#wolfstar requests

Ahhhhh thank you for this! This made me so soft 🥰

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“Moony, look,” Sirius prompted as Remus pulled himself out of bed amidst a chorus of soft groans and aching bones. With his eyes half-closed, he looked over to Sirius’ bed.

And immediately went still. Sirius was wearing Remus’ favorite sweater. The faded one with the elbow patches that used to be Gryffindor red with gold stripes but was now sort of a rust color because of how many times it had been stretched over Remus’ head, how many times it had been through the wash. Sirius was wearing it. Sirius was wearing it. With no trousers.

A breath slipped through Remus’ teeth as he calculated a response. He needed to recover from this quickly, to wipe the admiration from his face. He wasn’t ready to let Sirius know he was in love with him. Not yet. Not while Sirius was wearing his sweater.

How could he make this ratty piece of fabric look that good? The collar was all stretched out, but it displayed his taut collarbone. The sleeves were too long, but his fingertips stuck out in an adorable way, like a first year in their new robes. The waist was too long, but it hit right at his bare thighs, making his muscles look sharp and defined against the threadbare sweater.

“Very cute, Pads,” Remus corrected with a clearing of his throat, turning so that Sirius wouldn’t notice the blushing of his cheeks. It was an effort in vain.

“Moony, are you blushing?” Sirius asked in a suddenly sultry voice and Remus could hear the pounding of his feet on the hardwood as he stomped over to Remus’ bed.

“I am not blushing,” Remus argued, through his blushing. As Sirius tried twisting around Remus to get a good look at his face, Remus twisted right back, keeping him away from it.

“Oh, it’s too late, Moons,” he whispered, holding himself still at Remus’ back as he let his finger draw painfully slowly down Remus’ spine. “You’re pink all over. I love this color on you.”

A shiver rushed down Remus’ skin, despite how hard he tried to stifle it. This was why he was such a mess around Sirius. Because Sirius did this all the time. As he sat behind Remus in class, he would run his fingers through Remus’ curls. When Gryffindor won a game, Sirius would grab Remus by the face and kiss him hard on the cheek. Sometimes, he would whisper wildly suggestive things into Remus’ ear just to see him stiffen in response.

Sirius continued his teasing, but his voice was low and purposeful. “Does that mean you like the way I look in your sweater?” As he let his fingers brush over the indentations in the small of Remus’ back, Remus realized, quite sharply, he could tease Sirius right back.

James and Peter had gone off early to spy on the Slytherin Quidditch practice. He and Sirius were alone in the dorms. He could say things to Sirius that he might not say otherwise.

He tried it out. “I’d like the way you’d look without it a lot more,” Remus said, bravely lowering his tone of voice, finally turning to face Sirius without widening the distance between them. There was an immediate rise in Sirius’ brow, a curious tilt of Sirius’ head, a silent parting of his pale lips. And a surging red blush that splashed over his high-born cheekbones.

“Oh,” Sirius replied, momentarily stunned, until he saw the exaggerated, impudent expression on Remus’ face. At first, he rolled his eyes at how easily he’d walked into this set-up, but a mischievous glint returned to his expression. “Oh, Moony,” he growled, his bravado returned in full as he leapt from his place on the floor, wrapping his thighs around Remus’ hips and playfully biting at all the bare skin of Remus’ shoulder suddenly underneath his teeth.

With his hands around Sirius’ thighs to hold him up, Remus dissolved into laughter, his shoulder to his ear in an effort to keep Sirius’ ticklish lips from worsening his blush. But before he could even spiritedly admonish Sirius, before he could return Sirius to the floor, Sirius went still, resting his forehead to Remus’ shoulder and letting his cheek nuzzle gently to Remus’ throat.

He spoke, his low voice driving another shiver into Remus’ bones. “If it’s alright with you, Moony, maybe I can just … borrow your sweater for a bit. Just for today.”

Residual laughter trickled from Remus’ lips. “I don’t know why you’d want to, it’s falling apart at the seams, Sirius.” The breath that Sirius let out rolled down the back of Remus’ collar.

“It … it smells like you,” Sirius admitted softly. While Remus blushed again, there was decisiveness in his tone as he replied, tightening his hold on the boy in his arms.

“You can keep it as long as you like, Padfoot,” Remus replied, bracing for the caveat he was about to request. “As long as you let me hold you like this every now and then.”

The sound of a sudden breath rushed across Remus’ ear, the squeeze of Sirius’ arm increasing around his neck. “Say the magic words and I’ll think about it.”

Remus smirked. “Sirius?”

“Hmm?” Sirius acknowledged casually.

“Be my boyfriend.” He could feel Sirius smile from against his throat.

Thank you for the request! I enjoyed this one more than I should have, based on the content. 

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His hands were shaking. That was how Remus knew something was very wrong. Sirius’ hands were confident and calloused and cavalier, and they didn’t shake. Not when he was dueling in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not when he was healing Remus’ wounds after a treacherous moon, not when he was pretending to be in love with Remus for a good show.

Now, Sirius’ hands were shaking. And not trembling, either. Vibrating. Uncontrolled and terrified. There was a paper in his hands, a letter from home. He’d gotten bad letters from home before and he’d cast them off with a laugh, incinerating them before they hit the carpet.

“Sirius?” Remus called out carefully, moving toward where Sirius sat in the center of his mattress, the curtains to his bed open, as they always were.

“Hmm?” Sirius responded, the look on his face as vacant as it was alarming. His cheeks, that had just been flushed from racing Remus up the stairs to their dorms in an effort to get the last chocolate frog, were now sullen and pale. The circles under his eyes deepened and twitched.

“Talk to me,” Remus whispered, not even hesitating before crawling into Sirius’ bed, folding his legs underneath him. Sirius didn’t look up at him. His silver eyes blurred out.

“It’s … from Mother,” he said under a hard swallow, blanching at the bitter taste it left in his throat. His grip on the letter increased until it crumpled underneath his fingers. “They tell me Regulus has been recruited. Marked. As a Death Eater.” Tears formed in his blank eyes.

Without pause, Remus shot forward and enveloped Sirius in his arms. At this comfort, the fragile shell of Sirius’ strength broke and he pulled Remus closer, forming knots in Remus’ shirt with his tightly clenched fists. “Sirius, I am so sorry,” Remus breathed out as Sirius sobbed.

“I knew it was coming, I knew he was …” A sob interrupted him. “I knew he would do anything for them, but I … he’s just a child, Remus.” Remus didn’t reply, didn’t speak. He knew there was nothing that he could say that would fix this. He just held Sirius tighter, letting him burrow his face down into the hollows of Remus’ throat, the tears slipping down Remus’ collar.

In a broken voice, Sirius spoke again. “And they’re so fucking proud in this letter, so proud of the son that isn’t a disgrace to the Black family name.” There was a resentment and anger in his tone that Remus had only heard when Sirius had left home to move in with James. It wasn’t welcome in Sirius’ voice, in what should be a melodic and carefree and glorious tone.

“Fuck the Black family name,” Remus growled in return. “They were never your family to begin with. We’re your family now. We always have been. Give up that name,” Remus whispered into Sirius’ hair, holding him closer than he ever had. 

Oh, I LOVED this request! Thank you! I’m not ace, so I really hope I wrote this in an acceptable way, but PLEASE feel free to correct me on anything! 

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How was he going to explain this? He’d just barely even gotten it out that he fancied Sirius, too, when Sirius had blurted it out yesterday morning in the infirmary after a rough full moon. They hadn’t even talked about what they were. Was Sirius his boyfriend?

Not that Remus was complaining. Since yesterday morning, he’d gotten to hold Sirius’ hand (mostly non-stop), he’d gotten forehead kisses, he’d gotten soft caresses of Sirius’ hands to his face. Everything in his life was suddenly more wonderful than it had ever been.

Except, it was late, now, and Sirius was kissing him. Oh, that in and of itself was nothing short of glory – they had started so soft and so careful and so gentle and Remus found himself pulled into Sirius’ bed. After a while, however, it became clear that Sirius was getting rather involved and he was starting to tug at the borders of Remus’ clothes.

Sirius was the most sexual person Remus knew. Every pun laced with innuendo, every touch filled with intent, every glance stoked with desire. It wasn’t fair of Remus to suddenly spring this on him. He didn’t even know if he could. Would Sirius be disgusted? Would he leave to find someone that suited to his needs? The thought clenched at Remus’ heart.

But Sirius wasn’t slowing. Before Remus could do anything, Sirius had held him by the hips and twisted, so that Remus was straddled over Sirius’ hips, and he could very explicitly feel the imprint of Sirius between his legs. In that moment, he almost wished he could do it.

“Sirius, I’m asexual,” he blurted out, an immediate crimson blush spilling over his freckled cheeks. Too little too late, he brought his hands up to cover his face. For a moment, there was a stunned silence and Remus was too afraid to move, too afraid to look at Sirius’ expression.

“Moony,” Sirius said, his voice a thousand times softer than it had been only a moment before when he had been panting out Remus’ name instead. Carefully, Sirius took Remus by the shoulders and guided Remus to lie on his side, next to Sirius. “You should’ve told me.”

Finally, Remus moved his hands to look at the boy with whom he had been falling in love for so long. The smile on Sirius’ face was delicate, the heat in his gaze extinguished by expert calculation, the touch of his hands moving to Remus’ fingers lying between them.

“I didn’t want you to …” Remus started, unable to finish.

“You didn’t want me to leave?” Sirius said for him, the lightness in his eyes shining out as a silver flicker. “I’m not here for the sex, Moony. If I had known you didn’t want it, I wouldn’t even have tried.” He took a sharp breath, looking apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

“But you … you’re … you.” His words were practically unintelligible in his panic.

Sirius laughed quietly. “I’m me, so you thought I wouldn’t stay if you didn’t sleep with me? Remus,” he repeated his name emphatically, moving his fingers up to brush the hair out of Remus’ face, to brush his finger down Remus’ jaw. “The sex is a bonus, but it’s not a requirement. I’m with you because I’m in love with you as a person, sex or no sex.”

“You say that now, but you’re going to get frustrated, everyone gets frustrated,” Remus mumbled through tight lips, remembering how his first relationship had gone.

“Not if we work on it together,” Sirius shrugged, totally indifferent to the fact that this admission that Remus thought would be much more shocking than it was. “I don’t totally understand what this means, but you can teach me. Then I’ll know what you need, what you don’t need, and where I can fit into that.” His comfortable smile remained unchanged.

A deep sigh of relief echoed from Remus’ lips and Remus found Sirius’ attention temporarily drawn to the movement of Remus’ lips, but he overcorrected quickly, with a wince that looked like a silent apology. Pushing his finger into Sirius’ hair, Remus pulled him in.

“You can still kiss me, you know,” he mumbled onto Sirius’ mouth. “And we can figure out ways to give you what you need, too.” There was a hum on Sirius’ lips that vibrated.

“Does that mean I can start calling you Ace?” Sirius joked, eliciting a soft laugh from Remus’ lips as they kissed. “You can never have too many nicknames.”

“Call me anything you like, as long as you still call me your boyfriend.” With a sharply raised eyebrow, Sirius pulled from the kiss so he could watch Remus watch him.

“You won’t always be my boyfriend, you know,” Sirius said, looking mildly concerned, and that concern spread out through Remus’ chest. But Sirius’ flashy smile returned in an instant, his eyes swirling and silver as he spoke. “Someday, you’ll be my husband.”

SOOOO as with all my requests, this one got out of hand. It’s probably a little more ... heated than you wanted 😂😂

Also I’ve never actually seen The Breakfast Club?? But I did manage to sneak one of the quotes I know from the movie into the fic (which I titled it after, though I may end up changing the title, idk) 

I don’t think it’s exactly what you wanted, but I hope you like it anyway! ❤️

Better At  Hiding It 

“What are you in for?” Remus heard to his right. He glanced over through his peripherals to see the boy next to him leaning quite far out of his chair, nearly shoulder to shoulder with Remus. It was Sirius Black, a Slytherin. Well, it was unfair to say he was just a Slytherin – he was literally the only Slytherin that Remus knew by name, the only Slytherin who had ever even spoken to Remus directly, even if it was just to ask to borrow a Quill in Charms.

OH MY GOOODDDD. This request. BLESS YOU FOR THIS. 

I had so, so, so much fun with this one. And now I am v soft. 💕

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“Who, me?” Remus asked in disbelief, golden eyes wide and terrified. The handsome lead actor was standing in front of him, not looking as impatient as Remus thought he should’ve looked in this situation. He did look like he might vomit at any moment, however.

“You know all the lines, I’ve seen you mouthing along with Marlene,” Sirius said, because that was his name, because of course that was his name, because he was a star, after all.

“That’s … that’s totally different!” Remus stuttered, trying to come up with a logical excuse to get out of this nightmarish situation. Sure, he knew all the lines, but the romantic lead was a female. An attractive female. And Remus was … a stagehand. The lights guy.

“You’re the only one who can do this.” Sirius began begging, his voice a soft but tight whine that sent a rather hard swallow into Remus’ throat. This wasn’t just a background role, this wasn’t even a minor character. This was fucking Anastasia. He would be playing Anastasia. The whole plot revolved around a princess. And obviously, Remus Lupin was no princess.

That wasn’t even the worst part. Oh, no, the worst part was the fact that this gorgeous creature called Sirius (who should’ve been a male model but was, for some ungodly reason, doing local community theatre) was playing the part of Dmitri.

 Which meant Remus was going to have to kiss him.

 “I can’t sing,” Remus lied blankly, trying to rid his facial expression of all tells.

Sirius laughed, grinning cunningly in Remus’ direction. “That’s total bullshit.”

“What? No, it’s not. How do you know?” Remus stumbled over his words, trying to figure out how in God’s name this extrovert knew anything about him, how he knew he had been reciting Marlene’s lines, how he had been singing harmony with her under his breath.

“Because I pay attention and I’ve heard you singing Once Upon a December from the rafters,” Sirius said, his smiling looking a tad flustered under pink cheeks. “Please, Remus.”

The use of his name sent a shudder into Remus’ spine. He didn’t even know how the lead actor even knew his name. None of the other actors knew his name. Not even Marlene.

“Do I have a choice?” Remus asked through bared teeth. Sirius grinned in victory.

“You absolutely do not,” he said, beaming from ear to ear.

 “I thought you were going to St. Petersb-” Remus spoke through a trembling voice, holding his hands to Sirius’ chest as they stood together. On cue, Sirius interrupted.

“I was.” There was determination in Sirius’ voice and in his face as he looked at Remus, at the person playing the part of someone he was in love with, and God, was he good at this. If Remus didn’t know better, he would think Sirius was genuinely about to confess his love.

“You didn’t take the …” Remus trailed off, speaking about the reward that Dmitri refused to take for finding the lost princess, Anastasia. There was a slight shake of Sirius’ head as he looked to the floor. When his gaze returned, it was smoldering and kinetic.

“I … couldn’t,” he replied, his voice thick with a narrowing throat that he struggled to swallow, despite the fact that only the front row could see a reaction so otherwise insignificant.

“Why?” Remus’ hands were clutched around Sirius’ tattered waistcoat, holding onto the lapels with quivering hands and he wasn’t sure if it was the adrenaline of being on stage in front of hundreds of people or the anticipation of having Sirius’ lips pressed to his own.

“Because … I …” Sirius breathed out into Remus’ open, waiting mouth, leaving on Remus’ tongue a distinct taste of the single shot of whiskey Sirius had thrown back before the show. As Remus reached up, letting his fingers drift down Sirius’ lips to silence him, his hands were shaking. Only for a moment, Sirius’ attention was diverted to their motion. When his eyes returned to meet Remus’, they were softer, lighter. Like Sirius had reached somewhere inside himself and turned off Dmitry, making sure that Remus could see Sirius in his own eyes.  

They were supposed to stop before the kiss. Dmitri was supposed to hand Anastasia (or, in this production’s case, Anatoli) the crown and say ‘They’re waiting for you’ but Sirius never fed Remus the line. Instead, Remus felt Sirius’ hands wind up over his hips, moving under his suit jacket until it was folded to Remus’ back. With increment tension, Sirius pulled Remus in.

“Sirius,” Remus caught himself whispering, his hand slipping around Sirius’ neck. When he realized his mistake, his eyes widened, but Sirius just let out an aching breath and pushed forward, claiming Remus’ lips in a tender kiss. When he pulled back, he recited the line.

“They’re waiting for you.” He spoke loud enough for the audience to hear. Just as the curtain began to fall, Sirius pulled Remus to his chest, settling his lips to Remus’ ear.

Okay, you know, more than anyone, that I have issues being ... succinct. That being said, I wrote a thousand words about this, sorry not sorry. 

Also I love you.  ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

Sugar and Honey

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“Where is he?” Sirius screamed as he barreled through the doors of the infirmary. Poppy was entirely unruffled, as Sirius’ dramatics occurred regularly every month.

“We’re here, Padfoot,” James called from the last bed, the one next to the window that overlooked the ground, the one that was Remus’ favourite window. His body moved before his mind could instruct it to, and he reached the hospital bed in three, wide steps.

“Moony,” Sirius breathed out, his voice unsteady, his head swimming at the sight of his best friend covered in blood. It shouldn’t have unsettled him this deeply. After all, Remus was injured frequently, every single full moon, always covered in his own blood.

This was different. Remus had never lost consciousness after a full moon, not once. Now, he was lying there with James was holding one hand, Peter holding the other, and Remus was not responding. The way his chest rise and fell with breath didn’t seem like enough – it seemed like a struggle, like a burden, and the air was moving too rapidly, too chaotically.

Sirius hadn’t been there when this happened. McGonagall had him stay after class because he had disrupted Transfiguration, but it hadn’t been intentional. Weeks ago, he’d assigned himself this date, Remus’ birthday, to tell him the truth. To tell him Remus loved him.

He’d written it all down, in words that were so much less poetic than Remus deserved. On this note, he recounted the moment he knew that he would never love anyone the way he loved Remus Lupin. A day the same as any other day, with the same classes and the same pranks and the same jokes. That day, Remus had leaned over in his seat, put his smiling lips to Sirius’ ear, and softly whispered, ‘I know what you’re going to ask, and I’ve already put half of my chocolate bar into the front pocket of your robes.’ That was all it took.  

It wasn’t a striking revelation full of dread and terror and confusion. It was rich and sweet and bright, like the sugar and honey Remus added to his tea. It was wild and warm, like the smile on Remus’ face when he’d said it. It was comforting and even, like Remus’ hand in his.

So, he’d written down the most important message of his life, only to have McGonagall catch him in the act of delivering it. If she read it, he didn’t know. Because Remus had taken notice of how much Sirius had written, and he kept trying to get Sirius to tell him. Instead, with a rose blush blooming underneath Sirius’ pale skin, he promised later, later, later.

It was later that Remus had fallen behind James and Peter on their way back to the dorms. It was later that Remus found himself alone, cornered by Snivellus and the Death Eaters that he called his friends. It was later that, in a fight to get away, Remus had been on the wrong end of a Confrigo curse, leaving him battered and bruised and barely breathing.

As Sirius knelt next to the bed, he took Remus’ hand in his, stifling the sob he felt building in his throat at the lifelessness in Remus’ grip, at the nearly blackened skin around Remus’ left eye, at the bandages around his forehead soaked and crimson.

“Remus,” Sirius whispered, standing to his shaking feet so he could press his lips to Remus’ forehead, careful to avoid the scrapes, the bruises, the blood. “It’s later,” he said, sniffling through the flood of tears filling his voice.

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Okay, this is my last request for now! I’ve got to get started on that Slytherin AU.

BUT I took this one because I love you so much for blessing me with this idea. 

This snippet isn’t the beginning, because I wanted to highlight the good part. 

Go, Go, Gryffindor!

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It started innocently enough. He began the game announcing Sirius’ wager system, surveying the spectators around him to find out who the favourite was (it was still mostly Marlene, and Marlene looked totally amused by it. Dorcas, not quite so much). But as Remus found himself getting carried away with the game, so too did he get carried away with Sirius. It was nearing the end of the game and Remus hadn’t gotten to say all the things he wanted to say.

“Black has possession of the Quaffle, he races toward the Slytherin goal, and might I add that he looks rather fetching from the rear position, if I do say so myself,” Remus smirked as whispering began to increase around him. McGonagall nudged him in the ribs.

“Sorry, Professor,” Remus acknowledged. “Black is intercepted by Yaxley, who is attempting to wrench the Quaffle right out of Black’s fingertips. Good Godric, look at the definition of those shoulders, Sirius obviously has the upper hand in muscle prowess.”

One more sharp glance from McGonagall, but Remus pretended not to notice. “Black has taken back the Quaffle and evaded Yaxley, but not without working himself into a sweat. Yes, there’s quite an attractive sheen on the back of his neck, his soft, black hair clinging to it in a way that is reminiscent of a very long and very strenuous roll in the sack.”

McGonagall was actively trying to tear the microphone from Remus’ hands. “Sorry, Professor, I’m just calling it the way I see it!” he shouted in half-hysterics as the Gryffindor stands erupted into laughter. Remus refused to give up his control, still struggling against McGonagall as he continued to call the game. “Black races past with a fury, bent low over that broom to give us peasants an undeserving view of the perfection of his shapely arse.”

The Gryffindors weren’t just laughing now, they were chanting Remus’ name in his effort to keep announcing. Without a thought, he climbed out of the box with his microphone in hand, balancing with one hand gripped tight to the railing, his feet sticking into the open slats.

“Black moves lithely toward the goal with powerful thighs that you would be grateful to be strangled by, his arm tensed to toss the Quaffle, and …” Remus paused as Sirius throws the Quaffle with an effortless grace that Remus had come to expect. It goes in. The Gryffindor cheers threaten to deafen the entirety of the crowd, and Remus can’t help but join in the victory.

“Black scores!” he shouted with a wild, breathless grin as Sirius looks back at him with a triumphant, beaming smile. “Look at that smile, ladies and Gryffindors! The smile of a man who knows what he’s got and knows how to use it. Godric Gryffindor, does he know how to use it.”

It almost looked like a blush crept over Sirius’ cheeks, and it prompted Remus to press forward, despite the ever-lengthening grasp of McGonagall’s sharp fingernails. “There is not a sight on Earth, Magic or Muggle, that can compete with the smile of Sirius Orion.” With a hum, he reconsidered his stance, getting ready to admit something rather incriminating. “Well, there might be one sight that could compete for than honor and that is Sirius Orion naked.”

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I swear I haven't forgotten you. And I will write it! I just... got distracted... playing Animal Crossing. I'm sorrrrrry 😅