#off they go to remus's flat | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fourmoony · 1 year ago

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𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

remus lupin x f!reader

smut. p in v. creampie. unprotected sex. fingering. sex with a friend. language. 18+ content minors DNI.

3.2k - masterlist

summary - reader can't sleep. remus helps out. not with warm milk, though.

i'm supposed to be working on an assignment for college. but remus lupin is taking up space in my brain. so, enjoy :)

The air feels stuffy, too hot against your slick skin.

You blow a breath out in frustration, a piece of hair stuck to your forehead refusing to budge and you groan. The house is silent apart from the droning on of the electronic device between your legs that does little to abate the feeling clawing at your insides and it only makes you more frustrated. The lights in your bedroom are turned off, the world outside asleep. Everyone apart from you. You’ve spent two hours tossing and turning, and a further half hour trying to cure the ache between your legs.

It’s futile. You’ve tried everything. Every speed your overly expensive vibrator has to offer, every position, you even got out the glittery pink dildo Marlene got you for Secret Santa the previous year, leaving it out to the side after coming to the heart-breaking decision that it simply wasn’t big enough.

You feel like nothing will be big enough. Nothing feels right, nothing feels good enough, nothing is even close to tipping you over the edge. You shift, further to the left, and whine again, pressing the vibrator to a higher speed. It moves as you press the button, and the feeling of closeness is gone just like that. You growl, pushing the blankets off in a fit of rage and choose to stare at the ceiling in defeat. It’s not going to happen. You should just accept that. But you’re worked up, horny, and too fucking clammy.

The flat is quiet. Remus is asleep – the only reason you’re so nonchalant about the noise of your vibrator still buzzing against the mattress next to you, taunting you. You reach to turn it off, sitting up and putting your hair into a makeshift bun. You stare with narrowed eyes at the shadowed outline of the sparkly pink atrocity of a Secret Santa gift. It was given as a joke to make you blush. Your friends like to tease you for your innocence. It’s not something you ever would have bought for yourself. You’d blushed furiously and everyone laughed. It was addictive for the first few weeks, being able to explore your own pleasure. But now. Now, it doesn’t feel enough. Doesn’t feel as good. As big. As filling.

It’s a quick thought, a fleeting thought. A memory that makes your cheeks flush and your eyes close in embarrassment. Remus, fresh out of the shower, two seconds away from closing the towel around his waist. He hadn’t locked the door. It was an accident. You hadn’t meant to walk in on him. You’d been half asleep, bursting for a pee, and he hadn’t locked the door. Even worse, you hadn’t meant to look. But he was wide eyed and frozen, and your fight or flight had you trying to assess every part of the situation. And his nakedness was a large part of the situation.

You’re not proud of it. But you’d looked. And you liked what you saw.

And now.

Well, now, you can’t stop thinking about it. About Remus. Kind Remus who makes you tea on cold mornings, puts your pyjamas in the dryer for you when you get out of the shower, who cooks you dinner and leaves it in the oven when you work the late shift at the café down the road. He’s kind and attentive and always there to lend a helping hand. You feel silly as you clamber off your bed, knowing there’s a high likelihood that Remus will tell you you’ve taken his kindness to its boundaries.

Your feet pad quietly down the hallway of your shared flat. The under counter lights in the open plan kitchen at the end of the hall illuminate the space enough to see. Remus’ door is closed, but you twist the handle and push, wincing when it lets out an annoying squeal. Remus rouses at the sound, squinting sleepily at you as he turns. He lets out a breath, sits up on his elbow and pulls back his blanket to offer you the space beside him.

It’s not the first time you’ve climbed into bed with Remus, but you still shift nervously on your feet, biting at your lip.

“You okay, love?” Remus asks, voice deep and croaky.

It makes you flustered in your reply. Voice quiet, unsure, “Can’t sleep.”

Remus nods, reiterates pulling back the blanket to make room for you. You cross one leg over the other in front of you, fiddling with the metal daisy chain ring on your middle finger. Remus got you it when you got into university last year. It’s your favourite piece of jewellery you own, overpriced tennis bracelet from your overcompensating parents be damned. He catches your nervous tic and his eyes narrow, his head tilts, messy hair flopping sideways with the movement. There’s a slight stubble on his chin from running late this morning and skipping his daily shave and he’s sans pyjama top, having clearly also felt the heat.

He sits up fully and the blanket pools around his waist. His skin glows in the low light of the moon through the window beside his bed. He’s beautiful. This you’ve always known. Now, it’s tenfold because you’ve seen all of him. And all of him is what you want, in this moment. Your face is flames as you edge closer until you’re hovering beside his bed.

“Have you tried warm milk?” Remus asks, his voice almost teasing.

“Don’t want warm milk.” You pout.

There’s something about the way he’s looking at you, trying to sus you out. He knows. He must know something. You’re hardly being subtle. Remus’ lips twitch in a smile when you squeeze your legs together in front of you, again, lip between your teeth, eyes watery.

“What do you want?” He asks, voice breathy.

He wants you to say it. But you can’t. You won’t.

“Rem, please,” You whine, “I’ve tried everything.”

His hand reaches for yours, pulls you until you’re straddling him. His lips are a centimetre from yours, hot breath fanning out over your mouth. You press down hard against him, lips pouted. He doesn’t let up, just raises his eyebrows. A question. What have you tried?

“I couldn’t get the angle right with my vibrator,” You whisper, cheeks bright red and warm to the touch, where Remus’ thumb is gently rubbing back and forth, fingers cupping your wobbling jaw, “Then the thingy Marlene got me wasn’t-“ You huff.

Remus chuckles softly, endearingly.

“It wasn’t enough.”

Remus smiles, “You want my help?”

You nod eagerly, “Please, Rem.”

He’s on you in a second. Lips and tongue and teeth, so hot and heavy it knocks the breath from you. His hands fist the thin material of your shorts, at your waist and you bend into him, hands running up his sides, over his shoulders, into the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s hard beneath the flannel of his pyjama bottoms. You can feel it against the crease of your thigh. It makes you whine into his mouth, shifting until you’re perfectly aligned over him. His grip focusses on your arse cheeks when you grind down, a bruising grip that you relish in.

His hands push you forward, you pull yourself back. His lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw, down your neck. Your head tilts back, panting for breath, lost in the pleasure. Your stomach tightens the harder his grip gets, the harder you press down, the faster you move. You feel like a seedy teenager, dry humping yourself against him. Remus’ teeth nip at your collarbone, only to soothe over it with his tongue. You whine again, making your impatience known, but Remus doesn’t speed up.

He looks up, lips mouthing at the underside of your chin until you tilt your head back up to look at him. His pupils are blown, eyes hooded, lips curved into a sinful smirk.

“So needy.” He mumbles into your lips.

You push down harder in response. Remus grabs your hips, stills you. You pout, doe eyes watery. Remus tuts, shakes his head, “You want my help, we do it my way.”

He shifts until you’re lying beneath him, legs hiked up around his waist. He doesn’t waste time in stripping you. Your shirt, then your shorts, your panties following. He throws them across the room, and they fall into the shadows of his darkened room. You’re glad they’re gone. Your body feels like it’s burning up under his touch, featherlight as he traces the goosebumps across your skin. He presses kisses in the wake of his fingertips, to your collarbones, your chest, the tops of your breasts, your stomach, navel.

His lips are warm, wet, pressing kisses to the insides of your thighs. You’re high strung, keening, and needy. He comes back to face level, and you grumble, deep in your throat. So close. He was so close to where you need him. He’s smug. You’re about to protest when he slides a finger into you. Your mouth opens, head pushing back into the pillow. His fingers are long, but slender, and it’s not long before he adds another. Your back arches, eyes closing. The minute you close your eyes, Remus stops. You look up, furious, to find him smirking something evil down at you.

“Eyes on me, pretty girl.” He whispers, nose bumping yours.

You comply. Remus resumes, fingers pumping steadily in and out. When he’s knuckle deep, he curls them and your body jerks in response. It’s too much and not enough, a dizzying euphoria of Remus’ casual confidence and his skilful fingers. His thumb brushes your clit gently, the bundle of nerves swollen and begging for attention. You moan his name, thighs squeezing against his hips where they’re splayed open. It urges him on, he whispers quiet encouragements – good girl, that’s it sweetheart, you’re so wet for me – and you continue to writhe beneath him.

“Rem,” You gasp, hand encircling the wrist that’s pumping in and out of you, “Need you.”

“Soon,” He promises softly, lips pressing to the swell of your breast, teeth lightly nipping at the skin there, “Want you to come on my fingers first.”

His thumb moves in tighter circles, his fingers curl deeper, move faster. He adds a third, the stretch burns but in the best way. Your jaw opens on its own accord, a string of moans emitting from your throat, and you arch into Remus. His eyes meet yours, blazing with lust.

“C’mon, baby,” He urges, voice sinfully deep, demanding. “Come for me.”

You clench around his fingers, and he groans as you gush around his hand, voice high pitched, your grip on his shoulders vice like. He’s surprised you don’t snap in two with how high your back arches. His fingers pump you through the rush in your veins, his quiet reassurances blacked out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears. Your head spins and you see white as the orgasm you’ve been chasing for what must be hours by now crashes over you. You babble nonsense, buck against Remus’ fingers, mouth open, eyes wide, back arched and head pushed violently into the pillow beneath you.

Remus hovers over you when your breathing evens, eye’s a little less clouded, and his usual concerned look on his face. You smile dopily up at him, eyes bright.

“Good?” He asks.

It’s a double ended question – you good? Was that good?

You nod.

“More.” You whine, attempting to pull him closer with your legs around his waist.

“You’re insatiable.” He laughs lightly, head bending down to peck your smiling lips gently.

You nod in agreement, head tilted as you look up at him, “I’m blaming you.”

“Of course.” Remus nods, placating you.

He shimmies his pyjamas off, kicks them off the end of the bed, and comes back to crowd your space, again. Hard, he’s much bigger than you saw from Shower-Gate. Your mouth waters as his hand wraps around his dick, pumping a few times before looking back to you. His face softens when he notices your lip trapped between your teeth.

“Baby?” He questions and you soften.

“That’s,” You sigh, embarrassed, “That’s not going to fit, Rem.”

Remus laughs, the apples of his cheeks rounding out, his teeth appearing from behind his lips. His head hangs over your shoulder and you hide in his hair, mortified. The hand that isn’t supporting his weight runs softly up and down your thigh. You groan to show your mortification, heels digging into Remus’ tail bone to try kill his laughter.

“Rem,” You protest, letting a chuckle of your own slip.

Remus looks up, eyes soft, lips pressed together to stop his laughter, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, pretty girl. I’m not laughing at you. No one’s ever said that before, you just caught me by surprise.”

You giggle, squeezing his waist with your thighs, “They’ve definitely thought it.”

Remus shakes his head, “We don’t have to.”

It’s your turn to shake your head, “I want to. I really want to.”

He smiles, leans in to kiss you. When he pulls away to pump himself again, you let out a low breath. He brushes the tip against your folds, wet and puffy, a couple times before he pushes in slowly. He groans, you moan. You’re tight, fitting around him like perfection. He goes slow until he’s buried to the hilt. You allow yourself to get used to the feeling, whimpering softly when his thumb comes to circle your clit again, working you up.

“That’s it, baby,” He speaks softly, so softly, and you moan.

He pulls back, pushes back in. Takes it slow. Allows you to adjust.

But it’s not enough. You need more. You need the raw pent-up aggression you’ve seen Remus show pervs at bars when they touch you inappropriately. You need angry Remus, who threw a book at the mantle place when your parents missed another birthday. You need the Remus who tries so hard to hide the aggressive side of him but can never fully rid himself of his primal urges, of that white hot fury and determination.

“More,” You breathe, “Faster. Harder. I need more, Rem. Please.”

You’re babbling, begging. But Remus complies. He snaps his hips forward and you all but scream. He groans, breath hot and heavy against your neck. He’s attentive, hips attacking your pelvis. His wooden headboard slams against the wall, your hand reaching up to hold on and stop you from sliding further up the bed. An arm wraps around your waist, pulling you up, closer to him. He feels deeper at the new angle, hips battering into yours. He’s relentless, hitting every spot you need.

You’re babbling nonsense, but so is Remus. Words of encouragement, words that tell you how good you’re taking all of him, how tight you are, how perfect you are. You’re meeting his every thrust, hips grinding against him, the stubble creating friction that tightens the coil in your stomach.

Remus attaches his lips to your shoulder, biting down as he pounds harder against you. You say his name like a mantra, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of him, all over, everywhere, filling, stretching, pounding.

“Rem,” You whine – so close. So, so close – “Come in me.”

Remus’ head snaps up, pupils blown, mouth hung open. He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t falter, “What?”

“Pill. Just,” You gasp when he hits that spot, “Come in me. Please. Wanna feel it.”

Remus moans. Dirty and deep. He fucking moans.

He’s relentless, sweat dripping from his forehead, he releases your waist, hikes your thigh up over his shoulder, you scream. He urges you, tells you sweet things, details how he’s going to fill you up, bites the skin of your calf. His other hand reaches down, draws tight circles that have you seeing stars. You scream his name, loud enough for the entire street to hear, using the leverage on his shoulder to lift your lower back off the bed.

The feeling is dizzying, all consuming. It’s feverish, frantic, a wild chase to the end.

You clench, he hits the right spot, the sting of his teeth on your calf emulates up your leg, the stomach muscles holding you up clench, and he calls you baby, all at the right time. You see white. It feels like your entire body explodes, lights on fire, crashes and burns. You convulse, twitching and screaming, broken words and moans of his names, clenched vice-like around him.

You’re begging. Begging him to follow, to finish in you, even in your pleasure.

You’re still floating, but coherent enough, when Remus grows sloppy, uncoordinated, drops your leg from his shoulder, falls forward, hands at your sides to hold himself up. He jerks, groans, his head falls into your shoulder, and you whine, happily, dopily, when you feel the white-hot spurts of his come against your walls.

He’s breathing heavily, both your bodies slicked with sweat. He drops his weight onto you, and you welcome him happily. Your legs wrap around his lower back, you both wince with the movement. You can feel the slickness between you both, the way he’s dripping out of you. But you’re comfortable, lips pressed to his damp hair. You trace shapes on his back until he comes to, pushing up to press his lips to yours.

The clock on his nightstand reads four in the morning.

He gets up to leave and you whine, “Don’t go.”

Remus chuckles, “Just going to get a warm cloth. Be back.”

You allow him that, grateful he had the idea. You hear him running the tap in the bathroom and he returns with a warm cloth. He’s gentle when he wipes you clear. You wince and flinch, blushing when Remus presses gentle kisses to your thighs as he works. He whispers softly between kisses how pretty you are, how well you did.

He discards the cloth in the wash basket by his door and returns to the bed.

He groans as he settles, holding his arm out for you to fall into him. You do so, swinging a leg over his thighs. It’s then that you realise you’re both still very naked, and your shyness returns. Remus traces shapes on your arm, tucking his head over yours, lips to the crown of your head.

“I can hear your cute little brain running laps, you know.” Remus teases.

You roll your eyes, push your face further into his neck.

“I just came to you in the middle of the night for sex,” the post coital dread sets in tenfold, despite feeling the most relaxed you’ve felt in weeks, “I’m so sorry, Remus.”

You feel Remus shrug, “Don’t fret, sweetheart. I was more than happy to oblige.”

“But-“

“Get some rest, honey. We can talk more tomorrow.” He assures you, pulling the blanket further up your naked bodies.

You concede, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw, the stubble tickling your lips, “Okay.”

He pulls you closer, settles in. You allow sleep to wash over you, let the relaxation in your bones pull you under. It’s a dreamless sleep, a comfortable sleep, wrapped in Remus’ arms.

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ethereacals · 2 months ago

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MANIAC

the one where you don't go back to the boys.

part two of the conan gray series

“i wish i were heather” out now!

synopsis: after getting cheated on by your previously expected soulmates, a change in perspective occurs and you find yourself falling for a different set of three.

warnings: foul language, slander on the marauders, sexual innuendos, mentions of smoking, a small taylor

"PEOPLE LIKE YOU ALWAYS WANT BACK WHAT THEY CAN'T HAVE."

Leaving Hogwarts early for Christmas this year was not something anyone could've forshadowed.

You, the girl who spent most of her time studying for her upcoming OWLS in November, had disappeared without a trace.

Of course most of your close friends knew where you were, and some not so close friends did aswell.

"She can't just run away from her problems." Said Sirius, his leg bouncing anxiously from the news Regulus had just sprung onto them.

"Sirius, It'll be fine, okay? When they get back to school, we can formally apologize and move on, right?" Remus attempted to reassure Sirius, but he in reality he felt quite crestfallen.

Lily sat quietly, already regretting her decision to do this with them.

In her head, she knew they had every intention to not cheat and solve things the right way— but she hadn’t helped.

It all started one night at a loud and ear-shattering Gryffindor victory party after a successful win for their Quidditch team.

She got drunk, and they were completely wasted.

And you weren’t there.

So their drunken minds believed it would be a missed opportunity if they didn’t take their chance with Gryffindors golden girl.

Lily knew she should’ve said no, she should’ve gone back to her dorm and hid from them for the rest of eternity.

But fate clearly had other plans.

And after secrets, longing stares, and lingering touches that the truth finally came to light.

and it was all at your expense.

“So— When will our Reggie be joining us, Meadowes?” Evan slurred, his voice carrying a heavily intoxicated tone.

“Soon enough, he’s got one more OWL to complete and then he’s on his way.” Dorcas mused as she gently pet the head of her tipsy sleepy Gryffindor girlfriends head as she babbled on about Quidditch.

Evan nodded drunkenly— before taking another swig.

Dorcas seemed so peaceful with Marlene— who had surprisingly accepted her invitation to spend Christmas with the Slytherins, though Marlene truly wasn’t prejudice against them like others were.

They seemed so… in love.

You had love once.

Remember?

They’re gone.

Remember?

They’re gone.

“I— I had love… once—“ You hiccuped sadly, beginning to sob for the umpteenth time this evening.

You were extremely drunk, who could really blame you?

“Aww… Treasure…” Barty (who surprisingly was very sober) cooed, encapsulating you in a bear hug as you cried into his chest.

“How many more times is she going to do that?” Asked Peter, who— by the way: lied to his friends and said he was going home for Christmas.

He was only visiting for the night, as he was currently visiting his girlfriend— Sybil Trelawney who lived in town.

“Who knows, Pete. Who knows..” Evan slung his arm around him.

“This should be the last time before she realizes that she doesn’t need them, that’s what the sprites are telling me.” Pandora smiled, petting your hair gently in comfort.

“Pettigrew, you should turn back to your rat-pack and tell them they’re trash.”

You spat, in broken sighs.

Obviously, Peter felt a bit of offense to the rat slander but alas— they weren’t aware of his rat-secret.

Quite a shame.

“Sure thing, L/N.”

'FEELS LIKE WE HAD MATCHING WOUNDS BUT MINES STILL BLACK AND BRUISED.'

on December 19th, Regulus had finally arrived at Barty's flat he'd rented for the holidays.

Marlene, Dorcas, and Peter had their departure just the day before, leaving just you, Pandora, Evan, Barty, and Regulus.

Pandora had just wished you all goodnights and dream blessings before nodding off to your shared room for your stay.

"So, anyone up for some firewhiskey?" Offered Evan, who held a giant bottle of the substance.

"Just a small bit, Rosie." Barty accepted his offer graciously.

"Need anything, amour?" Regulus mused in your ear, by far he was the most comforting one. As the other two just distracted you with their own twisted ways of thinking and chaos.

"I'm alright, Reggie. Thank you." You nodded politely, you had felt incredibly off this break.

Though they all weren't stupid, they knew why you were acting strange.

Every year since third year; You and the boys would leave Hogwarts and spend Christmas with the Potters.

Snowball fights, roaring fires, Effie's hot cocoa, the memories echoed through your brain like they were music blasting from your headphones.

Every time you closed your eyes to sleep, you would see endless slideshows of everything you had ever done with them.

The nights of passion, the hugs, the pre and post-quidditch game good luck and good job kisses, the play fights, the happiness.

Your life was black and white before you met them, they brought the color.

But they showed you colors they knew you couldn't see with anyone else.

Well, besides your 'best' friends.

Were you really just that? Just friends?

You were a year younger than the Marauders, same year as Regulus.

and Sirius would be so pissed off if he found out that you were sleeping with his brother-

...

Wait.

Who gives a fuck about Sirius?

Who cares what intelligent insult will come out of Remus' mouth?

And James, he liked Regulus once.

They'd hate you.

But,

Maybe you wanted them too.

So, you ended up taking a few shots of firewhiskey.

Okay,

More than a few.

"Um- actually, Reggie. I- I do need something." You slurred, holding onto your sober ex-boyfriends brother best friends nimble shoulders like he was your lifeline.

"Yes, amour?"

"I want a kiss."

Evan spat out his drink back into his cup, and Regulus' face heated up significantly.

"I'll give you a kiss..." Barty clambered over his boyfriends as his cold, veiny hands meet your waist.

His hands skim your body up and down, before pecking your lips softly, as if he was asking for acceptance.

"Can I kiss you?" Barty spoke so softly, he may have been chaotic and insane- but he was extremely cautious and respectable with things like this.

"I-I wanna taste you so bad.." Evan cooed at Barty's sweet words, as he held an extremely flustered Regulus in his arms, watching the scene in front of him unfold.

"Barty- please, kiss me." You mewled, barely finishing your sentence as he dived into your lips.

His lips surprisingly tasted like cherry chapstick, even though he had just been chugging firewhiskey.

After feeling like an eternity, Barty broke your kiss.

"I've wanted to do that since fourth year." He mumbled drunkenly, gazing up stupidly and lovingly at your blush-kissed face.

His kisses were heavenly, and so were Evan's, and Regulus'.

And needless to say, you didn't return back to Pandora that night.

'YOU'RE POINTING AT THE STARS IN THE SKY THAT ALREADY DIED.'

The return to Hogwarts was an awkward one at that.

But returning back to Hogwarts feeling happier than ever with your boyfriends? That was the best return you could make.

Hand in hand with Barty, you strutted into the Great Hall.

Evan and Regulus trailed behind, as you rambled on and on to Barty about something.

James stared your direction, and you unfortunately met his gaze.

He wasn't dense, he could see how your bright smile seemed to dim.

He smiled, softly.

James knew that they'd never get you back the way they had you.

He should've realized that you were the light of their lives.

Everyone should've woken up to see you.

They hurt you.

And this was their price.

They had to watch you thrive, with three other men.

Who would treat you like a goddess, something they never sought time for.

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ultravioletbrit · 3 months ago

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“support” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 443 words

“James? Could you come into the living room for a minute?” Sirius asks him.

“Sure.”

James follows Sirius into the living room and Regulus and Remus are already there. Sirius goes to sit in the chair beside Remus and James sits beside Regulus.

“What’s going on?” James asks them.

Sirius looks down, fidgeting with his hands and Regulus takes one of James’ hands. “Sirius has something to tell you.” Regulus says with a sigh.

“Are you okay?” James asks Sirius then turns to Regulus. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine.” Regulus says lightly. “I’m only here because Sirius thinks you’re going to need emotional support.”

“He will, Regulus! He’s going to be devastated!” Sirius gives James a solemn look.

“Okay, someone tell me what’s going on because you’re starting to scare me.”

Sirius takes a deep breath. “Okay, well… erm… someone that Moons works with is moving out of their flat.” Sirius starts slowly. “And… well, they asked us if we’d be interested in taking over their lease… and… erm… we said yes.” Sirius finishes with a wince.

“You guys got your own flat?” James asks and Sirius nods very slowly. “Congratulations guys! That’s amazing!—”

“James…” Sirius cuts off James’ excitement. “It means we’re moving out.”

“Yeah! I’m excited for you both!” James says then turns to Regulus. “And that means—" Regulus is already smiling back at James. “—We’re going to be here. Just the two of us. Are you ready for that?” James asks and Regulus nods as his smile gets bigger and James leans in to kiss him.

“James!” Sirius interrupts them. “I’m not going to live here anymore!” He practically shouts.

“Yeah, I sort of figured that part out.”

Sirius huffs. “Why aren’t you devastated?”

“Am I supposed to be?” James asks Regulus, very confused.

“Apparently so. Do you need emotional support?” Regulus asks with faux sincerity.

“Oh… erm… yes?”

“There, there.” Regulus deadpans as he pats James on the shoulder.

“This is ridiculous! Aren’t you going to miss me?!” Sirius is still shouting.

“Of course! But we’re still going to see each other all the time.” James tells him “And Pads. We’ve lived together for fifteen years. I think we’re ready to try something new.”

Sirius huffs again and crosses his arms, slumping back in his chair. “You should at least be a little heartbroken.” He grumbles.

“Do you need emotional support, Sirius?” Regulus asks him.

“Fuck off, Regulus.” Sirius stands up.

“I really will miss you, Pads.” James tells him.

“Whatever.” Sirius mumbles as he stomps out of the room, Remus trailing behind him rolling his eyes.

“I think we should turn their room into a study.” Regulus says casually.

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wasteddmoondust · 10 months ago

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little family || remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader 1,258 words, single mom! reader, established relationship, FLUFFY FLUFF, kid fic, maybe i just crave domesticity a/n: back to back fics like who is she... (had this in the drafts for a WHILE) omfg guys this was soooo crazy indulgent I'm gong crazy no i did not proof read but i hope you like it anway

Remus is just about to leave work when he gets the call. He sees your contact name pop up on his screen, Y/N <3.

"Hello?" he says when he picks up the call.

"Hi, Re," you reply. You voice sounds rushed and anxious. "Do you happen to be free today?"

"I am, love. What is it?" he asks softly, stopping in his tracks to listen to you.

"Something came up at work today that I have to stay and handle, could you pick up Lyla from daycare?"

Lyla, a little girl equivalent to a ball of sunshine. Though you had only been dating for over a year, he sees her as his own.

"Of course I will. I'll bring her back to yours?"

"Yes please, thank you so much. I'll buy takeout for dinner when I'm done. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, sure. I'll go pick her up now."

He hears you heave a sigh of relief over the phone. "I appreciate you so much, I love you."

He smiles. "I love you, too. I'll see you later."

Remus reaches the daycare and realises he doesn't know what he's supposed to do. He walks by the window and sees Lyla colouring in her classroom. She notices the movement and looks up from her drawing. He can't hear her through the window but she's jumping around and cheering at the sight of him, waving excitedly.

He waves back at her, smiling, then notices one of her teachers gesturing to meet her at the entrance.

She gets past the gate to the classroom, leaving Lyla behind. "Hi, I know you're here for Lyla but since you're not her mum I'm going to need your ID," she says pulling out a file from one of the shelves.

He pulls out his wallet and gives it to her and watches her scan a list of what seems to be names of parents of the children.

She takes a few seconds and finally says, "Ah yes, Remus Lupin. You're on her list. I'll get her for you." He watches the teacher look into the classroom and call Lyla.

And then he realises. He's on the list. He's on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare. You put him on the list of people who can pick Lyla up from daycare.

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Lyla's voice. "Remoose!" she yells, running up to him.

"Hiya, angel," he says and picks her up. His heart melts as she immediately wraps her arms around his neck for a hug. "Mummy will join us later, but for now it's just you and me, okay?"

"We can watch TV?" she asks. "And then- then play toys?"

"Mhm, that sounds like a good plan," Remus replies, and they head to your home.

Later, you turn your key to your flat and open the door. You can hear the television playing a movie and the sound of your daughter's laughter. You kick off your shoes and walk into the living room.

Remus is covered in the fake makeup from Lyla's child-friendly kit. His hair is also adorned with little flower hair clips. He sits cross-legged on the floor while she sits in his lap.

"Looks like you had a lot of fun without me, hm?" you say. Lyla jumps at the sound of your voice, immediately running to you.

"Mummy! Remus fetched me today!"

"I know, darling," you kiss her cheek. "I asked him to. Did he take good care of you?"

She nods aggressively. She runs back to Remus, who is already walking up to you.

"Well don't you look pretty today," you tease. He smiles and breathes a soft laugh.

"My makeup artist is talented. She's very serious about this," he presses a kiss to your forehead. "You hungry? I can heat up dinner."

"That'd be great, and then it's time for this bug to go to bed," you pick up Lyla. "Isn't that right?"

She lays her head on your shoulder, visibly getting sleepy as it gets closer to her usual bedtime.

"Say good night to Remus?" you turn your body, so she faces him.

Remus bends down to kiss her hair, "Good night, angel."

Lyla slowly closes her eyes, "G'night..."

Putting your baby to bed goes smoothly, and she easily winds down as she is tucked into bed. She snuggles into her blanket and looks up at you.

"I like it when Remus fetches me from school," you hear her mumble.

You smile at that. "Really?"

She nods. "I really like Remus."

"I really like Remus too, darling."

"I think you get very happy around him, Mummy," she whispers. "You were not very happy last year, but now I see you be happy with him. So I'm happy."

You feel your heart do something. Jump? Lurch? Lyla was right, being a single parent comes with its challenges and you can admit a lot of late nights were spent biting your nails and wiping tears from your cheeks. You tried your best to prevent her from seeing you in that state, but you know she's observant enough for her age.

And that's why you're so thankful to have met Remus. He accepted you despite the fact you had a whole child. He saw you not only as you but also as the mother of your child. He understood that Lyla would always be a priority to you over romance (unlike most men you've met). Despite all its complications, he has been able to fit into your lives as if he's already meant to be there.

A prime example could be taken from today. Surely he could've said no to picking up Lyla from daycare, he's just her mother's boyfriend, after all. But he agreed and handled the rest.

"He does make me really happy," you say to her. "Does he make you happy too?"

"Mhm! He always plays with me and watches shows with me. He also hugs me and kisses me. He makes me happy. He's like my Daddy."

You chuckle, trying to hide the way your heart is going crazy at that. Somehow, you take the leap. "You want Remus to be your Daddy?"

"Can I call him my Daddy?" she asks, her eyes hopeful.

"You'll have to ask him tomorrow," you say, and you wonder what his reaction would be.

"Okay, I'll ask him tomorrow. Good night, Mummy."

You kiss her forehead, "Good night, darling."

You walk out of her room to see Remus placing your plate of food on the table for you. Without saying anything, you approach him and hug him. He hugs you back.

He is silent for a while, swaying your body slowly as you hug. "You were in there for a while, what were you talking about?" he mumbles into your hair.

You take a deep breath and look up at him, chin resting on your chest. "I love you," you say.

He furrows his brows but nods anyway. "I love you, too."

"Lyla wants to call you her dad."

Remus stops swaying. What is he thinking?

"Okay," he says, simply.

You jerk your head back, "Really?"

"Of course, I love her too, you know. I'd be honoured."

Chuckling, you bury your head into his chest and squeeze him. You feel him press a kiss into your hair.

"We're like a little family," he whispers to you. And you can see it too. You, your daughter, and Remus altogether as one.

And there's honestly nothing you want more than that.

a/n: SO LIKE UM this has been in the drafts about the same time as the james one like i said this is just very very indulgent brainrot i still have plans for the james series!!!!!!! ty sm for your support <3 likes and reblogs are always appreciated.

#marauders x reader #marauders imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #zee writes

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suugarbabe · 4 months ago

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omg ok ok ok, I love your Sirius, so, I'm wondering if you could write a sirius x fem!reader who is maybe the grumpy to his sunshine? he's the one who is always super flirty and outgoing and the life of the party, and she would sort of rather die but begrudgingly puts up with it for him? OH but maybe one day she has a bad day and he gets to see a softer side of her 🥹 IDK idk I'm too excited to request this is so bad sorry my love xoxoxoxo kisses for youuuu

I am *living* for this okay. l i v i n g. because Sirius is my sunshine to my grumpy. I am the grumpy reader. okay let’s do this baby. kiss kiss kiss yoooou <3

Opposites attract right? At least that’s what others seemed to deem as the explanation for your relationship. Sirius was in a category all his own as far as you were concerned, but that category was nearly the opposite of where people would place you. Sirius was a people person, it came so easily to him it was like he never even had to try. It annoyed you to no fucking end when you first met him.

Being a descendent of the most noble and ancient House of Black had its advantages. Like incredibly sharp cheekbones, beautiful alabaster skin that contrasted perfectly with onyx locks and eyes so deep and blue you could drown in them. Sirius exuded this energy that seemed to pull people towards him; like he had his own force field. He could walk into a room and everything shifted, like he breathed extra life into the area and everyone was desperate to live.

Most people when asked about you would say you were…short-tempered. Your housemates tended to steer clear of your presence. Which was fine with you because you were easily annoyed by most of them. Ravenclaws were known for being know-it-alls and truthfully you found it rather repugnant. Thankfully you had Pandora as company. Usually her overly sweet demeanor would drive you insane, but you knew more than the rest. Being a Rosier sorted into Ravenclaw essentially meant she was the black sheep of her family. But that seemed to be your soft spot.

Pandora would tease that this was why you started falling for Sirius. Despite your more grumpy demeanor, you were never quite as grumpy when it came to Sirius. Hearing the ins and outs of what was going on over breaks from Pan made you want to take care of him.

The first time Sirius brought you around the rest of the marauders it was not without sideways glances. “Er, Pads, you seemed to have picked up a shadow,” James nodded towards your frame just behind Sirius. “Sod off, Potter,” you’d grumbled, Sirius’s palm big and flat against your back moving in slow circles. “S’alright love, he’s just teasing. Be nice, Prongs or she’ll hex you into next week and I won’t be able to stop her.”

“Not that you’d try to stop her, would ya mate. I’m Remus, but all these miserable gits call me Moony,” Remus gave a small fingered wave as he plopped onto the couch ceremoniously. He would eventually turn into the one that’d help you gang up on Sirius, if ever needed.

On this particular night, though, you were feeling just…down. It wasn’t often you felt like this, despite outward appearances. However when this feeling did hit you, there was only one person that could fully get you out of it. You knew that the Gryffindors were having their annual Halloween party. Which meant if you wanted to find Sirius that’s where he’d be.

You had of course agreed to come to the party ages ago; much to do with Sirius begging and pouting his pretty pink lips and sucking you in with his pretty blue eyes. Sirius had insisted that costumes were required, “Even for an angel like yourself” which earned him a particularly large eye roll. Thus, you threw on some fishnet tights and a black minidress with your signature black boots. Atop your head a small pair of black cat ears, thanks to Pandoras charm work.

She was dressed as an actual angel, charmed halo floating above her nearly white blonde locks. Any muggle would think they were truly hallucinating if they would have seen her. You greeted the fat lady with the password, “Hiddlypunks,” and she swung open. Within the first few steps one would be none the wiser. But two steps into the commonroom and the barrier was broken, music and singing and murmuring filling the room.

“Drinks yes? Please yes,” you nodded at Pandora who found her way to to the drink table to create what you were hoping were very strong concoctions. You didn’t need to look around in order to find him. That magnetic pull leading you closer and closer until you heard the boisterous laugh of Sirius Black. You were quiet in your approach, not drawing any attention to yourself on purpose. Even though you yearned for his touch you knew how much he enjoyed entertaining and didn’t want to interrupt.

Remus spots you of course, the observant bastard. He throws a playful wink in your direction; you responding with a middle finger and a forced smile. Sirius is in the middle of recalling “a truly amazing play, great play” from the last quidditch match, but Remus’s low chuckle from your display of affection towards him causes your boyfriend to turn around in search of who could have possibly pulled attention away from him.

His furrowed brows disperse as you catch his sights and smile lights his face, “Well, hello there, Kitten.” You give a weak smile in response, “Hi Siri.” His brows are furrowed once more. The others try to greet you but immediately you’re swept away to a farther corner of the room. Sirius swirls his wand around you both, muttering a quick muffliato, coating you both in silence. “Okay, out with it what’s wrong?” Sirius’s hands were laid gently on your waist, head dipped down to force your avoidant eyes to keep contact with his. “Come now, pet. You know I can’t do anything without knowing what’s wrong,” he urged, giving your waist a small squeeze.

You met his eyes and yours immediately began to brim with tears. In an instant Sirius has engulfed you, one hand grasping your head and holding you close to his chest while the other wraps around your back, squeezing you as close to him as possible and hoping the pressure of his pull is soothing. His heart breaks ever so slightly at the muffled sobs against him. Your emotions seem to be everywhere but embarrassment is toping the list as you begin to pull away, aggressively wiping your face with the heel of your palms, hoping no one but Sirius is noticing you in this state.

"I-I'm sorry Siri, 've just..." you trailed off, choked breaths causing your intake of air to stutter. Sirius's touch has yet to cease, one hand cupping your cheek gently while the other finds solace in the dip of your waist, "Rough day, love?" You nod once, looking to the ceiling and willing any tears to fall back into your head instead of trailing down your face. "Alright, let's go," his head tilts towards the spiral staircase that would lead to his dorm.

You sniffle quickly, shaking your head, "N-no, I'll be okay. I'm not going to take you away from the party, Siri. Not gonna steal you from your friends like that." Sirius can't help but scoff, "Fuck my friends." You laugh a little at his brashness and the sound makes Sirius grin again, "There you are, love." He takes a quick peek over his shoulder, "Now. Let's just go tell the others we're going up, Remus will make sure we're left alone for a good few hours then, hmm?"

You nod, agreeing, knowing that there's no use in arguing with Sirius when he's made up his mind. His fingers laced with yours and the cool feeling of his rings are such a contrast the the heat in your body that it's calming. He gives your hand an extra squeeze as you approach the group. You decide to try and stay hidden behind Sirius, almost burying your face against his shoulder blade, barely peeking one eye out to see the others.

Sirius explains that he's feeling tired and wants to go back to the room with you. James does not look convinced in the slightest. He looks even more confused by your seemingly shy and reserved demeanor. He doesn't think he's ever seen you look so...vulnerable. Remus is the only person you make eye contact with and he gives you a simple wink and a nod. The reassurance from the smallest action making you sigh in relief.

It's almost like Sirius can feel you relax slightly, turning to you and asking if you're ready to go. You give a feeble nod and a shy wave to the others, most of which look a little skeptical but say no protests in return.

When you make it to his dorm Sirius immediately goes to his trunk, pulling out his favorite concert tee and handing it to you. You take off your outfit slowly, pulling his shirt over your head and letting it consume you, the additional scent of Sirius now enveloping your body and adding to your relief. Sirius changes himself and then pulls back the duvet, "In you go, pet."

You oblige, going and getting comfortable on your back. Sirius climbs in after you, crawling over your form and placing two soft kisses on either apple of your cheek before giving you the most gentle yet firm kiss. He rests his head against yours, asking you almost in a whisper, "D'you wanna talk about it?"

"No," your response so soft it would've been missed had it not been only you two in the room, "Will you just...lay on me?" Sirius kissed you softly once more, scooching down just enough to lay his head on your chest. He wrapped his arms around you, relaxing himself and allowing his full weight to now lay on top of you. The weight of your boyfriend was the grounding you needed, your breathing now finally able to even out.

#i hope you like it 🥺#for my elle <3 #sirius black x reader #sirius black fluff #sirius black x you #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black being a fucking gem #sunshine!sirius black x grumpy!reader #reader insert #x reader #the marauders #marauders era

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

Text

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 down to 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 quarter 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 lashes kiss as you smile back at him, unwrapping your scarf. “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 these things.”

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James (and by extension, 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. 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 your 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 out of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat any. 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. He laughs when 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 of 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. “Awe, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not very difficult, 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,” says Lily 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 sound 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 cuts them off, “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 find you avoiding everyone’s eyes. 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 about 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 home.”

“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.”

“Bleak.” James looks 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.”) 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 seem to have something 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, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, love.”

“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, it’s his favorite,” 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. 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.

“Oh, 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.

“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 hiding the bashfulness in your smile. “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, 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 fairly bad to me.”

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live rather 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.”

“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 rather if it didn’t come to that.”

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

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

“Babe, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly formidable 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 fruitlessly on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you inside 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 while 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. 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?”

“Mm, 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 are curled towards him and he has 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.”

“Mm, 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 a 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.”

A while 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.”

Soon the credits start. 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. 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 across 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.

Remus 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. A 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 grant 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 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 Remus’ 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 asked 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 this 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. He tosses it onto 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 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. 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 out 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. 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, tugging 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.

Remus 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. You cup his head in one hand and wrap 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 mouth, but 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 of 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 to Remus’ touch. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth.

“Come, 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 underneath 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. 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 alright if not.”

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

The smile fades from Remus’ 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 puts on 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.”

Your eyes have widened. Remus expects his face is about five shades pinker than normal.

“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, but 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, Remus 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 him. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something 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 quiet. 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, 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 creek 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 to a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re better at hiding things 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 how 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 up for 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 forehead. “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, your 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 fed.”

“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.”

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luveline · 4 months ago

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Hey Jade~~~ your writing is such a treasure and a wonderful gift :) I was wondering if I could request a slightly whimsical reader recounting a suggestive dream to the marauders (your pick!) and they’re surprised and bewildered bc wow didn’t know her subconscious was that freaky

ty for requesting!! mdni suggestive theme

“I didn’t tell you about my dream.”

Remus is gathering a discarded game of poker off of the table into his hands when you speak. He’s ninety nine percent sure that Sirius’ deck has about ten aces in it. He’s going to count them before he makes his case. “You did not,” he says.

You kneel beside him, not helping, not doing much of anything besides breathing. You’ve always been so peaceful. Remus likes it. It rubs off on him; your presence calms the worst of his rampant self-loathing.

“You were there.”

“That’s nice. Did I look like me?” he asks.

“Exactly the same. Even the scar on your cheek.”

That’s a new one. “Up to date, then, your subconscious.”

“I think so. We were in the Leaky at first, and Sirius and Dorcas were there, too, but Dorcas had a fur coat on, which didn’t make much sense.”

Dorcas is fiercely vegan. “That makes no sense at all,” Remus agrees. He’s counted three aces already.

“But Sirius and Dorcas left eventually. Well, they didn’t leave, they just stopped being there, and you took me back to your flat for coffee.”

“For coffee,” he repeats, finding a fourth ace and then, unsurprisingly, a fifth. For coffee tends to mean sex in your social circle, though he doubts that’s what it meant in the dream. Remus finds a sixth ace and starts to wonder where Sirius gets the nerve.

“It was an exceptionally quick cup of coffee.” You speak in your usual calm, quiet tone, no added inflection as you continue, “because then you said something about ravishing me, and it was all very explicit.” You give him a rather fond smile and brush the hair from his face. “You’re usually very good at ravishing, of course, but you’ve never tied me up before. Well, not in person.”

Remus forgets the aces immediately. He feels as though he’s been struck, somehow, an achy, warm heat blossoming in his stomach as you tuck his hair behind his ear, rubbing a thumb pad over his cheek. “You dream about me tying you up?” he asks.

You shrug. “Sometimes. I think it’s the cheese we had, you know? Cheese can make you dream all sorts of things.”

“And the ravishing?”

“That’s not entirely unusual,” you confess.

Remus laughs to himself and pulls you in with a practised arm behind your back, the two of you snug in the space between the coffee table and Sirius’ uncomfortable sofa. “You should tell me more about these dreams.”

“I’ve told you the gist of them. They aren’t so different from reality, only with more of your neckties involved.”

“I always thought we’d find use for them.”

“But then Sirius was there again and he was wearing the fur coat.”

Remus sighs, even as your weight rests against his side, restoring some balance to the universe you’ve just rocked. “That’s terrible.”

“I’m going to tell him about my dream. Maybe he has furs I don’t know about.”

“You aren’t going to tell him about the whole of the dream, though, right?” You’re notably quiet. “Right?”

“Right, Remus. I’ll keep all the details for you, selfish boy.”

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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ddejavvu · 1 year ago

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I love your best friend with no boundaries James, and I was wondering if you could do one where James and reader are having their regularly scheduled mid-day naps, and Sirius and Remus walk into the dorm to find James just humping reader while they’re asleep? Maybe James and reader wake up to the GASP of horror from Sirius after his not so innocent eyes witness “straight up porn in their shared dorm where Peter of all people could witness”

I love all your works and was wondering if I could be marked as 😻anon? I’m the person who requested the bsf Steve imagine and I’m 100% gonna request something again because you’re perfect and I just wanna kiss you on the mouth🫶🏻🫶🏻

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Sirius considers himself James's best friend- no, brother, but he's not afraid to whack the man upside the head when he finds James grinding on you in his sleep.

"You-! Nasty-! Fucker-!" He bullies James awake, appreciating the much calmer, kinder way that Remus rouses you, tugging you away from James on the bed and murmuring that your nap is over. You blink your eyes open serenely, and James's shoot wide in pain as Sirius assaults him.

"What the fuck? Agh- Sirius! I know you're mad that I've got the better potions grade, but killing me won't help!"

"This isn't about potions, Potter," Sirius scoffs, "But I am thinking about tossing you in a hot cauldron. You were- eeugh, you were humping her, you animal!"

Your brows are furrowed and your blinks are bleary, but your brain catches up with the help of Remus's hands where they trace soothing circles on your back.

"Oh," You mumble groggily, as James groans with quickly reddening cheeks, "Uh- s'alright, Jamie."

Remus's hand stills on your back, but James and Sirius join in a fused indignant-confused "What?"

"S'just natural I guess," You shrug, "I dunno, I haven't- er, got one. But it was an accident, Jamie, you were asleep. It's alright."

James’s cheeks are still plenty rouged, but he nods sleepily at your forgiveness, relieved that he's not being hit by two people instead of only one.

"Yeah, thanks bird," He flops back down onto the mattress, letting out a sigh heavily infused with relief, "Wouldn't do it on purpose, y'know. Not while you're sleeping, that's- that's pervy."

"Some people like pervy," You hum, settling back into your own position in James's bed, though he's no longer curled around you. Sirius watches as you knock your hand against his own, "Sirius thinks I'm a perv."

"You're both pervs," Sirius grimaces, his lip curled in distaste as Remus stands from James's bedside, "Seriously, he eats off of your spoons, you've seen his dick, he's been grinding all over your ass - if you don't get a marriage license soon you're going to be very unpopular with the traditional crowd."

James turns towards you with a gasp, his eyes shining just the same as his grin does, "We could get married!"

"We should," You laugh, "And we could get a flat, and we could have your mother over for dinner every Tuesday."

"That would work." He nods, fully settled back into the pillows from Sirius's disturbance, "She loves you. And she's free Tuesday nights - her knitting circle ends at three."

"I know that," You scoff, barely biting back an overexaggerated eye roll, "James, I write your mother once a week. I know when her knitting circle is."

"You write my mum?" He rears back, momentarily confused, "She's never told me that!"

"Of course she hasn't," You snicker, "Because if you'd known, you would have stopped me from telling her how many times you get detention every week, and you'd want to share the sweets she sends me in exchange for the intel."

#james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter scenario #james potter oneshot #james potter one shot #james potter one-shot #james potter headcanon #james potter headcanons #james potter hc #james potter hcs #james potter fanfiction #james potter fanfic #james potter fic #james potter blurb #james potter drabble #james potter dialogue #james potter fluff #james potter x reader fanfiction

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my-castles-crumbling · 1 month ago

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📲🍑 - January 14 - jegulus - server microprompt challenge - word count: 425 - very NSFW!

It was a rare moment of quiet in the cozy little flat they all shared. Remus was napping on the couch, Regulus (who visited so frequently he may as well have signed the lease) was at home with Barty and Evan, Peter was off on a date, and both Sirius and James sat in one armchair, staring at the screen of James’s phone, trying desperately to solve a crossword puzzle.

“'Five letter word for'…fuck, this is ridiculous!” Sirius moaned, scrubbing at his face with his hand. “Remus makes these look so easy!”

“Okay, but we’re smart, right?” James said, half-encouragingly, half-desperately. “We can do this!”

They were interrupted for a moment when, with a small ding! James received a text. But he hurriedly swiped it away, so quickly Sirius almost didn’t see it.

“Was that Regulus?” Sirius asked, tilting his head to the side, having recognized the name before James swiped. “What’d he say? Is he coming over?”

“What? Oh, er…” James muttered, not making eye contact. “Yeah, probably.”

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “Well, why don’t you check?”

James shifted uncomfortably. “I mean, I can check later.”

Sirius snorted. “But he’s probably saying he’ll be here soon! Go on, check. I know you two’re dating, it’s not like you have to hide your stupid pet names."

But James just stammered an unintelligible response, making Sirius all the more suspicious. “James. What, are you talking about me or something?” Sirius asked, frowning.

“No! No, I-” James started to deny, but he was cut off by another ding! that drew both of their attention to the screen.

This time, James didn’t swipe away fast enough. And this time, there was a picture.

“What the fuck-” Sirius hissed, snatching the phone from James’s hand and standing to avoid his snatching fingers.

Without thinking, he tapped on the picture, not considering what he was about to see. But almost instantaneously, he regretted every decision that had led him up to this moment.

The picture showed Regulus in a mirror, clearly naked, back to the mirror with his head turned so his very suggestive expression could be seen. Spine arched and lip bitten, he sat on his heels, arse fully on display.

“Oh ew!” Sirius shouted, throwing the phone at James and accidentally hitting him in the face. “EW! What the fuck, James?”

James, however, just grabbed his phone and held it up, eyes raking over the screen and smirking. “Told you not to look,” he said with a shrug. “Reg will be here in twenty.”

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hemmingsleclerc · 8 months ago

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Worth it┃sirius black

summary: where Sirius is completely in love with James's sister, but everytime he wants to ask her on a date somehow ends up doing something embarrassing

just sirius being a dumbass in love

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ･˳ . ⋆

Sirius Black, known for his confident attitude and big ego, became a totally different person when it came to Y/n Potter, James' twin sister. From the moment he first saw her on the Hogwarts Express, he fell in love with her. Her bright eyes, her laughter that echoed through the halls, and her loyalty to her friends captivated Sirius in a way he couldn't explain.

However, every attempt Sirius made to impress her seemed to end in humiliation. Whether it was tripping over his own feet, accidentally dropping a potion in Potions class while he was trying to show off, or simply forgetting his words when she stared at him or smiled, Sirius managed to humiliate himself over and over again and the marauders found endless fun in his failed attempts.

One particularly incident occurred during a Gryffindor Quidditch match. Sirius had been practicing tirelessly, determined to catch Y/n's eye with his skills as a Seeker and impress her (again). As he zoomed across the pitch during the game against Slytherin, he spotted Y/n cheering enthusiastically in the stands. Heart pounding with nerves, Sirius dove towards the Snitch, only to misjudge his speed and crash into a ring, sending the Snitch away to the opposite end of the field. The entire stadium bursted into laughter, including Y/n, who clapped a hand over her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles.

"Nice one, Pad! Maybe next time you'll catch something other than the ground," James joked mercilessly after the match, laughing his head off, slapping Sirius on the back.

Sirius tried to laugh, but inside he felt enormous disappointment and shame. He had wanted with all his might to impress Y/n, to show her that he was more than just a prankster or a reckless troublemaker. But every time he tried, it seemed like he only managed to make a fool of himself.

Despite his repeated failures, Sirius refused to give up, she was worth it and he wasn't going to give up so easily. He found himself casting nervous glances at Y/n during meals in the Great Hall, trying to work up the courage to approach her. However, every time he decided to talk to her, his tongue would get stuck and his palms would sweat. Even simple greetings turned into awkward exchanges in which Sirius would end up stumbling over his words or making some ill-timed joke that fell flat.

One rainy afternoon, Sirius was sitting in his dorm with his friends. Peter and Remus were playing a game of wizard chess nearby while James lay on his bed playing with his snitch, occasionally casting sympathetic glances in Sirius' direction.

"You know, mate," Remus began tentatively, moving a knight on the board, "maybe you should just ask her out straightforwardly. None of this grand gesture stuff. Just be yourself."

Sirius sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've tried, Moony. Every time I try to talk to her, I end up making a complete fool of myself. She probably thinks I'm an idiot by this point."

James chuckled "Nah, she doesn't think you're an idiot. Just a bit… charmingly clumsy as she told me."

Sirius rolled his eyes, but he couldn't help but smile at his friends' attempts to cheer him up. Deep down, he knew they were right. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong. Perhaps what Y/n needed was not grand gestures or witty banter, but simply honesty.

The next day, Sirius was walking through the black lake, letting his feet walk without any direction, however he realized that he was precisely addressing Y/n who was reading a book in front of the lake. His heart raced as he made his way over, his friends watching with anticipation from a distance.

"Here goes nothing," Sirius muttered under his breath, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves.

As he approached Y/n, she looked up and smiled warmly at him. Sirius felt his legs weak.

''Hey Y/n''

''Hey sirius, what's up?''

''everythings fine, um I wanted to ask you something''

Sirius felt his throat dry and his mind went blank.

''Are you okey sirius? you seem a bit...pale'' Y/n asked doubtfully, standing up and getting closer to Sirius.

''No! I'm good don't worry!'' Sirius was actually planning on pretending to faint, or running away.

''Okey?..Well anyways I also wanted to ask you something''

Sirius was about to open his mouth to let the words out but Y/n interrupted him.

''I was wondering if you'd like to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" Y/n said smiling ear to ear

Time seemed to stand still for Sirius. His eyes widened in shock, his mouth hanging open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Did she just ask him out before he could ask her?

Taken by surprise, Sirius took a step back, his heart racing even more. To his surprise, he tripped on a tree root and fell to the ground with a thud.

Laughter erupted in the distance, echoing through the garden. James, Remus and Peter had been responsible for these as they were almost crying of laughter, unable to contain their amusement at Sirius's latest fall.

Sirius lay on the ground for a moment, his face burning with shame. He stood up as quickly as he could, trying to maintain some semblance of composure and dignity.

Y/n rushed over to him, concern mixing with her laughter. "Oh my god!, are you okay?"

Sirius nodded, his cheeks still flushed. "Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just… just caught me by surprise, that's all."

Y/n chuckled softly, offering him a hand up. "Sorry about that. I couldn't resist."

Despite the embarrassment, Sirius couldn't help but grin. "No need to apologize. I… I'd love to go to Hogsmeade with you."

Y/n smiled wildly, relief evident in her eyes. "Great! It's a date then."

Sirius felt a wave of relief and excitement. He had managed to get through another embarrassing moment, but this time he had turned out better than he could have imagined.

As they separated, the rest of the marauders approached him, still laughing at him. James patted him on the back, shaking his head in amusement and hugging him by the side and Sirius couldn't help but do a little victory dance.

Despite all his fumbles and embarrassing moments, he knew one thing for certain: Y/n Potter was worth every stumble and every awkward pause.

1K notes · View notes

evermoreness · 4 days ago

Text

moonlight and mending pt. 5 | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: remus still thinks he doesn't deserve love, but you like to prove him otherwise.

obs: this is part five of a series. here's part one and part six

masterlist

Days passed, and things between you and Remus settled back into something almost normal.

Almost.

He stopped pulling away. Stopped dodging you in the corridors. Stopped making excuses to avoid being alone with you. But there was something different now—something unspoken in the way he clung to you, like he was memorizing every moment, every piece of you, before you inevitably disappeared.

You weren’t going anywhere.

But he didn’t believe that.

At meals, he sat closer to you, shoulders brushing, as if seeking warmth he couldn’t ask for.

During walks in the courtyard, his fingers would graze against yours, hesitant, like he wanted to hold your hand but didn’t dare.

Even in the common room, he’d sit beside you on the couch, and when you eventually dozed off against his shoulder, he never moved—never dared disturb the comfort of having you there.

You noticed it all.

And it broke your heart.

One evening, you sat together in the Gryffindor common room, the fire crackling beside you. The Marauders were off somewhere, probably causing trouble, which left just the two of you.

Remus had a book open in his lap, but he wasn’t reading. Instead, his head was resting against the back of the couch, eyes closed, looking exhausted.

You hesitated for only a moment before shifting closer, resting your head on his shoulder.

His breath hitched.

“Is this okay?” you murmured.

He exhaled shakily. “Yeah. More than okay.”

Silence stretched between you, the warmth of the fire wrapping around you both. After a while, you felt him shift slightly. Then, ever so slowly, he let his head rest against yours.

You smiled softly. “You seem tired, Rem.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “That obvious, huh?”

You hummed. “Want to talk about it?”

He hesitated. “Not really.”

“Alright,” you said simply, no pressure, no expectations.

He exhaled, and for a moment, you swore you felt his fingers twitch beside yours. Like he wanted to hold on but didn’t know if he could.

So you took the decision from him.

You reached down, lacing your fingers with his.

Remus froze.

For a moment, you thought he might pull away. But instead, he squeezed your hand—just barely—and let out a shaky breath, like something inside him had just unraveled.

“Is this okay?” you asked again, voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed. “Yeah.”

And this time, his voice didn’t shake.

"Long day?" You asked lightly.

He scoffed. "Something like that."

"You’re warm," you murmured, squeezing his hand gently.

He swallowed thickly. "That happens."

You didn’t ask why.

The fire flickered beside you, casting soft, golden light over the common room. Your hand was still wrapped in Remus’s, his fingers curling tightly around yours like he was afraid to let go.

You could feel the tension radiating off him, though. Something deeper than exhaustion. Something restless.

You glanced up at him. His eyes were closed again, his jaw tight, a muscle in his cheek twitching ever so slightly. His breathing was uneven—too shallow, too controlled.

“You sure you don’t want to talk about it?” you asked again, squeezing his hand gently.

He hesitated. “It’s nothing,” he muttered.

You huffed. “Remus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look this exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

You gave him a flat look. “Right. And I’m the Minister of Magic.”

That got a small huff of laughter from him, but it was brief. His grip on your hand tightened for just a second before he loosened it again, like he was afraid of holding on too much.

You shifted a little closer, letting your free hand rest against his arm. “I don’t like seeing you like this, Rem.”

He swallowed thickly. “I’m just—” He cut himself off with a sigh, shaking his head. “It’s just a rough week. I’ll be fine.”

You didn’t miss the way he avoided looking at you when he said it.

You studied him carefully, taking in every little detail. His skin looked paler than usual, a bit drawn, as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. His hands—one still loosely holding yours—were cold, his fingers a little shaky. And his eyes… when he finally did glance at you, there was something off in them. Something stormy, like he was barely holding himself together.

Your heart clenched.

You had no idea what was going on with him, but you hated seeing him like this.

You chewed on your lip, debating whether to push further. But before you could, Remus let out a sharp breath, shifting uncomfortably.

Then, suddenly, he pulled his hand from yours and scrubbed it down his face, exhaling harshly.

“I—I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to—”

“Hey.” You sat up a little straighter, concern flooding you. “Remus, it’s okay.”

He clenched his jaw, looking frustrated with himself. “I just feel… on edge. I don’t know. It’s—it’s stupid.”

You frowned. “It’s not stupid.”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at the fire, his hands gripping the hem of his sweater so tightly his knuckles turned white.

You hesitated for a moment before gently reaching out again, resting your hand over his.

His shoulders tensed—but he didn’t pull away.

“Is there anything I can do?” you asked softly.

He let out a slow breath. “You’re already doing it.”

Your heart ached at the quiet confession.

You gave his hand another squeeze. “Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what’s going on?”

He hesitated—longer this time. Then, with a sigh, he finally muttered, “It’s just… been a long week.”

You weren’t convinced.

But you could see how hard this was for him—how much he clearly wanted to talk but didn’t know how.

So instead of pushing, you just nodded. “Okay.”

Remus blinked, as if surprised you weren’t going to interrogate him. “Okay?”

You smiled softly. “Yeah. But just so you know… whenever you do feel like talking about it, I’m here.”

His expression softened in a way that made your chest feel tight.

Then, before you could register what was happening, he reached out and pulled you into a hug.

It wasn’t like the casual, half-hearted hugs you sometimes exchanged with your friends. This one was tight. Desperate. Like he needed to feel you there, real and warm and solid.

You barely had time to react before you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in return, holding him just as tightly.

“You’re being too good to me,” he murmured against your hair.

You smiled. “Someone has to be.”

He let out a quiet, breathy chuckle. “Merlin help me.”

You grinned but didn’t pull away, letting the warmth of the moment settle between you.

This time, when you leaned against him, he didn’t tense.

And this time, when your head rested against his shoulder, he let himself relax.

“You know,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly so you could see his face, “I think you like my company.”

Remus let out a soft chuckle. “That’s debatable.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm.”

“Then why are you still here?”

His lips twitched. “Trapped.”

You gasped dramatically. “Trapped? Trapped? Remus, you could leave at any time—”

“Mm, could I?”

“Yes! You literally have legs.”

“But then you’d be sad,” he teased.

You huffed. “So you’re staying to make me happy?”

“Apparently so.”

You grinned. “Admit it. You like me, Lupin.”

He scoffed, but his ears turned pink. “I tolerate you.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, placing a hand on your heart. “That’s practically a love confession.”

Remus shook his head, but he didn’t push you away when you snuggled closer, curling into his warmth.

The fire crackled beside you, the castle silent around you, and for the first time in a long time, Remus didn’t feel the weight of the approaching full moon pressing so hard on his chest.

He finally let out a breathy chuckle, shaking his head. "You're ridiculous."

"And you're a liar," you shot back, nudging his shoulder.

Remus smirked, but there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes now—something lighter, something more himself. It made your heart flip a little.

You nudged him again, this time just because you liked seeing the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Come on, tell me the truth. I’m like, your favorite person ever, aren’t I?"

He huffed. "Don’t be absurd. I’d never admit to such a thing."

"You just did."

"I did not."

"You didn't deny it."

He pressed his lips together, trying not to smile.

You smirked. "Ha! Caught you."

"Merlin, you are insufferable."

"And yet, here you are, spending all your time with me. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?"

Remus sighed dramatically, rubbing a hand down his face. "What have I done to deserve this?"

You grinned. "I ask myself the same question every day."

He shook his head, exhaling a laugh. "Unbelievable."

For a moment, you just sat there, the fire crackling beside you, the tension from before now fully melted away. You liked this—this version of Remus. The one who let himself tease back, who let himself laugh.

It made you wonder why he didn’t let himself be like this more often.

"You know," you said, leaning in slightly, lowering your voice to a whisper as if you were sharing a deep secret. "You’re actually pretty fun when you’re not brooding."

Remus scoffed. "I do not brood."

You wiggled your fingers dramatically. "Ooooh, look at me, I’m Remus Lupin. I read books and sigh dramatically by the fire and never tell anyone what’s bothering me because I like to be mysterious."

Remus stared at you, deadpan. "...That is an appalling impression of me."

You grinned. "I thought it was spot-on."

He gave you a look, but the way his lips twitched betrayed his amusement.

"Alright then," he said, turning slightly to face you fully. "If we’re doing terrible impressions—"

"Mine was fantastic, thank you very much."

"—then let me try yours."

Your eyes widened. "Oh no."

Remus cleared his throat, straightening up dramatically. Then, in the worst high-pitched voice you’d ever heard, he said, "Oh, Remus, tell me what’s wrong! Oh, Remus, am I your favorite person ever? Oh, Remus, please let me annoy you until you’re forced to smile!"

Your jaw dropped. "Excuse me?!"

Remus smirked, looking far too pleased with himself. "Seemed pretty accurate to me."

"You wish I sounded that annoying."

"Oh, I know you do."

You gasped, shoving his shoulder. "Take it back!"

"Never."

"Remus John Lupin, take it back!"

He laughed, actually laughed, and you were so caught off guard by the sound of it—so light, so unburdened—that you just stopped, staring at him.

He caught your expression and tilted his head. "...What?"

You smiled softly. "I like it when you laugh."

That caught him off guard.

For a moment, the teasing air between you stilled, something softer settling in its place. His cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You make it easy," he muttered.

Your heart skipped.

But before you could respond, he cleared his throat and stood up abruptly, brushing imaginary dust off his sweater. "Anyway. I should probably head to bed before you tackle me for insulting you again."

You snorted, standing up beside him. "You deserved it."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Merlin help me."

"Admit it," you teased, bumping his shoulder again. "You’d be bored without me."

There was something in the way he looked at you then—something quiet and unreadable, but warm. His gaze flickered between your eyes, as if he was trying to memorize the moment, as if he was thinking something he wasn’t quite ready to say.

You noticed the shift, felt it settle between you like an unspoken question. Your breath hitched slightly, but you didn’t look away.

As you both started toward the dormitories, you bumped your shoulder against his. He bumped you back.

And for the first time in a long time, Remus didn’t feel quite so heavy.

For now, you wouldn’t push.

But you would be here when he was ready.

Still, neither of you moved.

It was a strange thing—this almost between you. Like something was there, just waiting for the right moment to be acknowledged. But for now, you let it be, let it settle in the comfortable silence between you.

Finally, with a small, hesitant smile, you reached out and gave his sleeve a little tug. "Goodnight, Remus."

He swallowed, nodding. "Goodnight."

And as you turned to head toward your own dormitory, Remus stood there for a moment longer, watching you go, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips.

Hiding the truth

Remus knew this wouldn’t last.

Knew that one day—soon—you’d figure it out. You’d realize what he was. You’d put the pieces together and see him for what he truly was.

And then you’d leave.

Everyone always left.

So he held on while he still could.

He held on like a man savoring his last moments of sunlight before the night swallowed him whole.

He just prayed that when the time came—when you finally knew the truth—this warmth wouldn’t turn cold.

The days passed in a blur of stolen moments, hushed whispers in the library, and the soft, lingering touches that neither of you spoke about. But beneath it all, something heavier loomed—something unspoken but ever-present.

You knew.

You had spent countless hours pouring over books, analyzing every symptom, every pattern. The answer had been staring at you for days, and now, there was no doubt in your mind. Remus was a werewolf.

And yet, you remained silent.

Not because you were afraid, not because you didn’t want to know for sure, but because he was afraid. You could see it in the way he looked at you sometimes, like he was preparing himself for the day you might turn your back on him. So you wouldn’t push. You would wait. You would be his safe space, for as long as he let you.

Meanwhile, Remus was struggling.

Sirius, James, and Peter had cornered him in the Gryffindor common room late one night, long after most of the students had gone to bed. James was leaning against the fireplace with his arms crossed, Sirius was sprawled on the couch, and Peter was sitting on the armrest, watching him closely.

“You have to tell her,” James said, his voice firm. “She deserves to hear it from you.”

Remus ran a hand down his face, sighing. “I can’t.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation.

“Moony,” James started, voice even but firm, “you have to tell her.”

Remus exhaled sharply through his nose. “I can’t, James.”

Sirius rolled his eyes, throwing his hands up. “Why the hell not?”

“Because she’ll leave!” Remus snapped, suddenly sitting up. His voice was harsher than he intended, but he didn’t care. His heart was pounding. “She’s not you lot. She’s not bound to me by some stupid loyalty pact we made when we were twelve. She has no reason to stay once she knows what I am.”

Sirius frowned. “Moony—”

“No, don’t Moony me,” Remus said bitterly. “You think I haven’t thought about this? You think I don’t want to tell her? Of course, I do! But what happens when she finally realizes what I am? That I’m dangerous? That I could hurt her?”

James shook his head. “You wouldn’t hurt her.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sirius leaned forward. “Neither do you.”

Remus clenched his jaw, looking away.

Peter shifted uncomfortably. “Remus… we didn’t run when we found out. What makes you think she will?”

“Because it’s different!” Remus burst out, standing abruptly. His hands curled into fists at his sides, chest rising and falling unevenly. “You’re my friends. You made a choice to stick by me, even though you shouldn’t have. But her? She doesn’t have to stay.” He swallowed hard. “And she won’t.”

A heavy silence settled over the group.

Sirius sat up properly, watching Remus closely. “Moony… you really think she doesn’t care enough about you to stay?”

Remus turned away from them, staring into the fire. His throat felt tight.

“She likes you,” Peter added gently. “More than likes you, actually. Anyone with eyes can see it.”

James stepped closer. “We’re not saying you have to tell her right this second. But, mate… she’s going to find out. And wouldn’t you rather it be from you?”

Remus let out a slow, shaky breath. He knew that. He had always known that.

But the idea of losing her—of seeing the look of fear on her face, of watching her walk away—was enough to paralyze him.

“I can’t,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Remus swallowed hard, looking down at his hands.

Sirius sat up straighter, his usual smirk replaced with something softer. “Moony… mate. You’re not going to lose her. She likes you.”

Remus let out a dry laugh. “She doesn’t know me.”

Peter frowned. “Yes, she does.”

“Not this part,” Remus shot back. “Not the part that matters.”

James sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re making this into something bigger than it is.”

“Bigger than it is?” Remus snapped, his voice suddenly sharp. “It’s not your life, James. It’s mine. And if she runs, if she looks at me like I’m some kind of monster, I don’t—” He exhaled shakily. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

A heavy silence settled between them.

Sirius was the first to break it. “You really love her, don’t you?”

Remus looked away, jaw tight. He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

James let out a slow breath. “Then you really have to tell her.”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut, as if the thought itself was painful. “Not yet,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

Peace offering.

Three nights before the full moon, he was at his worst.

Everything hurt. His skin felt like it was burning, every muscle in his body was tense, and his head was throbbing with the pressure of the impending transformation.

He was irritable, short-tempered, and doing his best to avoid her.

But of course, you wouldn’t let him.

You found him in the library, hiding between the rows of bookshelves, slumped in a chair with his head in his hands.

You sat down across from him, placing something on the table.

He didn’t look up until you nudged it toward him.

It was a chocolate bar.

He blinked at it, then at you. "What’s this?"

You grinned. "A peace offering."

He huffed. "I haven’t done anything to need a peace offering."

You arched an eyebrow. "You haven’t, but the full moon has."

His heart clenched.

You didn’t say it, but you knew.

Maybe you’d always known.

And yet, you were still here.

Still offering him chocolate.

Still looking at him like he was worth something.

He swallowed past the lump in his throat, fingers tightening around the chocolate bar.

"You’re impossible," he muttered.

You beamed. "So I’ve been told."

And for the first time in days, he smiled.

The realization.

The wind was sharp that afternoon, carrying the scent of damp grass and the distant crackling of autumn leaves. Remus sat by the lake, arms resting on his bent knees, staring blankly at the water. His fingers tugged at the frayed ends of his sweater sleeves—his body was tight with exhaustion, his head heavy with an ache that no amount of rest could fix.

Everything was too much. The sounds of students laughing nearby grated on his nerves, the sunlight filtering through the trees was too bright, and his own thoughts wouldn’t stop.

And then—

Footsteps.

Soft but deliberate.

He sighed through his nose. "You really don’t have to follow me everywhere, you know."

You didn’t even hesitate before plopping down beside him, your legs tucked beneath you. "I know."

Silence.

Remus clenched his jaw. He didn’t have the energy for this, didn’t have the patience to keep pretending he was fine. He just needed to be alone. But he didn’t tell you to leave.

Because—Merlin help him—he didn’t want you to.

You pulled your cloak tighter around yourself, watching the rippling water with him. For a while, neither of you spoke. The world buzzed around you, but it felt like you were in your own bubble of quiet.

Then, as if sensing he wasn’t going to contribute to the conversation, you started talking.

"Today was exhausting," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head. "Madam Pomfrey had me reorganize all the potions in the hospital wing, and I swear she enjoys watching me suffer."

Remus didn’t respond, but you kept going.

"And then Lily forced me to help her with Charms homework—" you gasped dramatically. "Rem, she lectured me about pronunciation for twenty minutes. I was being held hostage in my own dorm."

He huffed out something that was almost a laugh.

You grinned, encouraged. "Oh, and don’t get me started on Sirius. I caught him sneaking into the kitchens again. He tried to tell me he was just getting tea, but the idiot had chocolate all over his mouth."

Remus exhaled through his nose, his lips twitching.

You were determined, he’d give you that.

And then—warmth.

Your hand, brushing against his.

Not demanding, not forcing him to hold it—just there. A reminder.

His muscles tensed for a split second, but then—he relaxed. Just slightly.

Your fingers curled around his, slow and steady, as if giving him the chance to pull away.

He didn’t.

And something in him unraveled.

The weight pressing against his ribs, the tightness in his chest—it eased. Not completely, but enough that he could breathe.

You kept talking, your voice soft now. "I swear, if I hear Lily say ‘swish and flick’ one more time, I might actually lose my mind."

Remus tilted his head slightly, looking at you for the first time. You were watching the lake, the light breeze playing with your hair, your fingers still curled around his like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And that’s when it hit him.

You were becoming the most important person in his life.

The realization nearly knocked the breath out of him.

He had spent so much time pushing—so much time terrified that if he let someone in, they’d eventually run. That they’d see what he really was and leave like it was nothing.

But you weren’t leaving.

Even when he ignored you, even when he was snappy and distant, even when he did everything in his power to keep you away—you stayed.

And Merlin, that scared him more than anything.

Because he wasn’t sure he could handle losing you.

He swallowed hard, squeezing your fingers just slightly.

"Thank you," he murmured, so low it was almost lost in the wind.

You turned your head toward him, your expression soft. "For what?"

He met your eyes, something raw flickering in his own. He shook his head. "Just... thank you."

And you didn’t push, didn’t demand more from him.

You just squeezed his hand back.

Telling the truth.

Remus knew what awaited him.

The full moon loomed over him like a shadow, and he could already feel the dull ache creeping into his bones, the exhaustion pooling behind his eyes. His skin felt too tight, his thoughts too loud. He had done this so many times before—prepared himself for the pain, for the inevitable breaking and tearing of his body.

But this time was different.

Because this time, when he came back, you would be there.

And it wouldn’t be the first time.

It would be the third.

He had run out of excuses.

He knew it.

And so did you.

You had never believed him when he told you he fell down the stairs. Or when he said he got into a fight with the Whomping Willow. Or when he muttered some half-hearted excuse about an unfortunate accident in Potions.

You had never believed him.

But you had never pushed him either.

You were waiting.

Waiting for him to say it.

And tonight, he would.

Because he couldn’t keep doing this. Not to you. Not to himself.

So he found you, as he always did, sitting in the common room, curled up in the corner of the couch by the fire, a book in your lap but barely paying attention to it.

When he stepped into the room, your head lifted instantly, eyes scanning him like you knew.

Like you always knew.

He swallowed.

No more running.

No more lying.

Remus crossed the room and sat beside you, silent for a long moment. The fire crackled between you, throwing golden light across your face.

You didn’t say anything.

Remus clenched his jaw, staring at his hands. "I need to tell you something."

Your breath hitched.

He could feel the way your body tensed slightly beside him, not out of fear, but anticipation.

And that was the only thing that kept him from bolting.

"Okay," you said softly, closing your book and shifting to face him. "I’m listening."

He inhaled sharply, fingers twisting together. "I… I don’t know how to say this."

"Then don’t force it," you murmured. "Just tell me."

He let out a humorless chuckle. "It’s not that simple."

"It is," you said gently. "With me, it is."

His throat tightened.

Merlin, why were you making this so much harder?

"You already know, don’t you?" His voice was hoarse.

Your gaze didn’t waver. "I have my suspicions."

"How long?"

You hesitated, then said, "A while."

Remus let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. "And you didn’t say anything?"

"You weren’t ready," you said simply. "I wasn’t going to push you."

That nearly undid him.

He stared at you—really stared at you. You didn’t look afraid. You didn’t look disgusted. You just looked… like you. Warm. Steady. His safe place.

He didn’t deserve you.

He never deserved you.

"I’m a werewolf," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t flinch.

Didn’t gasp.

Didn’t recoil.

You just looked at him, really looked at him, and then—you reached for his hand and held it.

Like it was nothing.

Like he was nothing to be afraid of.

Like he wasn’t a monster.

Remus swallowed past the lump in his throat. "You should be scared of me."

You squeezed his hand. "I’m not."

"You should be."

"Why?" You asked, tilting your head. "Because society tells me I should be?"

He blinked.

"Because people who don’t know you—who never will—would call you a monster?" You shook your head. "Remus, I know you. And you are not a monster."

He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes. "You say that now."

"And I’ll say it tomorrow. And the next day. And after the full moon."

His breath stuttered. "I don’t want you to see me like that."

You smiled softly. "I’ve already seen you after."

He winced. "Exactly."

"And I’m still here," you reminded him, your thumb brushing over his knuckles.

His chest ached. "I don’t want to lose you."

"You won’t."

He looked at you, eyes searching. "Promise?"

You squeezed his hand again. "I promise."

And in that moment, for the first time in a long, long time—

Remus Lupin let himself believe it.

Remus didn't know what to expect after telling you the truth. He had spent years imagining this moment—dreading it, really. He had convinced himself that the second he let someone in, they would run.

But you were still here.

You haven’t flinched.

Haven’t looked at him any differently.

You were still holding his hand, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The fire crackled beside you, filling the silence between you. Remus squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to process the fact that you knew—had known—and you haven’t left.

“Say something,” he muttered, voice strained.

You huffed a small laugh, still holding onto his hand. “I did say something. I promised I wasn’t going anywhere.”

His lips twitched, but he shook his head, rubbing his free hand over his face. “I don’t get it,” he admitted. “Why aren’t you…”

“Running for my life?” you teased gently.

He gave you a look.

You smiled, tucking your legs underneath you. “Because, Remus, I know you. I know who you are. I know the way you smile when you read something funny. I know you always offer me the last chocolate, even when you clearly don’t want to. I know that you hate asking for help, but you’ll sit with me in the library just so I don’t have to study alone.” you paused. “I know you.”

His throat tightened.

You looked down at their joined hands, tracing small circles on his skin with your thumb. “And I know that whatever happens to you every full moon, it doesn’t change who you are.”

Remus swallowed. “You say that—”

“I mean that.” your voice was firm, unwavering. “Nothing could change the way I see you, Remus.”

He wanted to believe that. He really did. But he had spent years hating himself, convincing himself that no one could ever see him as anything other than a monster.

And now—now, here you were, proving him wrong.

He exhaled, his fingers tightening around yours. “The full moon is tomorrow,” he said, his voice quieter now.

You nodded. “I know.”

His stomach twisted. “I’ll be gone all night. And then when I get back, I’ll be—”

“Hurt,” you finished, your voice softer now. “I know.”

His grip on your hand faltered slightly. “You shouldn’t have to see that.”

You sighed, your other hand reaching up to brush a piece of hair away from his face. “Remus,” you said gently. “I want to be there for you.”

He closed his eyes briefly at the feeling of your fingers against his skin. “It’s not easy.”

“I don’t care.”

He let out a breathless laugh. “You should.”

“I don’t,” you insisted. “Because you’d do the same for me.”

His heart clenched.

You were right. He would. If the roles were reversed, if you were the one in pain, if you were the one fighting something beyond your control, he would never leave your side.

You sighed, your hand slipping back down to his. “Besides, I knew you were hiding something,” you teased. “You’re a terrible liar, Lupin.”

Remus let out a real laugh this time, shaking his head. “I thought I was doing alright.”

You grinned. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

A comfortable silence stretched between you, your hands still intertwined. The firelight flickered against your face, your eyes filled with something he wasn’t used to seeing—certainty.

Remus wasn’t used to people staying.

But maybe—just maybe—you would.

And, for the first time, he let himself hope.

Remus looked at you like you were a dream—like any second now, you would disappear, and he would wake up alone in his dorm, realizing that none of this had actually happened. But you didn’t disappear. You were still sitting beside him, still holding his hand, still looking at him like he was just Remus, not a monster.

And now you were telling him you were going to take care of him. Again.

“You don’t have to do that,” he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

You arched an eyebrow. “Oh? And who’s going to stop me?”

He opened his mouth, but you cut him off.

“Because I will be there, Remus. Just like I was the last two times.”

His stomach twisted. “You shouldn’t have to—”

“But I want to.” your voice was firm, steady. “Remus, I chose this. I chose you. So you don’t get to push me away, alright?”

His breath hitched. I chose you.

You said it like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like choosing him—the boy who carried secrets heavier than mountains—was as simple as picking a book off a shelf.

“You chose me,” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled softly, squeezing his hand. “Yes, I did.”

Remus exhaled shakily, staring down at your joined hands. “I don’t deserve you.”

You let out a dramatic sigh, tilting your head. “No, you really don’t.”

His head snapped up, startled—only to find you grinning at him. He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “You’re awful.”

“I am,” you said, still smiling. “And yet, you love having me around.”

He stiffened.

You noticed.

Your grin faltered slightly, your expression softening. “Remus?”

He swallowed, looking anywhere but at you. “I just… I don’t want you to regret this,” he admitted. “Being around me. Helping me.”

You frowned. “Why on earth would I regret that?”

He inhaled sharply. “Because one day you might realize that I’m not worth it.”

Your face fell. Then, without hesitation, you reached out, cupping his face in your hands.

His breath caught.

“Remus John Lupin,” you said, voice soft but firm, “You are worth it. You are so worth it.”

His heart pounded against his ribs.

You ran your thumbs gently over his cheekbones, your touch featherlight. “You are not a burden. You are not a monster. You are not something to be ashamed of.”

He clenched his jaw, his throat tightening. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

“No,” you admitted. “I don’t. But I do know you.”

He wanted to say something. Anything. He wanted to tell you that you made his world brighter, that he felt lighter every time you were near, that he had never felt this way before.

But the words wouldn’t come.

So he did the only thing he could.

He leaned into your touch.

Your fingers curled slightly against his jaw, your breath hitching at the movement.

Remus exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. “You make it better,” he murmured.

You stilled. “What?”

He swallowed thickly. “The full moons. The pain. The guilt. Everything.” He opened his eyes, meeting yours. “You make it better.”

Your lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across your face. Then, after a moment, you smiled—the kind of smile that made his chest ache in the best possible way.

“I’ll always be here,” you whispered.

And for the first time in his life, Remus believed it.

Waiting for you.

It was the night of the full moon.

The moment dinner ended, the Marauders had started preparing to leave. It was subtle—James and Sirius casually excusing themselves, Peter following a little too quickly—but you knew exactly what they were doing. And so did Remus.

He had tried to act like everything was normal, but you weren’t fooled. His jaw was tight, his hands clenched at his sides. Every movement seemed heavier, like he was dragging himself toward an inevitable fate.

Now, as they stood in the dimly lit corridor near the entrance to the grounds, you watched as James clapped Remus on the shoulder. “See you in the morning, mate.”

Sirius smirked, trying to lighten the mood. “Try not to bite anyone important.”

Remus rolled his eyes but didn’t respond.

Peter muttered a soft, “Take care, Moony,” before they all turned, heading toward the Whomping Willow.

Remus lingered.

You stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Rem,” you said softly.

His shoulders tensed at the nickname—the one you had first used weeks ago, the one that made his heart twist every time you said it.

He turned to face you. “I’ll be fine.”

You frowned. “You and I both know that’s not true.”

He swallowed.

You reached out, wrapping your arms around him without hesitation.

He stiffened at first, but then—like always—he melted into your touch. His arms slowly came around you, holding you close, his fingers gripping the back of your sweater like you were something solid to hold onto.

“I’ll be waiting,” you murmured against his shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his face. “Come back to me, okay?”

Something inside him cracked.

He nodded stiffly, not trusting his voice.

You smiled, a soft, reassuring thing, before pressing the lightest of kisses to his cheek. “Go.”

Remus inhaled sharply, then, without another word, turned and walked toward his fate.

You stayed behind, watching as his figure disappeared into the distance. Then you turned on her heel, heading straight to Gryffindor Tower.

You had a long night ahead of you.

The common room was quiet when you arrived, most students already having gone to bed. You made your way up to the boys’ dormitory, settling yourself near Remus’ bed with your legs crossed beneath you.

And then, you waited.

At first, you tried reading, flipping mindlessly through the pages of a book. But your mind refused to focus. The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder than usual, each passing second dragging painfully.

So you switched to something else—your project.

You carefully pulled out the parchment where you had scribbled notes, your own messy handwriting detailing every ingredient, every failed attempt, every hopeful possibility.

A potion to help Remus regain some control.

It was ambitious. Maybe even impossible.

But you had to try.

You chewed on the end of your quill, eyes scanning the notes you had gathered. You knew that maybe you could do a combination of calming draughts, strengthening potions, something to dull the pain or suppress the worst instincts.

You scribbled a few more ideas, then let out a frustrated sigh, pushing your hair out of your face.

Your eyes flickered to the clock.

3:12 AM.

You bit your lip. He wouldn’t be back for hours.

Your chest ached at the thought of what he was going through at that very moment. Was he in pain? Was he hurting himself? Even with the Marauders there, you hated knowing that he was suffering alone.

You sighed, leaning back against the wall.

The dorm was quiet, save for the occasional rustling of the wind outside.

You stayed like that for hours, pacing, thinking, waiting.

You just had to hold on a little longer.

By morning, Remus would be back.

And you would be there to catch him when he fell.

—— 🌙 ——

A note from the author:

Hello my loves!

Well, that was intense.

No more secrets between them, and Remus finally realising a lot of things. Especially that he more than likes reader.

Hope you liked this one! Thank you for your kind comments in every chapter!! 🤍

See you soon!

Taglist: @iloveremmy @jjamjamie @breakawayfromeveryday @oursweetmoony @whimsical-mistakes @froggiedragon @deathmybride @nerdbirdsworld @wolfstarsprongs @mischievousmoony @httpvomitello @msfandomsblog @starofthedawn @malenk @diiyaa @theonyxstate @waitforiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit @theredvelvetbitch @ohheyitsrowan @a1ienmush @michtellch (If you want to be tagged, let me know!)

#harry potter #fanfic #marauders era #x reader #x yn #marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #lily evans

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