joeytribbiani18

[joeytribbiani18]

Since we’re thinking about roommate AUs… ⛄️ with roommate!Remus and the prompt “uh, yeah- i took your sweatpants out of the laundry by mistake. sorry.”?

these two awkjfahiarhfawg -> the winter games

Remus Lupin x roommate!reader who acted in self-defence [804 words]

CW: landlords, it's very cold, fluff

Remus - though undoubtedly upset on his own behalf - was thoroughly devastated for you when he got home to find the flat nearly just as cold as it was outside. At least he got to spend his day in the warmth of the office; you were off today, and from the sniffles coming from the living room on account of your no doubt cold bitten nose, he knew you were home.

“Is this sodding radiator still not working?” He grumbled in way of hello as he hurried into the living room - coat, mitts, hat and all - to investigate. 

“No! Don’t touch it!” You shouted from the certifiable nest you’d made out of pillows and blankets from the entire flat. 

“Why not? It’s already not working; I hardly see how trying to fix it can make it any worse.”

“Yes but right now it’s the landlord's problem; if you go busting it in an attempt to fix it, we’ll be getting the bill.”

And damn the scenic yet ancient building the two of you called home, and damn your negligent landlord no doubt cosy with his own working furnace and perhaps even an operational fireplace in his warm flat, but mostly damn you for being so smart and so right and so cute. 

Remus let out a sigh and stood to face you. “Well, what have you been doing to stay warm all day then?” 

You pursed your lips as you looked around the flat. “Well, I was trying for cosy vibes with holiday movies, I lit candles mostly for ambience but there’s a part of my brain that insists the temperature rose at least one degree in response, and hot cocoa.” You finished your sentence by lifting the mug in your hand.

“I appreciate the effort, but I have a feeling that the cocoa is the only effective strategy at this point.” 

You smirked at him as you lifted the many blankets off of your lap and made to stand. “I’ll go make you one.”

You were just about to step behind the couch when Remus’ hand involuntarily shot out and grabbed you by your elbow. “Hang on.” Remus laughed accusatively. “What are you wearing?”

Remus had the feeling you were aware you’d been caught as you took a moment to consider your answer before slowly pivoting on your sock-clad feet, smiling at him bashfully. 

“Erm, yeah…I took your sweatpants out of the laundry by mistake. Sorry.” 

But Remus didn’t release your arm and you didn’t appear to expect him to; staring him down for a beat before you deflated with a theatrical moan. “Fine. I’m layered, okay!? Is that what you wanted to hear?!” And with this, you pulled the waistband of Remus’ sweatpants that you had needed to roll numerous times away from your hips to expose another set of your own thick sweatpants underneath them. “And underneath these sweatpants are a pair of leggings. I had tried putting two pairs of my own sweatpants on, but it was too tight and the feeling of losing circulation only left me more cold so yeah, I went back into your room after already hijacking your bedding and helped myself to a pair of sweats. Okay? But any grievances will need to be taken up with my attorney, Rem, because I am cold and it was self-defence!” 

You paused abruptly then; a heat now evident in your face as you panted, and he only hoped that the heat was a welcome reprieve from the cold. 

“I’m cold.” You repeated quite pathetically, and Remus couldn’t help it anymore. He laughed. A big, deep, belly-aching laugh. 

“Oh, oh god, my poor girl.” He managed between laughs, reaching out and pulling you towards him by the shoulders; you swayed into him all too willingly, burrowing into him greedily even though he was sure his jacket was still cold with the fresh winter air. “M’so sorry you’ve been so cold.”

“You should be.” You whimpered into his chest, clearly chuffed at getting the sympathy you’d been looking for. “I’m very cold.”

“I bet.” He agreed, rubbing a few stripes up and down your back before pulling away from you; he could actually see you mourn the loss. “How about you make me some cocoa, and I’ll go change into comfies and meet you in that nest of blankets; we can pool together our resources.” The resource was warmth, but you clearly understood that when you went all but flying in the direction of the kitchen.

“Make haste, Lupin!” 

Remus wasn’t ashamed - not even a little - at the speed in which he ran to his room to change out of his work clothes and into his comfies, grabbing another one of his jumpers to throw in the dryer for you.

What? Your outfit obviously wasn’t complete without a matching jumper.

[joeytribbiani18]

you know what they say, you can't spell 'carpe diem' without die

[joeytribbiani18]

pairing - remus lupin x fem!reader

summary - remus dotes on you and your newborn daugther

warnings - super fluffy

a/n - a little something in celebration of my best friend having her baby, making me a godmother of two cute little beans💕I can't even be mad that she stole my favourite girl name that I had already picked out because the little one is so freaking adorable 😪💕

wordcount - 900

The small house is filled with the warmth of familiar voices tonight, laughter bouncing off the walls. After almost four weeks of quiet, the sounds are comforting, like soft waves returning to the shore. It’s the first time since bringing her home that you and Remus have had anyone other than your respective parents over, and from the moment they stepped through the door, your friends have done nothing but marvel over the tiny bundle in your arms.

Remus is by your side constantly, always keeping a hand at your back or a watchful eye on you, ready to step in if you need anything. You’ve caught the way he looks at you lately—how his gaze lingers on the curve of your cheek or the small movements you make to soothe your daughter. The tenderness in his eyes is enough to steal your breath.

Sirius, leaning over the couch to get a better look at the baby, whistles softly. "Merlin, Moony, she’s got your hair. Poor thing."

Remus chuckles, though there’s a glint of pride in his eyes.

James nudges Lily, grinning. “Look at him—our Remus the doting father. Who would have thought?”

And indeed, Remus is a portrait of quiet adoration. He hovers close, his hand brushing against yours or gently resting on your shoulder. He hasn’t stopped checking to make sure his girls are comfortable, his gaze darting from you to the baby and back again as if afraid to miss a single moment.

“Would you like some more tea?” he asks, his hand already moving to lift the empty cup on the side table.

“Remus, love, I can get it,” you murmur, but he shakes his head, eyes warm.

“No, no—you relax.” His voice is low, soothing, as he bends down to press a kiss to your forehead, leaving a warm spot just above your brow. “You’ve done enough.”

Across the room, Marlene catches your eye and raises her eyebrows, a smirk tugging at her lips. “He’s going to spoil you rotten, isn’t he?”

You laugh, but you can’t deny the way your heart melts watching him. Remus, who’s always been careful and gentle, has become something else entirely with your daughter. Every movement around her is filled with purpose. You’d noticed it even before your friends arrived, the way he’d hold her so carefully, his large hands cradling her tiny form like she’s made of spun glass.

When he returns with the tea, he hands it to you with a soft smile, not missing the way you look at him in thanks. “You should rest your arms,” he says, taking her from you in one smooth motion. You lean back, watching as he cuddles her close, his expression melting into one of pure awe as she snuggles into his chest.

“Look at him,” Dorcas whispers to Marlene, who nods in agreement, a fond smile lighting up her face.

Lily, seated beside you, leans over to whisper, “He’s completely in love with both of you, you know.”

The truth of her words is right there, in the way he holds his daughter, in the way he watches you as though you hung the stars. He gently sways her back and forth, his hand stroking her tiny back as she squirms, her little fingers curling around the fabric of his sweater.

When her little face scrunches up in what could become a cry, Remus bounces her softly, murmuring, “There, there, my love. Daddy’s got you.” His voice is soft, tender. The others are silent, watching this quiet moment, clearly charmed by the way Remus speaks to her, as though she understands every word.

James sighs dramatically. “Well, I think it’s official, mate—you’ve set a new standard for the rest of us.”

Remus chuckles but doesn’t take his eyes off his daughter. “You’ll all understand one day,” he says softly, almost to himself, a faint blush coloring his cheeks as he finally looks up. His eyes meet yours, and you see in them a depth of love that you hadn’t realized could grow even deeper.

“She’s going to be so loved,” you whisper to him, reaching out to touch his hand.

He takes it, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of your hand as he smiles, his expression filled with gentle pride. “I’ll make sure of it.”

At some point, your friends begin talking about old memories, about the ridiculous things you’ve all done over the years, but your attention drifts. All you can see is Remus with your daughter, how he cradles her close to his chest as she finally drifts off to sleep, her tiny head resting just below his chin.

Sirius’s voice brings you out of your daze. “Well, we should probably head out and let the new parents get some rest.”

You smile, touched by their thoughtfulness, though a part of you wishes the night could stretch on forever. One by one, they say their goodbyes, each taking a moment to gaze at the sleeping baby in Remus’s arms.

When the door closes behind the last of your friends, Remus takes a deep breath, glancing down at you with a small smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Happy,” you whisper. “A bit tired but happy.”

He kisses you softly, his hand reaching up to cup your face. “Me too.”

Masterlist

Requesting Guidelines

[joeytribbiani18]

ONE PIERÓG, YOU FOOLS.

[joeytribbiani18]

"can m/f ships be good?" please remember your history. we literally wouldn't have the term if it weren't for an m/f pairing. have some respect

[joeytribbiani18]

as someone who was genuinely looking forward to the mischief productions short film, can i just say how devastating it is that not only was the script ai generated, but they turned down dorian when he offered to write it himself

[joeytribbiani18]

brat summer is OVER

time for DEAD POETS SOCIETY AUTUMN

[joeytribbiani18]

hey girl can i go down soft sound midnight car lights playing with the air breathing in your hair go down soft sound step inti your skin id rather jump in your bones taking up your mouth so you breath through your nose on you??

[joeytribbiani18]

Messy happy Gryffindors enjoying a quidditch match…

This whole thing came about just because I wanted to paint Remus absolutely cheesing to show his lil crooked teeth ☹️

[joeytribbiani18]

My take on each of their mullet phases:

Peter — he did it influenced by the guys and liked it for like a week or two, but he found it too difficult to manage so he grew it back

Sirius — looked hot asf and it boosted his confidence, but he missed his long hair so he eventually grew it back, but would go back to the mullet every once in a while if he felt like it

James — did it just for the funsies but actually looked so handsome and was about to keep it but Lily (or Regulus, whoever you ship James with) said they kinda miss his locks, so he went back and never look behind since

Remus — wasn’t really convinced at the beginning, but everyone was telling him he looks so fucking handsome, so he started to be more confident with it, and then eventually someone (read: Sirius) told him he never looked better and that made him keep the mullet, he looked the best of all marauders and kept it the longest

the marauders each had a mullet at some point in their lives and they all looked sick af w it

[joeytribbiani18]

patched up

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you help remus clean up after the full moon, reminding him once again how much he is loved, even if he thinks he is underserving

warnings: cuts, wounds, physical pain

a/n: all i write is hurt/comfort, and I'm not even mad

Remus sat on the old leather couch, a book in his hand that just couldn’t seem to grasp his attention. His free fingers traced small circles on your legs, which you had ungracefully thrown over his own as you lounged together in the living room. It was still early, just coming up for noon, you both were aware of the time. Even if the knowledge was unspoken. 

It was the full moon tonight, and despite the routine that you both had become familiar with, the boy couldn’t shake the nerves that coiled and twisted inside of him. 

You pretended not to notice what he was doing, glancing at the door every couple of minutes, waiting for the inevitable knock. James and Sirius would arrive any moment now, take him away, far away for yet another transformation. You were used to it by now. 

One thing that was always constant was that they had always been there for him, he appreciated that, but he hated leaving you. Especially when you gave him that soft, reassuring smile. Like everything would be fine. Like everything was fine.

“Rem,” you spoke softly, catching those big, brown eyes. His body was tense beneath you. 

“I’m alright, dove,” he gave you a weak smile, his fingers stopping their patterns to give your calf a light squeeze. “Just… you know.”

And you did know. Painfully so.

You nodded, understanding him completely. You were about to speak more, but were interrupted by the shrill ring of the doorbell. He stiffened even more at the sound. Hand stilling.

He sighed and closed the book, setting it aside. His gaze moved to the hand on your leg, not wanting to move it, wanting to keep the inevitable away for just a second longer. 

“It’s time,” he tells you quietly, like he does every month. His voice carried a sadness that he couldn’t hide completely. 

You place your hand on top of his own, your smile gentle but knowing. “I’ll be right here. Waiting for you to get back, okay?”

He stood up, pulling you with him, tall body towering over your own. He let his hand linger on the small of your back as you both headed to the front door. When he opened it, James and Sirius stood waiting outside, both smiling softly as they knew what was to come. The car behind them was still running, headlights cutting through the fog, casting a warm glow behind them. 

“Hey, mate,” James begins, smiling up at Remus. “You ready?”

Sirius leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest, his usual smirk missing from his face. “We’re ready when you are,” he said. His voice light in an attempt to ease your boyfriend’s nerves. “If you need a breather before we go, just say the word.”

Remus shook his head, he would rather just get this over and done with, no more stalling. You could feel the stress in his body increase as the hand on your waist held on a little tighter. 

Sirius, sensing the clear tension that settled heavily in the air, finally cracked a smile. “Don’t worry,” he waved his hand in front of him. “You’ll be back here with your girl before you know it.” He said, winking in your direction.

James also turns his attention to you, giving you a mock salute, “He is in safe hands, don’t you fret.”

“And we won’t allow him to get too grumpy when we return him,” Sirius added, side-eyeing the man standing next to you. Remus runs a hand over his face at their teasing.

You rolled your eyes and gave them a half-glare, happy that they were trying to keep things light. 

“I trust you both,” you say, tone teasing but nonetheless truthful. “Bring him back in one piece.”

James nods. “You have our word.”

Remus lets out a small, grateful smile before turning his attention back to you. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, allowing his hand to linger on your cheek for a moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow evening, darling. I promise,” he tells you, his gaze was intense. The act of leaving you now was painful. 

You leaned forward and hugged him tightly, his own long arms wrapping around you immediately. Secure and firm, he never wanted to let go. 

“I know you will,” you whispered into his chest, voice muffled by his worn jumper. “I’ll be here.”

Remus reluctantly loosened his embrace, kissing your forehead gently as he allowed himself to linger. 

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured as he held your chin. Warm, tired eyes burrowing into your own. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you say quickly. He already knew that but—god—did it feel good to hear you say it back. He turned towards the car behind him, giving you a small wave before climbing in. 

Remus settled into the back seat as the other two slid into the front. He watched you as the car sped away, trying to push down the knots his stomach was tying. Sirius leaned back, tossing him a lighthearted grin from the passenger seat.

“Come on, Moony,” Sirius said, trying to help him relax. “It’s just another moon. We have done this hundreds of times now.”

"Another moon, another miserable night,” Remus grumbled, no longer having the will to fake a smile. You weren’t there anymore. 

James glanced back from the driver’s seat, a sympathetic look now in his eyes. “You’ll be alright, mate. Besides, from the way you’re moping, I’d say you’re just lovesick.”

“Definitely lovesick,” Sirius said, nodding his head in agreement.

Remus sighed, staring out the trees flying past the window. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I am. I’m damn lucky to be.”

James and Sirius exchanged a quick, knowing look, but didn’t tease him further. Remus just wanted to get through this—so he could go back to the one person who made everything else worth it.

Remus tried his hardest to be silent when he entered, opening the door gently to lessen the loud creak, his movements were slow and heavy as he stepped inside. It was late—much later than he intended to be—every inch of his tired body screamed in protest at the slightest movement. He winced as a sharp pain shot through his ribcage, having to reach out and steady himself against the wall, closing the door behind him. 

It had been bad this time. Really bad. James and Sirius had confirmed it, as if the fresh wounds couldn’t tell him that already. Their concerned faces still clear in his memory. 

The cuts on his body were deep—deeper than usual—one stretching across his chest, another on his arm, and a particularly nasty one that covered the side of his face. He had no recollection of how he acquired them, but they offered a fresh reminder of what he was. What he could become. 

He trudged up the stairs, each step more painful than the last, eventually making his way to the bathroom. He avoided the mirror, the last thing he wanted to see was his reflection—the scars, the bandages, the tired eyes that always seemed more hollow after the events of a full moon. He quickly redressed the lacerations on his torso, delaying touching the one on his cheek. 

He didn’t want to see what it looked like, but he had no choice. He needed to change it. He would just have to do it fast. 

Glancing up quickly, he caught a brief glimpse of himself. He felt the air knocked out of his lungs. Immediately he looked away, biting down another wave of familiar self-loathing that flowed through him. 

He hated this—hated how he looked, how his body was always going to be a physical reminder of how cursed he was. How much of a monster he was. 

With shaky hands, he removed a bandage from its plastic casing, placing it on his face as swiftly as he could. He pulled out a loose set of pyjamas and quickly slipped them on his aching body, just wanting to crawl into bed and pretend the previous night never happened.

He opened the door to your shared bedroom and paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of your sleeping figure. You were lying peacefully on your side of the bed, the soft rise and fall of your chest, the sound of your breathing drew him closer to you. 

He paused before he got in, just standing there for a moment, taking you in, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips for the first time in over twenty-four hours. He loved you. God, he loved you. The one thing in his life he would never get near his tribulation. The one thing that kept him going. 

Carefully, he slipped in next to you, taking extra care not to rouse you. The ache in his arms flared up as he pulled back the heavy duvet, but he forced himself to ignore it. After all, what was a little discomfort when he could be close to you?

He shuffled closer, wincing at the pain that shot through his muscles, but it appeared to melt into the background as he felt your warmth permeate his skin. 

For a moment, he was content just laying there next to you, watching you sleep. If you were awake you would probably call him a creep. He stifled a chuckle at the image that formed in his mind. 

His heart ached—not from the wounds or exhaustion he had sustained, but from the overwhelming combination of emotions he felt for you. He hoped you were sleeping well, lord knows he wouldn’t be. Not with the soreness that was coursing through his drained body, but his own well-being didn’t concern him right now. What mattered was that he was here, with you. 

With a soft sigh, he gently pulled your sleeping form closer to him, his arms trembling slightly with the strain. The throbbing in his chest flared up again, but he ignored it. Instead, he buried his face in your hair and let the steady sound of your breathing soothe him. He kissed the top of your head, whispering into the silent room. 

“I’m home, love,” he murmured, voice almost inaudible as sleep began to pull him under. “Promised I would be.”

The first thing you felt when you stirred was a familiar warmth, strong arms wrapped around you, and for a brief moment, your heart swelled with relief. He was back. He always came back to you. But every time he managed to crawl back home you couldn’t help but worry if it would be worse than the last time. You shifted slightly, turning in his embrace in order to get a better look at him—that’s when you noticed. 

The fresh bandages, hastily applied, peeked out from his long sleeve, another covering the side of his face. You ached for him at the sight of them. You pulled your arms from beneath the duvet, reaching out to touch the dressing. Your fingers hovered just above it, pausing mid-air as you stopped yourself. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him more. You didn’t know what lay beneath them. 

You wriggled out of his hold, taking additional time and care so as to not wake the man sleeping soundly next to you. He needed the rest. You were certain he would be in pain as soon as he rose, and as much as the idea of staying in his arms sounded heavenly, you decided to make yourself useful. 

Padding quietly to the kitchen, odd socks on your feet, you grab two cups from the cupboard above your head. You had to go on your tiptoes to reach them. Usually, Remus would insist on getting them for you—he had once seen you clamber up onto the counter and it nearly gave him a heart attack—but he was preoccupied today. 

The kettle bubbled softly as you pulled out the jar of tea, along with the packet of biscuits—chocolate, of course, his preferred choice. You prepared it in the way he taught you, letting it brew for a good couple of minutes before removing the teabag, pouring in a healthy glug of milk. You returned to the bedroom, steaming mugs in hand and the packet of biscuits under your arm. 

The brunette began to stir at the soft crackle of plastic as you placed the treats on the bedside table, holding your own mug close to your chest as you sat on the floor beside the bed. You watched his eyes as they fluttered open. 

“Hey,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side to look at him horizontally. “How are you feeling?”

He winced as he shifted over, his body still unbearably sore. His tired eyes met yours, and despite everything, he managed to give you a faint smile. It was hard not to when you looked at him like that. 

“I’ve been better,” he replied, his voice husky with sleep. 

You shook your head at his attempts to downplay his clear discomfort, trying to mask the worry in your eyes that was surely present. 

“I made you tea,” you gesture to the cup next to you, pale wisps dancing around the top of it. He liked it hot, straight from the kettle. It amazed you how he could handle drinking it so fast. “And your favourite.”

“I’m a lucky man,” he said as he sat up, voice slightly strained as he finished his sentence. He reached out and dipped the biscuit in his mug, making a sound of relief as he popped it into his mouth, allowing the rich flavour to melt over his tongue. 

He took a sip of his tea, sleeve rolling up slightly as he leant over. You didn’t want to mention how poorly they had been applied, you didn’t want to remind him. But it had to be done. For his sake. 

“Rem,” you began gently, not wanting to upset him. “You need to change those.”

Immediately, he stiffened, his body pausing mid-sip. He loathed this part—being looked after and the vulnerability that came with it. 

“Do I?” He muttered, voice lacking the spark it had when he woke up, clearly embarrassed at your statement. 

You nodded solemnly, cringing at the discomfort in his eyes. “It might get infected,” you tell him. “You’re tired. Let me help you, please?”

He hesitated for a moment, an internal battle occurring in his head, before giving you one of his kind smiles. “Alright,” he responded, trying to keep the sadness from his voice. “Can I finish my tea first?”

You giggled, worry easing just a little. “Of course,” you say, nodding your head. “We’ll do it after.”

He placed his soon-empty cup on the side next to him, sighing heavily as he nodded to you. “Alright, love,” he said reluctantly. “I’m ready.”

You stand up slowly, reaching out to take his hesitant hand, leading him towards the bathroom. He traced your knuckles with his thumb as you both continued down the hallway. When you opened the door, he immediately hopped up on the counter silently. Ignoring the mirror and instead choosing to look down at his lap.

The first aid kit was under the sink, a pack that you always kept fully stocked. You quickly grabbed it before returning to your place in front of him, standing in between his spread legs. Your heart felt heavy at how exhausted he looked. How broken. But you refused to let him see that. He didn’t need to worry about you being worried about him. He had enough to deal with as it is. 

“Can I take your jumper off?” You ask him softly, afraid of raising your voice. You needed to take care of him, and from the looks of it, he wanted to be as far away from this situation as possible. 

His eyes left his lap and locked with yours. For a second, he looked as though he might say something, but instead, he just nodded. Words seemingly too hard to form right now. 

You tried to keep your hands steady as you reached out, gently pulling the fabric over his head, keeping the material as far away from his body as you removed it. You folded up the material and placed it to the side, allowing him to get more comfortable with his bare skin showing before you gave him your attention again. But nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. 

Bandages—there were so many of them, scattered haphazardly across his torso and arms. Each one was a significant reminder of what he had been through the previous night. You swallowed hard, putting on a brave face as you knew he was watching your every movement. 

“You ready?” You asked, needing verbal confirmation as you knew this was going to hurt. Not just him, but yourself as well. 

His lips twitched up into a half-smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” he quipped, trying to take the edge off, but the pain was clear in his low voice. 

You peeled off the dressings, not earning a large reaction from the boy sitting in front of you. Most of them had become unstuck as he slept, making your job easier. You reached for the cloth and antiseptic, deciding to start with the easier gashes first. Your touch was diligent and gentle as you cleaned him, dabbing carefully at the blood and dirt that clung to his skin. 

He must have been shattered last night to skip this. That fact made you even more determined to fix this. To fix him. You couldn’t offer much, but you would do whatever you thought would help. Every few minutes, you’d glance up, wordlessly checking on him. Waiting for the swift bob of his head as he urges you to keep going. 

“Am I hurting you?” You knew the answer already, but you needed to know how much. 

“Only a little,” he lied, a faint smirk appearing on his face. “I’ve been though worse, dove.”

You roll your eyes at his ill attempt of humour, but at least he was able to crack a joke. That was a good sign. 

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you murmered as you pressed down on a particularly nasty cut, earning a small hiss from him. You hurried up when you heard the noise, not wanting to be the one behind his torture. 

Finally, you turned your attention to the injury on his face, the angry red line that ran from his collarbone all the way up to his cheek. The sight of it yanked at your heartstrings and you knew you failed to mask your reaction, his body stiffened. Eyes darting away from yours as he attempted to look away. You caught his chin before he could withdraw into himself, forcing him to look at you. 

Big, doe eyes filled with guilt, shame even, and it devastated you. He cleared his throat with a sharp couch, his voice gravely. “You shouldn’t have to do this,” he muttered, gaze dropping once more despite the grip on his chin. “You shouldn’t—have to take care of me like this.”

You removed your hold on him, allowing both of your hands to continue working, dabbing gently as his mouth curled at the stinging sensation. “Remus,” you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. “I want to take care of you. I love taking care of you.”

He shook his head slightly, the conversation paining him more than your actions. “You’re too good to me,” he tells you, his voice monotone as if he was just speaking a fact. “Look at me, darling. I’m—I’m a mess.”

You smiled at the angelic boy in front of you and placed a kiss on his cheekbone, just above the cut. He really couldn’t see what you saw. How his friends saw in him. How he treated you all. He was the most selfless person you had ever met, going above and beyond for each and every person he cared for. 

It wasn’t a skill that could be taught. It was innate. It was Remus. Always had been. 

“You’re not a mess,” you say firmly. “You are mine. I love you—every scar, every mark, every part of you.”

You saw his throat bod as he swallowed, his eyes slightly glass as he stared at you. He always struggled to allow people to give him affection, not believing he deserved it. He didn’t know where to put all the love you gave him. It always felt unworthy of it. 

But in that moment, just the two of you in the cramped bathroom, illuminated by the small ceiling bulb. It felt right. Your fingers brushing over his scars, some fresher, some older, he thought maybe…just maybe. It would all be alright. 

You finish the last dressing, smoothing it over his skin with the same tenderness you treated all the others. “All done,” you tell him, feeling proud of your handiwork. 

Remus lets out a relieved chuckle at your pride. “I’d say you’ve missed your calling, love. Should’ve been a nurse.”

“Oh yeah?” You laugh, feeling the tension leave the room. “Maybe I’ll change careers.”

“I take it back,” he says quickly, eyes softening with affection. “I want you all to myself. I’m selfish.”

“Well, you’re in luck. I have the whole of today off,” you say, throwing the used bandages and their wrappers into the bin by the door. “We can do whatever you want.”

He raised an eyebrow, your words tempting him. “Anything?”

“Yep, anything at all,” you nod at him. “Within your physical capabilities,” you quickly add. There is no way that would be happening in his condition. 

“Well you’re no fun,” Remus frowns playfully, mischief still swimming in his eyes. “But I’m sure I can come up with something riveting for the both of us.”

You put your hands on your hips, assuming a determined stance. “I’m ready for whatever you’ve got in mind.”

He hums, pleased with your statement, lowering himself down from the counter and pulling his jumper back on. Grimacing as it brushes his skin. He motions for you to follow him into the living room, watching as he winces as he sits down on the couch, his face briefly tightening in pain. But then, true to form, he opens his wide arms and looks at you expectantly. “Come on then.”

You go to take a step forward but hesitate. You would love nothing more than to drape yourself over him, but the sight of his bandages stops you. “I don’t want to hurt you…”

A look of warmth crossed his face, shaking his head with a tender smile. “It’ll hurt more if you don’t let me hold you, darling. Come on.”

You can’t help but melt at his kind words, you gently ease yourself onto the couch, mindful of his injuries and not putting your full weight on him. His arms encase you instantly, pulling you impossibly closer despite the clear discomfort it caused him. 

“You’re stubborn, you know that?” You scold him, your cheek resting on his chest, mindful of the dressing on the opposite side. 

“Stubborn? No.” He quips, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Hopelessly in love? Maybe.”

You giggle, feeling his chest rise and fall beneath you in a steady rhythm. “A bit of both, I think.”

It’s his turn now to chuckle, his tired bones relaxing further into the soft cushions. “You might be right.”

You both just lie there in a comfortable silence, the sound of the world beginning to wake up outside only added to the ambience. He was at peace with you In his embrace, glancing down at you as you gazed at him softly. Fingers tracing gentle circles on an unharmed piece of his chest. 

“So…” you begin, continuing your motions. “Any grand idea for today?”

He shakes his head, stopping to meet your eyes, lips curling into a lazy smile. “Honestly? Just this. Just you.” His voice is playful but his words have never been more true. “Don’t need anything else.”

“Smooth,” you say sarcastically, suppressing a smirk of your own. 

“I’m serious, love,” he chuckles. “I can’t think of a better way to spend today.”

Your heart soared at his words, you carefully shifted to cup his face. “I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

He pushes himself further into your palm, eyes closing for the briefest of moments, his hand coming up to cover your own. “Have I mentioned that you’re too good for me?” He tries to make it sound like a joke, but the familiar self-doubt can still be heard in his voice. 

“Unfortunately, far too much,” you playfully glare. “You stubborn man.”

He reopens his eyes, now filled with an overwhelming amount of affection. It almost takes your breath away. 

“Then I’m sure you’ve heard me say how lucky I am as well,” he teases, his expression never faltering. 

“I’m the lucky one,” you grin cheekily, brushing back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “My boyfriend makes an excellent cup of tea.”

“Is that all I’m here for?” He asks in mock offence, pulling you flush against him, despite the twinge of pain it caused. “Keeping me around for my tea-making skills?”

“Exactly,” you nestle your head against him. 

At that moment, everything felt right to him. Just the two of you, safe, together. Nothing else mattered to him apart from the girl in his arms. He knows the pain will linger—the scars, the transformations, all of it. But with you—his anchor—it feels just about bearable. And for the first time in a long time. He allows himself to feel hope. The hope of your future together. 

[joeytribbiani18]

“who’s the cute boy with the white jacket and the thick accent?”

[joeytribbiani18]

The most hardcore thing that Harry James Potter ever did was not, contrary to popular belief, the “there’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ Professor” incident, but instead was either the time that he

a) laid into one of the people he respected most in the world (and the only authority figure in his life offering him help in one of the most desperate situations he’d ever been in) for leaving his pregnant wife, going “man, you’re inhibited by your own self-loathing and fear? That’s rough. That really sucks. But you know what trumps that? RESPONSIBILITY. You brought a child into the world. You’re a father now. You’re scared? Walk it off. Walk it off AAAAAALLLL THE WAY BACK HOME. And say hi to Tonks for me.”

or

b) he willingly let himself be murdered, came back from the dead, walked back onto the battlefield, stared his own killer dead in the eyes completely unimpressed and called him “Tom”

[joeytribbiani18]

FANS OF REMUS LUPIN!!!!

hi. Please do yourselves a favor and watch the BBC’s “An Inspector Calls”

It’s literally just David Thewlis serving cunt for an hour. Cannot recommended enough, I’m watching it for the first time in years and let me tell you, it’s genuinely just Remus is he was a badass socialist feminist detective.

10/10 I will ALWAYS recommend

[joeytribbiani18]

Was just on TikTok shop and saw this and I’m literally so in shock. I know this isn’t a new phenomenon but for them to have a whole TikTok shop for this and to be selling them at such a high price and for people to have actually bought them?? This is why people take their fics down, this shit is literally illegal and on top of that it’s just wrong. Here is your reminder that fanfics are FREE and if you want a bound copy so badly, learn how to bind yourself

[joeytribbiani18]

Rumor Has It

James Potter x fem!reader (costar au)

WC: 551

CW: Fluff; allusions to sex

Summary: Rumors have been spreading that you and your costar James Potter are dating.

Day 24 of mk’s mad dash

“So you guys had really great chemistry on screen. Did it come to you two naturally, or did you have to put in some time to get to know each other better?”

The blonde journalist across from you waited expectantly, pen at the ready in her hand. This was only about the billionth time you two had been asked this question, and you tried desperately not to roll your eyes. It wasn’t entirely the interviewers fault- you were doing press for a rom com- you just wished you could be asked more about your acting and work, not the romance.

“I guess a little bit of both,” James answered calmly.

And thank god for it.

“I certainly felt an initial chemistry with her when I auditioned, and it seemed like the directors felt it too. But of course, getting to know each other outside of filming was critical to establishing what you all ended up seeing.”

“If I can ask, what sort of stuff did you two do to bond?”

You jumped in on this question so you didn’t appear apathetic, “lots of stuff, really. We did a lot of fun activities like mini golf or going for coffee to connect. But we also really got to know one another. I think trust is so foundational for a role like this, and I think James and I really built that. We’ve met each other’s families and friends, been to each other’s hometowns, etc.”

“Sort of felt like we were really dating,” your costar joked, “though without all the benefits.”

You smirked and rolled your eyes, playfully swatting him in front of the camera.

The blonde interviewer giggled (maybe a little too hard for your liking.)

“You know, it’s funny you say that, because rumor has it, you two are dating.”

You and James looked at each other in fake surprise even though you’d both heard the rumors countless times. The goofy look on his face- his mouth wide open and hazel eyes glimmering with mirth- almost made you crack. But you were an actor, so you stayed strong.

“I fear that’s the rom-com curse,” you sighed.

“Or just a nod to your phenomenal acting,” your costar suggested, sending you a wink.

You could already imagine the countless edits that fans would make of this single moment- it playing over and over for everyone to analyze- backed by romantic music and heavy colorful filters.

You supposed.

It wasn’t like you’d watched edits of you two (or James) before.

“So it’s just a rumor then?” the interviewer clarified.

A series of images flashed across your mind.

You two’s chemistry read.

The first scene you guys ever filmed together.

Intimate late night shoots.

James’ hot hands on your skin for the first time.

Quickies in your respective trailers.

Your first date at his place where he cooked you dinner.

Your fourth date, where you asked him to be your boyfriend in the corner of a book shop.

The first sleepover.

Meeting his parents.

Him meeting yours.

Giving each other a spare key.

One hour ago in the dressing rooms.

You made sure to subtly shift your collar to hide the fairly large hickey James had left on your collarbone only about an hour ago.

“Yes,” you and James agreed simultaneously.

“It’s just a rumor.”

[joeytribbiani18]

i’m so nervous for next 75 album because everyone’s gonna be dissecting those lyrics and gonna say they��re about fucking taylor swift and it’s gonna drive me mad