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moonstruckme · 4 months

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A Christmas Special

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

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

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm. You like them?”

“Never had one.”

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here, my handsome little guy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you are, but what am I?”

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

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

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

❆ ❆ ❆

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

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

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

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

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

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit, I forgot to check.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be fine,” you insist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.”

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

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

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure it is.”

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

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

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

You hum a denial.

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

“Are you tired?”

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

“I want to finish the movie.”

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

The credits start, and neither of you move.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your back will hurt.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can think that if you like.”

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum.

“Unless you mean it’s working.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want to move to my room?”

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

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

“You’re relentless.”

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

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?”

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

❆ ❆ ❆

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Exactly, you think. It’s you.

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

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

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

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

You swallow. “Okay.”

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

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

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

“Is this okay?” he murmurs.

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

“We can stop anytime you want.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Is this okay?” you ask.

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

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

He looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil.

“Come here,” you plead.

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

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

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

“Do you think—can we—”

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

“I want to. Do you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That was really great,” you tell him.

“I thought so too.”

“You’ll stay here, right?”

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

❆ ❆ ❆

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mind? Remus can’t even think.

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

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

“Yeah, thanks.”

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

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

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

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So much for opposites attract.

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

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

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

“Remus?”

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

“Your pancake…”

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

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

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

“Would you come here?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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perpetuallydaydreaming · 8 months

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is this seat taken?

how the marauders sit around you

tags: james potter x reader,, sirius black x reader,, remus lupin x reader,, headcanon,, so soft

a/n: been super inactive!! so i offer this as peace offering <3

james would purposefully find seats meant for for one person. eagerly pulling you to follow him and plop down, patting his thighs. you’d look at him, eyebrows raised in question and he’d just offer a boyish smile, perfect dimples denting his cheeks. he’d spread his legs, pull you into him and sit you on one of his muscled thighs. he would keep a hand around your waist and the other intertwined with yours. he’d make you lean into him a bit more, only to pepper you with light kisses all over your jaw and neck. of course you’d wish to sit on a proper chair once in a while, and when you had said this out loud, he had gasped, utterly offended.

sirius would be sitting on a bench, he would have his legs on either side of the seat — straddling it as he faces you, his legs barricading you in place. his knees and the warmth of thighs firmly against your knees and bum. he’d be leaning to the table, an elbow prompt up supporting his head. while his other hand would be tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, exposing your pretty neck. he’d run his knuckle over the smooth skin and he’s just stare. looking at you and softly smiling. then you would you would offer him bites of your meal, kissing his lips each time he takes a bite.

remus would sit on the couch, grab your hand and slowly guide you to stand between his spread knees. he would kiss your hand, littering little kisses all over your wrist and forearms and the inside of your elbow, as he slowly let your arms rest on his shoulders. as he leans forward to hug your thighs close to his chest. he’d nuzzle your tummy, breathe in your scent - somehow always calming his nerves. you’d bury your hand in his hair, run your fingers through it and rub his scalp. he’d open his eyes, not knowing he’d close them and look up at you, sighing, looking content.

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siriuslovebot · 9 months

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˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 ➸ 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒏 ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪

𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: hi! can i please request a remus x reader in which the reader has always had a huge crush on him, but thought the feelings were unrequited? she lets the secret slip to lily & marlene and somehow it gets back to remus who finds it very endearing and teases her a bit?

𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: shy!reader, playful teasing, the pet name mouse, some suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit.

𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: the reader has always had a huge crush on remus. the girls find out and marlene accidentally lets it get back to remus.

𝑨/𝑵: thank you for your request, lovely anon! i’ve luckily got a few requests that i’m working on, so thank you all for being patient with me. i also want to say thank you for all of the love on my last post! i was very nervous about my first post and i received so much love and support! requests are still open, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!

𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻: 4.1k 𓂃♡₊⭑

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺

“morning, mouse.”

there’s a teasing touch to remus’s voice as he slides into the seat beside you. you glance at him out of the side of your eye as you take your potions textbook out of your bag, placing it gently on the table. a huff leaves your lips.

“are you lot ever gonna let that go?” you frown, crossing your arms as you turn to him.

there’s a soft smile playing on his lips, and a chuckle from sirius behind him as he joins the pair of you at the table.

“never gonna forget the look on mcgonagall’s face when she turned around,” says sirius brightly. you scowl at him, wanting to wipe the stupid amused grin right off of his face.

“shut up,” you say.

“it wasn’t so bad. you had a rather cute little snout…” remus touches a finger to the tip of his nose, his smile slowly changing from gentle to a rather shit-eating one.

“oh come on, how many people can say they turned themselves into a mouse, y/n? takes proper skill to cast a spell without realizing your wand is turned the wrong way.”

your face flushes pink. “i–i was distracted!” you defend.

“distracted, that’s right… chatting away to moony and casting spells at the same time. how’ve you gone this long without blowing yourself to pieces?”

you stick your tongue out at him, shoving his shoulder and laughing as he tumbles halfway off of his seat. he catches himself, making a face as he regains his spot.

“watch yourself, black,” you threaten. “how’d you like to be a dog permanently?”

“double check you’ve your wand turned the right way ‘round this time, yeah?”

there’s a thumping noise as you backhand his arm, and he winces dramatically.

“all right, you two,” says remus, voice amused. “slughorn’s here.”

chastised, you and sirius settle into your seats. the chattering of the rest of the class settles, and professor slughorn directs you to open your books to the correct chapter. you shift in your seat, glancing over at remus as he gathers his potions ingredients. his elbow nudges yours as he adjusts his cauldron.

“sorry, mouse,” he says offhandedly. though you insist you hate the silly nickname, the sound of him saying it makes your stomach do a little flip. your neck and ears burn, but you say nothing, instead focusing on the task at hand. sirius is distracted by james mouthing something at him across the classroom, which has caught lily’s attention as well. her gaze catches you for a second, and you hope she’s too far away to see the flustered expression decorating your features as you scramble to start on your potion.

invested in your textbook, you don’t notice when james makes his way over to your table, peering into your cauldrons as he returns from the class stores, having run out of one of his ingredients. “wonder why old sluggy’s got us brewing beautification potions,” he comments, making a face as he peers from sirius’s potion to remus’s.

“probably heard about y/n’s incident in transfiguration,” said sirius slyly, nudging your shoulder. your mouth falls open as james laughs.

“pads,” remus warns, throwing him a sharp glance.

sirius’s clear eyes dart between you and remus, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “sorry,” he says, “didn’t mean it, honest. y’know i think you’re fit, y/n.” he flashes a smile, turning on the charm.

you roll your eyes. “you’re a right git, you know that?”

“oh, come on. i’d have snogged the lights out of you by now if lily didn’t have her bloody rules,” he continues, back to his potion. james sniggering laugh fades as he returns to his table with lily and peter.

“‘m going to pretend i didn’t hear that,” says remus.

“likewise,” you agree, an incredulous laugh bubbling in your chest. sirius responds with a noncommittal shrug, sprinkling a handful of rose petals into his potion without a care in the world.

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪

“so, mouse, how’d your study session in the library go?” the sound of the nickname coming in lily’s teasing voice causes your face to burn hot.

you turn towards her, having just pulled your nightgown over your head. you make a face, raking a hand through your hair as you flop onto your bed. marlene’s sprawled on her stomach at the end of your bed, flicking through a muggle magazine that lily brought back from holiday.

“not you too!” you complain, sighing heavily.

“i’m only teasing,” she says, leaning against the windowsill with her arms crossed over her chest. her lips are curled up in amusement, features slightly shadowed by the moonlight spilling in through the window behind her.

“i’ll never be y/n again. i’m gonna be mouse for the rest of my life at this rate,” you grumble, frustrated. “i mean, you accidentally transfigure yourself one time, and suddenly you’ve got a stupid nickname for life…”

marlene giggles at your dramatics, dropping the magazine onto your bed. “i think you’ll be okay. seems like james and sirius have gotten all of their fun out of it…” she trailed thoughtfully. “sirius was having the most fun with it, and even he was back to calling you y/n by the end of dinner.”

“remus, though,” lily begins, her eyes flashing with mischief. “seems like he really likes it.”

you swallow hard, trying not to think of the way your heart pounds at the sound of the silly nickname in his voice. tearing your eyes away from lily, you try to mask the embarrassment blooming on your face. even when the pair of you went to the library after your evening meal, he had taken to calling you ‘mouse’ without even realizing it. almost affectionately. you’d been reeling with butterflies the entire time, unable to focus on studying for your upcoming exams.

“kind of endearing, isn’t it?” continues marlene. “i mean, he gets this dreamy sort of look in his eyes when he’s talking to you… and it’s sort of a sweet nickname, if you think about it…”

“oh, come on,” you interject, as if they’re being ridiculous.

“no, honestly, y/n, you’re a bit oblivious,” lily adds. “he definitely thinks you’re fit.”

marlene smiles as you glance between the two of them, nodding her head in agreement. “and don’t lie and say you don’t feel the same way,” she warns.

“guys–”

lily narrows her eyes at you, “no lying.”

“i see you going all starry-eyed when you’re with him!” marlene sits up at the end of your bed, clasping her hands in her lap as she looks at you expectantly. “i’d bet ten galleons you curl up in your bed at night and dream of snogging remus lupin.”

“oh my godric,” you mutter, placing your hands to your burning face. you can’t bear to look either of them in the eye. you hate that they know you so well, and even worse that you’re doing a horrible job of hiding your crush on one of your best friends. it’s a miracle that no one’s gone blasting it all over the school yet.

“so it’s true?” lily prompts, leaning in to better hear your admission of guilt.

you huff, “don’t make me admit it.” your voice comes out as a whine, and that’s how they know they’ve got you. your secret has been exposed, and they’re having a giggling fit over it.

“next thing you know we’ll be finding moony and the mouse, curled up snogging in the common room,” says marlene, sounding smug.

“shut up,” you plead, though you can’t help the stupid smile that comes onto your lips as you shake your head.

“breaking all sorts of rules,” says lily. “including mine!”

lily’s one explicit rule: no marauders hooking up with her friends. a tried and true method of keeping the boys (mostly sirius) out of yours and marlene’s pants. it’s been foolproof.

“oh, shove it with the rules, evans,” marlene retorts. “you’d forget all about them once the four of you can go on silly little double dates.”

you feign a gag, and it sends them both into fits of laughter. “i am not going on any double dates.”

“no,” says lily, breathless, “i don’t think remus would like that very much, either…”

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪

“where’s your chaperone, mckinnon?” it’s sirius, lounging on one of the sofas in the gryffindor common room. his wand is in his hand, flicking back and forth as he sends a tiny spark of light bouncing around the common room. he’s bored, waiting for the return of remus and james, probably to cause some trouble.

marlene crosses her arms over her chest. “she’s wrapped around your best friend, black,” she says, a faux-disgusted look plastered on her face. “they’re in a broom closet, snogging each other’s faces off…”

“ugh,” sirius says, dropping his wand as he leans up on his elbows to meet marlene’s gaze. “i showed james that bloody closet. now he’s gone and defiled it…” he flops back onto the couch, looking slightly sickened.

“can’t keep their hands off each other, the pair of them,” sirius continues after a moment.

marlene laughs, settling into one of the plush armchairs near the sofa sirius occupies. “you’re telling me.”

“what about moony?” sirius asks.

“studying with y/n.”

sirius nods, having expected that answer. “y’know, they’re as bad as lily and james. worse, i think,” he says. “it’s a nightmare, having to watch him fawn over her like a little lost puppy. i mean, ‘m supposed to be the canine here…” he shakes his head.

“you should hear y/n,” marlene counters. she’s not thinking as she speaks to sirius, not realizing she’s going on about your crush that you explicitly asked her not to discuss with anyone, especially not james or sirius. “the girl’s just dreaming of being shoved into a broom closet with remus. i wish they’d get over themselves and get a room.”

there’s a second of quiet between them, before marlene realizes what she’s just done. her eyes widen, and she blinks as sirius turns to look at her. she opens her mouth, though no words come out for a moment. “sirius–”

“well, i don’t know about shoving but–”

“sirius, listen to me,” marlene threatens, her voice sharp. “you can’t say anything. please. y/n will kill me.”

“ah, marls, that ship has sailed,” he laughs, sitting up. “moony’s in for a treat.” he practically leaps from his place on the sofa, looking awfully haughty as he plans to expose the blooming feelings between the two of his friends.

“sirius!” she hisses. “i’ll give you five galleons to keep it to yourself. please.”

sirius tuts, shaking his head. “sorry, love. i’ve no need for your money. besides, i’m doing all of us a favor here.”

marlene deflates before him, feeling extremely defeated as she watches sirius leave the common room, a new swagger in his step. dread clouds her senses as she realizes she’s going to have to tell you that she revealed your crush on remus.

˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪

“you’re looking awfully chipper this morning,” comments sirius, eyes skirting over you as you join him in the corridor.

“it’s hogsmeade weekend,” you say simply, hooking your arm through his to lead him down to the entry hall. it seems the rest of your friends have left already, none of them keen on waiting for you to return from the greenhouses this morning after helping professor sprout harvest flobberworm mucous for extra credit. “thanks for waiting for me, by the way.”

“someone had to,” he says, sounding a bit sheepish.

you roll your eyes, used to his faux disdain at your expense. “how’s moony?” you ask as you join the rest of the students making their way down to hogsmeade. the full moon was a couple nights ago, and you hadn’t seen your beloved lycanthrope in far too long. he tended to avoid you when it was, ahem, that time of the month, and though you thought it was unnecessary during the day, you understood. sirius and james could deal with him when he was in that state, but none of them liked to risk having you or the girls anywhere near his furry little problem. it was thoughtful, honestly.

“exhausted,” replies sirius. “he wanted to wait for you, but lily didn’t want to leave him alone. reckon she was scared he’d fall asleep standing up and get a concussion.”

you laugh half-heartedly and wonder why remus didn’t decide to stay behind and get some sleep. you worried about him, oftentimes wondering if he was truly taking care of himself properly. each time he went out to the shrieking shack he returned with new scars, looking more and more ill as the weeks went on. it was a wonder he was managing his classes and keeping decent marks.

you chatter back and forth as you make your way to hogsmeade, sirius recounting their latest excursion in the shrieking shack. you finally make it to hogsmeade, spotting lily’s bright hair shining in the sun, and the goofy look on james’s face as he does some impersonation of one of your classmates, that you just happen to catch the tail-end of.

“who’s that you’re mocking, prongs?” you raise your eyebrows, arms crossed as the group begins marching towards the three broomsticks.

“i’ll have a guess,” says sirius. he thinks it over for a second, then a lightbulb seems to go off in his head. “that hufflepuff fifth year, what’s his name? the burly one, tried out for seeker and wrecked his broom into the stands?”

james erupts into a fit of cackling laughter, nodding his head. “yes, yes!” he claps, looking quite pleased with his interpretation of the hufflepuff boy’s less than graceful dismount. remus laughs softly, while marlene rolls her eyes.

“not everyone is as adept as you on a broomstick, potter,” says marlene.

“i’m only joking,” james says, shrugging. “‘sides, it’s not like anyone’s gonna tell the poor guy. what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” the dark-haired boy winks as he opens the door to the three broomsticks, waving you all inside.

you nudge remus in the side as you stand in the crowd, waiting to push through the gaggles of students to find a table big enough to fit all of you.

“hello, mouse,” he says, voice tired although he’s sporting his usual smile. sirius was right. he looks awfully haggard, and a lot like he should be in bed instead of traipsing through hogsmeade.

“how are you feeling?” you ask, concerned. your conversation is overshadowed by the chatter all around you, which you’re thankful for. it’s unlikely anyone could overhear the two of you discussing his delicate situation.

“i could go for a long nap,” he says, truthfully. “missed you, though.”

your heart leaps in your chest, and a shy half-smile finds its way to your lips. “you don’t have to exhaust yourself just to see me, rem,” you say, flushed.

“i don’t mind.” he shrugs. his hand bumps yours as you stand, watching sirius push through a crowd of confused looking third-years, heading for a table in the corner. he hooks one finger with yours for half a second, before the two of you are following your friends to the table.

you swear the touch sends your whole body vibrating, your heart beating loudly enough that you’re sure everyone in the pub can hear it. you take your seat, head swimming as you settle down and order a butterbeer when madame rosmerta comes for your orders.

after the three broomsticks, your group splits up. james and sirius flit off to spintwitches sporting needs, james muttering something about new quidditch gloves. marlene and lily run into mary macdonald outside of honeydukes. which leaves you and remus.

“right, mouse, where to?” remus looks to you for direction, having brightened up a bit since having something to drink. he’s much less ill-looking, although you notice a fresh scar creeping up from beneath the neckline of his sweater. your eyes skirt over the wound, but you jerk your attention away before he notices.

“how about gladrags?” you wonder aloud. “i saw a nice blouse in there on the last hogsmeade weekend. ‘course, i talked myself out of buying it at the time, but i really want it…” you realize that you’re rambling, and stop before you can embarrass yourself.

“after you,” he offers his arm, and you try not to look flustered as you take it.

gladrags is empty as ever, very few wizards doing any clothing shopping at this time of year, it seems. the cashier is an ancient elderly lady, who shouts hello at you as you enter. you reply, but she’s got hearing problems, and you’re not loud enough. remus shouts a greeting back, earning a smile from the lady and a fit of giggles from you.

“poor old woman,” remus says, amused.

“hush,” you say quietly, although there’s no risk of her accidentally hearing you.

“sorry,” he says, eyes still crinkled as he smiles. “now, where is this lovely blouse?” he inquires, quirking an eyebrow. you finger through the racks, looking for the pale-coloured, silken fabric. you finally find it, the last shirt on a very back rack.

“what do you think?” you ask, holding the fabric up against your front, peering down at it.

“hmmm,” remus examines the fabric, taking the tail of it between his fingers. “looks like a blouse.”

you roll your eyes. “this is why i don’t go shopping with boys,” you say, laughing softly.

“maybe you should try it on,” he suggests. “i’m sure it looks better on.”

you nod. “good idea,” you flit off to the changing rooms. remus waits for you, your coat draped over his arm as he waits for you to change, listening to you curse as you fiddle with the buttons on the blouse. you adjust the lace outlining the neckline and the sleeves, smoothing the fabric as you eye yourself in the mirror.

“okay, rem, what do you think?” you thrust open the curtain to the changing room. remus’s eyes widen a tad, and you swear there’s a flush of pink across his cheeks. he forces his gaze up from the dip in the silken fabric that accentuates your chest, and meets your eyes. you shift under his gaze, looking hopeful.

“erm,” he clears his throat, brushing a strand of hair off of his forehead. “much better on, absolutely. very pretty, mouse.”

“i thought so, too,” you agree, turning away and sweeping the curtain shut behind you. outside, you hear him swear under his breath and the sound of shuffling. your hands tremble a bit, your nerves getting the better of you. the complement, coupled with the bloody nickname. it’s enough to have your head spinning, wishing you could just grab him by the shoulders and kiss him silly. in your mind’s eye you see the almost bashful look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you can’t focus on anything else.

after a few moments of struggling with the stupid buttons, unable to undo them, you hear his voice on the other side of the door.

“okay in there?” he asks, closer now. the sound of his voice sends a jolt through you.

“i’m all right,” you respond. “can’t get these bleeding buttons undone.”

it’s quiet for a second. “need help, mouse?”

you freeze. he sounds like he genuinely wants to help. you tell yourself he’s just a friend offering help to his friend. deep down, though, you’re hopeful. maybe your feelings are not as one-sided as you thought…

you struggle with the buttons for another second, then concede. you peek out of the changing room, ensuring there are no witnesses, before dragging him inside by the sleeve of his sweater. there’s a split second of tension, his gaze finding your half-unbuttoned blouse before it lands on your clearly flustered expression.

he laughs gently. your brows pull together.

“what’s funny?” you ask, frowning.

“‘m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “let me just…” he trails, hanging up your discarded coat before his nimble fingers come to the buttons on your chest. goosebumps rise on your skin, and you try not to shiver. you follow his movements, his face screwed up in concentration as he fiddles with the tricky buttons.

“i’m starting to rethink this purchase, considering it’s a nightmare getting off,” you say, pressing your lips together as his eyes flick up to your face. he smiles, amused.

“i think you should get it,” remus says.

“you think so?”

“yeah. especially if you’ll be needing my help taking it off more often.” you swear he winks at you, and your knees turn into jelly. has he really just said that? you blink for a second, one of your hands coming up to stop his fingers from unhooking the buttons.

“moony…”

“what?” he looks up at you, a teasing glint in his pale brown eyes.

your cheeks are pink, and your eyes dreamy as you look at him. his skin is warm where your hand is clasped around his, and despite his exhaustion, he’s never felt more alive.

“i– sorry,” he says, “you just— you look very beautiful. and i think it would be a waste not to buy this blouse when it wouldn’t look nearly as good on anyone else.” his voice has gone quiet. he swallows before continuing. “sirius said... well, maybe he was lying, but he said you have feelings for me... and i just wanted you to know that i feel the same.”

the butterflies in your stomach have turned to dragons, ravaging your insides. you’re pressed close to him, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your skin. inside your chest, your heart is beating fast enough that you’re sure it’s going to burst any second. with your free hand, you reach up and slowly trace the new scar on his neck, up to his face. you cup his cheek, your thumb swiping just beneath his clear eyes.

“can i kiss you, mouse?” he asks, the question barely audible.

“i would like that,” you say simply.

there’s a split second of hesitation, before he’s pulling you into him. his lips are softer than you expected, gently parting to deepen the kiss. you tighten your grasp around his hand, and your other hand snakes around to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. he presses closer to you, very lightly, as if you’re delicate. you hum against his mouth, your head swimming as you finally force yourself to part ways. the blouse is still halfway undone, forgotten between the two of you. you’re drunk on his presence, wishing you were back in the castle so you could have him all to yourself, for as long as you’d like.

“we–um, do you want to get out of here?” you suggest, pressing your lips together. the ghost of his mouth against yours is driving you crazy. you feel incomplete without him wrapped around you. you want him touching you, forever.

“let’s get this off, quick,” he says, nodding. he struggles for another second with the pesky buttons, and then you’re slipping the blouse over your shoulders. remus adverts his gaze, and you can’t help but smile. such a gentleman. you adore him.

“is the coast clear?” you wonder, once you’re dressed and ready to go.

“think we’re all right,” he says. he leads you to the front counter, and generously pays for your new blouse, which he admits he likes very much.

“in fact,” he says as you exit the shop, “i think you should wear it again tonight.”

“really?” you ask, unable to mask the beaming smile on your face.

“mhmm,” he agrees, interlacing your fingers as he leads you down the street, in search of the rest of your friends. “actually, i think it’d be quite nice tomorrow night, too… and the night after that, and after that…” he trails, grinning as you smack him playfully on the arm.

it seems the rest of the group have been searching for you for a while, lily approaching with an exasperated look on her face.

“where have you two been?” she asks.

“we’ve been looking everywhere,” adds marlene.

“sorry–” you begin, but you’re cut off by sirius, who takes a step closer to peer at the two of you.

“why have you got that look on your face, moony?” he narrows his gaze at remus, who shrugs. “and you–” he turns to you “--your lips are all swollen. oh! merlin, you’ve been off swapping saliva haven’t you?” he makes a very long, exaggerated gagging noise to which james offers loud laughter.

“oh, shut up, sirius,” you mutter, shoving him as you begin your walk back to the castle. “you’re just mad that no one’s offered to swap saliva with you.”

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #marauders era #marauders era fic #marauders fic #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #marauders #slb.works #fluff

5K notes · View notes

fircbolts · 3 months

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#the marauders #fanart #marauders era #the marauders era #marauders fanart #sirius black #sirius black fanart #marauders #remus lupin fanart #remus lupin #remus loves sirius #remus lupin fluff #hogwarts houses #harry potter fanart

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loveyouprongs · 3 months

Text

are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

authors note: despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #mauraders #mauraders fandom #remus lupin fanfiction #maurauders era #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fancast #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus fluff #remus imagine #remus x reader #remus x fem!reader

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buckyandgeraltsupremacy · 6 months

Text

remus x shy!reader

author: sj

warnings: fluff; reader is in hufflepuff; not edited lol

let me know if you want a part 2 cause i love writing for remus rn

masterlist

part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

---

you shared a lot of classes with the marauders. you weren’t even sure they knew your name. but even though you thought they didn’t know you, there was one marauder who always noticed you. remus could spot you in a crowd of one hundred. his eyes always searching for a yellow tie and your h/c hair. he thought you were so smart and always watched you take notes in every class admiring how focused you were on your studies. to be honest, that’s one of the reasons he always went to the library to study, he knew you’d be in there as well.

james had noticed this little thing remus had for you as early at 3rd year. he watched remus silently watch the hufflepuff girl with h/c hair. he didn’t try to intervene until they were older, still watching him pine over the same girl that had remus’ attention. he didn’t really know what to do so he told sirius and of course he knew exactly what to do.

you were sitting in potions after class had ended, classmates filtering out and gathering your things when someone came up to you and started talking to you. low and behold it was sirius.

“hey! i’m sirius” he said, shoving his hand towards you. you nodded, waking yourself out of shock that a marauder was introducing himself to you like they weren’t the talk of the school.

“y/n.” you replied, shaking his hand.

“great. my friend remus, you know remus right? tall, lanky, always holding a book, he’s sick and is always draining on and on about how smart you are so i thought i’d ask you for notes for him. id give him mine but i didn’t take any.” you cheeks turned red at the idea of them talking about you, much less remus thinking that you were smart.

“um. yeah. i can do that, let me copy them onto another piece of parchment and then you can take them to him.”

“perfect! come by the gryffindor common room anytime tonight and we’ll be there!”

when you finished up copying the notes that night, you stopped by the gryffindor common room to drop off the notes. you didn't have the password so knocking on the portrait would have to do. you stepped back and the door swung open to reveal sirius giving you and oddly big grin.

"come on in, love! so lovely of you to drop these notes off for poor remus." he ushered you inside and you stepped through looking around the room. you quickly found the rest of the marauders sitting by the fireplace, james, peter, and a tired looking remus. his eyes widened when you walked through the door, instantly shooting to james and peter and back to you.

"had a surprise for you remus. i know how much you love your notes, so i thought i'd ask for some from the master herself." sirius said, pushing you towards the group. your cheeks burned as you dug through your bag on you shoulder to find your copy of notes for him. you finally found them and took a few steps forward to remus who was sitting up straighter as you got closer.

"here you go. i just copied them from the notes that i took today. i hope they're good enough. i'm not sure what your normal style is that you're used to so i this helps." you said in a rush, looking down at your notes. you extended them towards the boy sitting by the fire. he reached for them.

"thank you so much y/n! you really didn't have to do this. did sirius make you any threats or force you do this?" he asked, lowering his voice slightly. you lightly laughed as a shocked sirius gasped and muttered some words you couldn't understand.

"no, no. i promise i did this of my own free will." you said, glancing up at his eyes. his smile reached his eyes once your eyes met and you instantly felt warm inside.

and so thats how your relationship started to form with the marauders. they soon started coming up to talk with you during classes and inviting you to sit with them at meals when they noticed you sitting by yourself.

your favorite though, was when you'd be in the library and remus would ask to sit at your table. he would work with you silently and you'd trade questions about homework back and forth, eventually even recommending books to each other.

you even got so close to them that the boys started including you in the teasing. one specific day, the boys found you and remus reading in the common room together. you were sitting on the ground in front of the coffee table and he was sitting behind you on the couch. the boys came in loud and instantly disrupted the calmness. sirius came bouding over to you and sat across the coffee table on the floor.

"i thought of one for you." he said, slapping his hands on the table. you jumped at the abrupt sound and leaned back on to remus' legs. the boys had been trying to figure out a good nickname for you so you could join their fun nicknames, but you weren't an anigmus like they were so there were lots of options but not of them really were fitting you quite right.

"what is it?" you asked, relaxing against remus' legs.

"flea. its perfect. you're small, quiet and annoying." you gasped and immediately sat up in protest.

"no! thats horrible i don't want to be called a flea, you git!" you exclaimed.

"but it just fits so well, flea. i can't deny how perfect it is for you." you started to protest, but a big hand stopped you. the hand, from remus, wrapped around your shoulder and guided you back to his legs, scooching you to between his legs and under him. his hands grabbed your shoulders and started to work there, massaging your tight shoulders.

"we're not calling her flea." remus insisted. you shivered and you hoped he thought it was from his hands and not his commanding voice. james then spoke up.

"what about hoppers?" you tilted your head and looked up at remus to hear his response, not protesting that one.

"she sure is as cute as a bunny and the size of one too. i vote yes." he said, looking down into your face. james nodded his head and sirius huffed.

"i still like flea better but hoppers will do when you don't annoy me, flea." sirius grumbled. you rolled your eyes and relaxed into remus' touch more, your eyes closing. unbeknownst to you, his small smile grew as he continued to massage your shoulders.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus x reader #remus x reader fluff #marauders #the marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era

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luveline · 6 months

Text

𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

remus’ touch after a long night prompts a tired confession (and a slew of clumsy kisses).

requested here. modern au. fem!reader, 3.6k.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

“I'm going to bed,” Sirius mumbles, scratching at his eyes as he gets up. “Don't let her sleep in her makeup. She'll get an eye infection.”

Your eyes are getting sore, but it's hardly Remus' responsibility to make sure you wash your face tonight, nor Sirius’ to remind you. “I'm a big girl.”

Sirius sends you a smile, ignoring your chiding. “Goodnight, my loves,” he says, waving you both away as he heads out of the living room and up the stairs.

“Notice how he didn't do his dishes?” Remus asks, shifting beside you.

He's sitting as he tends to, slouched in a way that can't be good for his back in the long run but is clearly comfortable short term. His chin is on his chest, his legs kicked out under the coffee table, which is decorated by the casualties of the night. Sirius’ dinner plate, Remus’ mug, James’ rarely used handheld console. He'd been playing a cutesy farming sim before he said goodnight an hour ago. Sirius stayed to mess with James’ crops and eat a late supper. You're surprised it took him as long as it did to admit defeat.

“What time is it?” you ask.

You're laying on the sofa with your socked feet tucked behind Remus’ back, of which he's yet to complain. His elbow brushes your shin as he brings up his arm. “Nearly one in the morning, now,” he reads from his watch. “Let's go to bed too, yeah?”

“I don't want to.” You turn your face into the pillow behind your neck.

“Me neither,” Remus says, dropping his hand on your knee.

You watch another twenty minutes of TV together failing to summon the energy to stand, but the want for a glass of water grows too big. Your head throbs as you get up, offering your hands to the pretzel that is your favourite housemate.

Remus turns off the TV and lights. You lock the front door. He carries the dirty dishes to the kitchen and you fill up two glasses of water to take with you. It's all so… regular. A routine you share nearly every night, only to climb into your two separate beds.

He ushers you out of the kitchen and down the hallway with his hand behind your shoulders, his touch a phantom as you ascend the stairs.

You're silent beside the creak of the old wood, too tired to speak. Remus is similarly quiet, though he does whisper, “Watch,” when you nearly kick the box of Halloween decorations waiting to be taken up into the attic.

You leave your water on the towel box in the alcove and dance around one another in the bathroom. Sirius’ toothbrush lays on the sink still wet, but otherwise there's no signs of him.

You're feeling very, very tired. You hadn't realised how bad it was until you're putting your toothbrush in your mouth, leant up against the window sill, a slot of cold air seeping in from the dark outside. Your eyes shutter closed. The scrubbing sound of Remus brushing his teeth is almost lulling.

He swills out his mouth and washes his brush. “Here,” he says gently. You open your eyes just enough to see him beckoning you forward. “Dove, your necklace.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You turn your back to him.

His fingers are damp and cool on your skin as he unclasps your necklace. He often takes it off for you. It's one of the things you'll miss when you guys aren't living together anymore, the slow meander to his bedroom, the wood of his door jam on your cheek as you lean against it and give him a hopeful smile. Sometimes he's awake, reading a novel on his side in bed or listening to music at his desk, other times he's sleeping. On those occasions you spend too long lingering, stolen seconds spent staring at the rise and fall of his shoulder.

“Thank you,” you say as he puts your necklace in the jewellery dish. It comes out missing vowels, lips stuck together as though honeyed.

You spit pathetically in the sink, rinse your brush, and consider sitting down. “I'm tired,” you whine, wiping your lips.

“I know,” Remus says, giving you a fond nudge. “Just wash your face and get on with it.”

“You first. I'm going to nap standing up for a bit.”

He puts as much of his hair behind his ears as he can and turns on the tap. This is just as familiar as brushing your teeth together. It's not quite as bad as watching James Perfect Skin Potter wash his face with bar soap, but you have to admit that Remus’ eight-nine pence face soap hurts your heart. He washes it off, pats his face dry, and takes the small bottle of bio oil out of the medicine cabinet to pipette onto his pinky finger. “Wash your face,” he says, smoothing the oil into his scars one by one.

You shake your head. “M'gonna do it in the morning.”

“That's why your eye was swollen a few weeks ago. You know yourself you won't.”

“I might,” you say, letting out a big breath as you rub your sore eyes even sorer, “I'm too tired.”

“Can you sit up, at least?”

“No.” Remus takes you by the shoulders and forces you to sit on the edge of the bath. “Aggressive?”

“Don't fall in,” he says, cupping your cheek briefly as if to make sure you've heard.

You are hearing him, seeing him, even feeling the immensity of his touch, but you're tired, and you know you can let yourself relax completely with him. You'd be the same with James or Sirius, though neither of them could have your head feeling so dizzyingly light from a single touch as Remus can. You probably wouldn't let them persuade you into this, either, tilting your head back to watch through blurry vision as Remus soaks a cotton round in your facial oil.

“Close your eyes,” he says.

“Was that a dracula impression?”

“I command you.”

You close your eyes. The queasy feeling of oil drags against your lids as Remus wipes them, loosening the stiff tubes of mascara that coat your lashes. It's not a short process because he's very, very gentle, holding your face delicately as though you're a flower in need of coddling, and him the sun. It's the only metaphor that would ever make sense for you and Remus; he's like the sun even if it goes against every statement he's ever made about himself, or anyone else has, for that matter. People think he's a moody, sarcastic boy, and he is, but he's also a vestibule of sweetness, softness, and warmth. The kind of heat you'd only ever feel kissing your skin under the summer sun. But more than that, he's the relief that follows when the clouds come out.

And his hands are all over you. Your head gets heavier by the minute, eased into dozing by his touch and quiet tones. “We're almost done. I'm gonna have to carry you to bed at this rate.”

“I'm going to miss this so much one day,” you say. It's easier to admit when you're not looking at him.

Remus turns on the tap. Hot water runs, you can tell by the sound as strange as it seems, and he wrings the dirtied cotton round before replacing it with a new one. He wets it, bringing it just that touch too hot to your cheeks to wipe you down. “What are you going to miss, dove?”

“Us. You. I'm going to miss you.”

“Where are you going?”

“Nowhere, but one day I will be. James will finally have had enough of us and I'll,” —you swallow around nothing as a rivulet of water runs down your cheek, a cooling tear from the cotton round— “have to move out and we'll never see each other anymore.”

“Don't be silly, you're not going anywhere.”

“It's not about the going,” you murmur, peeling your eyes open tentatively as his dabbing follows down your cheek to your neck. “I miss you sometimes and we still live together. I can't imagine how much I'll miss you…”

Remus puts the cotton round aside. He takes your face into his hand, and suddenly his touch feels raw, nothing like it had moments ago. Because Remus would wash your makeup off for you any day of the week, but his looking at you like this, so unshielded and unabashed, is a rarity.

“You won't have to miss me. Even if we did move away from each other, I wouldn't let it be that far.”

“Friends move away all the time. We don't speak to half the people we knew at school.”

“I only really knew you and the boys,” he says. It isn't true but it is at the same time. Together, you'd been a happy lot, but your current housemates are the ones you'd known. “And see? We're still together.”

“But for how long?” you ask.

Remus brings his second hand, holding your face entirely. He covers your cheeks, index fingers sliding slowly under your ears. He's exceedingly gentle, and his eyes are soft. He holds you like you're made of glass, like you could break under a hint of pressure. Slowly, he tilts his head to the side as though he might lean in for a kiss. Maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, but Remus is a very purposeful soul. He'd do much worse to wind you up if you wanted him to.

You sober up. It's like he has caffeine in his palms.

“You want to go where I'm going, is that it?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah,” you say, barely say, voice shame-facedly weak. Is he asking what you think he is?

“Do you want to start now?”

You breathe out as one of his hands shifts down your jaw. “Yeah, I… I want to start now.”

“Okay, dove. Then close your eyes again.”

You hold his gaze for a second that feels infinitely long and short at once, your heart racing. Clarity has returned, a thrust into wakefulness even if your fatigue ties knots around your ankles. You look at him in his late night glory, his scars shining a pink-white like the petals of a young peony flower, and you know it's happening now.

You shut your eyes.

He steps closer, though the bath you're perched on is low, and he has to bend a considerable amount to reach you. The weight of his hands on you doesn't change, not even as he grows near enough to sense the heat of his breath against your lips. It's his nose that makes first contact as it slides against yours, and then his forehead presses down into you, his lips noticeably absent. Each contiguity between you thrums.

A pit opens in your chest, cleaved by his voice as he says, “I'm going to kiss you, okay? S'that what you want?”

Your hands don't feel like your own. Under the sickening nervousness twining its way through your ribs, you're excited. You're smiling, your voice shaped by it. “Yeah. It's what I want,” you say.

“Good. It's what I've wanted for a while–” while pressed into your lips, all shaken up by an emotion you've never heard him speak with. He kisses you and you're frozen, and he waits and waits and pulls away to push back in. You remember yourself then, responding to his wading with some pressure of your own. Sparked back to life.

It's so strange. It doesn't feel real. Remus Lupin kisses you heated and hard for just long enough to feel it in your teeth before he pulls away. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his fingertip running down your cheek, following that same path as your earlier rivulet. To think he saw it, really saw it, locked it away to remember and trace into your skin now… maybe he's seen much more of you than you realised all along.

“Will you do it again?” you say under your breath.

Remus must hear the thread of insecurity running through your question; you're afraid he'll say no, but he strokes your cheek again with that unfathomable softness and says, “Yeah, dove, of course I will.”

“Do you want to?”

And that's less insecurity and more selfishness, wanting the confession. He hears that, too.

“I want to kiss you more than I've ever wanted anything,” he says, eye to eye with you, your head tipped up and your heart in your throat, twitching and fizzling like a firecracker. “Yeah? And all that missing me you've been doing? All your worrying? You don't need to do that. You've never needed to do that–”

“I just never thought you liked me like that.” You and Remus aren't new to one another. “You've been the same since the day we met.”

Remus’ hands get a little more solid where he's holding you. “Dove. Dove, are you mad?”

“Remus–”

“Maybe I have been the same, but did you really not notice that I–” He squeezes your cheeks playfully, almost in disbelief. “If you want me, I'm here. I'm not going anywhere without you. You're not going anywhere without me.”

“So you like me?”

“Yes,” he says, his eyebrows pinched together at the starts. “Of course I do.” He laughs. “That's what I'm trying to tell you.”

“Oh,” you say, lifting your head.

Remus shuts his eyes a millisecond before you shut your own and kisses you again. The second round is softer, his smile to yours and struggling to find purchase. His breath huffs out in a minty laugh, shockwaves through your mouth.

“Stop laughing,” he breathes, his hands falling to your neck, your shoulders.

“You first.”

Your lips part under his, a split-second of contact. He yanks away before things can get too heavy, and you're glad he does, but for a moment you feel the loss like a wave of vertigo.

“Sorry, I'm going too fast, and you're tired.” His touch is ticklish behind your shoulder.

“It's okay. Maybe it is a bit fast, but I'm not tired anymore,” you confess.

Remus hugs you, cementing every feeling for him you have as he wraps his arms around you from over your shoulders, a deft hand cupped behind your neck. “That's not true. I can feel your back shaking. Let's go to bed.”

“After that?”

“What, are you worried it won't have happened in the morning?” he asks genuinely.

You go limp in his arms as he takes your weight against his chest. Not worried, but rather not sure you can be away from him so soon. You ask him in a whisper if you can come and sit with him, not to sleep with him, not to do anything else, and he whispers back, Anything you want. You both entertain the lie that you won't fall asleep in his bed.

—

Remus tenses as he hears the scuffling sounds of movement downstairs. It takes a train of thought awakening for him to realise it's only James, rising early as usual to put on a load of washing and prepare bits for lunch before he goes off for training. He can see him in his mind's eye if he tries, his friend dressed in the red and white rugby uniform, green socks up over his calves and white cleats scrubbed pristine for another ruck in the mud.

Remus’ relaxes, stretching out in bed until his hand bumps into something rigid.

He flinches.

You're laying on the mattress beside him, your head slipped off of the pillows and your arm tucked beneath you. It doesn't look comfortable, and if it were any other morning he'd pull it straight for you, but.

I kissed you, he thinks to himself, as though talking to you. He turns away from you until his back clicks and alleviates the ache in his hips, though he has to settle eventually, back on his back, no way of ignoring you. He doesn't want to ignore you. The opposite —why are you so far away? Can he hold you?

What are the rules here?

Kissing… not dating… You're here in his bed, you'd asked to stay.

He takes your hand and pulls at your arm. Still sleeping, you mumble and move onto your back, releasing the pressure on your shoulder as he pulls you toward his chest. Your face is impassive, lax in sleep.

He should let you sleep.

“Dove,” he says, stroking up the length of your arm.

“Mm?” you hum.

“I need to ask you something.”

You twitch awake with a small cough. Your eyes are red with a lack of sleep as you open them, blinking, and he wishes stupidly that he could make it better. He makes a sympathetic sound for want of more to do.

“Why have you woken me up?” you ask, blinking at him. You gather that there's nothing urgent happening and push your face into his shoulder, practically nuzzling him. “It's Saturday.”

“I just need to ask you something.”

“So ask me,” you encourage through your sleepiness.

The washing machine whirs downstairs. It’s an old machine that you often joke is taking off into orbit during the final spin, loud as anything. He can barely hear your sluggish breathing underneath it, but he can't miss the catch in it after he asks, “Can I be your boyfriend?”

It's not the catch he's expecting. You laugh and readjust, wrapping your arms around him from the side and kissing the side of his neck clumsily. “Y'u asked me last night,” you say in a borderless run-on, sounding about as dopily in love as he's ever heard you.

He thinks about it. Yes, he did, after he'd kissed you many more times than he should've and curled up in bed with you, hands held loosely beneath the blankets. He remembers the question, the answer. The last kiss that followed, and you falling asleep beside him.

“I need a coffee,” he says, encouraging your head back so he can kiss your temple.

“No, you need to sleep more with me. And maybe kiss me again. If you want to.”

Sleeping isn't half as interesting as kissing you. He slots his nose against yours and languishes in the feeling of your lips, wondering if he's having a false start. He could still be dreaming. It would make sense.

The door clatters open with a curse. James stands in the doorway with a folded pile of Remus' washing from the radiators in his arms, an apology on his lips, “Sorry, mate, the door got away from– oh my god. Oh my god?”

Remus isn't an overly shy guy but he can't deal with this. “For fuck's sake,” he mutters, dropping his face into your shoulder. Your arm wraps under his neck, fingers splayed across his cheek.

“James–” you begin, resigned to your fate.

“This is flat-cest. This is the cardinal sin.”

“We don't live in a flat,” Remus says.

“That makes it worse. You can't even blame close quarters.” Remus peeks up to watch James in the doorway, still clinging to Remus’ washing, pure shock curdling his features. He shakes his head. “I'm telling Sirius.”

“Please don't!” you say.

You slump back into the pillows as James leaves anyways.

Remus hugs your soft abdomen. “Don't worry,” he says.

“I guess it's a good thing you've already asked me out,” you say.

“Why, what can they do?” Remus asks, wondering if he's allowed to put his face on your chest or if that's too forward. You rake a hand through his hair and encourage him forward, to his delight.

Frantic words. You and Remus loved up in bed despite it.

“I'm chucking them out!”

“James, they've been seeing for weeks. Can I go back to sleep?”

“What?!”

You grumble into his hair. “That's not even true… Does everyone know, then? That I liked you?”

Remus thinks of the shadow of you in the doorway, that sheepish smile you send his way before you ask him to unclasp your necklace before bed, or your face as he’d wiped the sooty stain of mascara from your cheek last night, half in love with him as you fell asleep in his palm.

“I don't think so, lovely,” he comforts. “Don't worry about it. We'll clear it up at lunch time. James isn't even mad, he's just sulking thinking we didn't tell him.”

“How could you not tell me?” James asks on cue, rounding the door again, arms ever tighter around the bundle of Remus’ clothes. He assumes it's being kept hostage. “I thought we were best mates.”

“James,” you say softly, all sympathy.

Remus likes the feeling of your voice under his ear, and your slightly too-quick heartbeat. He could fall asleep here and now if it weren't for the company.

“It's new,” you're saying, softness melded to a sweet pride. “Okay? I've barely told Remus how I feel, of course I was going to tell you. We were only talking about it last night. It really hasn't been weeks, Sirius is a stirrer.”

Remus pulls the covers up over your heads and climbs on top of you in a rush, demanding that the both of you be left alone, to James’ great annoyance but your delight, your laughter loud in the shell of his ear. Your chest shakes with it beneath him.

A great wad of fabric hits him in the legs. “Twats,” James says, seemingly stalking off.

Your whisper sends shivers down his spine. “We're alone again. Do you have anything else to ask me while you're too tired to remember?” you tease.

There's not a chance in the world that Remus would ever forget this.

˚‧꒰ა ✮ ໒꒱‧˚

thanks for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed, it's been a little bit since I wrote for remus like this so I was actually a bit nervous and I hope it's okay :D <3

#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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jaioes · 6 months

Text

Mornings

My first larger piece in a little while! Also my first wolfstar piece in ages!

referenced from the amazing photographer Meg allen !!

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kquil · 5 months

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POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 4

04 : DISAPPEAR

SUM. : you find out the truth about the boys' relationship

REQUEST. : this might be a dumb question but are the marauders also all in a poly relationship with each other? if so, i'd love one where the reader finally has that realisation and gets all blushy and starts to consider if they'd ever want to include her —@thepunisherfrankcastle

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; only slight fluff ; mostly angst ; im so sorry ; reader finds out the truth ; but not really in the best way ; major misunderstanding trope ; sirius isn't a bad person! ; poly relationship revealed ; yay? ; distance ; walking away trope-ish ; james is precious ; remus trying to make the hard decisions ; our boys need a hug ; wolfstar ; starchaser ; angst angst angst ; im sorry im sorry im sorry!

LENGTH : 5.2k

← PREV. : 03 | GROCERIES

Hearing James giggling fills your chest with warmth and is so contagious that you have to bite your lip so as not to join him. He sees your resistance and moves his hand, making you freeze up and stop all movement. His index finger curls under your chin to lift your gaze as his thumb settles on your bottom lip and slowly draws it out from the press of your upper teeth.

“I can’t be the only one laughing, angel,” on his face is an innocent smile but you know he’s devilish — the raging fire he lights up inside you with the smooth delivery of his simple statement is evidence enough that he’s up to no good.

His light grasp offers barely any resistance when you lift your chin away, “that’s because I’m not ticklish like you,”

“Hey now,” he warns firmly but you can see the mutual playfulness reflecting clearly in his hazel eyes, it was like staring into clear honey, “you’re the one who’s colouring in my tattoo like a toddler,”

“I was bored,” you defend a little too quickly, getting huffy and exaggerating a pitiful pout. It was… a sight, James admits in his head; you look adorable like this and he wants to frame the image in his memory forever, “and besides, you agreed to it,”

“Yeah, so don’t tease me about being ticklish,” his hand reaches up to play with a strand of your hair before he leans down to press a kiss onto your forehead, where you feel his mischievous smile lift up the corner of his lips, “instead, tell me how much you love to hear my laugh,”

There’s no way you’ll ever admit that. Not to his face, at least…

“Woah, comfy are we?~” came the familiar teasing voice of Sirius, who walks into the room and almost has his eyes bulging out at the sight of you and James, “you lucky bastard, Prongs,” Sirius clicks his tongue but there’s no malice in his eyes or tone, “shirtless, all relaxed and cool, leaning back into the sofa with our doll on your lap and colouring in your tats,” your cheeks heat up under your skin when a shameless expression takes over James’s face and he sends a wink over at his fellow tattooist.

“I guess I saved the universe in a past life,” James chuckles, receiving an eye roll in return.

“And you, princess,” Sirius whistles playfully and leans down to kiss the crown of your head, “how lucky you are to have such well-sculpted muscles and a handsome face entertaining you,” the heat on your cheeks continue to blossom, “I don’t know who I’m more jealous of,”

That was the first time you were hinted at Sirius’s dichotomy. Between the wink he sends James and the satisfied grin the glasses-wearing brunette returns, you felt a slight shaking in your heart that you couldn’t quite place.

It didn’t feel bad… but it didn’t feel good either…

After the first homemade lunch you made for them, you’ve gotten into the habit of regularly visiting the boys at the shop with boxed lunches whenever time nears noon. They often insisted that the first surprise lunch was enough thanks.

“It’s really okay for you not to do this, dove,” Remus voices, slowly trailing off as he leans forward to wipe a stray crumb off the side of James’ mouth with his thumb, only to lick the crumb he wiped off without batting an eye. James pays him no mind either and continues savouring your cooking; he was always the one person who devoured your food as if he was a starved man being fed for the first time.

“But–” you quickly protest, trying to dismiss the small gesture between the two, “but I enjoy cooking for you,”

“And we’re very grateful,” Sirius smiles warmly at you and takes your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles, “but your company is enough,” ever the flatterer and flirt, you resist the butterflies in your stomach from his gesture and words.

“And we feel guilty that you have to buy and cook all this food,” Remus adds but you assure them one more time.

“I promise I’ll stop if it ever gets too hard or burdensome but, for now, please let me do it…” the boys look at each other and smile following a unanimous sigh of defeat. You weren’t aware of the effect your soft pleas and pretty eyes had on them. Of course, they couldn’t say ‘no’ and agreed, satisfied with your pledge for the meantime.

“Ugh! These cookies are amazing!” James praises, completely oblivious to the interaction you had with Remus and Sirius. He looks up and the three of you have to suppress your laughter at his childish appearance, crumbs surrounding his mouth as his cheeks puffed out from the food he still had to chew.

“Swallow your food first, James,” Remus reminds, which James quickly does before addressing you again.

“Can you please teach me?” James leans forward in earnest and you swear there are stars in his eyes, “please teach me how to make them so I can have them all the time. I’m an expert at making fruit tarts now but Moony and Padfoot are sick and tired of me making just fruit tarts,”

You were flattered but…“I want them to stay special though,” you pout softly, “I want to be the only person who bakes them for you,”

Before James could answer, Sirius breaks out into peels of laughter, “you don’t have to worry about that, doll,” he winks at you and side-eyes James with a smirk, “James sucks ass in the kitchen, especially when it comes to baking,” James shouts in protest but is swamped by the laughter shared between you, Remus and Sirius. Nevertheless, you finally agreed to teach him just so he stops pouting… even if he looked cute doing so.

That Saturday, you were at their apartment, eager to teach James the secrets to your baking creations. Their flat was sizable and still relatively clean, which you verbally praise and are clued into all of their cleaning habits in more detail. It appears that they have a pretty good system going on that keeps things neat; Remus handles the organisation of all items and keeps stock on most things, Sirius proactively keeps all spaces clean and James loves doing laundry. When asked, he said that the main reason was because he liked the smell of clean sheets, which you couldn’t really blame him for. Together, their good habits cumulatively result in a tidy space and you were impressed; not only were they great friends but they functioned well together too. In some ways, you were envious of that.

When you arrived at the apartment, the boys had all of the ingredients you sent over on a list laid out on their kitchen counters, ready to be put together and baked into your famous cookies.

“Do you two want to join us?” you ask with a smile as James helped you into Sirius’ apron, tying up the strings behind you.

“We’re good, darling,” Sirius smiles and offers to tie up your hair as James slips into his apron. You don’t deny his assistance and hand him over your hair tie as Remus observes the scene with a soft smile, leaning against the door frame that leads into the kitchen.

As much as Sirius and Remus disparaged James’ abilities to bake in the kitchen, he, once again, proved them wrong. He did pretty well with following your instructions and getting things done if you discounted the times he got distracted and had to pull you away from the work as well, just to share in the fun. The last time you baked together was a lot of fun and you were just as eager to get back into the kitchen with him in order to experience that joy all over again. Like last time, Sirius and Remus occupied the living room while you and James got to making the cookie dough before eventually baking the cookies. With the timer set, it won’t be too long before you’re happily serving everyone yours and James’ baked cookies with some tea and coffee.

“It’s just down the hall,” James points out, directing you to their bathroom, “it’s the last door on your right,” with a quick word of thanks, you make your way out to relieve yourself while James gets started on clean up duty. You promised not to be too long so he didn’t have to clean all by himself but he just laughed it off and assured you to take all the time you need — ever the sweetheart.

Your mood was light and happy and, like all other times you spent with the boys, it felt as if you were walking on air… that is, until you weren’t. From the corner of your eye, when passing the living room doorway, your heart came to a stuttering stop at the scene you happened upon.

Seated on the sofa was Remus with Sirius’ laid down, his head on the tall brunette’s lap. It would have been a scene you could have easily shrugged off if it weren’t for Remus bending down so that the two could share a loving kiss. One that had Sirius running his fingers through Remus’ light brown hair, who returned the touch by tenderly gripping at Sirius’ thigh with a spare hand. You would have remained frozen there, like some petrified statue, if Sirius didn’t hum pleasantly only to have Remus chuckle against his lips.

Hurrying to the bathroom, you struggle to get the scene out of your head as your heart breaks over and over again until the stinging pain in your chest dulls into a throbbing ache.

If they were in a loving relationship then you were happy for them, truly…you were; they always looked so content and at bliss around each other, you felt stupid for not having put the puzzle pieces together yourself. It was just conflicting as to why they never hesitated to establish some sort of distance with you when they already had one another. They were together romantically and yet they were able to press loving kisses against your temple and wrap their arms around you with their loved one standing close by?...

“There you are,” James chuckles when you finally make it back into the kitchen, “I was starting to get worried that you somehow got lost on your way to the bathroom,” it was a weak attempt but you joined his laughter without offering to explain your whereabouts. Turning back to the sink, James returns to washing the dishes as you wordlessly get to wiping down the surfaces. He doesn’t appear to notice your sudden change in mood or, at least, he doesn’t let on that he knows; soon enough, he’s yapping away again, being his usual goofy self and drawing a smile from you. He almost makes you forget. You could always count on James to be your ray of sunshine; a happy bug who was eager to spread his contagious joy.

Sirius and Remus were a… surprise, although you really should have known better than to not suspect anything. They’re happy though, and you’re happy for them; that’s what matters.

It was hard to gauge whether or not you should confront them about the revelation you had about their relationship. You had to thoroughly think it over…

There had to be a reason behind why Remus and Sirius didn’t want to tell you about their relationship and managed to get James in on it too. It must have been a very good reason. So you can’t fault them and resolve to stay silent on the matter. Their privacy needs to be respected; they’ll tell you when they’re ready, you’re sure of it. For now, you just have to act normal, as if nothing happened. The only problem was that you were left to wonder…

Why haven’t they told you? Is it awkward for them? Maybe they didn’t trust you enough? Did they think you were homophobic?— You’re not! You fully support all types of love in all its forms and would never be prejudicial towards them because they preferred the same gender. Or maybe they did trust you but the right time just never came up? That’s also plausible. They probably just need time…yeah! Time, you can give them that; you’re a very patient person, after all—

“—Dove?”

“H-huh?” you blink rapidly, returning to the present as Remus tilts his head at you curiously.

“Are you okay?” there’s an amused smirk painted across his lips as he eyes you up and down, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” his warm voice is like a comforting hug on an autumn day, one that makes you want to lose all thoughts and melt into his arms.

“Y-yeah!” you chirp as embarrassment begins to creep in, “Sorry about that,” he laughs with you, “I guess I got distracted,” Remus nods, understanding in his eyes as he turns to the clock on the office wall.

“The both of us have been at it for a while,” he hums when reading the time, “I think we deserve a break,”

“Snack run?”

Seeing the delight in your eyes, Remus laughs and presses a kiss to your temple. It takes everything in you not to lean away out of respect for Sirius —you still need to act as normal as possible so you don’t draw attention but it’s getting harder and harder to do so, “snack run,” he confirms, his gaze lingering on your tight-lipped smile. It’s an awkward tilt of your lips and it doesn’t belong on your usually soft and brightly beaming features, Remus thinks to himself. He wants to ruminate on it’s appearance further but files away his thoughts for another day, “let me tidy up here first and I’ll meet you out front,”

Nodding stiffly, you hurry to leave and get to the front of the parlour, where you can safely catch your breath. There, you can recalibrate your thoughts and feelings from a safe distance—

Your gradually slowing thoughts come to a grinding halt as you pass.

What did you just see?...

Angling yourself carefully and peeking through the crack of the door, you resist the urge to gasp in horror. In an otherwise empty tattoo room, Sirius sits in his tech chair and angles himself upwards as James stands and leans down to meet the former in a sweet kiss.

Scandalised, you cover your mouth and step away from the door, suppressing a scream as racing thoughts pour into your head.

SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!

All breath escapes you and the world begins to spin. The charming, loyal and honest character of Sirius that you’ve built up in your head breaks apart and you’re left spiralling at the implications of his betrayal. You feel like crying and vomiting and throwing a rage-filled fit all at the same time! Wait! —No! It’s not about what you want to do it’s about what you need to do and that’s to—

It was then that you hear Remus walking down the steps behind you. Your heart jumps in your chest and your stomach caves in on itself. Leaning forward, you peek through the crack in the open door again and find Sirius carefully prepping his tools for a later appointment while James is against one wall on the other side of the room, checking something on the computer.

Good… Remus doesn’t have to see anything… you think to yourself, although the thought alone makes your heart break all over again.

“Ready to go?” Remus asks, approaching you with a lifted brow of curiosity. He’s probably wondering why you haven’t made it to the front of the parlour yet.

“I-I was just thinking!…uhh,” you bite your lip and try to keep your rising panic from reflecting in your eyes.

“Hmm?”

“I don’t really want to go on a snack run,”

“Oh?” Remus didn’t even try to hide his surprise, it wasn’t like you to not go on a snack run — so much for wanting to act normal… “How come?”

“I just remembered something-!” it was a lame excuse but you could kill two birds with one stone through this, it’ll be worth it, “-something I wanted to talk to Sirius about—”

“You called?~” speak of the devil and he shall appear. Upon hearing his name, Sirius pulls open the door and flashes his usual charming smile, which only draws a chilling glare from you. Caught off-guard, Sirius blinks in surprise, “What’s the matter, dollface?”

A taunting whistle floats through the air from behind him as James steps up and eyes your unusually angry expression, “what did you do this time, Pads?”

“I-I don’t know…” his normally confident, unwavering voice stutters and is offered cautiously, almost scared despite the tattooist standing a good few inches taller than you.

Finding some confidence, you square your shoulders and address Remus again but keep your glare focused on Sirius, “Why don’t you and James go on a snack run while I talk to Sirius?” you almost snap out the cheater’s name from spite. You can’t believe you ever deluded yourself into thinking he was a good person that could do no wrong. He’s charmed you, Remus and James, tricked all three of you and you weren’t going to stand for it.

The two boys jokingly wish their friend ‘good luck’ as they walk past and head out, promising to get his favourites so he can nurse his wounds from the verbal beat-down he was about to receive with something yummy. It’s clear that James and Remus don’t really believe you’re capable of delivering much vengeance or rage but the fire in your eyes tells Sirius otherwise. As soon as the front door closes behind the two, you push Sirius back into the private tattoo room before he could utter a single word.

“You need to explain yourself, Sirius Orion Black and you need to do it now!” you demand, your voice harsh and biting, something you’ve never done in front of the boys before and catches the traitor, in your eyes, by complete surprise. Sirius doesn’t know what he’s done but he already feels incredible guilt and sorrow over it. He’s never wanted to draw out such a horrid emotion out of you; you’re only allowed to feel happiness and love and comfort. Not this. Never this…

“I-I don’t understand, princess—” he reaches for you but you step away from his touch, your piercing glare and obvious rejection stabbing a knife through his chest. You’ve never pulled away from his reach before, he’s not used to this. What did he do? He would take it all back, whatever he did, if it meant that you would lean into his touch again rather than pull away. He’d do anything to quash the evident flames of rage in your eyes. What did he do?... What did he do goddamnit?!

“I saw it! I saw everything! You’re playing both of them!” you shout, your rage lashing out and scorching him with their intense heat. There was no holding you back, you told him everything, about how you saw his kiss with Remus and James. His eyes widen in shock before filling with horror, which does nothing but corroborate your heart breaking revelations, “I don’t want to believe it! How could you do this to them, Siri?...” your shouting voice slowly quietens and tapers off at the end, quivering like a shaken autumn leaf. So heartbroken over the fact, your rage quickly turns into sorrow and tears quickly fill your eyes, “You’re better than that, I know you are!” and you really do. No matter how betrayed you feel and having witnessed the evidence first hand, you cling onto the little slither of faith you still had in Sirius, “Please tell them the truth, they deserve the truth… they deserve you being forthcoming with them because they’re good guys,”

Looking on at you, Sirius feels his heart break. This misunderstanding was tearing you up inside and, although it makes him happy to know that you would confront him and be angry for the boys at his supposed betrayal, watching you break down, and sob uncontrollably made Sirius’ heart twist and clench uncomfortably— painfully so.

Without a word, he reaches out again and is able to bring you into his arms. You don’t return the gesture but you make no effort to push him away either.

“Shhh Shhh Shhhhhh, darling…” Sirius whispers comfortingly, softly patting your hair as he waits for your sobbing to calm down enough for him to come clean. Scrap the plan, whatever bullshit plan they came up with to slowly ease you into accepting their relationship before selfishly asking for your love as well. He wasn’t going to let you continue misunderstanding their relationship, especially when it’s causing you so much pain, “...this is all a big misunderstanding…” he begins softly once your cries were finally reduced to soft sniffles, “do you know what polyamory is, sweetheart?”

“...n-no…”

“It’s when more than two people agree to be in a loving, romantic relationship with each other, all at the same time,” he explains in the same soft voice, his arms never pulling away from you as he feels you slowly lose your grip on resistance.

“Is…is that…”

“Yes, that’s the relationship James, Remus and I are all a part of…” he looks down with a gentle smile and watches you peek up at him curiously. Sirius resists the urge to swoop down and pepper your face with kisses. Just when he thought his love for you couldn’t grow any bigger, here you were being the sweetest, most caring and lovable little thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

However, you slowly begin to shake your head and the resistance in your eyes and expression returns. This time you push him away and keep him at arm's reach. Like a scared prey animal being cornered by a predator, you inch your way back until you're pressing yourself against the wall beside the door. It takes Sirius two steps forward to finally stop and keep his place so that you don’t feel pushed or stressed by his presence.

“I-I won’t believe you until James and Remus say so…”

He shrugs and gives you a pained smile. He supposes he can’t blame you for being cautious and not believing him, he’s the apparent ‘cheater’, afterall.

You watch Sirius part his lips to voice something when you hear the parlour door open and rush into the hallway to see James and Remus walk in. The two were grinning cheekily at each other and their arms were piled high with an assortment of snacks. They held true to their promise; you could spot many of Sirius’ favourites among the pile and it made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

As soon as the two look up and see your dishevelled form, your eyes pink and tearful, your bottom lip wobbling from restrained cries and your frame closed up like a frightened clam, the snacks are carelessly disregarded and they rush to your side.

“Dove?” Remus calls, worry evident in his voice as he steals a glance at Sirius over your trembling shoulder. The response he was given — tight lips, drawn into a straight line and unreadable eyes — wasn’t enough, however and his chocolate pools hardened into brown stone. What. Did. You. Do?... Remus silently interrogated the tattooist.

“What happened, angel?” James immediately wraps his arms around you and you almost melt into his hold if it weren’t for your need to clarify everything dominating your thoughts.

“Are you and Remus in a relationship with Sirius?” your hesitant voice, small and fraying at the edges, speaks up but barely above a whisper. The two men visibly stiffen beside you and you feel a well of tears quickly building up again; your thoughts immediately jumping to the worst possible outcome.

“Tell her the truth. Give her peace of mind, lads,” Sirius speaks up, his own voice lacking its usual confidence and was reduced to a vulnerable softness.

“Yes,” Remus affirms after a beat of silence.

“We’re all consenting, we all love each other, mutually!” James pipes up, his tone bordering on defensive despite not knowing what he’s their relationship defending from, “You…you don’t think of us differently do you?”

“No! No no no! Of course not,” you quickly elucidate your thoughts, your shoulders relaxing as you turn and meet eyes with Sirius, mustering a small smile, “it’s actually quite a relief,”

Grinning softly, Sirius steps up to explain the situation, “Dollface over here thought that I was cheating on you and James with each other, Rem,” he chuckles softly, amusement in his eyes though it still lacked their full brightness, “she gave me a good shouting to and looked like she was ready to bite my head off if I didn’t ‘come clean’ to both of you,” Remus laughs and pulls Sirius into a sideways hug as James coos lovingly at you.

“You got angry for us, angel?” James presses his face into your hair and nuzzles you affectionately, “you’re the sweetest~” he coos, his smirk growing as he feels an embarrassed heat radiating off your cheeks.

“St-stop the James,” you whine with an awkward smile and wiggle yourself out of his arms, avoiding his pouting lips because you know your resolve will melt away at the sight. It was confirmed. They were in a relationship, all three of them, with each other. You should be happy that Sirius wasn’t a cheater and still the wonderful man you saw him to be. But, no matter how happy you were for them, the twisting of your stomach and the gaping hole in your heart wasn’t easily fixable.

The following weeks, you maintained the friendship you had with the boys, who no longer felt the need to limit their intimate touches around you. However, whenever they tried to initiate affection with you, as per usual, once the innocent kiss on the temple and harmless hug was now fervently being rejected by you and pushed away. You had no intention of disrespecting their relationship, even if most acts of affection you exchanged as friends were innocuous. But, then again, it was also your way of protecting your already shattered heart. Yes, you could just stay away from them entirely but you had built such a strong friendship with them that it didn’t feel right to candidly pretend that you’ve never met them before. It’ll do more harm than the harm you were inflicting now…

Ever the observant man that he was, Remus knew the instant reason behind your hesitation and was quick to reassure you the next time you were invited over for tea.

“It’s really okay, sweetheart,” the tall brunette hums softly as James and Sirius agree from their own seats, “we’re okay with it and you aren’t going to come in between any of us, I promise you,”

Stubbornly, you shake your head, pulling a deep frown from all of them.

“Are you not comfortable with it?” James asks with uncertainty, his question and its potential implication is filled with enough dread to make even his two lovers stiffen up.

You nod your head ‘yes’ and they slump in their rejection. It hurt to know that the revelation of their relationship had pushed you away when the basic nature of their affair meant more love for everyone. And they wanted it to include you… Their romance that led to such an abundance of love and promises of more was now paradoxically pushing you away. For once, they didn’t know what to do, not a single one of them could come up with any idea to resolve the ever-growing tension in your relationship. It was a rubber band ready to snap.

“If you’re uncomfortable then we’ll respect that and keep our distance, touch-wise” Remus surrenders despite the heartbreak it gives him while Sirius shoots up and sends him an irate glare, one that Remus coldly returns. It wasn’t a question of their comfortability but yours, Sirius needed to regard that to the highest degree and Remus was all too ready to make him face the music. They can’t afford to lose you and if it meant that he needed to make the hard decisions then so be it.

“Thank you,”

“...do you not want to be around us anymore?” James speaks up, not necessarily taking things to their extremes but rather potential, future escalations. He’s seen it. In the days and weeks that followed the divulgence of their true relationship, bit by bit you have begun to pull away from them to the point where James can vividly see where the escalation of your behaviour will lead and it’s frightening. One day, you’ll just disappear and that terrifies him.

“No no…” your weak defence, lacking true resolve, ignites a shock of terrorising fear in all three of them, their eyes shaking with trepidation. But you couldn’t see it because you couldn’t look at them, like a coward. Because that’s what you are — a coward. The heartbreak was chipping away at you. You thought you would be brave enough to see them happy together but you couldn’t. Because, not only were you a coward, but you were selfish too. Green with envy, you stewed in that awful, stomach-twisting, heart-aching, bitter-tasting, gut-wrenching feeling each time you saw every loving kiss, affectionate cuddle and sweetly whispered words.

Throughout your friendship you grew to love each of them as more than a simple friend. You know it was wrong but they were all so charming in their own, unique way. They treated you sincerely, cared for you without any sinister, ulterior motives and they’ve successfully wormed their way into your life and heart, permanently.

What was once something that brought you such joy, warmth and feelings of safety was now mercilessly ripping you apart.

Their dynamic looked different to you now that you were looking through a different lens. They weren’t just close friends anymore, they were very much in love and have been romantically involved for a few years now — it was one of the first things you found out about their relationship. Its longevity was a testament to their unwavering love for each other and here you were, secretly, selfishly and salaciously hoping for your own slice of the love pie.

How dare you…

Just because you’ve had such bad luck with love didn’t mean you had the right to wish for something that couldn’t possibly become yours. You have no right to ask them for love when they are completely content with their own.

“Please don’t push us away, dollface,” Sirius begs softly, his steel grey eyes melting into a pool of mercury. Beautiful but poisonous. Something you want but can’t have.

“I’m sorry,” you’re breathless when you see the genuine fear in their eyes and turn away from the sight. This isn’t the time to turn weak at the knees, “it’s getting pretty late, I should go,” shouldering your bag, you get up and rush to leave their flat.

“Stay,” Remus half commands and half begs, almost stopping you in your tracks, “please stay… we need to talk to you about something important,” if there was any time for them to reveal the truth, it was now. Before they lose you, before they drown themselves in regret, before they fall into a pit of despair, before they—

“I’m sorry…” you repeat and, just as James feared, you disappear.

A/N : this took such a long while to write but i wanted it to be perfect, thank you so much for requesting this darling @thepunisherfrankcastle it fit perfectly into the plot although i did make some slight altercations to your request. unfortunately, there's still more to go after this so i'm going to have to leave you darlings with a cliffhanger, look out for part 5! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

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