sunny - @wolfstarmicrofic - anon request for genderfluid!sirius - word count: 777

Sirius had been quiet for hours. It was disconcerting, really, because if there was one word Remus would never have used to describe his boyfriend, it was ‘quiet.’ Sure, sometimes his normally-sunny disposition got marred by the stormclouds of his past, and he was certainly dramatic and spontaneous, but he was never quiet. He even snored and mumbled while he was sleeping, for Merlin’s sake.

So when Sirius didn’t talk for hours after he’d attended girls’ night with the Gryffindor ladies, Remus knew something was up. But he also didn’t want to pry. But he also wanted to know.

“Did you have a good time with Marlene and the girls?” he asked lightly, looking down to where his boyfriend was cuddled on his lap in the middle of his bed, head pressed to Remus’s chest.

“Hmm,” Sirius hummed, staring at the fire dancing in the little stove in their dorm room.

This response didn’t make Remus feel at ease. “Did you…do anything fun?” he nudged, trying not to panic that maybe, perhaps, the silence had to do with him. Them.

The question made Sirius’s stunning face twist, though. He turned and mumbled something into Remus’s shirt.

“What? I didn’t catch that.”

Ice-gray eyes stared up at him. “Lily braided my hair and I…I tried on one of Mary’s skirts,” Sirius admitted in a whisper, his cheeks turning a lovely shade of pink.

Remus had to swallow twice to digest that information, because picturing Sirius in a skirt was doing something pleasant to his insides. “Oh…yeah?” he asked, trying to be casual, begging his body not to react. “That’s…nice.”

But the shorter boy’s face crumpled. “I knew you’d think it was weird,” he wailed, rolling off of Remus and onto the empty space on his bed. 

“Wait–wait, no!” Remus answered quickly, scrambling to grab at Sirius’s waist and pull him closer again. “No, Sirius, I–”

“It’s weird, Moons! It’s weird to even do that and it’s weird that I liked it!” Sirius shouted into a pillow, kicking a foot with emphasis. “Merlin, I’m so fucked up!”

“Sirius, it’s not weird! I…I think it’s hot!” His own face heated at the admission, but he tried to ignore the vulnerability of it all.

Instantly, Sirius rolled again, facing him, hair in his face. “You…do?” he asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

“But Moony…I liked it. Like…I liked being…girly. Like maybe sometimes…maybe sometimes I want to be…” Sirius swallowed and rolled again, stuffing his face downward into blankets. 

Remus was starting to understand. “Oh,” he nodded, blinking rapidly. “Oh.”

“Oh?” Sirius spoke face-downward so his question was muffled, but the intent was clear. His whole neck was red and a bit sweaty.

“Oh,” Remus nodded again, though nobody could see him. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say to this, because it didn’t much matter to him, but he was pretty sure he should show some kind of support. “Oh, like…okay. Whatever you want, baby. D’you…d’you want me to go steal some of the extra skirts from the uniform closet in the storeroom the Prefects have access to? Or…shall I talk to Lily about you using the girls’ loo or something?”

Sirius looked up at him, shock clear in his stunning features. “You really don’t care?” he asked.

“That you…what? Want to be a girl?” he asked, eyebrows furrowing. “No, I–”

“Only sometimes! it’s…Godric, it’s so bloody confusing, I don’t even know,” Sirius mumbled, ironing a hand over his face. 

“Okay,” Remus nodded again. He’d never heard of someone who wanted to be a boy sometimes and a girl other times, but it didn’t bother him. “Is there a reason I should care?”

“Because I’m weird,” Sirius whispered, rolling to his back and biting his lip.

Remus couldn’t resist. “You always have been, love,” he grinned. “I knew that when we were eleven. That’s not new.”

Smirking despite himself, Sirius swatted at him and moved to lay in his lap again. “So…we’re good?” he asked anxiously, voice trembling a little. 

“We’re great,” Remus replied reassuringly, giving him a big smile. “As long as I still get to brag about being with you, I don’t care whether or not I say, ‘Oh, that’s Sirius, he’s my boyfriend’ or ‘that’s Sirius, he’s my girlfriend,’ or–” he cut himself off, frowning. “Or, I guess it would be ‘she,’ right?”

But Sirius’s eyes had clouded over at the second statement, going all dreamlike. “Oh,” he whispered, beaming. “‘He’s my girlfriend.’ I like that.” His smile was angelic, and Remus had to smother down the cuteness aggression that momentarily took over his brain.

“‘He’s my girlfriend,’ it is, then,” he agreed, pressing a gentle kiss to Sirius’s forehead.

Remus returns two hours late, covered in ash and something stickier. It isn’t his blood, Sirius knows that now, by color and by habit. He knows how Remus smells when it’s his.

Sirius waits in the kitchen of the Order’s temporary safehouse in Newcastle, half-empty bottle of Ogden’s on the counter, wand clutched too tightly in his hand. He doesn’t say a word when Remus walks in—just watches him shut the door behind him like he’s afraid of what might follow.

Remus doesn’t speak, either. He walks past Sirius like he’s furniture, heads for the sink, and starts washing his hands. He scrubs hard. Viciously. Too long. Sirius watches as flakes of dried blood flake off his knuckles and slide down the drain like secrets.

“How bad was it?” Sirius finally asks, when the silence turns heavy.

Remus doesn’t look up. “Greyback was there.”

The name hits Sirius like a slap.

He stands. “Did he—?”

“No.” The word comes out sharp. “Not like that.”

Sirius wants to believe that ends the conversation. That it answers the question. But he sees how Remus’s jaw tightens. How his shoulders stay hunched even now, like he’s still flinching from something that isn’t there.

Sirius moves closer. Slowly. Like Remus is something wild, half-feral, still caught in the crossfire of some inner battlefield.

“I should’ve gone with you,” Sirius says quietly.

Remus lets out a dry laugh. “You think you’d have survived five minutes with that pack?”

“I could have—”

“You couldn’t have stopped him,” Remus says, turning at last. His eyes are red-rimmed, tired, ringed with old bruises that haven’t quite faded.

Sirius swallows hard. “What did he do?”

Remus is quiet for too long. When he finally speaks, his voice is cold, careful.

“He knew your name.”

The silence after that is a living thing. It breathes. It watches.

Sirius stiffens. “What?”

“Greyback,” Remus says. “He called you by name. Said things—” He breaks off. “He said you smelled like fear. Said you tasted like prey.”

A slow chill unfurls in Sirius’s chest.

He crosses his arms over his chest like a shield. “You never told him about me.”

Remus shakes his head. “Never.”

Sirius can feel the question form between them, unspoken but enormous. Then how?

And Sirius knows.

Not from the Order. Not from eavesdropping. But from Remus.

From how he said Sirius’s name during full moons. From the things he begged for in the woods, when he thought no one heard. From the broken sounds in his sleep after a mission gone wrong.

“I think he’s been following me,” Remus says, too quiet. “Or watching. Or—he can smell it. Us.”

Sirius steps forward. “That’s not your fault.”

Remus looks at him then, really looks. “Isn’t it?”

And Sirius understands: this isn’t about blame. It’s about shame. About control. About the unbearable intimacy of being known by someone who wants to own you.

Sirius reaches out and touches Remus’s wrist. “He doesn’t get to twist this into something dirty.”

“It already is.”

“No.” Sirius’s voice is steady. “He doesn’t get to decide what we are.”

Remus closes his eyes. “You don’t understand. He looks at me like I belong to him.”

“Then look at me.” Sirius waits. “You belong to me, Moony.”

Remus opens his eyes. There’s something raw in them. But he nods. Just once.

They don’t kiss. Not tonight. It would be too much.

But later, when they lie side by side on the too-small mattress in the guest room, Remus curls into Sirius like a wound folding in on itself, and Sirius wraps himself around him like armor.

Neither of them sleeps.

But for the first time in weeks, they don’t have nightmares.

Soul Ache | Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader Summary: You simply can't stay an ex when you're the only one Draco has every truly loved. Plus.. You just don't look as good with a Gryffindor. Themes & Warnings: jealous!Draco, possessive!Draco, yearning, fluff, oh my god so much tension, swearing, SMUT (EATING, fingering, messy stuff, p in v), angst KIND OF with resolution.

poly!marauders x fem!reader

synopsis: during a full moon night, an unexpected accident leaves flicker (you) injured, shaking the bond between you, remus, sirius, and james. as they bend the truth to shield one another from pain and guilt, you learn that sometimes, lies are the kindest form of love.

warnings: injury, blood, animal attack, transformation, emotional distress, graphic descriptions of animal injury, mild panic attacks, graphic descriptions of lycanthropy transformations, hurt/comfort, happy ending.

w/c: 5.3k

part of my mini blurb series flicker's adventures

masterlist

The night wrapped around the woods like a heavy cloak, thick with the scent of damp earth. 

how did it end?

summary: After remus broke up with you, you decided to move away and distance yourself from your friends. What happens when you move back and run into each other again?

Read part 2 to this fic here.

cw: exes to ???, slightly angsty, little bit of fluff, everyone is lowkey rooting for remus and reader to get back together, reader is insecure about friendships.

an: this is so much longer than I originally planned

It's strange being in a new place, full of uncomfortable new experiences. When your last tenancy ended you'd been strong armed into moving here to be closer to your friends. Those friends being Regulus and Barty. Barty had told you in no uncertain terms that you were ‘boring and lonely now’ and that ‘being closer to us can fix that, treasure’. So here you are. 

You scouted out a new favourite cafe to work in, they make the most delicious latte ever. It's quiet enough that you don't get distracted but busy enough to not feel awkward about spending hours there. The rhythmic clicking of keys drums like a metronome as you type, engrossed in what you're doing, unaware of your surroundings. 

“Oh, hello.” The voice is shocked and tinged with confusion. You recognise it, of course you do, it's Remus. You want to cringe in on yourself because why the fuck is he here? Instead, you put a polite smile on your face, hoping it looks sincere, and look up at him.

He looks the same as always—warm, soft. You're a bit startled at how little he’s changed in the time you’ve been apart—handsome as ever, hair a bit longer and maybe a little older. An awkward smile plays on his lips, but his eyes are wide, as if he’s seen a ghost.

bloody bird's nest

cw: just sweet silly fluff

an: originally started this as just sirius x reader but then it turned into poly!marauders! so surprise first poly!marauders fic!!!

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me. It's a bloody outrage, is what it is.”

That's the first thing you hear as you walk into the boys’ flat. They're sitting at the dining table drinking cups of tea, while Sirius is complaining about something. Neither Remus or James look very concerned about their boyfriends musings. You, however, can’t help but feel a twinge of concern at the sharpness of his tone.

You approach him quietly, leaning down to plant a soft kiss on the crown of his head. He doesn’t preen like usual, not even a little. His body is stiff, and your heart clenches in worry.

“Oh, don’t mind him, dovey. He’s just in one of his moods,” Remus says casually, his arm extending to pull you gently into a hug. He presses a quick kiss to your lips before guiding you to sit next to him. You look over to James for confirmation that there really is nothing to worry about, and he's just beaming at you.

Isn’t she lovely…

sum up : nearing Sirius' first birthday with his daughter at his side

tw : fluff, some bad memories, abusive family

ship : poly!marauders x fem!reader

Don’t Call It Love

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Y/N

Warnings: Smut, angry make out, reader uses fred as an outlet..

Summary: An unlabelled relationship seemed like less drama, until it wasn't.

Notes: is this a safe place to admit I don't think Fred would be a dom.. I see him as a switch who has no problem submitting to the woman of his dreams AKA me 😏

Enjoy!

---

Y/N had always made things clear: no strings, no labels, no expectations. She liked Fred Weasley for his wit, his hands, and because he made her laugh when she didn’t want to.

All too aware of the drama that came with a relationship, she'd chosen not to get in one. Why would she when everything had been going oh so perfectly?

Fred didn’t mind at first, he liked the chase, liked sneaking out to the dungeons after curfew, liked how no one knew except for George (and only because his twin was nosy). But lately, it had started getting to him. The way you'd leave immediately after sex. Like it was all he was good for..

Then came the incident.

It was in the courtyard. Y/N was leaning against a column, book in hand, the picture of disinterest until Draco Malfoy slithered over, all smug and silver-tongued. Fred was watching from across the quad, pretending not to. Pretending he wasn’t burning.

Malfoy said something that made her chuckle. Fred didn’t like it. Didn’t like the way Draco leaned in, all teeth and confidence, like Y/N would ever want that. She didn’t, obviously. Fred knew that. But Draco didn’t.

So Fred intervened.

“Problem, Malfoy?” he asked, loud enough to draw attention. He stood beside Y/N like he belonged there. Because he wanted to.

Y/N arched a brow but didn’t move away.

Draco sneered. “Didn’t realize she came with a chaperone.”

Fred smiled—sharp and smug.

"I don't." Y/N said nonchalantly. She glanced at Fred, her eyebrows lightly furrowed as if asking him what he was playing at.

There was tension. A pause. Malfoy said something about bloodlines and "slumming it with Weasleys," but Fred didn’t hear it, he was too focused on how Y/N's expression had shifted. This time her icy glare wasn't directed to him but to Draco.

Malfoy as if realizing that statement hadn't landed well with her, raised his hands in mock surrender.

Draco Malfoy sat rigidly at his station, fingers tapping against the cool glass vial beside him. He hated how noisy Gryffindors were—especially when Weasley laughed like a dying hyena in the back of the class. But that wasn't the real problem today.

No, the problem was you.

You—sitting just one row over, your quill twirling in your fingers while Slughorn droned on about Amortentia, the most powerful love potion known to wizardkind. Draco knew it was ridiculous, utterly absurd, to be this bothered by you. You were just another Slytherin. You weren’t even friends.

But ever since the beginning of term, he’d been noticing... things.

The way you’d tilt your head when confused. How your robes always smelled faintly like something sweet—lavender? Vanilla? No. He didn’t care. He shouldn’t care. He had bigger things to worry about than whatever stupid perfume you wore.

And yet here he was, wondering if Amortentia would smell like that if he brewed it.

Slughorn clapped his hands. "Right then! Let’s get to it! Everyone step up and have a whiff—Amortentia, as you know, reveals the scent of what most attracts you. Quite fun, but remember—it doesn’t mean love. Just... infatuation, perhaps. Ha-ha!"

There was a bit of nervous laughter. Hermione went first, of course, listing off parchment, peppermint toothpaste, and "something... earthy." Potter followed, muttered something, and turned red. Pathetic.

Then it was Draco’s turn.

He walked up like he didn’t care—chin high, shoulders sharp, like a dagger sheathed in silk. He leaned in slowly, prepared to fake something generic.

But the moment the scent hit him—his mind blanked.

Sweet smoke. The faint smell of fresh parchment. Peppermint… and something warm and feminine—like lavender and firewhiskey at the same time.

He blinked.

No. No no no.

That wasn’t right.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy?" Slughorn asked, eyebrows raised. "Anything... interesting?"

Draco straightened instantly, schooling his face into a mask of polite boredom. "Smells like... books, I think. Vanilla. Old wood, maybe."

You arched an eyebrow at him when he sat back down beside Blaise, but said nothing.

Which made it worse.

Because now he was sitting there thinking about you thinking about him, and wondering what you smelled.

He peeked over at you.

Your nose crinkled when you sniffed your own Amortentia sample. You bit your lip. Frowned. And your eyes—those clear, sharp eyes—flicked briefly to him.

His stomach dropped like a stone in the Black Lake.

No. Absolutely not.

This was ridiculous.

There was no way in hell Amortentia was making him act like a lovesick Hufflepuff. He was a Malfoy. He didn’t pine. He didn’t crush. And he certainly didn’t blush every time you tucked your hair behind your ear.

“Mate,” Blaise whispered, elbowing him. “You’re staring again.”

Draco scowled and looked away, crossing his arms.

He’d get over it. He’d have to. He couldn’t afford distractions—not now.

But later that night, when he passed you in the common room and caught the faint trace of lavender and smoke on your scarf—

He realized it wasn’t going away.

Not anytime soon.

💚 Bonus Draco Crush Headcanons:

Denial, denial, denial. Draco will absolutely convince himself it's just a weird phase. He’ll avoid you, then immediately look for you. It drives him insane.

He becomes over-aware. Of your presence, your scent, how close you sit in class. He starts correcting your potion ingredients not because he cares, of course. "You're doing it wrong," he'll snap, but he just wants to talk to you.

Possessive glances. If he catches someone else making you laugh, he gets this tight look on his face, but says nothing—because he doesn’t like you, right?

Internally panicking during Potions. He remembers that Amortentia scent for days. And when he figures out the last smell is you, he stops sleeping properly for a week.

Eventually… he lets something slip—accidentally. Maybe a sarcastic comment with too much softness in his tone. Maybe a compliment disguised as an insult. Maybe… he finally lets himself ask:

“What did your Amortentia smell like?”

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary: When a familiar red panda keeps appearing during full moons and stolen afternoons, the Marauders can't help but feel like they're being watched. But when a single accident unravels the truth, they discover that their elusive companion is much closer to their hearts than they realized.

warnings: fluff, animagus secrecy, fluffy moments, slow-burn tension, unspoken feelings, hints of angst, fluffy ending. technically part of a blurb series but can be read alone

w/c: 5k (this was supposed to be a drabble)

a/n: flicker is so <3

part of my mini blurb series Flicker's Adventures

masterlist