seen it, his neck elongated in an attempt to look Remus in the eyes without having to tilt his head.

“Reg.” Sirius swipes under his eyes. “You may be taller than me, but you’re never gonna get all the way up there.” “Alright,” you say decisively, taking Remus’ hand and proceeding to push past Regulus’ stiff form. You shoot Evan a half-apologetic look as you go by, still standing frozen like he’s been stupefied, and Barty follows your movement with eyes blown wide. “Just for that, we’re going back to you guys’ dorm, Black. And we’re going to fuck, loudly, all night.” You shoot your most winning smile in his direction, even as Remus’ face takes on a fiery hue beneath the white glitter. “I wouldn’t recommend coming home. Goodnight!”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

congrats!!!! how about fade into you with tasm!peter and touch starved!reader, in an established relationship???

Thanks honey!!

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tasm!Peter Parker x touch starved!reader ♡ 960 words

When Peter gets home, you’re in another long, hot shower. With no one to witness how pathetic it looks, you’ve taken to sitting on the floor, letting the scalding water wash over your back and drip from your lashes. Your skin will be pinkish and puffy when you get out, but it won’t matter; you’ve got nothing to do other than wrap yourself in blankets and sit on the bed for the rest of the night.

When Peter’s voice comes, it sounds muffled, faraway, but you snap to attention nonetheless.

“Sweetheart?” A faint knocking. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” you say without hesitation, scrambling up and shutting off the water.

“Shit, it’s steamy in here,” he says as the door opens. “Want me to pass you a towel?”

“That’s alright.” You grab the towel you’ve hung by the shower, hastily scrubbing yourself dry and wrapping it around you.

Peter’s hands are on either side of the face the second you turn around, pushing your wet hair out of the way so he can kiss you properly. It’s a sweet, brief thing, and your chest aches slightly when he pulls back.

“Ouch, babe.” His hands feel cool as they move down to your shoulders. You shiver pleasantly. “Your skin’s burning hot. How long were you in there?”

You really should get another towel to stop your hair from dripping all over the floor, but you can’t stand to move away from Peter’s touch. “I was bored,” you reply, “and the hot water is nice.”

“Seems like it was more than just hot,” he murmurs, grabbing the other towel as if he’s heard your thought and beginning to squeeze the moisture from your hair. “Sorry I was gone so long. I never know how these things are gonna go, you know?”

“I know.” Peter had been attending a weekend conference on some scientist’s new research at a university in Chicago. He was supposed to be back days ago, but apparently he saw some fishy things while he was there that Spiderman felt an obligation to investigate. “Did you find the mutants?”

Peter shrugs, taking you by the shoulders to walk you into the bedroom. The air feels shockingly cold outside of the bathroom, but the warmth of his touch is enough to keep you from minding. “Sorta. It was a group of guys pretending to be mutants. Projectors and stuff combined with actual explosives to make it look like superpowered attacks.” He sits you down and begins digging through drawers, tossing you a pair of sweatpants and one of his shirts. “It was super sophisticated, had to take a ton of planning. Honestly, if they weren’t, like, bad guys, I would’ve been really impressed.”

You shrug the shirt on. “Sounds like you were impressed anyway, honey.”

“Well.” Peter makes a sheepish face. “Just because they’re assholes doesn’t mean they’re not smart assholes, right?”

“Right.” You say, standing to get the sweatpants on. You don’t know where to go from here, feeling oddly hollow but with no good reason. Peter’s here; your loneliness should be vanquished. You hold your elbows awkwardly. “So, how was the conference?”

“Baby.” Peter sounds almost disappointed, and hurt hooks its claws in your gut before you can even figure what you’ve done. “Why’re you all the way over there, huh? You haven’t even asked for a hug yet. Is something wrong?”

You hadn’t realized you were so predictable, but it is a bit odd for you not to tackle him the second he comes through the door. “I don’t think so,” you say, and Peter’s brows twitch together at your uncertain tone. “I just really missed you, Pete.”

He makes a pained, sympathetic sound, opening his arms and stepping toward you. “C’mere, sweetheart.”

And apparently that’s the permission your body was looking for. You meet him in the middle, his arms coming up slow and firm around your shoulder blades. Your chest aches again, but this time it’s almost pleasant, though you feel suddenly like you could cry. Peter seems to know, one arm tightening across both your shoulders while the other hand begins stroking up and down your back.

“Did you have a bad week?” he asks softly, breath tickling your ear.

“No,” you reply honestly. “I think…I think I just needed this.”

Peter gives you a squeeze in response, and you tighten your grip too.

“Let’s just do this forever,” you say, only half joking. “Think you could come to work with me tomorrow to hold my hand all day?”

Peter doesn’t seem willing to roll with your lightness. “Nobody else hugs you when I’m not around, do they?” he asks, and when you don’t respond, he pulls back slightly, taking your face in his hand. “Do they, sweetheart?”

“No,” you say, and you’re not sure why it feels like an admittance. You’re not touchy with your friends, and your coworkers aren’t close like that. When else would you have the opportunity for hugs?

“No wonder you get so lonely when I’m gone.” Peter’s voice is fraught with tenderness, and he pulls you close again, petting your damp hair. “I’ll hold you as long as you like, babe, but after that, we should look into getting you a cat or something.”

“A cat?” You twitch in his hold, perking up hopefully. “I thought your landlord didn’t let you have pets.”

“He doesn’t, but he also doesn’t have to know,” he says easily. “If it’ll keep you from getting sad like this while I��m away, a cat is a small price to pay. Gotta keep my girl happy, you know?”

“I think,” you counter, “that we should get a cat and you should never leave again.”

Peter chuckles, kissing the top of your head lightly. “Deal.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

woo!! my little mix-up is a mix of in a week ( au character ) and fade into you ( specific reader )!!

poly marauders as royal guards to a sunshine reader? :) if it's not too much trouble

- ✏️

Thanks for requesting my love <3

join the party

bodyguard!marauders x sunshine!reader ♡ 683 words

“Princess.” James wraps a hand around your elbow as you try to go out into the garden, his grip gentle but firm. “Just wait a minute, Remus needs to do a sweep before we can go out.”

“But it’s leaving!” you cry, gaze fixed on the orange cat slinking into the bushes with something akin to longing. “He’s gonna scare it off!”

Sirius chuckles. “Remus is great with cats, angel. Knowing him, he’ll have the thing sleeping at the foot of his bed by tonight.”

“But where’ll you sleep?” James asks innocently, snickering when Sirius shoves at his shoulder.

“It’s so cute,” you croon, eyes so heart-shaped James tenses in case you try to bolt for it. “Do you think my mom’ll let me keep it?”

“Think King’s allergic, so no,” Sirius says, squeezing your shoulder in apology.

“What if we keep it a secret?”

James smiles at you, ready to indulge you in your hopeless fantasy, but then Remus comes back.

“All clear,” he says seriously, and James nods at him as you rush through the door.

It never fails to surprise him how quick you are when you want to be, and he and the others have to break into a jog to keep you within a reasonable distance as you dash for the cat, stopping a few feet away so as not to spook it.

“Don’t do that,” Sirius says breathlessly, but it’s pointless. You’re beyond listening, all your focus on the orange tabby in front of you.

It hisses as you get closer, and you coo, making little kissy sounds. James tries not to laugh at your obvious desperation, staying back so you can’t blame him when the cat inevitably runs off.

“Be careful,” Remus warns. “We don’t know if it’s friendly, don’t grab it or anything.”

“Oh, of course he’s friendly,” you murmur liltingly, advancing toward the cat slowly and low to the ground. “He’s just scared, the poor baby.” Your voice is light and sweet as meringue, and James’ heart turns to mush in his chest at hearing it. You start to extend your hand cautiously, and the tabby tenses, eyeing you warily. “It’s okay, honey, I’m not going to—” you gasp as the cat lashes out with its claws, drawing your arm back reflexively as it dashes into the bushes and out of sight.

Remus had to have been anticipating it, because he’s at your side before James can move, crouching beside you and taking your arm in his hand. He shushes you softly as you call out after the cat, and James exchanges a look with Sirius, waiting for the dark-haired boy to nod in confirmation that he’ll keep watch before James joins Remus beside you.

“I didn’t even get to pet it,” you say morosely. James frowns at you, patting your shoulder consolingly.

“He didn’t deserve you, angel,” he says, and Remus tsks as he turns your arm over in his grip, four shallow but long scratches oozing blood down your wrist.

“Let’s go inside and get you fixed up,” Remus says gently, and he and James help you up, guiding you back towards the palace as you cast forlorn looks behind you.

“This isn’t a great look for us,” Sirius teases you. “The three of us walking back into the palace with a bleeding princess.”

You give a little laugh, your usual levity restored instantly by his joking. “It’s not like it’s a grave injury,” you reply, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “I don’t know why these two are acting like I can’t walk by myself.”

James chuckles but keeps his hand on your back. “Like Sirius says, it’s not a great look for us. May as well appear to be taking it seriously.”

“Some guards we are,” Remus agrees lightly. “Can’t even protect you from a feral cat.”

“He wasn’t feral!” you say defensively. “He was just scared. He’s misunderstood.”

“Whatever you say, gorgeous.” Sirius shrugs, opening the door for all of you. “All I know is, you’re never getting near an animal again that’s not pre-vetted by one of us. Too risky.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

well deserved 1k!!! i got inspired by the ones you posted yesterday

bodyguard!tasm!peter x reader (can be royal au or not)

i just love the use of spidey senses in fics, especially when being around reader fucks with peter's ability to focus 🥰

Thanks sweetness <3

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bodyguard!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 845 words

Peter doesn’t like to think of himself as being for hire. But, well, he does think of himself as a sort of civic employee. And money is tight. So if the mayor wants to pay Spiderman to keep an eye on his daughter after he’s gotten a few threats, it’s really his civic duty and a good business opportunity.

Still, he’d been expecting some bratty, snot-covered kid, not you, kind and his age and tongue-twistingly beautiful.

“Is this really the safest place for us to be?” you ask nervously.

“I, um, I think so,” Peter stammers, caught off-guard by how cinematic your hair looks blowing around in the wind (like, it’s fucking ridiculous). God, what is he doing? He doesn’t think so, he knows so. He’s supposed to be competent, in-charge, not some moony-eyed dunce. “Not many people can get this high other than me, so I figure if anyone’s trying to get to you, we may as well make it difficult for them.”

You hum your understanding, but you don’t relax. Peter doesn’t blame you; it’s easy for him to forget how scary heights were before he had the security of his web shooters, but he knows this drop must look terrifying. You’re perched at the top of a tower across the street from where your dad is giving a speech. For reasons he hadn’t seen fit to tell Peter (or Spiderman, whatever), the mayor seems to think that this would be a prime time for his political enemies to make a grab for you. Peter hopes it’s not because your dad’s about to say something stupid in front of this giant crowd and on live TV. He’d only mentioned that he’d been getting a few more death threats than usual lately, and wanted to be extra sure you were safe.

Your shoe slips an inch, and you whimper, though you’re still feet away from the edge of the roof.

“You’re okay,” Peter says quickly, moving closer to you. “Listen, the last thing I’m gonna do is let you fall. It’d make me a pretty bad bodyguard, you know?”

“I know,” you say, but you’re nearly panting, your chest rising and falling in shallow bursts as you try to keep your panic under control. “I’m sorry, it’s just—it’s a hard instinct to ignore.”

“I get that,” he says sympathetically. You’re all but sitting down against the sloped roof, fingers pressed to the metal as if you can dig your nails in to save yourself. Fuck, he’s gonna regret this. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I could hold onto you if you want.”

You don’t even hesitate, nodding quickly. “That would make me much more comfortable, actually.”

Peter doesn’t waste any time, breaching the gap between you and wrapping his arm securely around your waist. You’re tense all over, and your nails bite into his shoulder as you grip it like a lifeline. Which, he supposes, you probably think it is. He feels his face grow warm under his mask as you press yourself up against him, but the proximity doesn’t seem to phase you, all your concern still focussed on the hundred foot drop beneath you. You’re shaking a little, and Peter feels guilty for not relieving you sooner, bringing his other arm around you to rub at the goosebumps on your upper arm hesitantly.

“Thanks,” you murmur breathlessly, seeming to relax more now that he’s got both arms around you.

“No problem.” Just doing my job, he thinks sarcastically. Feeling up a pretty girl.

He looks back at the podium across the street to realize the crowd has nearly doubled in size without him noticing. If you were distracting before, he doesn’t even know what to call you now. He can’t tell if his spidey sense is going haywire or if that’s just his nerves, all fired-up from your proximity. How’s he supposed to protect you if he can’t think of anything but how good you smell?

“I really appreciate your help,” you say, voice sweeter now that it’s lost some of its panicked edge, “even if I don’t wholly approve of your methods.” Is that a teasing note he detects? He definitely won’t be able to split his focus if you start flirting with him. “My dad doesn’t let me in the loop on much, do you know if this is just a one-time thing? Or will I be seeing more of you?”

Okay, fuck professionalism. “I’m not really sure,” Peter answers honestly, “but your dad seems like a smart guy, and I’m sure he doesn’t want you to be vulnerable. I mean, you’re already a target because you’re the mayor’s daughter, but a pretty thing like you? You should probably be under full-time protection.”

You really do slip then, gasping as your feet slide out from under you. Peter tugs you close to his side, not letting you move forward more than an inch. “Easy, easy,” he says as you clutch at him, trying to stabilize yourself. Now there’s a little pink coloring your cheeks, too. “I gotcha.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

In a Week - send a character + au and I'll write a blurb for it (like vampire!Eddie, bodyguard!Sirius, etc.)

ROCKSTAR!SIRIUS PLZ

Loveeee him! Thanks for requesting ml :)

join the party

rockstar!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 612 words

Sirius pushes through the crowd of fans with all the politeness he can. Sorry, ‘scuse me, thanks for coming, excuse me. It’s like trying to part the sea, but eventually he makes it to the door of his dressing room, slipping inside and shutting it hastily behind him.

“Sirius!” You’re upon him in a second, eyes ecstatic under your smudged makeup. “You were amazing! Your solo, it was beyond anything I’ve seen—that had to have been your best show on this tour.”

“Thanks, baby,” he says, and that’s about as long as he can restrain himself. The adrenaline of the show is still thrumming in his veins, but it’s happy for a new outlet. You return the kiss with gusto, and Sirius isn’t sure if it’s your sweat or his he’s tasting as you come up on your tiptoes, tongue sweeping over the inside of his top lip.

“Pads—Christ, mate, think you could hold off until the after party at least?” James says from the doorway. “You’re neglecting your fans out here.”

Sirius shoots him a sour look. “VIP pass gets them ten minutes each,” he says, leaving his hand tangled in your hair even when you step back slightly. “They got what they paid for.”

“Siri,” you say softly. “They’re your fans, they just want to see you. Be nice.”

“I was nice,” he replies, though his tone is far kinder than the one he’d used with James. “I was nice to them for ten minutes each, sweetheart, and now I want some time with my girl.”

“You share a hotel room every night and she’s at every one of our shows,” James points out. “You’d think you’d get plenty of time with her.” He turns to you, brown eyes warm behind glasses still vaguely foggy from the exertion of performing. “Not that we aren’t happy to have you, shortcake. We are.”

You smile at him, speaking again before Sirius has the chance to reply. “What if you go out there for another half hour, honey, and then we can skip the after party and go straight to the hotel. Sound good?”

Sirius sighs, bending forward to lean his forehead against your shoulder dramatically. He knows he’s ruining his eyeliner, rubbing it against the sweaty skin of your collarbone, but he doesn’t care. “I was already gonna skip the party,” he mutters.

You laugh, resting your hand atop his hair lightly. “Just an extra half hour. Then we’ll go to the room, order room service, shower…”

You’re making your voice extra enticing, and it works. “Fine,” he sighs, and James grins, slipping out and shutting the door behind him to give you two a moment of privacy. “Tomorrow I’m making you hold my hand all day,” he says, straightening with a groan. “I’m not letting you go until the next show.”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply gamely.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he warns, heading for the door before he gets a chance to change his mind. “There should be brownies in here somewhere, sweetheart. I requested them, you can eat them while I’m gone.”

Your lips part, features morphing into an adorable look of surprise. “You made the venue bring brownies to your room for me?”

Sirius shrugs, but he’s smirking. “You said you were craving them. Gotta keep my girl happy.”

You grab his collar, pressing your lips enthusiastically to his for a brief moment before you let him go. “Thank you, baby,” you say, grinning hugely. “Knock ‘em dead out there. Don’t let any girls make you sign their boobs.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promises, leaving you to your treat and stepping out into the hallway.

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

In a Week - send a character + au and I'll write a blurb for it (like vampire!Eddie, bodyguard!Sirius, etc.)

I'm not picky, can it be a jealous!fic with either poly!marauders or sirius or hell even peter parker????

Lol I’m not sure this really counts as an au but sure! I imagine Sirius Black and his Slytherin babe aren’t exclusive just yet, so I decided to use your request as an excuse to write him being a bit upset about that, thanks honey!

join the party

Sirius Black x Slytherin!reader ♡ 950 words

Sirius doesn’t know why he’d talked his friends into coming to this stupid party in the first place. James is bickering with half of the Slytherin quidditch team, Remus is just emanating annoyance, and Sirius is watching you over the rim of his cup as you endeavor to swab the back of some seventh-year’s throat with your tongue.

He’d come to see you, obviously, but you don’t even know he’s here, turned away from him where you’ve backed the Slytherin boy up against the wall. Sirius knows it’s a bad idea, but he doesn’t try to halt the natural course of his thoughts; he wonders if this bloke is biting your bottom lip the way you like, if he knows to kiss that place under your jaw that turns you to putty, if he appreciates how silky the hair he’s got his fingers tangled in is, how much work you put into making it that soft. Sirius knows too well what the fucker is feeling right now. How demanding you can be when you want something, fingernails digging into the soft skin of his shoulders, the way you tilt your chin to kiss up at him. He hopes this guy knows how good he’s got it, and he also hopes you’re not actually doing any of the things you do with Sirius.

The seventh-year grabs a handful of your ass, and that’s it.

Sirius stalks across the room, pretending to be headed for the punch table before stumbling and tossing his drink down the boy’s pants.

“Whoops,” he says, not bothering to add much inflection to his voice as the boy looks at him in outrage. “Sorry, mate.”

“Sirius.” Your eyebrows come together, lips swollen and eyes somewhat glazed. The sight makes Sirius’ blood thrum on instinct and memory, but he ignores it. “What’re you—”

“What the fuck, Black?” The Slytherin shoves him, and Sirius has to bite back a giggle—a giggle, how sadistic would that look—itching for a fight. “You and your friends are crashing Slytherin parties now just to pick fights?”

He thinks he sees a whoosh of red in his periphery, and wonders if it’s James or Remus that’ll be coming to his rescue, but then you’re stepping in front of him, so close that lovely hair is tickling his nose.

“Rhodes,” you say sharply, and Sirius doesn’t blame Rhodes for freezing. He would too, if you used that tone on him. “Go get cleaned up. I’ll handle this.”

Rhodes curls his lip at Sirius as he goes towards the dorms, but Sirius isn’t easily intimidated by people who run away. Then you whirl on him, and he sort of gets it.

“What the hell was that?” you ask, grabbing him by the sleeve and dragging him into a corner so you’re less of a spectacle. “What are you even doing here?”

“Thought I’d stop by and see what all the hype was about.” Sirius leans back against the wall, crossing his arms and looking about the room. “Have to say, I’m not particularly impressed. The PDA at Gryffindor parties is at least usually tasteful.”

You scoff at him, cocking an eyebrow. “You wish we were having PDA at Gryffindor parties, Black.” Apparently Sirius doesn’t respond quickly enough, or more likely something in his expression betrays him, because in the next second your own face sobers. “We never said we were exclusive.”

“I know that,” he says automatically, though in truth he’d never thought of it. Your relationship had been mostly casual thus far, but what needs could you have that Sirius wasn’t meeting? What could you want from other guys? “I just didn’t expect to be assaulted with the sight of it on a Thursday night.”

You sigh as though Sirius is a difficult child you have to appease. “Well, when you come to my house’s party without letting me know in advance, I can’t exactly prepare to accommodate what you do or don’t want to see.”

It’s all Sirius can do to keep his insouciant facade intact when you talk like that, as if he’s only one in your lineup of men, and the most demanding one at that. “Oh?” he asks, flicking up a brow. “And would you not have been snogging what’s-his-name if I’d given you notice that I’d be here?”

You look at him evenly. “If I’d known you would be here, I wouldn’t have had to find someone else to snog.”

“Oh.” Oh. “Well, I’m here now.” Not his best line, admittedly, but Sirius feels like he has whiplash, going from fighting to flirting in half a second. You had been fighting, hadn’t you?

You actually smile at him, biting your bottom lip as if to contain it. “You are.”

“And apparently there’s some sort of Slytherin distasteful PDA tradition to keep up, isn’t there?”

You shrug. “Depends on who you ask, I suppose.”

“Well.” Sirius presses his hand to the small of your back, getting in your space. “I think we ought to take up the mantle, gorgeous.”

You cast your eyes about the room as if nervous who will see, and Sirius stops, pulling back a bit to give you a sober look.

“Unless you want to go somewhere else?” he asks, doing his best to let you know that it’s okay if that’s what you do want.

You gnaw on your lip for a second, then shake your head, your eyes hardening decisively. “No,” you say, placing a hand on either side of his face. “Best not mess with tradition, right?”

Sirius nods so ardently you have to hold him still to kiss him, feigning exasperation, but he can feel your smile as it lines up with his.

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

In a Week - send a character + au and I'll write a blurb for it (like vampire!Eddie, bodyguard!Sirius, etc.)

you made think of royalty au princess!reader x bodyguard!sirius mutual pining where they have both harbored a secret crush on each other but had to hide it for years because of their duty/position, only to find out that princess!reader is the queen’s illegitimate child and therefore unfit to marry the neighboring kingdom’s prince, delighted that her engagement has been annulled she goes to tell her faithful bodyguard and to confesses her feelings for him once and for all, while he (bodyguard!sirius) hasn’t heard the news yet goes to confess his feelings for her because he can’t take it anymore and is surprised by her confession

Thanks for requesting my love! Hope you like it :)

join the party

bodyguard!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

Sirius goes a little bit crazy every time he can’t be with you. He tells himself it’s a side effect of his position, that every moment you’re out of sight carries with it the potential for danger, but he’s come to know better than that over the last few years. It doesn’t matter if another very competent guard is on shift with you, or if you’re being escorted by a whole team of his best guys—it’s torture nonetheless, not necessarily because he’s worried about you, but simply because he’s away from you.

That probably explains the acute upset forming somewhere behind his sternum as he waits outside the doors to your parents’ room. Though far from a ceremonial meeting place, it’s the most secure room in the palace, so when your mother had said she and your father needed to speak with you alone, Sirius had no choice but to comply. You’ve been having a lot of these family meetings in the weeks following your engagement, though he can’t figure what about this one could call for such secrecy. Maybe confidential information on relations between your nation and your betrothed’s, or something like that. As much as he hates leaving you in there alone, Sirius is glad he doesn’t have to stand impassively by the wall and listen to plans for your marriage.

He can tell you don’t love the prince, not that it matters. He doesn’t think the prince loves you either. All that’s required of either of you is the appearance of affability in public. Romance was never part of the equation, and you’ve long since accepted that even if Sirius hasn’t. He’s been thinking about it for weeks, how different his life would become once you're another man’s wife. He’d have to help you weave yourself into the prince’s life, deliver you to your shared bed every night and pick you up every morning as if he didn't know what might’ve happened there, watch as you potentially fall in love with someone else. And love probably would blossom between you and the prince in time. It’s not easy to avoid when you spend so long around someone; Sirius would know.

He decided just last night that he wouldn’t be able to handle it. He wrote his letter of resignation this morning. He’s going to tell you before he submits it to his boss because it’d feel like a betrayal to do it without you knowing, but he's made up his mind. He’ll stay for a few weeks to train his replacement and then bow out the day before your wedding. Sirius hopes you’re still open to being friends, but he’s not foolish enough to think he’ll get to see you anywhere near as often while you’re running a kingdom thousands of miles away. He’s just going to have to nurse his throbbing heart while he searches for a new job.

The door to your parents room opens softly, but Sirius stiffens as if it had screamed on its hinges. You emerge looking as graceful as you always do, but there are tearstains on your pretty cheeks. Sirius assesses you quickly, though there’s no indication there’s been any threat other than some sort of bad news. Your face isn’t blotchy, and the tracks are faint, as though you’d tried to wipe them away without a mirror to guide you. Whatever caused your upset, you seem to have mostly recovered from it now. Still, Sirius’ heart aches at the sight of you.

“Everything okay, Princess?” he asks, and it’s a business question but put in his gentlest tone.

“Yeah,” you say, and despite your prim appearance, the breathy quality of your voice gives away your discomposure. You glance out the window. “Can we, um, take a walk outside, please?”

Sirius has always appreciated that you’re kind enough to ask when you know you don’t have to, though he wishes you wouldn’t just now. “Of course.” He opens the door for you, nodding to the guard posted outside as he follows you through.

The weather has cooled recently, signaling the beginning of autumn even though the leaves have yet to change colors. It’s your favorite season. (Another thing, Sirius thinks with some bitterness, which he knows and your future husband won’t.) You look to be enjoying it well enough, face tipped towards the sun and breathing deeply like you’re trying to rejuvenate yourself. Sirius decides to withhold his questions about your tears for the time being, to give you a chance to get back to your usual content self.

“Is something wrong?” you ask without opening your eyes.

“I…with me? No,” he lies. “I’m just a little worried about you, angel. Why do you ask?”

“You’re clicking your tongue like you do when you’re thinking hard.”

Sirius almost laughs, it’s such a bizarre thing to pick up on. But you’re right, and he stops.

You grow used to someone’s presence when you spend eight hours of every day around them. Sirius knows which of your laughs is the real one, and which is put on for someone else’s benefit. He can tell which clothes you’re going to reach for before you decide what to wear based on how you’re feeling that day. He knows how you like your tea, and what dishes from the kitchen you secretly have to choke down, and that you prefer to use the servant’s passages when you can get away with it because you don’t always feel like being stopped to talk in the hallways.

But Sirius is expected to know those things. It’s part of his job. What had surprised him was when you started revealing how much you knew. It had started small (“You okay, Siri? You seem quiet today”) but soon the stores of information you’d been covertly gathering on him began to spill out of you. You started making him coffee after lunchtime when you knew he'd be having his afternoon crash, you’d switched to candles when you’d noticed your incense irritating his allergies, he’d found the pantries stocked with his favorite foods and the chef told him you’d requested them specifically. You didn’t have to do any of that, but the fact that you did anyway just shows the kind of person you are. It’s part of why Sirius is so painfully in love with you.

“I have been thinking,” he says carefully, “and there’s something I want to talk to you about, but it can wait. Do you want to tell me what got you so rattled in there?”

You take a breath, sitting down on a nearby bench and patting the space next to you. Sirius knows he should really stay standing, keep scanning the area, but he checks nonverbally with the guard nearest and, receiving a nod, sits beside you. You look like you’re steadying yourself.

“Hey,” he says softly, placing his hand atop yours. “What’s going on, sweetheart? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning closer to him in that familiar way he’s going to miss. “Yeah, sorry, I am. It was a mix of good and bad, actually. Um, I’m not the king’s daughter.”

Sirius blinks, almost pulling away in shock. Of all the things he’d been expecting you to say, that one hadn’t made the list. “You’re not?”

You shake your head, looking distantly at the rose bushes in front of you. “No. My mom had an affair with some—some merchant, I guess. He’s dead now.” Your voice is detached, as if you’re talking of someone you read about in the paper rather than your biological father. “He died a few days ago, apparently. That’s when my mom finally decided to tell my—the king.”

Sirius turns toward you more fully, setting his hand on your knee. He can’t imagine what you’re going through, all this information all at once, the fabric of your life torn and revealed to be thin as paper. “What does that mean for you?”

“I’m still a princess, but—” you blow out a breath, disturbing the pieces of hair around your face “—it’s weird. The royal line is through my father, so I don’t have any official power or anything. But I still get to live here, play the part. Like a figurehead or something.” You look at him for the first time, something surprisingly like hope in your gaze. “But since I don’t have royal blood, I can’t marry the prince.”

Sirius freezes, not allowing himself any outward reaction. His heart contracts for your loss even as his own selfish joy makes him dizzy.

“Are you okay?” he asks. It’s almost a whisper.

“I shouldn’t be,” you reply, just as softly. “He’s a decent man, and the best alliance we could have hoped for. But honestly, I’m relieved.”

Sirius lets out a breath, thumb stroking your knee soothingly. “That’s understandable, angel. You’ve just had your whole world shaken up, it’d be a lot to have to move to another kingdom after all that.”

“I mean, I didn’t love him.” You shrug, and Sirius grins at the bizarre lightness with which you talk of your marriage. You’re coming back to yourself slowly, even if there still seems to be something holding you back. Then you begin to gnaw at your bottom lip, your dead giveaway that you’re feeling nervous. Sirius waits. “I don’t think I ever could have loved him, honestly. There’s…there’s always been someone else I’d rather be with.”

Sirius thinks he’s stopped breathing. It’s a good thing he’d put another guard in charge of watching your perimeter, because he’s definitely not capable of it right now. “Yeah?” he asks quietly.

You nod, and he feels awful for your lip, the poor mistreated thing. “Yeah. I, um, I understand if it’s too weird for you, Siri. I just, I’m sorry. I feel like I have to tell you.” You let out a little laugh, pitched high by nerves but real. “It’s a day for confessions, apparently.”

“Sweetheart.” He squeezes your knee, and you jolt a little. He waits until you’re looking at him to speak. “I have loved you for so long, I couldn’t even tell you when it started. I never would’ve…” he shakes his head, feeling as though he’s in a dream. “I didn’t think there was anything I could do about it. I was about to hand in my resignation today—” your eyes widen in horror “—because I couldn’t stand to watch you marry someone else.”

“Sirius,” you say sharply, taking both his hands in yours like he’s going to run off on you if you don’t secure him. “You can’t resign. You’re going to stay, now, right? You’ll stay?”

“Of fucking course I’m staying.” He grins, and you mirror it somewhat dazedly. “Angel, are you kidding me? They’re gonna have to drag me away from my shifts after this.”

“I could always hide you in my room,” you propose. “I’ll bring you food and everything.”

“Tempting, gorgeous. I might take you up on that.” Sirius runs his thumb over your knuckles, relishing in the new intimacy of the familiar gesture. “Can’t believe you go to confess to me first. Typical of you to have all the power.”

You scoff incredulously. “Shut up,” you say, but you’re smiling, and that’s all he wanted.

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

In a Week - send a character + au and I'll write a blurb for it (like vampire!Eddie, bodyguard!Sirius, etc.)

college au tasm!peter who's a photographer for the college newspaper and reader is a writer?

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

join the party

photographer!(tasm)Peter Parker x reporter!reader ♡ 761 words

“Peter, these are gorgeous,” you breathe, leafing through the pictures he’s brought you of the protest near campus. “I mean, it’s heartbreaking, and they show that, but they’re so…just, great job.”

Peter grins, leaning against your desk with a smile that’s half-sheepish, but you can tell he’s proud of his work. He should be. “Thanks,” he says. “Did you already write the article? This is supposed to go out tomorrow, right?”

You bite your lip. “I did,” you admit, “but now I’m thinking I’ve got some editing to do. There’s so much emotion in these, I feel like you’ve definitely upped the bar for my writing.” You say it as if it’s a joke, but really you mean it, and Peter frowns like he can tell.

“Your writing’s amazing, and you always kill these kinds of community-minded, emotional stories.” He nudges your chair with his knee, reprimanding. “Don’t sell yourself short. Can I read what you have?”

You hesitate. Letting someone else read your work before it’s finished always feels weirdly vulnerable, even when you’re mostly reporting on facts. You haven’t picked the exact right words yet, phrased your ideas the way that’ll convey them to readers exactly like you want, but Peter’s eyes are soft and warm in the light from your desk lamp, and he always gets what he wants out of you in the end.

You turn your laptop toward him, letting him scroll freely.

Peter stoops over your desk, and he nods as he reads, eyes moving quickly over the typed lines. You’re doing your best not to look like you’re watching him, but you grow uneasy when a crease appears between his eyebrows. At first it’s shallow, then not so much.

“Wow,” Peter breathes as he finishes, looking up at you like you’ve broken his heart. Whatever you’ve done, you’re immediately sorry for it. “That was…shit, you don’t have to worry about missing the mark on emotion. The passion in that, it was incredible, sweetheart.”

Your heart jumps from your stomach right up to your throat. Sweetheart.

“You really think so?” you ask, then realize it sounds like you’re fishing for compliments. “I mean, you didn’t think the ending was too abrupt?”

Peter shakes his head as he straightens, still looking somewhat awed. “No, I don’t think you should change anything. You really made me feel it, you know? It was so powerful.”

You hope the dim light is hiding the flush you can feel coming to your cheeks. “It’s a powerful topic,” you say, taking back your laptop and skimming over the draft. “You can feel how much the protestors care, from both the interviews and the pictures.” Your finger hesitates above the trackpad. “You don’t think it felt too long, though?”

Peter makes a scoffing sound, and you look up to find him grinning at you incredulously. “Stop,” he says, shutting your laptop for you carefully. “You know what I think? I think it’s too late to still be here. Your draft is already perfect, you should go home.”

You frown, glancing out the window. It had gotten dark without you even really noticing. “Yeah, I guess I will,” you concede. “You should, too.”

“I am,” he says, but doesn’t move. Neither do you, sensing that he has something more he wants to say. Peter fiddles with his backpack strap. “Hey, have you had dinner yet?”

You shake your head. “I’ve been here since just after lunch.”

“That’s too long,” he laughs. “Would you let me take you for something to eat?”

You all but freeze, looking up at him. He’s as lovely as he always is, hair fluffy from constantly dragging his hand through it and features softened in the lamplight. Your mouth is dry, and still you swallow. “Like…like as friends, or…?”

Peter’s smile is actually shy. “I was thinking as a date, but only if you want it to be. I don’t want to make things weird, if—”

“No,” you say quickly. “No, a date is good. I’d…I’d like that.”

Peter grins so hugely that even his eyes get in on the action, creasing at the corners. “Yeah? Nice.” Then you grab your laptop, and those eyes narrow suspiciously. “You’re not going to keep working on that, are you?”

“At dinner? No,” you reassure him, stuffing the computer into your bag. “But after I get home, yeah. I still have some edits I want to make.”

He exhales, and it’s half exasperation, half amusement. “You’re relentless,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Like I said, you set a high bar.”

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moonstruckme · 7 months

Note

In a Week - send a character + au and I'll write a blurb for it (like vampire!Eddie, bodyguard!Sirius, etc.)

Pirate!Steddie🤭 (or just eddie, your choice)

-🔮

Thanks for requesting gorgeous!

join the party

pirate!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 897 words

You keep your eyes steadfastly on the horizon, scanning for any sign of land. The water gleams blue-black in the moonlight, and you’re not sure if you could make out a landmass even if there was one, but you don’t have anything better to do.

“You gonna stay there the whole time?” The boy drawls from his hammock. It’s the same one who’d helped you onto the ship earlier with long-fingered, calloused hands. “You sea sick or something?”

“No,” you huff. “Just thinking of making a swim for it.”

The pirate snorts. “How far are you thinking you can swim, sweetheart? The closest land is the island we picked you up on.” You turn to him, and you must look as ferocious as you feel, because he raises his hands in a lazy don’t-shoot gesture. “Hey, you’re welcome to go back if that’s what you want. Since apparently being rescued doesn’t suit you.”

“But rescued by whom?” you spit. “Being stuck with pirates doesn't seem like a very good alternative to being stranded.”

His mouth curls up on the right side. “You make us sound so nefarious, gorgeous. We’re trying to make ends meet, just like everyone else.”

“Everyone else seems capable of staying within the law.”

“But whose law?” You make no answer, and after a minute, he climbs out of his hammock. You stiffen as he comes towards you but don’t allow yourself to move away, even when he leans against the edge of the ship, barely a foot from you. “I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says, and the gentleness of his tone surprises you. “What’s your name?”

You narrow your eyes. Isn’t that sort of thing valuable information to a pirate? What if they think to hold you for ransom?

If he’s put out by your silence, he doesn’t show it. “Fair enough. Mine’s Eddie.”

He sticks out a hand, and you shake it warily, eyeing the knife at his belt all the while.

“Listen,” he goes on, undeterred by your hostility. “I know you probably have lots of ideas about pirates, and how we’re all wild, evil brutes, but no one here is going to hurt you.” He looks you in the eye, raising his eyebrows imploringly. “I promise, okay? We’re hoping to make land by the end of the week, and then you can run if you want, or I can help you figure out how to get wherever you wanna go. Sound good?”

You look at him, the contrast between the warm brown of his eyes and the cold steel of his knife confusing you. You don’t know if you can trust him, but you suppose you don’t have much choice.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Why would you do that, though? Why even bother taking me with you?”

Eddie shrugs, relaxing a bit now that you no longer look like you’re going to take a dive over the edge of the ship. “Why not? We’ve got enough food to feed an extra mouth, and we’re still making money whether we help people out or not.”

Making money…”Through robbery, you mean.”

Eddie doesn’t bristle like you expect him to. “Depends on who you ask. If one group of people takes money from another and we intercept it somewhere in the middle, is it any more stolen than it already was?”

You go quiet again, and Eddie gives you a soft sort of smile. “I’m not trying to lecture you, sweetheart, I just want you to understand that we’re not bad guys. At least,” he allows, “we don’t see ourselves that way. You’re safe here.”

“Alright,” you say quietly, finding yourself closer and closer to believing him. “Thank you.”

Eddie’s grin looks almost goofy. “No thanks necessary,” he assures you. “Think you might be able to sleep now, though? I find being stuck on a ship with the same people every day does not mix well with sleep deprivation. Don’t need you getting snappy with the Captain tomorrow.”

You gnaw on your lip, looking warily around the ship for a safe corner to curl up in. You don’t want to go below deck with the rest of the men, but you don’t like the idea of one of them stumbling upon you up here in the morning either.

Eddie seems to wisen to your dilemma, nodding pensively. “You can have my hammock, if you want. I’ve got an extra few blankets, I could make myself a bed right next to it so nobody bothers you.”

You look at him hopefully, too exhausted and on edge to feel guilty. “Really?”

He chuckles, nudging you in the direction of the hammock. “Sure, sweetheart. We’ll figure out something better in the morning.”

You climb into the hammock, shifting around awkwardly until you find a comfortable position. You watch over the edge as Eddie folds the blankets he’s stored nearby, making a little sleeping pad for himself. You try to imagine this boy holding his knife to a sailor’s throat, laughing at bloodshed, burning villages to the ground. He looks up at you as he gets settled, flashing you a smile and a dorky thumbs-up. You can’t picture it.

“Goodnight,” you say quietly, letting your body relax into its fabric cradle.

“Sleep tight,” Eddie sing-songs, and with that last reassurance, you let the shushing of the waves lull you to sleep.

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