#go read a fic with welsh remus

[sspadfoot]

“Remus is canonically Welsh!”

Well, in my fic he isn’t. Leave me alone please 😭

[euripidestrousers]

Do you have any underrated wolfstar fics that you would recommend?

Weehee this gives me another chance to talk about Merry Men, one of my favourite wolfstar fics! These are not in order tho

(FYI - some of these are WIPs but I am a 100% believer in reading WIPs, yeah sometimes you have to wait for a chapter but that's part of the joy, screaming at the author all your love and encouragement.)

Merry Men - @copper-dust

It's gorgeously written, I mean every second sentence is poetry, and several I've had to put it down just to think about the masterpiece of a paragraph I've just read. Military AU, with a brutally honest view of the Vietnam war - we've got soft wolfstar amidst gunfire and grief, and sweet new cadet James, and all the incredibly 4D minor characters you could ask for. Deserves so so much more kudos and attention, it's currently <50 kudos and it's absolutely criminal.

When A Star Fell To Earth - EmRoseJori

Sci-fi AU. This was an absolute blast beginning to end. This is like watching a thrilling space-fi movie but with Wolfstar. And Remus is Welsh!!! It pretty much all takes place on earth, but in a futuristic post-apocalyptic setting. 430 kudos isn't minor but I think it deserves a hell of a lot more.

Made of Magic - lurikko

Short and sweet. Somehow combines cute and unnerving, menacing haunting vibes. Remus is hired to essentially exorcise Mr Black's house and there's something strange about the magic in the house. It's spooky and charming - recommend with a blanket and a tea on an overcast day.

The Space Between - @emeryhall

This fic made me laugh and cry (I finished a tissue box). It's a get-together fic where Remus follows Sirius through the veil. So so fresh and creative.

We Of Dust & Shadow - @eurhythmix

A stars crossed, soul mate adjacent AU. Difficult to describe without spoiling the fun, but it was thrilling and emotional and beautiful beginning to end. If you liked the themes of The Fall (minus the rom com), I think you'll like this short fic.

Not Like it Used To Be, But Just As Good @starrysummer-nights

Oh my God, this fic. The ultimate soft porn with feelings. So many feelings and emotions and LOVE between older wolfstar. And the smut is fucking hot, you'll need a fan.

There are many many more in my tbr list, but I spend all my time writing and have neglected the list!

Ty for the ask, please give something from this list a go ☺️☺️

[lupinsweater]

omg the new remus fic was so cute! it’s funny cuz i also don’t seem latina unless asked people always clock that im not american but they can never place it!!! i would love to see how that relationship develops. specially since i love the headcanon that remus is welsh so mayb they can bond over strange accents lol!

love ya

-🦉

hi 🦉!! i also love the headcannon that remus is welsh🙂‍↕️ i did end up playing more into the werewolf thing this time, but i want to incorporate the accents more in the future! hope you enjoy this update!

part one

Remus Lupin x Latina!Reader 💌 1.1k words

♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡ ~ ♡

You were only a few weeks into school, and you were already cramming for an exam.

The Hogwarts library was practically deserted at this hour- most students had long since abandoned the hush of the library for the warmth of their beds. You’d found a quiet corner near the back of the library, hoping if you stayed quiet enough that Madam Pince wouldn’t notice you were still there. Your copy of Advanced Potion Making was spread open on the table in front of you, an array of notes surrounding the textbook in a clutter.

You sighed, flipping another page and scribbling what you hoped were coherent notes onto the parchment beside you. The ingredients list on the particular potion you were studying was maddeningly long and confusing; the precise movements required and incantations were starting to blur together in your mind. You rubbed your eyes feebly, wishing you’d gotten an earlier start on your studying- this wasn’t the first time Potions had been a struggle for you, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

“Still at it, I see?”

The voice startled you, and you looked up to see Remus standing near your table, a bundle of books tucked under his arm and his expression sympathetic.

“Unfortunately,” you replied, your tone only half-joking. “I think Potions is finally going to be the death of me this year.”

Remus chuckled quietly, moving towards the seat across from you and setting his books down. “Want some company? I can’t guarantee I’ll be much help, but I can guarantee that I’ll make sure Madam Pince doesn’t find us back here.”

“Please.” You hadn’t realized how tense you had gotten until he sat down. His presence immediately made you feel more at ease- a sensation like warm Butterbeer settling in your stomach washed over you. Remus fumbled through his bag for a moment before pulling out two Chocolate Frogs. He slid one across the table towards you, and you smiled gratefully as you unwrapped it.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” was all he said, a small smile toying at the corner of his lips. He unwrapped his own, breaking off a small piece and eating it, careful not to get any chocolate on his book as he began reading.

For a while, the two of you studied in companionable silence, heads buried in your books. Every now and then, Remus would quietly correct a detail you were writing in your notes or point out the use of an ingredient, and you found yourself both relieved and oddly impressed by his insight. He never made you feel like you were stupid- the tone he used almost made you feel like he was pointing out things for his own benefit, too, and not to correct you. But as the time ticked on, you could feel your mind drifting somewhere it often did when you were studying. Every word on the page of your textbook felt like it was blurring together, and the frustration of not being able to understand better began to mix with something else- something you had never felt inclined to share before.

You let out a frustrated sigh without realizing, and Remus looked up from his book, his gaze soft and concerned. “You okay?”

You chewed on your lip nervously as you met his gaze, not quite sure how to respond. For once, though, you felt like you wouldn’t be judged for voicing what had been bothering you for a long time. “It’s just…well, I know this sounds silly, but do you ever feel like you don’t belong here?”

Remus closed his book, and seeing you had his full attention made you feel both at ease and more nervous at the same time. “What do you mean?” He said, looking at you with genuine curiosity.

“I don’t know,” you responded, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes. “Like…like you don’t quite fit. Not because of anything you’ve done, but because of who you are.”

Remus’ eyes softened with sudden understanding. “Yes,” he said, which surprised you enough that you looked up at him again. “I know exactly what you mean. It can be hard. There are things I don’t talk about, things I feel like I have to keep hidden because…well, I guess I worry that people would treat me differently if they knew. There’s this pressure to act like I don’t struggle with anything.” He paused, then added softly, “It’s exhausting.”

You nodded in understanding, the words spilling from your lips before you could think about it too much. “I know I push myself harder than I should. Sometimes…it just feels like I have to. Like if I don’t, people will assume things.” You trailed off for a moment before continuing in a softer voice, “I feel like I’m always being watched. I know people notice that I’m different- my accent, the way I speak to my family in Spanish, the way I pronounce things sometimes…It’s like no matter how hard I try, I stick out like a sore thumb.”

Remus nodded, looking down at his hands, as though he was debating saying something. “I know how it feels to be different. It seems easier just to hide those parts of yourself,” he started slowly. He looked back up at you with a small, sincere smile. “But I think the things that make you different, and the things that make you stand out- they’re what make you remarkable. Anyone who doesn’t see that is missing out.”

That Butterbeer warmth spread through your chest at his words, and you looked down at your book, suddenly shy. A smile tugged at your lips. “Thanks, Remus.”

“I mean it,” he said earnestly. “You shouldn’t have to prove anything to anyone. If they can’t see how much you belong here, that’s on them.” As your smile grew, he added, “And, for the record, I happen to think your accent makes you sound way smarter than the rest of us.”

You laughed, kicking at his foot under the table. “Right. Tell that to Professor Slughorn next time he has a hard time understanding me.” Remus laughed, too, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight.

“I think he just needs to work on his English,” Remus said, making you smile somehow wider. He smiled back, and you felt your cheeks flush as his gaze lingered on you before he opened his book again. You watched him from the corner of your eye as you returned to yours, too, the Potions exam somehow seeming less daunting than it ever had before.

[blueironywrites]

Title: First Impressions

Rating: PG

Prompt: Jockey from @wolfstarmicrofic

Word count: 298

Summary: Sirius makes a new best friend when visiting Remus’s parents for the first time.

I am writing a fic for each of the prompts this month. You can read all of them here.

+ + +

Sirius placed a hand on Hope’s arm and she stopped turning the page of the photo album. Eyes wide with glee, Sirius brought the album closer to him and gasped. “Who is this?” he asked.

Hope laughed. “That’s Remus,” she said.

Sirius rolled his eyes. “No, I know that’s Remus, but he’s tiny,” he said, in disbelief. “How did this,” he said, pointing to the photograph of a young Remus standing at the top of a playground slide, “Turn into that?” he asked, pointing across the room to where his six-foot-four bronze-medallist boyfriend was talking to his father, his long limbs comically sprawled all around him.

When Hope had asked if Sirius wanted to see childhood photos of Remus, Sirius had hastily said yes while ignoring Remus’s pleas for his mother to stop. After seeing the excitement on Sirius’s face, he had sighed and sat next to Lyall, a slightly pained look on his face as he watched Hope bring out no less than six albums from the cupboard.

“Want to hear a secret?” Hope asked, her eyes gleaming, gesturing for Sirius to come closer. “He wanted to be a jockey, but poor thing grew too tall by the time he was fourteen, which is why he switched to basketball,” she said.

“Oh, please tell me there are photos of him on a horse,” Sirius begged. His mind filled with visions of a tiny Remus riding a horse over the Welsh countryside and he was hoping to makes copies of photos if they existed for their new home.

Hope’s eyes gleamed. “There’s almost a whole album. I’ll go get it,” she said.

Sirius laughed out loud.  “Oh, Hope,” he said, kissing her cheek, “I think you and I are going to be the very best of friends.”

[seriousbrat]

what would the marauders' (+ lily and snape's) tastes in literature and poetry be like? i like to think remus would be a kafka guy and i see lily as a big fan of sylvia plath and the romantic movement, but i'm curious about your take

Ahh I love this question soo much and I've been thinking about it a lot! Thank you for asking ❤️

James

sorry to say but this is a Kerouac bitch. this is a bitch who likes 'boy fiction' like On the Road and Catcher in the Rye. I also think James would like epic fantasy like Lord of the Rings, and science fiction like Dune.

Also, I'm just going to go with Muggle (aka real. lol) literature for this BUT I also want to say that I have invented a wizarding poet that Fleamont is really into for my fic, (this is just an excuse to write/include poetry lol) and James would like that too, having grown up with it. ALSO in my mind James would read poems about Quidditch lol

As for poetry, I think he'd like Beat poetry. But also TS Eliot and Dylan Thomas, similar to Remus, and Yeats, like Lily. An Irish Airman Forsees His Death is perhaps my favourite poem of all time and I think it would REALLY resonate with James. Especially since 'a lonely impulse of delight' would also drive him to 'this tumult in the clouds.' wahhh i love that poem

Sirius

I think Sirius would skew a little darker than James. Honestly as much as he'd hate this he might have a bit in common literature-wise with Snape lol, so I'm giving him Camus, The Stranger, and Sartre, Nausea.

as for poetry, Ginsberg's Howl would appeal to him. and William Burroughs. Like James, Beat poetry in general, though I feel he wouldn't be as into Kerouac as James.

A lot of this kind of stuff doesn't appeal to me as much (Kerouac is my fav Beat unfortunately) but I think generally Sirius would like fairly gritty realistic dark stuff. So the obligatory Bukowski is going here. Also perhaps Ted Hughes. Maybe stuff with a political/social commentary.

Peter

honestly I can't see Peter reading a lot lol but if he did, it'd be fairly easy and exciting things, maybe fantasy/scifi like James. I can see him liking The Hobbit. Also maybe crime novels or thrillers? Like kind of bad, easy to read ones haha.

Also comic books, i know nothing about that personally though. Super heroes?? lol idk

No poetry lmao, he wouldn't get it. Maybe he'd like humourous stuff. Limericks lol. An epicure dining at crewe / found a traitorous rat in his stew, etc

Remus

I agree about Kafka!

I just want to give someone this because it's one of my favourite novels ever, so I'm giving Remus Le Grand Meaulnes by Henri Alain-Fournier. (I think it's been translated as The Lost Estate in English but I prefer the original title.)

Hmm I think he might be a Hemingway?? Also Raymond Carver (who is one of my fav authors) anyway I think the minimalist, understated style of both would appeal to him.

I also think he'd like a good coming-of-age story when younger so, the aforementioned Meaulnes (honestly i rly just love that book) but also Joyce's Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and, like James, Catcher in the Rye.

And then when older it would be more minimalist stuff. I just think he'd be a Hemingway! Also maybe Steinbeck and Capote. I really dont know why I'm always giving Remus such American taste in things. In my mind he has great taste though haha.

For poetry I'm giving him Dylan Thomas (see? Welsh) and T.S. Eliot, W.H. Auden.

Lily

absolutely Sylvia Plath! I had her reading The Bell Jar in my fic.

but also other poets, particularly female poets. Anne Sexton, Emily Dickinson, Mary Oliver, Edna St Vincent Millay.

Yeats too, she'd absolutely love Yeats. Like I said my fav is An Irish Airman... but Lily would LOVE and be so enraptured by The Stolen Child (as am I)

as for fiction, she'd love The Mill on the Floss (as well as other things by George Eliot,) the Brontë sisters. God would she love Wuthering Heights (both the book and the Kate Bush song.) I think she'd like Little Women too and really identify with Jo (as do we all,) and also Virginia Woolf. I'll give her Oscar Wilde and Poe too.

Also I want someone to be a Wodehouse fan and that's going to be Lily.

as a kid I think her favourite books would have been The Secret Garden and Watership Down. And Alice in Wonderland. She probably grew up with Beatrix Potter and Edward Lear too. This is essentially just my own taste/what I grew up with btw lol

Snape

I think he'd like Kafka too. also, like Sirius, Camus's The Stranger and Sartre's Nausea lol. he'd be pretentious and dark, basically.

I also think he'd read the most nonfiction, specifically philosophy, specifically nihilism lol so the aforementioned Camus and Sartre, Kierkegaard, and NIETZSCHE. god.

He might like horror. Lovecraft, Bram Stoker's Dracula, Jekyll and Hyde. I'm not really a horror fan myself but I think Snape would be.

fun fact but hpwiki lists 'poetry' as one of Snape's skills and I believe that. Anyway, similarly he'd enjoy moody man poetry. But also be more romantic and more classical than Sirius.

I'm giving him Richard Lovelace, I think he'd relate to the romantic aspect of To Althea, From Prison (which is so beautiful) but also the tragedy haha.

As you might be able to tell this is heavily based on what I like and therefore what I could think of off the top of my head. I feel like if you combine Lily's taste with Remus's and then add a bit of the darker Sev side of things, that's just what I like lmao.

So I'm sure there's obvious stuff I'm missing for someone, pls feel free to suggest things!

Edit wait, since I mentioned Dylan Thomas I wanted to share this Welsh translation of his famous poem Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night, sung by Welsh group Brigyn! It's a bit folksy haha but such a beautiful version:

[moonytoast-x]

my lovely collection of fanfic recs summarized by yours truly <3

✨all the young dudes✨: canon, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/10057010/chapters/22409387

dress up in you: muggle au, remus is a hot bassist and sirius is so gay for him, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990401/chapters/32213229

atyd sirius pov: self explanatory (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/34577035

text talk: muggle au, text fic, remus has chronic illness and sirius texted the wrong number, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/1651109/chapters/3501239

you wouldn't like me: muggle au, trans sirius, wolfstar, set in like 2005, very vibes, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/45502642/chapters/11449071

blends: coffee shop au wolfstar <3 (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/7869079/chapters/17970910

on another ocean: wolfstar goes on a trip across europe together and has incredible sexual tension, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/39128118/chapters/117226243#workskin

choices: jegulus/jegulily, mostly canon compliant, takes place during hogwarts years all through the war (REALLY FUCKING SAD WATCH OUT), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/30170643/chapters/74332617

tigerlily and wolfsbane: lily pov of hogwarts years https://archiveofourown.org/works/33079969/chapters/82118059

wading in waist high waters: gbbo au wolfstar, sexual tension, sirius used to be in a boyband, remus is a welsh nerd (I love him), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/36896740/chapters/92052442

dear your holiness: remus is a priest and a bassist and sirius is incredibly gay and also confused, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/35105491/chapters/87450694

the hand that feeds: canon compliant dorlene (be prepared to sob), complete work, theres also a part two that focuses on emmeline vance and mary https://archiveofourown.org/works/38287942/chapters/95669569

nothing fades like the light: zombie cowboy jegulus, shortish, so sAD, has some black brother feels </3 (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/43550415/chapters/109497873

bury our secrets shallow: marauders+slythershits muggle small town au with black brothers sorting their shit out, also wolfstar and jegulus I think (complete work) https://archiveofourown.org/works/49550836/chapters/128345881#workskin

bird set free: wolfstar figure skating and all the sexual tension (major second hand embarrassment but it's kinda funny the second time you read it), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/44271820/chapters/112378375#workskin

like real people do: muggle au where remus has epilepsy and works at a coffee shop, and sirius is raising harry bc jily still died (😭😭😭) and they fall in love, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/44399764/chapters/111670651

crimson rivers: hunger games au, really long, really fucking angsty, SO GOOD, complete work https://href.li/?https://archiveofourown.org/works/39760044

we can take it out back if you promise to give me a kiss after you take me down: rosekiller muggle au, wip, they're dramatic little shits and theyre going thru it https://archiveofourown.org/works/50777170/chapters/128269429

just lovers: no war au with starchaser and marylily and rosekiller and wolfstar and general happiness and wholesomeness, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/38344720

intermission: cute rosekiller side plot from just lovers (your honor I love them), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/39437451/chapters/98704770#workskin

I'm not gonna teach him how to dance with you: rosekiller trying to stop barty from getting into an arranged marriage, in canon-without-the-war, lots of slythershit shenanigans, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/41378289/chapters/103762113

annoying: rosekiller wrong number text fic (like text talk but even funnier and less wolfstar), complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/44115820/chapters/121605580#workskin

kill your darlings: college hockey au, jegulus and wolfstar and marylily and barty x evan x cerci, very angsty most times, truly amazing, complete work https://archiveofourown.org/works/40038048/chapters/100269270

[saturnsconstellation]

Why do I really fw the idea of James and Remus being childhood bestfriends? Like okay, sure, I LOVE Sirius’s and James’s relationship but what if we have that same dynamic to him and Remus?

They could have met once after both their fathers met in their Hogwarts years and became close friends even after school ended, and they parted ways. Every year, Fleamont would call Lyall and his wife and son for Christmas, and every year they would go. Remus’s birthday is not so far from James’s, so they get along really well.

James, overly optimistic and hyperactive; A bold and confident kid with bright brown eyes and golden skin who made the world light up when he smiled and Remus, shy and sweet; willing to do whatever James wanted because he was his only friend. Who got super excited when James would hear him rant none-stop about things he was passionate about. They were attached to the hip.

I headcanon Remus went to a muggle school to fill in his years before Hogwarts and would beg his father to let him go to the Potters because ‘Dad, I need to tell James what I learned today! I promised him I’d teach him math :(‘ (yes, the wizards world teaches mathematics, but only to a certain extent because it’s considered a minor thing and they want to teach the children magic more than anything. The source? Uhhh, carrying on-)

Remus would be embarrassed of his Welsh accent and try very hard to hide it around James, and James would smile at him and tell him he loved his accent (he doesn’t understand a word, but will continue to smile and nod). James would try so very hard to get him to like Quidditch; ultimately giving up after Remus asks “what’s a snitch for, anyway?”

Remus would get jealous after Marlene and Peter came over for the first time after he and James had been already friends for 3 years because of course James would want friends that don’t talk about random things and struggle to read books or social cues (Neurodivergent + Dyslexic Remus you are my favorite) and of course he would want friends that like Quidditch as much as him. But every time Remus gets a little too quiet or just retreats to the back of the room, James goes up to him and stays with him until he says what the problem is.

James was the first to know about Remus’s “issue” (insert dominant alpha male) and would swear on his own life that he would never, ever, ever use it against him in ANY hypotheses (INSERT BLACK HAIRED BOY), and would never stop being his friend because of it. James was also the first person who Remus came out to + admitted being in love with Sirius.

Remus was sure that was the end of their friendship and that James would never look at him the same again (James and Sirius are already friends, but of course Remus is still his n1), but instead James gives him the tightest hug and says that ‘if nothing changed when you said you were a werewolf, nothing will change if you like blokes.’ And he meant it.

Remus who was chosen to be the godfather of his son (again, another hc), Remus who never got over his best friends death. Remus who got a tattoo of a stag on his forearm.

I made their relationship even more devastating. I need a Fic like this thought, let me know if I should write it xx

[marigold-hills]

Thanks for the tag @magicbeings & @veganbutterchicken and @tealeavesandtrash ❤️

total works: 21

total word count: 168,697

your top 5 stories by kudos/likes?

I’m starving, darling

Open Thoughts

Dunes and Waters

The Lives We Lost

June: or how Sirius finally figured himself out

do you respond to comments? As much as I can, but I get a bit overwhelmed with nice messages and then feel silly just telling people *thank you* and don’t know how to make it personal. But I love them all so much and read them when I’m feeling bad about writing :)

what's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? They all have happy endings but Never Before Like This has murder… so probably that one

what's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? Probably June! It has a marriage ceremony :)

do you write crossovers? Kind of, I’ve written Wolfstar in other universes - howls moving castle and stardew valley - but there is no crossover with characters

have you ever received hate on a fic? nope

do you write smut? I do :):)

have you ever had a fic stolen? Highly doubt it!

have you ever had a fic translated? No, but how cool would that be

have you ever co-written a fic before? No, I’d feel too guilty imposing the goings on of my head on another person

what's a wip that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? So so many. At the moment mostly either my Remus as a statue AU or the Stardew Valley one (come talk to me about either maybe it’ll get things going)

what are your writing strengths? I think descriptions? I like doing descriptions.

what are your writing weaknesses? Dialogue tags 😂 I have to go back over all the dialogue and add them in because I alway forget it.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Love it. French for the Black brothers, Welsh for Remus, Latin for everyone (because they should speak Latin!!) I mean Dunes has dirty talk in ancient Egyptian.

what's a fandom/ship you haven't written for yet but want to? Hobbit/LOTR. There are some dynamics there that I would love to explore but I’m currently hyper fixated here so that probably won’t happen any time soon.

what's your favourite fic you've written? Probably If the Fates Allow. It’s a very short Wolfstar-in-space thing and it wasn’t as involved as Dunes or June, for example, but there is something about it I really like

no pressure tags: @euripidestrousers @quiethauntings @goldenprophetwrites @diamondmeadow

[practicecourts]

Thank you @wearingaberetinparis, @mppmaraudergirl, @abihastastybeans, @annabtg, @missgryffin, @nodirectionhome-ao3, @eastwindmlk, @jamesunderwater, @glitterwitch1 @uncertainwallflower for tagging me. I want to read all of those wips of yours (and I wish you all the time to write for those!)

The Book Marauder (title might change- not posted)

Silent Night next chapter

Thoroughbreds don't cry (side snippets here and here )

.... Helena & her misfits > a crazy dark tale of Helena Ravenclaw and her bad choice in men.

TBM: I'm excited to get to the part where Lily has a big confrontation with James as well as ***** (redacted for reasons) and the stakes for each of them will finally be clear (which is not going to help anyone... but still) I know this is ridiculously vague but it is what it is.

Silent Night. I want something to happen, and I'm not sure how to fit it- and it is sad - so I'm stalling. (again I apologise for being vague)

TDC: I want to write the confrontations these two are going to have. I'm still undecided on some of the bigger directions this fic will have to go. I'm looking forward to Lily showing up on the Peverell training facility to find Remus gone and James (who is by that time a guy she slept with when she didn't know who he was) washing one of the horses. His shirt will be wet. see through. but she's a professional and only there to look at a lame horse's tendons... so what could possibly go wrong.

Helena... I am toying with the idea or Riddle flirting Helena's socks off so he can get his hands on the tiara. After a millenium has passed, she'd hoped men would have improved.

I think everybody has already been tagged so consider this an open tag for anyone who wants to do this... but if you haven’t and you want to;) @blitheringmcgonagall

@nought-shall-go-ill @velvethopewrites

@welsh-green @mabelexclamationpoint @maraudersftw @siriuslychessi

@turanga4, @celestemagnoliathewriter @bellairestrella @downn-in-flames

[h0neylvst]

Guys what accents are we giving the marauders and the skittles etc?

I feel like I go though 80 accents when reading fics I’m wondering if there’s a common consensus (other than welsh Remus 😌)

[mvnvgedmischief]

unremarkable days: Sirius black is trying to be a good man, a good brother, a good person. Sirius has a steady job designing book covers for a publishing house, a flat he never leaves, and a traumatized brother who was just removed from the custody of his parents. All in all, it's wildly unremarkable.

archive tags: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Regulus Black, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), ok so this is mostly just sirius trying to take care of a traumatized regulus, Modern AU, Sirius trying to be a father figure, to his brother who was just removed from his home, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Artist Sirius Black, Writer Remus Lupin, Young Regulus Black, Past Child Abuse, Trauma, everyone is sad, Custody Battle, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Past Domestic Violence, Child Abuse, Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Domestic Violence, Self Harm

words: 107,238 chapters: 28/?

this is kind of my baby in terms of fics i’ve written, i love it so much. it will probably end up around 30 chapters, but lord knows. artist!sirius x writer!remus in a modern take on a high society young adult recovering from his fall from grace while trying to hide his sexuality, take care of his brother, and fall in love. will his secret self destruction be the only thing that stands between him and the future he wants?

read it on ao3 here!

The soft moonlight dappled in through the window of his bedroom, and once again Sirius was greeted to an unremarkable morning. He didn’t want to wake up. He knew he had to, somewhere at the back of his mind, but he desperately didn’t want to. He found himself rolling over, throwing an arm around the space Remus ordinarily occupied. Thin, sinewy arms met with an expanse of empty sheets, which prompted him to sit up. Where was Remus? Why wasn’t he in bed? What time was it? Sirius shot up, bleary eyes trying to focus as he looked around the room. It had been five days since Sirius had offered for Remus to stay, just until he went up north to Bangor. He had become incredibly accustomed to the smaller man in his bed, shushing his cries and pliant in his arms when Sirius needed to feel the comfort of being close to someone. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted the man to leave, despite his internal insistence that this was only temporary. 

Ordinarily, he would call out for the other man, try to persuade him to come back to bed. But here he was, staring into nothing, straining to hear where Remus was in his flat, and what he was doing. 

“James I can ask, but I don’t know he’ll want that..” Remus’s voice carried softly through the still-dark room. Winter violated Sirius’s understanding of time, leaving him stranded and wondering when he was. He cast his eyes over to his softly beeping alarm, pushing the snooze and trying to remember why he had set it so early. More importantly, why was Remus up so early? Remus never woke up before Sirius, especially not when he was still trying to find places to hide his morning routine of sit up on the hardwood, followed by a run, and then a stretch from the other man. Remus wasn’t supposed to wake up until Sirius was in the shower. He had timed it that way on purpose, based on when Rem said he woke up, six am. What was he doing up at 4:15? 

“Prongs, I know. Believe me, I know,” the Welsh accent lilted, and if Sirius didn’t know that Remus and James were talking about him, Sirius could have listened peacefully forever. 

“It’s worse than I thought it was… I knew it was bad but things are worse….” He paused, “He looks at the snack he’s been bringing home like it’s poisonous like he’s going to die or the world will collapse if he eats it.” 

“No, that’s the thing. He’s trying so hard– too hard. It feels like since we’re all watching he’s doing all this in front of us so he can run off and engage in behaviors– yes that’s what I mean, don’t be daft– when we’re not looking.” 

“He cried over a tortilla yesterday…. I’m just so worried.” 

“If he says yes it’s just you. No Lily-“ 

Sirius, for as hurt as he was, felt his chest swell with pride at Remus’s insistence on his privacy. “I love Lils, but she’s not his family James. Even if she is yours. And even mine.” 

If Sirius had been paying attention, he may have noticed the shame that bloomed in his chest and burned in tracks down his cheeks. The way Remus said cried over a tortilla made Sirius feel defeated. Did they think he was pathetic? He felt pathetic. It was unfair, his biggest coping mechanism was being taken away and everyone around him was watching him spiral. He imagined their faces twisted into disgusted sneers, laughing at him as he sat at the table, tears seasoning the plate in front of him. 

“No, I don’t think you need to bring your parents, even if they’re his family too. I can ask but I don’t think he’d agree to that either.” Another pause, “Do they even know?” 

At the thought of the Potters being involved again, seeing him the way he truly always has been, Sirius can’t help the strangled sob that fights its way out of his throat. 

“He’s having a nightmare. I’ve got to go. Yes, I’ll tell him you love him.” 

Sirius closed his eyes and pulled his pillow over his head. He didn’t want to talk about this, and he definitely didn’t want to feel as disgusting and pathetic as he did right now. Pathetic. Worthless. Stupid. Burdensome. Perverse. Waste of Space.  His mind was running a mile a minute with insults, reminding him how wasteful he was being with the care and kindness of the people in his life. His hands were subconsciously pulling on his hair, his breathing shallowly ripping out of him with small sobs. 

Remus’s cold hands slipped underneath Sirius’s light t-shirt, running up his back in an effort to calm him down. Unfortunately for the two of them, it elicited a whimper and Sirius sank further into the bed and away from the cool embrace of his lover, too focused on the bubbling, rotting flesh that clung to his ribs and destroyed his mind. “P-please–“ stumbled out of his mouth, his voice shaking and meandering, “don’t–“ his hands pulled his hair even tighter, black strands wrapped around the pale, discolored digits. 

“What happened, angel?” Remus whispered, pulling his hands back from Sirius’s shaking form and staring down at the other man. If he had the strength to turn around, he would be greeted with a horrified look on Remus’s face. It was good he couldn’t see it, because it would tear his insides open, the icy anxiety and fear stabbing into every vein. God, Sirius felt pathetic. His body felt heavy with the weight of his self-loathing, and he didn’t know what to say to the other man. So instead, he lied. What else was there to do, but lie? He couldn’t exactly say every single person i care about thinks i’m a pathetic waste of time! Even if that was exactly what he thought. 

“Nightmare?” Remus asked, and Sirius felt his mind whir with fear of how much time he went without answering the other man’s question. 

“I–“ Sirius began, but his voice died in his throat. So instead he screwed his eyes shut even tighter and forced himself to nod. PATHETIC. 

Then he could once again feel Remus’s cold hands ghosting up Sirius’s spine, this time over the top of his shirt. It helped, despite the protests of his mind, and his shallow, shaking breathing caught in his throat as he focused all of his energy on the contact. He winced as Remus’s gentle hands ran over the bruises clustered in the center of his spine, long since blooming during his morning sit-up routine. It hurt, but he wasn’t going to mention it. 

Unfortunately for Sirius, the pained look that crossed his face and the way he tensed even more, coupled with the subconscious gasp he let out tipped Remus off. Once again, the cold hands are pulling up his t-shirt, and Sirius knew there was nowhere to hide. 

“D-don’t—“ He stuttered, knowing it was fruitless. He felt disgusting. 

“Sirius—“ He could hear in Remus’s voice a sense of realization. He knew. 

“Baby, you’re not supposed to be doing sit-ups anymore.” 

“I’m not!” Came Sirius’s choked reply, but he knew that Remus wouldn’t believe it. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he was caught. “It’s nothing!” 

“It’s not nothing, Siri…” Remus sounded so disappointed, and Sirius could hear his heart-shattering in his chest. 

“I’m worried about you, love,” Sirius had never felt more guilty in the solace of his bedroom. “You can’t keep ignoring the things you’re supposed to do.” 

“Re– I– I can’t,” Sirius mumbled, “I’m so tired…” His chest ached, “Please just–“ 

“Of course,” Remus responded, and Sirius could practically taste the saltiness of his voice. “I just want you to talk to me.” 

The shame was going to eat Sirius alive. It made his skin burn and his heart drop into his stomach. He wanted to talk to Remus, he really did. But everyone always wanted to talk about this. Why did he have to talk about how much he hated himself and his body? Why couldn’t they talk about anything else at all? 

“And say what?” Sirius mumbled bitterly, “I hate my body, I hate myself, and I feel like I take up too much space. Is that what you want to hear?” 

The words flew out of him before could stop them, and suddenly the dam of his mask was crumbling against the constant weight of his emotions. “I can feel the way all of this fat bubbles under my skin and your fingers,” He rolled over, making piercing eye contact with the smaller man. If he wasn’t so lost in his own projections, maybe he would have seen Remus’s expression for what it was. Instead of seeing his face contorted with disgust, maybe Sirius would have realized that the look on Remus’s face was punctuated with concern and fear. 

“Do you want to hear about how every time I eat I feel like I’m failing, or how my life has spiraled so far out of control I don’t know what to do with myself?” He spat, “Is that better? Or did you want to hear about how I’ve been sitting on the couch at Vincent Square every day trying to lay out all of my issues only to be confronted with how all of it is my fault all over again? Like I didn’t already know everything was my fault.”  He rolled his stormy grey eyes, looking bitterly through Remus. It was like the man wasn’t even sitting there, the way Sirius’s eyes were boring a hole into the wall directly behind him. “God fucking forbid I don’t want to talk about all of that.”

This wasn’t like James. Remus didn’t react like James did, with his gnashing fear and his bravado. Remus reacted with softness, a gentle sigh, and a calming hand. “Sirius, I want you to talk about whatever is going on. No matter how bad it sucks, I want you to talk to me.” 

“There’s nothing to say!” 

“What’s your favorite song?” 

That makes him pause. Why would Remus even ask that? 

“Daylily. Why?” 

“Because I want to talk,” Remus replied, “Why is it your favorite?” 

 “It feels hopeful.” Sirius mumbled, “I hope someday I can have a pink cloud summer.” 

“Explain that to me. What’s a pink cloud summer?” 

Sirius knew that this was a tactic to keep him from focusing on how awful he felt, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t. Not when he knew that this was probably the closest he would get to what he wanted, which was just being normal as far as he was concerned. 

He could hear himself spiraling, punctuated by his once again too-slow response. It was too hard to keep himself on a reasonable call-and-response timeline with his mind so far outside of his body. “Means like– sweet, or gentle. Not so sad anymore. I want that someday.” Sirius mumbled, tears still rolling down his cheeks. “Je ne me souviens pas de la dernière fois où j'ai ressenti la joie de vivre.” 

Remus didn’t know what that meant. Sirius knew that he didn’t understand, but he couldn’t find the effort to translate. That was one of the tougher things for him. When his brain had exhausted itself, it was hard to find the energy to translate his thoughts from his first two languages into English. He knew he was lucky to be a polyglot. He was lucky that his mother and father taught him French and Russian, and even lucky to be a native speaker of both because of the conduct in the Black family home, but translating his thoughts, especially in this state, wasn’t the easiest. 

“That’s not fair!” Remus replied, and Sirius could hear the smile in his voice. There was a gravel undercurrent that the man couldn’t quite put his finger on, too focused in standing in the light of Remus’s smile. If he had been less locked nto his own mind, less afraid of the darkness within him, he might have thought about how deeply sad what he had said was. But he was too busy basking in the infrequent warmth that was the smile pulled across Remus’s face. 

“Qu'est-ce qui n'est pas juste, mon cœur?” He replied, a slight twinkle in his eye. Their earlier fight was completely forgotten for the moment, Sirius was too focused on bringing out that adorable smile. He knew how to slip back into this comfortable mask, to flirt and flit around the obvious elephant in the room at the same time. 

“ That!” Remus replied, and the grin that broke out on Sirius’s face could only be described as shit-eating. “Just –” Remus pinched the bridge of his nose, looking down at the other man, who had flipped onto his back to see him better. 

“You expect me to be able to focus on anything when you speak French like that?” 

He saw a window and had no intention of not exploiting it. Remus’s cheeks were reddening by the second, heating up and flushing with his attraction to the frail man. Sirius could use that.

“Хорошо, то есть ты бы предпочел, чтобы я не говорил по-французски. Понял.” Okay, so you would rather I didn't speak French. Got it. 

“What was that?” Remus responded, the gravel from a few minutes ago taking over his voice.

“Русский, солнышко. Да ладно, я думал, ты тут самый умный. Разве тебе не суждено быть писателем?” Russian, sunshine. Come on, I thought you were the smart one here. Aren't you meant to be the writer?

Remus crushed their lips together with intensity, and Sirius could taste desperation on him. He hadn’t expected this change in attitude this morning, but he was more than happy to oblige. Anything to keep Remus from focusing on the things Sirius would rather he not find. 

Sirius pushed himself back up against Remus, returning the kiss with hunger. If he could build himself a home in a feeling, he would do it by kissing Remus. He would lay down his foundation in the hammering of his heart, and insulate his home with the warmth of Remus’s embrace. He would make his bed in the softness of Remus’s kiss, and maybe finally feel relaxed at home. Remus’s hands flitted down from his neck and collarbones to his waist, and suddenly the entire thing is ruined for Sirius. Suddenly he wanted to cry, pull away, and run, but he didn’t. Instead, he pushed himself in deeper and hoped Remus wouldn’t notice that he was pulling Remus down to meet him, for fear of Remus finding his way under his shirt. 

It hadn’t been easy, starting treatment. He knew what to expect, obviously. He knew to expect exhaustion, to expect his mind to scream at him to engage in more behaviors, to expect to feel ill and heavy all the time. What he forgot about was the near-constant confrontation of his trauma, and even more so, the symptom swaps. Sue him, if he had a lapse and forgot why he got clean from self-harm in the first place. He wasn’t a fan if he was being honest. He liked to tell himself that. He wasn’t a fan of cutting because it was too messy and required too much time. He liked to believe that was enough to keep him from doing something that directly correlated to his self-destruction. In reality, Sirius had been partial to other methods of self-harm all his life. He had been partial to burning, to inciting fights, to situps on the tile floor, and moving through the world recklessly. He forgot, for just a moment in this last week, why he had been partial to all of those other methods over the blade. 

Remus’s cold hand brushed just a bit too high over his boxers, meeting too much of the skin of his abdomen, and suddenly Sirius wanted to clam up. Instead, he pushed through ( if he were honest with himself he would know this was self-harm too). He forced Remus onto his back, flipping the two of them over, and peppered kisses down Remus’s neck. It didn’t matter that he felt repulsive, unworthy, and completely unable to take part in this. He could get this over with, and then Remus would be fucked out and stop thinking about all of his questions. Sirius would feel useful like he did something to be worthy of Remus’s time, and everything would slot back to normal. Remus would sleep, he would work out, and then they would slot back to normal, not talking about the rot and decay destroying Sirius from the inside out. 

Expert hands met the soft material of Remus’s track pants, and he found himself focused on the fabric gently giving way to his hands. God, it was so soft. He wished he could wrap himself in it, and curl up and go to sleep in the comfort of that waistband. 

“Tell me what you want, mon coer,” Sirius mumbled gruffly, looking down at Remus from his position above him. His Saint Andrew’s cross, small and unassuming, hung down in the space between them. He probably would have noticed, if he wasn’t so out of it, the way his pupils were blown wide and his eyes were lined with tears. He was too busy trying to block out the portion of his mind screaming at him to stop, because no, no, no, NO! I DON’T WANT THIS. Maybe if he had noticed, he would have also noticed the way horror twisted on Remus’s face as he looked at the other man. 

“Siri–Mph– STOP!” Sirius had interrupted him by trying to pull him into another kiss, which maybe wasn’t the best idea. 

“What– what’s wrong?” 

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

“Why? Everything’s alright?” Sirius replied, unaware of what could possibly be the problem. Remus replied by reaching up, his hand meeting the cold expanse of Sirius’s cheek, and wiping away a tear with his thumb. 

“You’re crying.” 

“I just yawned, my eyes teared up.” 

“No, you didn’t. I would have seen that.” 

“If you don’t want me you could just say that Remus. I don’t need the bullshit.” 

“I didn’t–” Remus replied, “I’m sorry–” He stuttered, “I just–” His caramel eyes were staring around the room, looking for some kind of escape, and all Sirius could do was feel guilty. Even if Remus didn’t want him anymore, that wasn’t his fault. Here was Sirius, grappling with things that most teenage girls could get over. He felt pathetic. 

Remus’s head smacking the headboard was what pulled him out of his thoughts this time, and despite how rejected he felt, Sirius couldn’t help but place his hand over the crown of Remus’s head, hoping to prevent him from backing into the headboard again. 

“Rem, it’s okay.” Sirius hushed. How did he end up here, comforting someone he wanted so desperately, over not wanting him back? “I understand...” He mumbled, “Let’s get you some ice for that.” 

With that, Sirius was shoving himself up to his feet, trying to blink back the black spots in his vision and grabbing at his headboard to steady himself. 

“Could you just stop!” Remus responded, tears licking at his eyelashes, “I never said I didn’t want you because I do want you! I want you so badly I wasn’t paying attention!” Remus shouted, although it came out more like a yelp. “And then I looked up and all I could see was that you didn’t want this! So don’t fucking blame me for this shit.” His tears were still being fought back, valiant soldiers threatening to destroy the walls Remus had built around them. “I’m not going to become a part of your methodology to systematically ruin your life, Siri. I care about you too much.” He whispered, “Now could you just slow down. ” He mumbled, all of the fire in his voice gone. “I can see you, Siri–” 

Oh. Remus wasn’t going to let him get a word in edge-wise. “I can see the way you’re pushing through everything in your body telling you that you don’t want to. I can see the way every time I move my hands you grimace. I can feel you shaking.” His voice was breaking, and an evil part of Sirius at the back of his mind was reveling in it. Maybe this was a sign that he was finally enough. All of his countermeasures to his treatment had pushed him over the edge. 

“I can see the gears in your mind shifting, and every time they do I’m just a little bit more terrified about what’s going to happen to you.” A light pause as he bit back a sob, “I want you to love me as much as you love killing yourself, and I know that’s unhealthy and bad and wrong and unfair, but I don’t know what else to do.”

Remus’s pause was punctuated by Sirius pressing him into another kiss, although this time it was much more gentle (and much saltier). “–stop! We need to talk about this!” 

“Love, I would go to the ends of the earth for you. But don’t ask me to do the impossible.” 

“That’s an oxymoron, the earth is round it has no ends.” 

A bitter chuckle pulled its way out of Sirius. “ That’s what you got out of that?”

“I’m just saying...” Remus mumbled, “I know what I’m asking for is unfair,” He had gone from focusing all of his energy on Sirius to burning a hole in the wall with his eyes, “But at least it’s an improvement!” He added with a watery laugh.

“How do you figure?” 

“I used to be in love with someone who would never love me as much as he loved hurting me. Even if he didn’t know it.”

That statement had Sirius wrapping his body around Remus, for a split second not caring about the weight and how dangerously close he was to crushing the other man. “Mon cœur,” he whispered softly in Remus’s ear, “I’m so sorry.” Sirius was used to the complications of abuse. He was used to the doublethink required to understand how someone might think they love you more than anything, and still lock you in a cell and bind your hands. He had been dealing with it all his life. But to see it painted so clearly on Remus’s face, for him to hold both the knowledge that Fen really did think he loved him, and know that no lover could ever do the things he had done while being honest with their love, was shocking. He didn’t know how Remus had the grace and resilience to cope with it all. So instead, he just squeezed the smaller man as tight as he could and hoped it would be enough.

Remus was shocked to say the least. He had known that Sirius was wasting away in the almost 10 months since they had met, but right now was different. For once, he could see that Sirius wasn’t focusing on arranging himself in just the right way, so that Remus didn’t feel the brunt of his weight. Perhaps it was because they both knew that sometimes, the weight of another person is what it takes to firmly plant someone in reality. Whatever had caused Sirius to open himself up like this, with this type of vulnerability, had exited Remus’s mind as quickly as it came in, too focused on the fact that he was as light as a bird, seemingly hollow bones and body made up of mostly empty space. The realization washed over him like a wave, things were worse than he ever could have imagined.  He felt like he was REDACTED pounds soaking wet, and that was even lighter than Remus, who was 4 inches shorter and frail from his illness. How much of him had wasted over this time? How much could they even get back? 

“Oh,” Remus mumbled, and Sirius could feel the world shattering around him all over again. God fucking damn it. What was he even supposed to do? How was he supposed to feel? That kind of sad sigh, that version of an “oh” was the thing Sirius avoided at all costs. Understanding. Gravity. Weight. He was fucked. That was the only thing he knew for sure. 

“Don’t do that.” 

“Don’t do what?” 

He wanted to scream that Remus knew exactly what, but clearly, this wasn’t going to go anywhere. Fuck. He was so SCREWED. “Whatever, Rem. It’s fine.” 

“I don’t–” 

“Just– I’m dropping it, alright?” 

NOTHING was alright.  For fucks sake, couldn’t this all just be UNREMARKABLE. 

[eyra]

just wanted to let you know that a brief history of dragons literally changed the course of my life. i read it in my sophomore year of high school and now two years later im going to wales for uni to study celtic studies. something abt the book remus was writing reminded me of my love for arthurian literature and welsh folklore…so crazy to think that if not for your fic i’d probably be going to city college studying something boring that im not passionate abt. anyways im a huge fan of your work!! (esp hollow places and beneath a big blue sky)

-meg

hi! I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to respond to this but wow, what an amazing message to receive. how exciting for you to be setting off on such a cool new journey! the fact that my story might've played a part in you following your passions like that is really special honestly, so thank you for telling me - I'm so bad for shying away from the things I really want to do because leaps of faith terrify me and I get in my own way and never leave my comfort zone, so I'm going to take your message as a sign that I need to be getting on with things too and choosing the paths that lead to things that I'm genuinely passionate about. so thank you!

I hope you have the absolute best time studying in Wales - that course sounds incredible.

thank you again 💚 x

[wolfstarhaven]

NATURE THEMED RECS🌿

Summer’s here, but I’m poor and stuck in the city. So, I wanna rec some fics that make me feel….nature-y. You know what I mean, now let’s go!

Beneath a Big Blue Sky, by eyra (69k)

Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

Eyra needs to be put first on this list, cause they’re most definitely the king of the nature-vibe. Always beautiful descriptions of nature, always. Go read everything they’ve written! You will fall in love with Yorkshire, trust me.

the private kind of purple, by greenscape (6k)

Post-grad summer. They are reaching for things they cannot name.

Or, it's four days out of Hogwarts and Sirius and Remus go wild camping in Scotland.

Beautifully written and slightly angsty—a perfect read for a rainy summer’s day!

How Fragile We Are, Between the Few Good Moments, by emergencymanagement (24k)

By the time it’s dark, there’s a fire crackling before them. The tent is set up. There are two chairs propped up by the fire. They have cooked and eaten dinner, and they are sitting in silence. It reminds Sirius of the dinners at home after he got sorted into Gryffindor, or after his mother found the letters from his friends, or lately, whenever he dares to show his face around the house at all. What lives in that space isn’t actually silence. Silence is absence. This thing that hangs between him and his mother, now between him and Remus, is the presence of something suffocating and cutting. It doesn’t serve as a placeholder for noise, it serves as a punishment. It cleaves him to the bone, flays him until he wants to cry. The soft, knotting feeling in his chest he feels when he wants to let tears out but can’t is rising in him. Sirius doesn’t know how to kill it except to hiss, “Well if you’re mad at me just fucking say so.”

Oh I love this so much!! It’s post-The Prank, and it’s done beautifully. It’s angsty, Remus is angry and the first war is coming ever closer. Also, it’s wonderfully written, making the Welsh nature feel almost dreamlike. It’s beautiful!

Highland Fling [+podfic], by picascribit (38k)

2004: The summer before college, Sirius goes backpacking through Scotland in order to escape his family's expectations. In a small village in the Highlands, an unexpected flirtation turns his whole world upside down. Alternately, the story of how Scotland loves Remus and wants him to be happy.

I read this a loooong time ago, but I still remember how this fic made me wanna visit the Scottish highlands. I also remember that this was a bit too smutty for me back then….perhaps it’s time for a reread.

Harmonicas, Hinky-punks, and Heather, by mblematic (24k)

Sirius and Remus get stranded in Scotland on Order business, and decide to walk to Hogwarts. Featuring the Brontës, a harmonica, a shrinking tent, and some self-discovery.

Once again: camping in Scotland, but this time with absolutely no angst! This fic is sweet and funny through and through!

Out There, by halictus (21k)

Sirius has to go backpacking to fulfill a college graduation requirement. He is comfortable in his own skin, he has friends, he has passions. But he's still learning how to fit himself into loosely-defined spaces. Remus is a graduate student leading the trip. He loves nature, and backpacking, and being outside, and smiling, and having lots of energy. They both have some learning to do—not necessarily tactfully.

Here you have some hiking, but on the other side of the Atlantic! Camping, skinny dipping and thunderstorms—and some strangers to lovers!

The Predatory Wasp, by munacy (23k)

Remus continues, “Alright then...of the survivors...I would marry Wormy.” Peter lets out an elated squeal. “I know for a fact that he can cook really well, he’s quite easygoing, and he’d make a wonderful little spoon for cuddling,” Remus winks cheekily at him. “Recipe for domestic bliss.”

“Aw, Moony, you’re lovely, aren’t you?” says Peter as Sirius mimes throwing up. Remus smiles, then blurts: “And lastly, well, I really want to shag Sirius, for obvious reasons.”

Everyone freezes.

What, Remus thinks faintly, in the ever-loving fuck?

This is so funny, and the nature-vibe immaculate! Features: camping, gay panic, James being lovely, and quite a lot of Walt Whitman poetry.

Go East [+Podfic], by xinasvoice (84k)

Remus has been running for a long time. Eventually, he runs into a strange castle built by a wizard and his young apprentice. The longer he stays, the more secrets he uncovers...and the less he wants to leave.

This is a novel-length adventure story that loosely follows the plot of Howl's Moving Castle. It does not require knowledge of the HMC book or movie to enjoy it.

This features nature of the more magical kind, but oh my does it do it well. The magical world building in this is INCREDIBLE! And the plot??? Amazing! Even if you’ve seen Howl’s Moving Castle, you’ll be surprised. The story is just amazing. Also, if you haven’t already, you really should listen to the Podfic—it’s really really good quality!

Do you have any nature-y fics that I’ve missed? Please rec them to me!!

xx Elliot

[hxlda-hxlda]

WHAT DO YOU MEAN A 400K FIC ?

WHTA- WHAT DO YOU MEAN 😭

girl 'that's the idea' gets more out of hand by the day. i swear on sirius black's life (ignore his death) that this fic started out with a 50k end goal. but then i started planning more, and i went 'oh ok maybe 150k'. and then i kept planning and writing, and i went 'oh ok maybe 200k', 'oh ok maybe 300k', and now i have a doc that's at 110k, and i'm not even CLOSE.

based on how i want to pace this thing, and all that i have planned, 400k is looking about right. maybe more. by god it never ends. everyone ignore the lurking sequel i have in the back of my mind as well.

someone comment on this post when i hit like 700k or something stupid. i probably would. someone stop me, i beg.

anyway!! in my other ask i talked a bit more abt the whole fic here, so here have an excerpt from an upcoming chapter!!! one of my favs ever!!! here you go:

“I didn’t know you were a Bowie fan.” 

Sirius snapped his head to the left, tearing his mind from the melodramatic crescendo that was screeching from the spinning disk and toward the direction of that familiar Welsh lilt. Sirius did not understand why he was surprised, Lupin was the one Sirius followed into the dingy little shop in the first place. And yet, when his eyes met with those currently assessing him with something akin to amusement—scarred eyebrow raised and all—something in him jolted. 

“What?” Even Sirius could admit it was not the best of his comebacks, but he could hardly remember Lupin’s comment after the surprise of him actually being there so you can cut him some slack. 

“Didn’t take you as a Bowie fan.” 

Sirius blinked; once, twice. “Who?” 

“David Bowie?” The amusement on Lupin’s scarred features expanded into something of a sly smile. He tucked his hands into his muggle jeans, which appear to be a size too large (quite the feat for such a tall fucking freak), and had a hole in one of the knees. Lupin nodded at the magazine Sirius was suddenly aware remained in his hands. “Him.” 

Sirius glanced down, holding up the cover enough to read, printed in vibrant red, indeed; ‘DAVID BOWIE’. The man between the lettering—Bowie, presumably—peered from between his fingers in an almost predatory gaze. For a picture that, strangely, did not move, those eyes seemed to find more of Sirius than the normal pair might. He did not like it. 

Sirius looked back up at Lupin. “Oh, I’m not.” 

“Yes, I’ve gathered that now.” Remus was looking at him like Sirius was the stupid one. Like it was something amusing. “He’s very popular with muggles, y’know.” 

The song had changed. This one was slower, but it had the same nasally rasp of the voice to it. Judging by the cover set beside the record player—the one with the strange makeup and hair and eyes, those same damn eyes—this was David Bowie singing. 

“Sounds shit, makes sense it would appeal to mudbloods.” 

Remus hummed a noncommittal response, that small smile still playing on his scarred lips as he regarded Sirius in the not-quite-but-definitely-somewhat uncomfortable lull in the conversation. The song filled the silence. 

One day, though it might as well be someday 

You and I will rise up all the way 

All because of what you are 

The prettiest star

“What are you doing here, Sirius?” 

Sirius was just wondering the same thing himself. Why exactly had he wanted to come in here? Staring vacantly at Lupin while some muggle lunatic raved on, was not the answer, actually. He did not say that. 

“Do I need a reason to be here?” That was what he said. 

Lupin scoffed. “You’ve never looked more out of place in your life, Black.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” A lie. He’d never felt more out of place in his life.

[steelycunt]

aaa no but seriously i just had to paste two blocks of comments (ssrry well it must be said yr writing makes me insane) but i completely FORGOT to mention i love love loveee what u did w/the accents in this fic ridi !! it's sm more like,, prominent?? like it's so obvious remus' welsh accent w/bits like [Si-rius, just a tidy-up like, Si-rius,” Sirius sings, in an appalling imitation of Remus’ accent.] & [“a few minutes. I’m not…Christ. I forgot how much I hate apparating. That’s fucking awful, that is.”] and u did it w/ sirius' obnoxiously queen of england accent too!! being pointed out in lines like . [I saw what it was about, Moony,” Sirius snaps, teeth flashing. He says it like, Myew-ny. ] aa i just love it so so much if i was more capable of sorting my thoughts rn id give a more coherent reason but we'll just settle for i loved it & think it's so lovely & think YOU'RE lovely okay gn<333

HI AGAIN omg so. i am actually just about to go and read ur lovely comments i saw them come in while i was halfway through watching a lecture recording and promised myself i would save them till after the lecture as a. little treat xx but i am sooo pleased you picked this out actually!! i think accents are so fun i think finding ways to work them in is so fun i think r having this lovely lilting welsh accent while s sounds like a fucking windsor is sooo fun i think i gain a health point every time i read something where their accents are mentioned. for the pitifully few lines where they crop up there was actually an. embarrassing amount of accent coach/dialect youtube videos watched, especially for s' accent because there are all these little specific things about the way i imagine him speaking which sets him apart from just. a normal average-posh standard london accent like mine. and which personally i think he should be booed at for but anyways xx THANK YOU this ask made me very happy and i think your comments are about to make me. even happier i love you the most layla MWAH!! <333

[birdsinmywalls]

Such an amazing fic! It was perfectly cozy and sweet. I love how they fell into each other naturally after all that time being friends. Although they were so thick headed at the end I was ready to strangle them! They really did need a moderator to help the situation out lol. These are my favorite lines and my little thoughts as I was reading:

“As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say.” Aww poor moony

“It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth.” So cozy

“I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to events.” funny how they made him host and they have the audacity to show up late lol

“Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day,” so cute!

“and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name” LOve this interaction

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her outside.” so true a girl can’t just get coffee anymore

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.” I knew he was going to say something like that lol

“but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.” Lily!! You were the only hope here now we have to stay

“Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking.” That’s love!

“A low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape,” I love the involuntary noises!

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?” LOL

“Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too.” What a lovely line

“And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth.” I’m getting dizzy over these descriptions

“Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.” I would die if someone said this to me

“The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory” great detail to enclude!

“Mind? Remus can’t even think.” Eeee!

“Just friends, then?” What?! No! You both are too awkward and shy for this conversation. Start it over! Neither of you want to be friends lord have mercy.

“Finally. Someone needs to stop him.” Yes thank you. I’m stressing out over here

“But I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.” thank you omg they are killing me!

A Christmas Special

summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you

cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say. 

He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed onto him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth. 

Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door. 

Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side. 

“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.” 

“It’s hardly fifteen after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?” 

“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving. 

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

Your face is already flushed from the chill outside, but he could swear it goes pinker as you unwrap your scarf, smiling back at him. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?” 

“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.” 

You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to events.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James and Sirius most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger. 

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand. 

“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous. 

You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts. 

“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.” 

You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.” 

Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises. He goes into the kitchen and a second later you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with the string trailing all the way back to the couch. 

“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat. 

“Mhm. You like them?” 

“Never had one.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?” 

You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned. 

“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat them. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.” 

“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.” 

“Yes!” you cheer, and he laughs as you start working quicker with the needle. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.” 

“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour. 

Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives. 

You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her. 

You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock. 

“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!” 

You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms. 

“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Aw, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not a very difficult task, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.” 

“Sorry,” Lily says as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.” 

“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.” 

“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry. 

“Come here, my handsome little guy.” 

“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap. 

Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it. 

“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious thing Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again. 

“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly. 

“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.” 

“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

“I,” Remus says, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.” 

James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always bring some color to your cheeks. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry. 

“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax. 

“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story of a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?” 

“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists. 

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her outside.” 

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees. 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.” 

Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.” 

“Gross,” James says, looking slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”

“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”

“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”

You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.” 

James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off anyway.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you have a box from every person there. 

“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.” 

The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.” 

“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know. 

“Shit, I forgot to check.” 

“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says slowly, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, honey.” 

“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile. 

“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.” 

“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness. 

He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it, and you’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge. 

You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go. 

“Aw, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”

You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands. “No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.” 

“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.

“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir. 

“Oh, that’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”

You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is covering your blush. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.” 

“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.” 

Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn. 

“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.” 

“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.” 

You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.” 

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.” 

Remus smiles as he rolls his eyes, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.” 

You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat. 

James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”

Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.” 

Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks pretty bad to me.” 

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live a bit far?”

“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.” 

You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”

Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring, babe.”

“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out. 

“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.” 

He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d prefer to keep it from coming to that.”

“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a super huge downer for us every year.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you insist. 

“Shortcake, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly tough when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.

“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.” 

“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of futility on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you in Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.

“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”

You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.” 

“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!” 

“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door. 

“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you. 

“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.” 

“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry when James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.” 

Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out. 

And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet. 

“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering. 

“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”

“No,” he agrees, and the look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”

“Mmm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.” 

The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you, your knees curled towards him and his one leg crossed over the other angling him towards you. 

The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.” 

His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”

“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”

“Mmm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”

You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.

The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours. 

“Are you crying?” he murmurs during one scene near the end. 

Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.” 

“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.” 

“Sure it is.”

“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.” 

“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.” 

And awhile later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.

You hum a denial.

“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”

“Are you tired?” 

He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.” 

“I want to finish the movie.” 

He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.” 

The credits start, and neither of you move. 

You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”

You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.” 

Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”

You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you. 

“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes. 

You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”

“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.” 

You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.” 

His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. Come on, you’re my guest. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” 

You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.” 

“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.” 

“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”

“Your back will hurt.” 

“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.” 

There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down. 

“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”

“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”

The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.” 

“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious. 

He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you. “You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”

You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.” 

“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.” 

“You can think that if you like.” 

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.

Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his, you’re warm and weighty against him. 

He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo-smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing. 

Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb over your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while. 

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together. 

It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says. 

You hum. 

“Unless you mean it’s working.” 

Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.  

He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words. 

He sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you. 

“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.” 

He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.” 

Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him. “Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.” 

He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you. 

Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back. 

“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his. 

Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. An low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.

“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to offer access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?” 

The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”

You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”

His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech. 

“Do you want to move to my room?” 

You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip. 

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?” 

“You’re relentless.”

Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?” 

Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

You’d always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth. 

You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him. 

You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this. 

“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to his voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?” 

Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d ask you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating that warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you. 

Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees. “You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it. 

You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy. 

“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”

Exactly, you think. It’s you. 

“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him. 

His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”

If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no. 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?” 

You swallow. “Okay.” 

“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?” 

You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go down to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan, and he kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward. 

One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. 

It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline. 

“We can stop anytime you want.” 

You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.” 

Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs open further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.

You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue, and he wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time. 

Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, grasping feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under. 

“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound. 

He looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil. 

“Come here,” you plead. 

He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you promise, cupping his head in one hand and wrapping your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.” 

You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens. 

“Do you think—can we—”

He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?” 

“I want to. Do you?” 

Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.” 

You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces. 

He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another. 

“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?” 

You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his ministrations, and it’s still a bit shocking. His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?” 

“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.” 

He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you. 

“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?” 

Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face. 

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?” 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.” 

“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound. 

Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint beneath Remus’ hands. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth. 

“Come on, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.” 

The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat. 

“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found under your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.” 

The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.” 

“Come here,” you demand again, and he wastes no time in obliging you. He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.

“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you. 

It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all. 

“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?” 

Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.” 

Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway. 

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s okay if not.” 

“You can,” you say certainly, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

The smile fades from his face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication. 

You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens. 

“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.” 

“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”

You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek. “A little bit, yeah.” Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now. 

“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.

“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.” 

His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?” 

Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.” 

“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?” 

You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.” 

“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.” 

“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee. 

You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead. 

“That was really great,” you tell him. 

“I thought so too.” 

“You’ll stay here, right?” 

A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream. 

It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new. 

Remus starts the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall. 

Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you. 

He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim. 

“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.” 

Mind? Remus can’t even think. 

“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?” 

“Yeah, thanks.”

You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?” 

“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?” 

His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression. 

“Really?” 

A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?” 

“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.” 

“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.” 

You flush horribly, and Remus doesn’t expect he’s faring much better. 

“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.” 

There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.” 

They’re his own words, put hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs. 

With his track record this morning, he really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face. 

“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?” 

A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.” 

There’s a short silence. “I thought I did too.” 

It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with it. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something he’d come up with to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time. 

Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again. 

“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is shy. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.” 

“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.” 

“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”

“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?” 

You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty. “Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.

“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?” 

You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically. “Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.” 

Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back. 

You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference. 

You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours? 

He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the river behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?

He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you. 

So much for opposites attract. 

“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face. 

“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving. 

“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops into a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re a better actress than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”

“Remus?” 

Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?” 

“Your pancake…”

He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.” 

“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.” 

Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness. 

“Would you come here?” he asks. 

You comply with an eagerness he wonders he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make the most of it now. 

“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your scalp. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.” 

You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”

“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?” 

“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.” 

You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles. 

“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.” 

Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor. 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her well.” 

“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.” 

Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly. 

“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.” 

“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.” 

Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.”