I Fear Ive Got Wolverine Brainrot

i fear i’ve got wolverine brainrot

(he’s so yummy)

creds: niyussy on tiktok

☝️

this is the sickest fucking burn hdwndkd

they bring me so much comfort i cannot put into words ☹️☹️

dreams of tomato soup

— pairing: poly!marauders x gn!reader

— a/n: inspired by a conversation i had with my sister who sleep talks sometimes, i'm pretty sure she has a recipe deep down her brain

— warning: nothing, nothing, this is pure fluff

"I hear you talking in your sleep." Sirius' voice wakes you up from slumber, your eyes flutter open still heavy from sleep, in a way that has you barely registering his words.

"I don't." You mumble back at him, squeezing your eyes at the light that peeks through your curtains, shining just above your pupils. You should get blinds that close properly, you think.

"I'm afraid you do, dove." Remus hums softly from the other side of the bed, reading quietly as you and Sirius wake up.

It was almost ritualistic at this point, James would wake first, keep the blinds only slightly open so he wouldn't stumble across the room in the darkness as he got ready for his morning run, then Remus, who would just as quietly get up and get the kettle started for you, coffee brewing as he returned to bed with a mug of hot tea to read a couple pages before finally, you and Sirius woke up. His current reading was Agatha Christie, one of the books you brought with you when you first moved.

"You were talking about cilantro this time, though it's usually tomatoes." Remus points out, gently pushing the rebellious strands of your hair out of your face.

"I don't talk in my sleep, and most definitely it's not about tomatoes."

"You do, but it's cute, dear." Sirius chuckle as you groan, burying your head on your pillow dreadfully. "Maybe we oughta start annotating, it could be a good recipe if it's important enough to be recited on your sleep."

"I don't sleep talk, Sirius Black, and I'm not giving you a recipe." You hit his side with the extra pillow on the headboard.

"It's true, Pads, I don't think it's a good recipe. Maybe it's tomato soup." Sirius frows at that, distasteful.

"My dear, tell your subconscious to find a recipe that is not tomato soup, please. Maybe we can read it to you like a bedtime story and it will pick up. Remus, we need to find a cookie recipe." Sirius promptly jumps from the bed at that, but Remus only laughs at him, softly running his fingers through your tangled hair.

"Where's Jamie? He's nice to me." You mumble grumpily, frowning as you cling to the duvets Sirius is persistently trying to pull out of your grasp. "You're mean."

"He's only teasing, sweetheart, don't pay him mind. But maybe we should find a cookie recipe, what do you say, uhm? Me and Prongs can make some for breakfast when he's back."

The idea makes you smile. "No tomatoes in it please?"

"Cross my heart." He plants a kiss on your forehead, putting the book down on the bedside table. "Unless you are having prophetic dreams about tomato cookies."

luv men who love you weirdly. who love you so much it’s just shy of creepy. luv men who r a little not normal when it comes to you n their love for you.

he’s got a face that makes you wanna moan out loud

Face card here was crazy

the boys w a reader who's very physically affectionate? pre-relationship >:)

like none of them are dating yet, and she'd hug and kiss them on the cheeks, hold their hands on the way to class, carry their books/bags for them and lean on them in the common room and all three of them are flustered by it. bonus points if reader doesn't even know she does it, it's just how she is, and when they point it out she's like "oh.. i'll stop, sorry" and they're like "NONONONO" THEY'D BE SO CUTE

Yesssss thanks for requesting my love!

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

You insist on carrying Remus’ book bag to Hogsmeade for him, and he glares at James the whole way for letting slip that his shoulders have been aching all day. 

“Let me take that,” James offers for the upteenth time, ignoring Remus’ muttered “Yeah, let ‘im.” 

“I’ve got it, Jamie,” you say again, wobbling a bit under the weight of Remus’ books, far more plentiful than what you’d packed for the study session. “We’re here anyway.”

“C’mon, doll, let’s get you a butterbeer to warm up, yeah?” Sirius opens the door to The Three Broomsticks. “I’m sure Remus will buy.” 

Remus rolls his eyes. “I’ll buy Y/N one, not either of you.” 

“Spoilsport.” Sirius slides into an empty booth, and you set your load down beside him, turning around and pushing up on your tiptoes to give Remus a kiss on the cheek. 

“Thanks,” you say sweetly, and Remus isn’t a very affectionate person, but he’s hardly easily flustered either. So when his cheeks turn bright pink as soon as you’re not looking anymore, James can’t help but grin. 

“Sit by me, sweetheart,” Sirius says, setting his arm atop the booth. James thinks he views your flirting as a sort of contest, seeing who will go the farthest before someone needs to tap out. But if it’s a competition, it’s one Sirius is destined to lose. 

You slide agreeably in beside him, slipping under Sirius’ arm so readily that it drops from the booth in surprise, landing with a dull thump at your side. “Merlin, it’s cold in here,” you say, nestling close. “You think they keep it that way so you’ll buy more butterbeer?”

Sirius’ voice is pitchy and breathless. “Mm—probably.” 

James smirks at him, sliding into the safe zone across from the two of you. 

You take Sirius’ hand in both of yours, frowning and rubbing at it. “See, your hand is freezing! This is ridiculous.” 

Remus reappears with four pitchers, grinning knowingly at the shell-shocked look on Sirius’ face. “I’ll be expecting the two of you to pay me back,” he says to James and Sirius, setting them down and beginning to dig through his book bag. “Merlin, if I can finish Slughorn’s essay while we're here it’ll be a miracle.”

James blows gently on his butterbeer, trying not to watch too closely as you purse your lips to do the same. “Have you started on that already?” he asks.

Remus shakes his head, exasperated but familiar with James’ ways. “It’s due tomorrow, Prongs. You won’t be able to do it in the hour before class, trust me.” 

“Wait, the one on boggarts?” you ask, opening your own bag. Remus nods, and you hold up a small stack of parchment, beaming. “I finished this morning. Wanna see?”

“That'd be great,” Remus says. “What I really can’t figure out is the part…about…” he appears to lose his train of thought as, instead of passing the papers across the table, you disappear under it, re-emerging a second later to squeeze between James and Remus in their seat. 

“I know what you mean,” you say, as though this is all very commonplace, pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip with the both of them. “The second part of the question is near impossible to understand, but I think I may have figured it out. Here, see…” James stops hearing the conversation as you duck down towards your work, your hair tickling his arm and your jumper riding up to reveal the small of your back. James’ eyes follow the curve of your spine, down, down, until—he feels like a total perv, and looks away. 

Across the booth, Sirius is looking simultaneously relieved to have a break from your brazen affection and regretful that you’re not still there with him. He watches you as you speak in low tones with Remus, his eyes flicking upwards to James as if to say this is insane, right?. James nods back dazedly. 

You finish whatever you’ve been explaining to Remus, hauling your butterbeer across the table to sip at it. “Jamie, do you want my jumper?”

He nearly chokes. “Hm?”

You look up at him with concerned eyes. “I can feel you shivering. It might be a bit small on you, but it could help.” 

James is cold, but watching you take off that jumper, smelling you on it, would be too much. He forces a smile, taking a sip of his warm butterbeer instead. “Thanks, but I’m alright.” 

You frown at him, setting your hand atop his on the table. “You sure, honey? I don’t mind. I’m feeling a bit hot, actually.” 

Whatever the look on James' face, it’s enough to make Sirius guffaw. Loudly. Even Remus snickers, tucking his tongue into his cheek. 

“What?” You look at them. “What’s funny?”

“Doll, you’ve killed him,” Sirius laughs, and James doesn’t feel so chilly anymore, all his blood rushing to his face. 

Your brows scrunch together worriedly. “What do you mean?” 

Remus chuckles, the only one of them kind enough to give you an explanation. “I think what he’s saying is, even James has a threshold for flirting. You’ve just flustered him. Don’t worry, he’ll recover.” 

“I…what?”

“C’mon,” Sirius says, rolling his eyes good-naturedly, “all the touching, the hugs, the pet names? A man can only take so much.”

“Oh, Merlin, I’m so sorry!” You clap a hand over your mouth, eyes wide with horror. “I didn’t realize—I’m just a naturally affectionate person, but I didn’t mean to flirt—well, I don’t not want to flirt with you all, but I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I’ll stop, I’m sorry.” 

Sirius blinks. “Don’t stop,” he protests. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Your confusion returns. “No?”

“No,” Remus says, some of the color from earlier returning to his cheeks. “I mean, it’s nice.” 

James nods, finding his voice again. “Flirt with us all you like, but, um…would it be alright if we flirted back?”

Your smile comes like a sunrise, slow and brilliant and beautiful. “Yeah, I’d like that.” 

Sirius grins at you, bravado restored. “Good, because we need to even the playing field, dollface. Come back over here, I’m cold.”