#remus lupin scenario
Note
hi lovie! just had a thought of remus not being able to prepare the reader for him and going “deep breath, baby” cause this man has massive cock and that’s it
this post is 18+, minors dni.
"It's gonna hurt," Remus hums, low and sweet as he presses a kiss to your flushed cheek. It's hot with lust and exhilaration, and he noses at the other one while your stomach clenches in anticipation.
"I can take it," You vow, and you really mean it, even if Remus is convinced it'll take time. You've seen him before, and he's impressive to say the least, but you're aching and wet, and there's nothing you want more than to feel Remus's thick cock slip into your eager cunt.
"Relax," He warns you, keeping his face pressed to yours, breathing in tandem with you and brushing his lips against your nose from proximity alone, "Relax, dove, y'hear me?"
"I'm relaxed," You promise, forcing your muscles to un-tense themselves. You feel the head of his cock prod at your slit, although it doesn't offer much resistance until his full circumference breaches your hole. All at once it's too thick, too big, too much, and you tense up again, thighs and stomach and hands all clenched as you gasp in a breath of air.
"Breathe, sweetheart, breathe," Remus coaches, stopping in his tracks, "Deep breath, baby, you're alright. We'll go slow."
"No, I can take it," You repeat, less confident this time, and nearly breathless, "Remus, I- I can take it."
"I know y'can," He croons, pressing another sticky warm kiss to your face, tucked between your nose and your cheek, "Just be patient, sweet thing. You can have it all, I promise. Just wanna make sure I'm not gonna rip you t'pieces, love."
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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.”
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin smut#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#james potter#sirius black#lily evans#marauders#the marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom
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big dick remus :P
i just know remus’ cock is so thick and long, he always has to prep your pussy before fucking you.
he’d mutter reassuring words in your ear, telling you to be patient and wait til you were loose enough for him. first, he would start with his fingers; teasing your clit and edging the rim of his middle finger inside your hole.
you’d bite your lips at him entering you, his lips moving to kiss your neck and keep you distracted. “my baby’s so tight.” his words were so soft spoken but also sounded so dirty coming from his mouth.
humming in response, you clenched around his digit while his ring and index fingers moved to smear your wetness against your lips, thumb pressing onto your clit. he’d shush you as a whine exited your mouth, holding onto you tighter and pushing another finger inside of you. “that’s it, open up for me.”
remus would continue working on fucking you with his hand until he was satisfied that you could take his cock. when he pulled out from you and instead ran his tip against your bare cunt, a gasp swiftly left your lips, your gaze dropping down to the sight below. the action of him dragging his length across your pussy felt so teasing yet incredibly satisfactory at the same time that you couldn’t complain and watched — mouth wide open — as he slipped himself inside of you.
your cunt was so inviting and gripped to him so well, remus had to force himself not to go overboard. he’d go and out of you effortlessly, while waiting for you to fully before quickening his pace.
as words impulsively babbled from your mouth, he thrusted inside of you while simultaneously messing with your pussy. “your cock feels so good, please don’t stop.” humming in response, remus took full notice of your fingers digging into his arms, his hands moving to hold your thighs in place and keep them spread apart.
he remained fucking you from behind as he rammed his length into your throbbing hole and your tits jolted with every slam. he kept his focus on your face, watching as your expression grew more fucked out when you suddenly threw your head back — a shriek leaving your mouth and your body moving to a halt.
remus didn’t stop pushing into you until he felt his tip throb, reluctantly pulling out and feeling himself twitch. as he clenched his thighs and his cock sprang against your cunt, almost reflexively he grabbed his length and slapped it against you a couple times, your body jerking against his chest.
send me a request !
#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin drabble#harry potter smut#harry potter x you#harry potter x reader#harry potter drabble#harry potter scenarios#harry potter imagine#harry potter#sinnersami
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James Potter is easily the biggest of the three. He’s just so muscular and strong, but in a soft way. He’s got a soft layer of fat protecting his muscles, and I imagine he’s very freckled too. Not sure why. He is the epitome of a golden retriever boyfriend. He likes being the big spoon, and has an INCREDIBLE weak spot for getting his hair played with. Like, it’s literally orgasmic to him. He grew up with everything. Love, money, etc, etc, so he’s probably the touchiest (at first), and is all over you from the start. Also, I think he often forgets his strength and squeezes u too hard and you’ve gotta be like “uh.. Jamie..? You’re.. you’re kinda squeezing-“ and he just puts an arm over ur mouth like “shut up, baby. Sorry. Love you.” He’s adorable.
Remus Lupin is just a normal sized boy, and runs hot like a radiator. Honestly. He doesn’t even need all those knitted sweaters and warm coffee because he just is the embodiment of autumn warmth. He’s littered with silver scars from his lycanthropy, so when u see him naked for the first time, he’s so self conscious. He’d have his arms wrapped around himself, shielding his scars from your view, and you’ve got to prize his hands off of himself. “I’m sorry.. i know they’re not.. appealing.. it’s…” and you’re just like “woah, rem, what? You’re fucking beautiful.” You say that, and he’s yours. He’s not used to love like James is, but he’s probably the one to start getting cuddly. I imagine it’s winter and he’s reading in the common room, and ur shivering because by some miracle the fire isn’t on. He looks up from his book, admiring you for a while and then lifts up his sweater. You SHOOT underneath it and basically curl up like a cat against his bare chest. I repeat: HE IS SO FUCKING WARM. You’d probably have an ‘eternal sunshine of the spotless mind’ moment with him at the start of your relationship though. You know when Clementine is saying she always thought she was ugly and Joel starts kissing her and saying “you’re pretty, you’re pretty, you’re pretty…” yeah, you’d be Joel and he’d be Clementine. But once he’s comfortable, he’s a fucking fiend. You’ll never be cold again, trust me.
Sirius Black is skinny and pale. Like a vampire. Endearingly. I imagine he has a nose piercing and an eyebrow piercing, and he’s all tattooed up. Will DEFINITELY get your initial on his abdomen or collarbone in swirly penmanship. Sirius will act like your best friend even when u two are dating. Bless him though, he’s so used to being hurt and abused by those that are meant to protect him that he can’t trust you at first. I think the first time he came to realise you were different is when you asked him what happened after winter break at his parent’s house, because he was being really quiet and flinching a lot which is unlike him. You cornered him in the common room when no one else was there, and asked him “hey, Siri? What’s going on, man? Tell me.” He insisted, “I’m fine. I swear, sweetheart.” You went to tuck his black curls behind his ear but he flinched, which shattered your heart. You said “Sirius, please. I need to know you’re okay, because I need you safe.” And hearing that, he broke down into your arms. From then on, he’s always in your arms. He adores comforting you, because he’s a big brother himself and so he has the instinct, you know? But man, does he fucking adore being in your arms. He WILL curl up beside you wherever you’re sitting or lying, and is always rubbing against you. He always says “I can’t help it, babe, it’s just the dog in me.” Which he seems to find HILARIOUS. Oh yeah, and he literally can’t sleep unless you’re the big spoon or his head is on your chest or in your neck. He likes to feel safe and protected for once, and you do that for him to no end. He’s THE 70s rocker stereotype, and he loves having matching nail polish with you. You’re best friends as well as lovers.
Sorry for yapping to no end guys!!!
#sirius black x reader#Sirius black prompt#james potter x reader#James potter prompt#remus lupin x reader#Remus Lupin prompt#marauders x reader#the marauders#sirius black scenario#james potter scenario#remus lupin scenario#Sirius black💌*~#Remus Lupin💌*~#James potter💌*~
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Remus Lupin is the type to definitely fuck you while you're reading. Will literally tell you to read him a page, and if you stutter even a little bit...best believe he's going to make you re read either the whole page or chapter, depending on how he feels.
"Read it again for me love, you were doing so good."
Remus Lupin is the type to surely make sure you are completely satisfied when he's fully recovered from a full moon, sometimes not even cause he's the one that needs you.
"Love, please. Fuck, I need you so bad."
Remus Lupin definitely, definitely, definitely the type to cock warm with you when you sleep over in his dorm (every night 🤪) with the rest of the marauders. To which always leads to the most jaw dropping sex y'all will have (which is always duh)
"Shh, love, you have to keep quiet if you don't want them to find out what's happening behind the curtains. Unless you want to give them a show?"
THAT SENTENCE ALONE MAKES YOU FUCKING WHIMPER ON THE SPOT WHEW ( i would've died)
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drunk remus will forever be my kryptonite. like imagine him just rambling about everything and then he sees you and is like "ohmygodyouresopretty"
hannah oh em gee. drunk lovesick remus is my everything. I love u for this
summary: remus is drunk and whipped
gn!reader 0.5k words
You walk Remus to the bathroom partly because he’s so drunk he can barely walk in a straight line, and partly because you’re just as clingy as he is right now and you’re not even drunk.
Your arm is braced around his lower back as you lead him down the carpeted hallway. He’s rambling about all sorts of nonsense, and you can’t say you completely understand or even catch a single intelligible word. But it’s nice to listen to his voice. Even if it’s all slurred and sticky.
When you stop at the bathroom door, Remus is not paying attention where he’s going and tries to keep walking. You snag his wrist and pull him back.
“Remus,” you say, trying desperately not to laugh. “Bathroom’s back here, love.”
Remus staggers backwards into your side. His eyes zero in on the bathroom door and then he blinks. “Oh.”
You snort but cover it up with a fake cough. And anyway, Remus is too inebriated to hear you having a laugh at him. He twists the arm that you’ve got in your hand to grab your hand with his instead. Then he pushes the bathroom door open and tries to pull you with him.
“Remus, what are you doing?” You giggle, planting your feet firmly on the threshold and refusing to let him pull you any further.
Remus turns, a blunt, almost impatient look on his face. “I’m going to the bathroom, dove. What does it look like?”
You snort. This time you don’t even bother hiding it. “I’m not coming with you, Remus.”
Remus looks at you like you’re crazy. “What?”
You shake your head at him, very amused and very looking forward to teasing him for this for the rest of his life. “What, d’you want me to hold it?” You ask, incredulous. “I’m not coming.”
Remus pouts at you. “Baby,” he whines.
You hold your ground, even though he looks awfully cute when he’s pouting like that. “Baby,” you mock.
Remus scowls. “Fine then,” he says moodily. You know he’s not actually angry but he’s a damn good actor, even when drunk. He drops your hand and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
You don’t have to wait long for him to finish. A few minutes pass and then the door opens and Remus appears again. Looking far less sullen, like he’s forgotten all about your refusal to join him in the bathroom.
“Hi,” you say, grinning.
Remus stands there with his hand on the doorknob and a halo of light around his head and blinks. Stares at you hard. Then blinks again.
“Spare me,” he murmurs.
You’re alarmed, to say the least. “What?” you giggle, “Remus, what are you talking about?”
“I swear you’ve gotten prettier since two minutes ago,” he says, and he sounds genuinely boggled. Flabbergasted. “How is that possible? Are you kidding me?”
He takes your face in his big hands and stares at you intensely. He pulls your face so close to his he could kiss you. Looks at you with big wide eyes and parted lips.
“You’re sick,” he says eventually, after a lifetime of his eyes travelling all over your face. “Why would you do this to me?”
You giggle. Your chest feels tight though you won’t tell him that. “I didn’t do anything, Remus.”
Remus huffs. “Sure you didn’t,” he says, all sarcasm. “You’re—“
You kiss him to shut him up. Purely to make him stop talking, of course, and not because his doting is making your face burn.
-
#me when I just whipped this up as soon as I got the ask 🤓#I like remus okay … leave me alone#★ mal writes!#remus lupin#ღ remus#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin fic#remus lupin x reader fluff#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x gn!reader#remus lupin blurbs#remus lupin drabbles#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin oneshot#✉️
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hiii would u be open to writing remus lupin x reader with the prompt *x put head on y’s shoulder* “just don’t leave…” with either remus saying it or the reader? no worries if not <3 🦌🦌
hi, my love!! thank you for requesting! i hope this is what you’re looking for! i was in a little bit of a writer block last night so this may not be my best work, i apologize for that, honey </3
cw: fem!reader, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, mentions of remus being a werewolf, remus feels insecure, the marauders not being very helpful, established relationship, crying, 0.9k
<3
Remus isn’t one to hide who he is, you know he’s a werewolf, he’s been vulnerable with you before, so when he starts to become a little distant from you, you know exactly why. The past few days have been rough for him, you know. Leading up to a full moon is almost always worse than the aftermath. But this time, Remus seems particularly bothered. He still holds your hand to classes and reads to you at night, but something about the way he always is distracted, like loosely holing your hand without knowing and constantly losing his place while reading makes you feel like his mind is truly elsewhere.
The Marauders aren’t helping the situation either. Sure, they’re supportive of their friend and you know they’re always there for him, but the pitying glances don’t go unnoticed by both you and Remus and you don’t presume he is very fond of those looks. You don’t blame him.
At dinner, the night before the full moon, James, Sirius, and Peter keep repeating the same set of motions. Their eyes dart from each other, their food, to Remus, and back to each other. You fight the urge to roll your eyes at their obvious display of concern because Remus doesn’t really need that right now and they should know that after all this time. After tolerating the silent glances for the majority of dinner, Remus shifts uncomfortably, his eyes not leaving his food. You gently slide your hand into his, hoping offer some comfort, and when he accepts you take it a step furthur and draw small circles with your thumb on the back of his hand. This doesn’t last long. When the other three boys offer sympathetic smiles, Remus notices and stands from his seat, dropping your hand and walking out of The Great Hall with quick strides.
“Would you guys quit it?” you hiss at the boys across the table who’s eyes widen at the abrupt snap of your head in their direction.
“What?” They reply in unison and share a few nervous glances before returning to your harsh gaze.
“Remus clearly isn’t doing well,” you say, pointing out the obvious, “the least you can do is not look at him like he’s dying.” you add gesturing in the direction of the door, where Remus had walked out of.
“We’re not—”
“Save it,” you cut James off, who makes an attempt to defend the three of them. You roll your eyes, standing from your seat, “I’m going to check on him.” you state before following the previous path of your boyfriend, out the door and to your dorms.
When you arrive in the common room and head towards the boys’ dorm you hear quiet sobs echoing through the door. Your throat tightens and you hesitate to move towards the sound, but you do anyway because you know Remus needs somebody and you’re always willing to be that somebody.
“Remus?” you call out before pushing the door open and are met with a sniffling Remus, eyes red and puffy. Your heart almost breaks in two, the sight enough to make you feel the clenching in your chest and for a moment, you unknowingly hold your breath.
“Hey, lovely.” Remus greets and his voice cracks with the attempt to cover a sob that might’ve escaped his lips.
“Oh, honey.” you whisper and Remus bows his head, with shame or just to wipe the tears off his face, you don’t know. You walk towards the bed before sitting next to him, hand rubbing his shoulder, slowly sliding down to hold his hand, once more, “Do you want to talk about it?” you offer, bringing Remus to lift his head up and meet your gaze, a lump grows in your throat at his broken expression and you try to keep it together for him.
“I’m just so tired—” Remus starts, before a sob escapes his lips. He reaches out for you and you don’t hesitate to bring him into your arms, his head rests on your shoulder, your hands cupping the back of his neck, while his hands wrap around you waist, “ —I don’t want to be like this anymore.” Remus admits, his voice breaking and you feel your shirt dampen with tears.
“Hey, I’m here.” you say, gently running your hands through Remus’s hair and up and down the length of his back, “James, Sirius and Peter are here.” You add and you feel Remus’s sobs turn to sniffles against your shoulder. “Even if they get on your nerves, they mean well.”
“I know…” Remus says, the sound muffled against your shoulder. He lifts his head, your eyes meeting his puffy ones, “Is it okay if we just stay like this?” Remus asks hesitantly, as if you would ever say no to him.
“It’s more than okay.” You whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. You start to shift your body further onto the bed before Remus’s tight grip around your waist prevents you from doing so. Your eyebrows furrow with confusion before hearing Remus’s desperate voice.
“Don’t leave me, please…” Remus begs, clinging onto you.
I’m never going to leave you,” you reply and Remus nods continuously against your shoulder, his hair falling into his face and brushing yours, “I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Remus says, his voice shaky but calmer than before, “I don’t know what I would do without you.” He admits and your heart warms with his words.
You smile, pulling the both of you back onto his bed in a more comfortable position with his head still tucked into your shoulder, “And you’ll never have to know,” you whisper before you close your eyes and allow yourself to rest.
<3
masterlist . remus lupin masterlist . taglist
thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!
tags: @googie-jeon, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @jordie-gvf, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker, @moonsupremacy01, @enamoredwithbella
alwaysmoncheri © ─ all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.
#my works ──★ ˙☕️ ̟ !!#masterlist#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin angst#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin smut#remus lupin fic#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot
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hi!! could i request touch starved remus lupin? loved your sirius one!!! xx
-Remus Lupin x Reader
{Remus doesn’t want to seem clingy, he just loves your touch}
Thank you! And of course you can lovely, Enjoy! 💕💕
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Remus chews on the inside of his cheek as you tidy up the kitchen, you’ve been busy all day whether it’s work, studying or chores there was always something that had your attention, anything but him.
It��s ridiculous he thinks, you’re both adults with adult problems and yet here he is sulking because he feels pushed to the side. He blames it partly on the long week he’s had, nothing seemed to be going right and all he wants is to be wrapped up in your warm love and to forget about everything.
However he doesn’t want to come across as clingy, he cringes as the thought crosses his mind, because what if you get sick of it? Sick of him? It’s a thought that festers from some deep-rooted insecurity and he tries his best to talk himself out of thinking that way, but that’s easier said than done especially when those thoughts are at the forefront of his mind.
You smile over at him, the sweetest smile he’s ever seen and there’s an odd sense of guilt that builds up in his chest. He feels awful for moping about all day and he knows he hasn’t been the best of company.
He smiles back at you, although it’s strained it’s still a smile. “Sorry Remmy” you sigh, walking into the living room. He’s sitting on your couch, a throw blanket draped over his knees as he fiddles with the fabric. “But, I’m all done now” You look over at him, your smile dropping as he lets out a shaky sigh, he looks almost frozen as if he wants something but he’s holding back.
Your hand rests against his arm, and he feels the warmth of your palm seeping through his jumper. “Hey, did something happen at work?” You ask, your hand soothing his upper arm, and he thinks he might just start crying because you’re still so caring despite his sour mood.
“No dove, work was fine” he sighs glancing over at you, “I just missed you is all” Your heart clenches in your chest as he whispers the words, his tone so quiet that you almost miss it.
“But I’m right here,” you tell him, slightly confused about where this was coming from.
Then it hits you all at once, as you notice how tears collect in his eyes. You pull him towards you, his arms wrap around you immediately and his hands settle against your back, “It’s been a really long week” he mumbles against your shoulder, breathing you in. You turn your head to press a kiss on his cheek.
Remus pulls back slightly, still close enough that he can feel your body heat radiating against him and he rests his forehead against yours, the ends of his hair tickling your skin, “I’m yours for the entire weekend. No work, no studying, just me and you” you tell him, watching as he smiles widely, bumping his nose against yours.
Your hands cup either side of his face and he sighs softly at the warmth of your palms against his skin. He melts at the way your thumb grazes against the small scar just under his eye, he closes them as he leans into your touch.
“Sounds like a great plan lovely,” he says, his hands resting against your hips as he tugs you closer to him.
His lips press against yours as he gives you little pecks that turn into a slow and gentle kiss, “I love you” you mumble against him, the words have him smiling like a fool and he doesn’t miss the way you let out a breathy giggle.
“Say it again?” He asks dropping a kiss to your jaw.
“I love you Remus” you smile, and he reckons you might just give him heart failure as you play with his hair. He goes completely giddy with love and he can’t quite believe that it’s him you’re talking to.
“I love you too,” he says in between kisses as he litters your face with them, the feeling has you reeling with joy and you both are overtaken with laughter, a sound that has both of your hearts full of sickly love.
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#remus lupin insert reader#remus x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin one shot#remus fluff#remus imagine#the marauders fanfiction#the marauders#the marauders x reader#the marauders imagine#the marauders fluff#marauders imagine#marauders x reader#marauders x y/n#marauders fanfiction#marauders x you#marauders drabble#marauders oneshot#the marauders era
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Sweet Nothing
Remus Lupin x fem!reader
And the voices that implore, "You should be doing more."
To you, I can admit that I'm just too soft for all of it.
based on a request
content- fluff, sickness, hurt/comfort?, established relationship.
3.2k
author's note- this is actually several blurbs put into one fic, no use of y/n, english is not my first language so beware <3
You feel a hand on your lower back, guiding you through the throng in the Quidditch Pitch to the castle. Raising your head, your eyes catch Remus's soft but rapt expression. His eyebrows are furrowed, his eyes opting for the best way to get you from the packed crowd with the least malaise.
You don't bother to speak; most probably, he won't hear you. Hell, you don't even hear your own thoughts in all this ruckus. However, you would always hear his calm and tender tone.
"This way, dove."
You let your body comply with his hand on your back.
"You guys are a menace," your disapproving timbre curls up his lips into a subtle smile, one that he tries to hide from you. "And I don't believe for a second that you had nothing to do with this."
He chuckles, his brown eyes catching yours for a moment. "I was with you the whole time, wasn't I?"
"They're not brilliant enough to think of a way of hexing the whole–" Your words are cut off when Remus pulls you to his right. You stumble from the sudden shove, feeling his tight grip on your arms.
You see a group of brooms whooshing from where you were standing only seconds before. "What are they doing?"
"Bastards," Remus mutters, agitated that they almost knocked you out.
"Your fault. You shouldn't have given them a reason to celebrate."
You know you are wrong; of course, the Gryffindor players would celebrate with or without the Marauder's prank on the opposite team. However, a little compunction wouldn't hurt.
"It's not my fault that I'm a mastermind," Remus grins, pulling you closer by the waist. You can hear the cheerful shouts and music from afar, knowing that James is probably capering around, frisking on Sirius or Peter.
"Should we go and celebrate with them?" you ask Remus, even though you despise the hubbub, everyone pushing and pulling others, stumbling to one another, hurting each other's toes. Who needs that? You can very well express your cheers in the common room celebrations. And Remus knows you well enough.
"No, we'll see them in the common room," he says, holding your hand tightly. "Are you hungry?"
"We just ate."
"Do you want snacks? I can get some from the kitchens if you do."
You chuckle at his tone, so soft but also pampering you. "Are you hungry? You certainly sound like you want something to eat."
"You?"
"Remus!" you elbow him, blush painting your cheeks. He laughs, a sound that manages to flutter chords in your heart no matter how many times you hear it. He brings your hand–which is entangled between his fingers– to his lips and places a tender peck on it.
"I'll bring you some chocolate from the kitchens."
That is how you know he craves chocolate.
"You two should break up."
"Come again?"
"I said, break up for a day, you're making Prongs sad," Sirius repeats shamelessly at you, going through a cookie bowl.
Remus is ambling down the stairs with a book in his hand. A book which he uses to smack Sirius on the head. He winces, scowling at your boyfriend.
"Prongs being sad is none of our business."
You let Remus sit on the sofa and put your head on his lap. Under a mere second, another hand, belonging to James, plunges into the bowl.
"No matter what I do, Evans won't go out with me on Valentine's Day," he continues to inspect every cookie meticulously, looking for the right one. Your heart aches at the sight, and you decide that enough is enough. You snatch the bowl under his hand and lay back on Remus's lap with the cookies on your stomach. Remus smiles at the sight of you, his hand roaming through your hair.
"Stop sampling the cookies with your filthy fingers."
"They're my only comfort. Give them back," James attacks, ready to grab the bowl back, but Remus's hands stop him. He playfully swats James's hand away from the bowl.
"She's eating them."
You grin at James, visibly smug about your boyfriend's demeanour. "I am eating them, Potter."
"You haven't touched them since Peter brought them from the kitchens."
"I will eat them, Potter."
You don't comprehend what happens next, or you simply don't remember. Maybe James groans and leaves your side, or Sirius starts teasing you again. Who knows? You just feel Remus's fingers tousling between strands of your hair.
"What are you doing?" you whisper, a tiny smile adorning your lips.
"Braiding your hair," he drawls, his eyes glancing at your lips before averting back to your hair.
"You know how to braid?"
Remus chuckles, shaking his head. "No, but I'm learning right now."
"By ruffling my hair?"
"I'm not ruffling, dove. I'm braiding."
"No, you're definitely ruffling. I can feel it."
"I'll comb them later tonight. Sounds good?" you smirk at his raised eyebrows, hearing your heart singing. Moments like this are what soothe your worries and take away the weight on your shoulders for that week. His quiet whispers and tender touch, adoring tone and smiling eyes always manage to find their path to your heart, warming it in an instant.
"Will you also bring me milk and kiss me goodnight?"
He smiles, bringing one hand to your chin. His thumb caresses the skin and journeys to your lips.
"If that's what you want."
You roll your eyes at him, taking his hand from your face in your hand. You start to fiddle with his fingers, oblivious of the beam in his countenance. You love playing with Remus's hand. They are larger than yours, as Remus enjoys pointing out with every chance he gets, but also so soft.
Your eyes forcefully move from your intertwined hands to Remus's brown eyes. In a few seconds, your mind feels his finger resting under your chin. You gaze at him with confusion and affection as he leans in and puts his lips before yours. He doesn't kiss you, merely placing his lips inches away from yours. You know he is waiting for you.
You smile for a moment, your warm breath hitting his lips. You know it puts him on the edge when you josh him, his breathing getting heavier, the black in his eyes widening.
But you relish it more than anything.
"Don't tease, dove," he whispers, and you can feel the anticipation in his tone.
You giggle, your smile growing against his, your fingers running through the hair on his neck. You don't torture him any more, crashing your lips to his. You let out an amused breath when you feel Remus return the kiss in a second, his hands wandering your body.
No matter how long you've been together or how many times he has kissed your lips, it is the same feeling every time. The burn in your core, the desire for more and the joy of his touch. You are too familiar with all these sensations, and yet you welcome them every time with a smile on your face.
"Get a room!"
You are familiar with Sirius's shriek, too.
Your throat burns with pain, your nose itching with an urge to sneeze, which never comes. You know for sure that you look terrible in your bed, with dishevelled hair, a red nose and swollen eyes. However, all this doesn't seem to phase Remus even a bit.
"You're a mule."
He is annoyed and maybe slightly worried. His eyebrows are furrowed, and displeasure has gained a seat on his visage. He is staring at you with irritated eyes and a scowl beside your bed.
"And you're rude," you say, barely managing to raise your voice from a whisper. It's not your fault that your throat hurts when you talk.
"Dove, let's just go to Madam Pomfrey."
"For a cold?"
Remus groans, sitting next to you. He puts one hand on your right thigh before speaking again.
"You'll have a fever if you keep up like this."
"I'm fine, stop worrying," you say, even though you're happy that he does.
You're happy that he worries for you and cares for you. You're happy that he never leaves your side or your hand. You're happy that even though he rarely uses the words, he still manages to tell you he loves you with actions.
You don't need to hear it. You never need to hear it; Remus makes sure that you can feel it.
"You know I can't do that," he shakes his head, persistent with his efforts. "And you know I can't take care of you all by myself."
You chuckle at his words. For the last seven hours, he's been bringing you warm soup, making sure you're hydrated enough, and he hasn't let you stand up for even a second.
"You've done well so far," you smile despite the ache in your temples. "Remus, it's just cold. I'll be fine in the morning, especially with your pampering."
You don't see the point in visiting the hospital wing for a seasonal cold; it seems like overreacting. Remus, on the other hand, seems distraught seeing you in pain. He doesn't want to agree; you can see it on his face, but he agrees anyway.
"It would help if you took a warm shower, you know."
You smile at him, knowing damn well that he wouldn't let you get on your feet without his help.
"Maybe."
Remus nods several times, immediately rising to his feet. "I'll run a shower for you."
You watch him sprint to the bathroom, and the next thing you hear is the water running. You are lucky that your roommates are not in your dorm room today. Or maybe you're unlucky that you got sick on Saturday.
You slowly start getting out of bed, your head throbbing. Remus comes back and helps you get to the bathroom. In reality, he merely follows you from place to place, as you're perfectly capable of walking.
"You're acting like I'm a toddler," you laugh at his concern, which earns you a frown.
"You are a toddler. Why else would you refuse to go to the hospital wing?"
"Because I'm fine," you grin, getting out of your clothes. Remus watches you, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed. "If you're waiting for me to ask you to join me, I'm not gonna do that."
He smirks at your tone, pushing himself off the doorframe. "I'll be there if you need me."
He leaves you alone, and you let hot water embrace your bare skin. By the end of the shower, you feel lighter and better, happy that your headache has eased a bit.
Remus waits for you in the room, and you notice that he has brought you another soup.
"How many times do I have to drink that?"
"Enough times for you to get better," he pushes the blanket on top of you when you lay down on the bed. "Cooperate a bit."
He takes the soup bowl in his hand and lifts the spoon. You grimace at the steam rising from the spoon.
"I'd rather not drink–"
"Open wide, the train is coming," he pushes the spoon to your lips.
"Remus!" you pull your head backwards, laughing involuntarily. "It's hot!"
"You haven't even tasted it."
"I can see from the steam."
"Fine," he groans, huffing at the spoon. "It's good now, come on."
Now that you're out of the excuses, you comply with him. Still, you pull a face when your tongue meets with the soup, albeit it is delicious.
"It can't be that disgusting, dove."
"It is," you lie when Remus offers you another spoon, a bit of liquid dripping from your lips to your chin.
"Let me see," he says, and before you can deny it, his lips are already on yours.
You let out a disapproving sound from deep in your throat, even though your stomach tingles at the feeling of Remus's soft lips on yours. He pulls back an inch, but still close enough for you to feel his warm breath.
"It was delicious," he mocks. "Liar."
"You're gonna be sick, baby," you whisper, your lips smiling a bit.
He kisses you again, this time quicker and shorter than before. "You'll take care of me."
And you will take care of him the next morning because he definitely will be sick.
You don't feel your legs, nor do you remember how you got to the castle yard. You're in a trance, unable to hear or feel anything as you stride to a distant tree that will provide you solidarity. Anything except the suffocating weight in your lungs and the burning urge in your throat. You want to cry. You want to drop to your knees and wail, letting tears pour down your eyes, allowing the agony to leave your heart with your every cry.
But you don't cry.
You don't cry until you know you are alone. You don't cry until you are sure that no one can see you, no one can hear you. You don't cry until you are sure that you are out of everyone's sight who will pity you if they see your tears.
It feels too much. You feel too much. You feel too much, but you don't feel enough. You never feel enough.
You run, but you never flee. You swim, but you drown. You smile, but you cry.
The moment you see the tree, your legs give in. You fall to the ground, a cry leaving your lips. You don't scream, you don't wail. You simply welcome the tears as you sit on the ground, pulling your knees to yourself.
Your mind echoes each and every word that pulls you too deep into the ocean.
"I expected more from you."
You thought you did enough.
"It's your fault."
You thought you did the right thing.
"You'll do better next time."
You thought you did better this time.
You hear your pained sob, pitying yourself. Your nails dig into your skin hard enough to leave a mark. You want to leave a mark. You want to feel something, something other than the pain burning inside your chest.
"Dove?"
You whine at your lover's voice, so soft and tender, afraid to startle you. You don't question how he has found you. Somehow he always does.
"Go away, Remus," your tone sounds weaker than you expect, full of agony and desperation. You don't look at his face; you don't look anywhere but your hands.
You don't want him to see your red eyes, tear-stained face and shaking hands. You don't want him to hear your heavy sobs and breathless cries. You don't want him to pity you.
"No," he sits next to you, still a bit hesitant to touch you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"Go away," you cry, "please."
"I am not going anywhere, dove," he shakes his head, his eyes glancing at your hands. He knows it may backfire, and he knows you may draw up your walls even higher, but he takes the risk. He puts his hand on yours, parting your nails from your skin.
You scrunch up your face when he kisses the skin where your nails dig deep, ready to burst into tears once more. You lower your head, refusing to let him see your pain.
He doesn't let you.
"Talk to me," he pleads, holding your hand close to him. "I hate seeing you cry."
Of course, he does, you think. Why would anyone want to put up with your bawling? Why would anyone want to put up with you?
You can feel the hatred poisoning your veins, darkening the light in your heart. You know this hatred, this darkness. You know who it is aimed at. You are too familiar with its burn. You know it is going to mock your weakness and insult your very being because you know you feel that hatred for none other than yourself.
When you talk, you want to drown your voice just to never hear it again.
"I'm sorry."
You don't see Remus's confused face. You don't feel his bafflement. You only hear his loving pitying tone.
"For what?" he asks and doesn't wait for your reply. "Dove, come here."
You despise your body for betraying your mind. You abhor your heart for betraying your will. You hate your frailty when it comes to Remus.
You let him hold you close to his chest, sobbing into his touch. His hands caress your hair, his lips leaving kisses on your temple as comfort. Your body trembles under his affection, the tears staining his shirt.
"It's alright. You're alright," his tone hugs the scarred part of your soul. "I'm here."
"I'm sorry, Remus, I'm sorry–"
"What for, dove? You have nothing to be sorry about," he cuts you off, feeling that you're spiralling. "Tell me what's wrong. Tell me, we'll fix it together, yeah?"
You shake your head, clinging closer to his chest. This is the part you hate most. The part where the words line up against your tongue but don't know how to get out. Your feelings mock you, and you're afraid that if you talk, he will mock you, too.
Remus knows you. He has learned you well enough to know that you are struggling. He strokes your back, encouraging you to speak.
"Come on, dove. You'll feel better," he kisses your hair.
"No, I- It's not.." you mumble something between your sobs, and Remus tries so hard to understand you. He waits, patiently giving you the time you need to organise your thoughts, all while embracing you tightly.
"It's alright. Take your time."
You inhale a deep but shaky breath, your chest trembling from all the hiccups. You wish to speak, to share your pain with your lover, but it's just too heavy. So heavy that letters are like a burden to your tongue.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you don't know you're crying again until you feel teardrops on your hand. "I can't. This is it. This is all I got. It's not enough, I'm not enough."
"Hey, hey, hey," Remus pulls away, taking your face in his hands. "You're more than enough."
"No, no, I-I can't…I can't do better. I need to do better, I have to do better–"
Remus doesn't understand what you're talking about; your words don't make sense to him. All he knows is that your every tear is like a knife to his heart, your every sob is like a hit in the gut, and your every word is like a storm hitting his mind.
"You don't have to do anything. You're doing enough," he says, his heart clenching in pain at the sight of you. "Listen to me."
He puts his forehead on yours, closing his eyes. "Listen to me, dove."
He waits for you. He waits until your breathing calms down, your tears slow down, and your body stops shaking. You close your eyes, inhaling his scent.
"You're enough for me," he whispers, his hands still caressing your body. "I love you, and you're enough for me."
You feel the burn in your chest at ease, the burden in your tongue walking away. You feel your tears come to a halt, your soul finding comfort in his words.
"I love you, too," you whisper back.
"Then talk to me, and let me help you."
So, you talk. You tell him every word in your mind, every pain in your heart and every burden in your soul. You know he can't possibly solve all your problems or take away all your pain, but what he can do is always let you know he loves you, whether with his words or his actions.
I love Remus, I wish men were real.
Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!
and if you please, buy me a coffee <333
#remus lupin#andrew garfield#remus lupin angst#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x reader#remus x reader#remus angst#remus fluff#remus x you#remus x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin one shot#remus loves chocolate#remus lupin oneshot#the marauders#remus lupin supremacy#remus lupin scenario#taylor swift#sirius black#james potter#harry potter
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Remus Lupin - My Love
Pairing : Remus Lupin x (she/her) Reader
Word Count : 0.2k
Warning : Mentions of injuries.
Synopsis : A drabble of Remus hearing her mumble "My Love" in her sleep.
Notes : If you'd like to be tagged for future works, please fill the form here!
If you like this story and would like to support me, please visit my kofi page and perhaps get me a coffee?☕
Taglist: @sofiacblair @jsjcue @coffeehurricanes @ell0ra-br3kk3r @ineedmentalhelp123
Remus feels like he's just swallowed a thousand nails when his eyes flutter open. He should've gone used after thousands of transformations in his life, but waking up has never been an easy task for him. Every ache in his body amplifies, and the scars littering his body start to hurt the moment his senses were brought back to life. Each transformation seems to be harder than the previous.
He was about to reach for the glass of water when he felt the pressure on his hand. He looks down to see her. Head only supported by her folded arms while her hand holds onto his tightly. There's no doubt that she would wake up with a sore back from the awful position she was sleeping in, but the peaceful look on her face made it hard for him to try and wake her up. She, too, must feel tired from the full moon tonight.
"It's okay, Remus," She unconsciously mutters, sleep talking to herself "I'm here."
A smile crept up to his face. His heart swells with warmth from the nonsense she just said. He knew that it probably meant nothing, that she wouldn't even remember saying anything when she woke up later, but it still pleased him to know that even in her dreams, she's still taking care of him.
"I know, Love," His calloused thumb strokes the back of her hand "I know you're here. You're always here."
She lets out a small giggle, "I love it when you call me Love."
"I know you do," Remus says with an even wider grin "You shall hear it for the rest of your life, my Love."
#remus lupin#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin imagines#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenarios#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x oc
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oooh, reader finding out that her name in modern!remus’s phone is something super sweet like ‘my love’ and remus finds out his name in her phone is something ridicules like ‘daddy 🥵’ or ‘dicking down specialists’
"Send me that, would'ya, dove?" Remus smiles softly at the picture on your screen, a photo of your baby cousin giving him a rather drooly, wide-mouthed 'kiss' on the cheek as Remus tries turning away. He's got the most perfect expression you've ever seen on his face, a beautiful mixture of adoration and disgust.
"Mhm," You hum, tapping a mere three times to send the photo off to your boyfriend, "There y'go, Remus."
"Thanks." He grins, then his phone buzzes on the armrest of the couch, "Ah, look, m'girlfriend texted me."
He holds up the phone with something cheeky in his eyes, and your own gaze catches the contact name he has set for you on his phone: Lovey Dovey.
"Remus," You gush, mouth curling involuntarily into a good-natured pout, "That's so sweet. You're cheesier than I expected."
"Oh, please," He scoffs, "I'm sure yours is worse. What is it, sugar bear? Honey bunches? Snookums?"
Any of his further teasing quips are silenced when you resignedly murmur, "Captain Cock."
He blinks, mouth slowly closing, "What?"
"It's... it's Captain Cock," You repeat, "That's my- that's your name in my phone."
"Captain..." He echoes, and you nod, "Cock."
"'Cause we went to see that movie," You wave your hand, desperate to explain yourself away, "The- the war one. And the guy's name was Captain Cook, and- well, when we got home, you... we- uh, we fucked, so I just," You nearly fall silent, barely able to scrape together the courage to finish, "I just named you... Captain Cock."
"A war movie made you think of my dick?" Remus verifies, and you feel your cheeks blaze warmer, a level of heat you've never achieved before.
"Hey! You were the one who put the moves on me in the theater!" You defend, "I was watching a guy's head get blown through and you had your hand on my thigh! Plus," You scoff, grumbling without meeting his eyes, "Morning after, sure felt like I'd been through combat."
"I can't believe you," Remus laughs incredulously, "You nasty thing! All this time you've been my Lovey Dovey, and all you're thinking about is what's between my legs."
"No! No," You insist, ramming your face into his chest and trying to soothe the burn of your cheeks against the material of his sweatshirt, "Remus, stop it, you're being crass!'
"I'm being-! You're the one who's got my genitals saved in your phone!" He gushes, taking your jaw in his hands and pulling your face up to hover in front of his own despite your protests. He holds you there with a delighted grin on his face, one that's wolfish and teasing, "You're a perv, Y/N. Sirius would be very proud."
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one-shot#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin dialogue#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin headcanons#remus lupin headcanon#remus lupin hc#remus lupin hcs#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you
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I really hope you mean here 🤭
Request: "Remus is being rude to the reader due to the upcoming full moon.. make it as angsty as you can"
Thanks for requesting babe <3
cw: migraine, Rem is mean :(
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words
When you come home from work, the apartment is dark and there’s evidence of Remus’ shit day everywhere.
The curtains are drawn closed against the sunlight, and there’s a discarded blanket on the couch and several snack containers half-emptied on the coffee table. One of them has tipped onto the floor, a mess of crisps your boyfriend was likely feeling too unwell to tidy. He’s spilled tea on the table, too. These kinds of things are more common in the days before the full moon, but you think he must really be having a rough one. Even a few unwashed dishes in the sink is usually enough to stress Remus out, so he has to have been in a state to leave things like this.
You brew a fresh cup of tea, grabbing some chocolates from the cabinet in case he didn’t bring any with him, and broach the bedroom. A shape moves under the sheets when the door creaks open.
“Hi,” you say softly. You kneel by the bed, lightly touching the ends of Remus’ hair. “How are you, love?”
“Bad,” he mutters from beneath the covers. You wince. He must be, if he won’t even lower the sheets beneath his eyes.
You do your best to keep the pity from your voice, knowing he’d hate it. “I brought you some tea,” you murmur, “if you want it.”
“Can’t right now.”
“It’s chamomile,” you coax. “It might help—”
“I can’t.” The low rumble of his voice takes on a hard edge, and you fall instantly silent. You nod even though he can’t see it, setting the tea and chocolate on his nightstand as quietly as you can.
You don’t tell him you’re going, sure every footstep is agonizingly loud for him. You force down the lump in your throat. Remus is miserable right now; he’s not thinking about how his tone affects you, and that’s not his fault. He doesn’t mean anything by it. You can deal with it, help anyways.
You sweep instead of vacuuming, gathering the little bits of crisps into a dustpan and dumping them in the trash. The half-eaten snacks get reshelved in your cabinets, the puddle of tea cleaned off the coffee table, and candles lit to banish the stale smell in the living room. The cinnamon ones are usually Remus’ favorite, but you trade them out for lavender on the off chance it helps with his headache. You’re washing dishes one at a time so they don’t clatter when the bedroom door creaks open.
“Hey,” you say, relieved. “Feeling better?”
“No.” Remus’ voice is low, and the scratch of it tears at your heartstrings. He trudges to the end of the hall, where he stops, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “I need you to be quiet.”
“Oh, sorry.” You soften your voice, freezing with your hands submerged in the warm dishwater. “I’ve been trying, I didn’t realize you could hear. I’m almost done with this, so—”
“Could you stop?” he asks, tone going harsh again. “Just, be quiet or find somewhere else to be, please. I can’t deal with this.”
You swallow against the intrusion in your throat. Will away the heat from your face. “Okay,” you say, the word barely a whisper.
Remus turns, plodding back to the bedroom. You hear the door shut.
You leave the dishwater to get cold rather than pouring it out and making more noise. You sit down on the couch with a book, eyes skimming over the words as you convince yourself over and over that it’d be stupid to cry about this. Your face heats, then cools. Tears blur your vision and you blink them away. This is ridiculous. Remus is just moody, he didn’t mean it. You know better than to take anything he says to heart right now. You can’t expect your efforts to be properly appreciated, but the important part is to keep making them. When he’s feeling better, he’ll thank you in a million sweet ways, because that’s who he is. He loves you. He didn’t mean it.
It’s dark outside when the bedroom door creaks open again. You hadn’t noticed night falling, even when the light became too dim for you to make out the words on your page. You set your book down; you hadn’t been reading anyway.
Remus sits next to you without a word. He leans the side of his head against the cushion with a sigh.
“Dove?” he murmurs.
You don’t dare do more than hum in response.
A scarred hand finds your leg, the thumb sweeping back and forth over your skin. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” he says quietly. “That was…it was really mean. And undeserved.”
“I’m sorry I was being loud,” you reply, and you can’t help it, your throat clogs all over again. “I was just trying to help.”
Your voice catches on the last word, and Remus makes a pained sound that has you silencing yourself instantly. He makes another at your response.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” he rasps. “Do you want a hug?”
You bite down on your lower lip. “Are you okay to hug?”
“Yeah, sweetheart.”
He meets you in the middle, pressing upon your shoulder blades like he can hold you together by sheer physical force. You try for his sake, swallowing the cries that rise in your throat.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, palm marking a slow path up and down your back. “You weren’t too loud, I’m just fussy. You were only being your kind self. I had no reason to be so horrid.”
“You weren’t horrid,” you warble. “I know you’re having a hard time.”
“That’s no excuse.” His palm makes its way back to your shoulders just in time to feel the first little sob escape you. Remus’ grip tightens. “Aw, dovey. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t believe I spoke to you like that.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not,” he murmurs, kissing the exposed bit of skin where your shirt is slipping down your shoulder. “It’s not, and—” He pauses, looking around the room for the first time. “Did you clean?”
You nod against his front, feeling the pained sigh that leaves him.
“Fuck, I’m awful.”
“You’re not.”
“You were cleaning up my mess, and I yelled at you.” Now Remus’ voice sounds a tad raw too. He gathers you closer, stubble scratching your forehead as he kisses your hairline. “My sweet girl. You should have ripped me a new one.”
“You weren’t yelling,” you point out, teasing a bit now, “and anyway, it seemed like you were already being ripped a new one.”
“Still,” he mumbles into your hair. “You lit the lavender candles and everything. You deserve to put me through hell.”
“You’re already going through hell,” you remind him gently, brushing a kiss against his cheek. “I don’t need to help the process along. Do you want some tea, love?”
Remus hums. “I do, but let me get it. Let me get some for you, too, yeah?” He leans back to look down at you. “You want some nighttime tea, darling?”
You’re alright really, but you tell him you do anyway. He looks nearly happy as he drags himself into the kitchen, and he won’t stop mollycoddling you for the rest of the night.
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin angst#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin oneshot#remus lupin one shot#marauders#marauders era#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders#the marauders#marauders x reader
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paring: remus lupin x fem!reader
please keep in mind i have not written smut in so so long, and if i do write more i promise it will be better
this 18+!
You were meant to be deeply engrossed in your Charms studies, scanning over your notes, striving to commit every detail to memory. With the exam just a week away, your preparations could have been better, and you found yourself with limited knowledge of the subject. The urgency to study weighed heavily on your mind, a nagging reminder of what you should have been doing.
And you really should have been studying.
“Fuck, y’feel so good, dove.” Remus hisses, voice heavy with lust. He’s enamored with the sight of you. Bare and on your back for him, taking him so easily.
His cheeks are dusted pink, hair a mess from where you had carded your fingers through it just a mere minutes ago. His eyes are dark, trained to the sight of his cock sliding into your soaked pussy. Large palms cradling the backs of your thighs, keeping you pinned open for him.
“Rem-” You cry out, voice hoarse from the whimpers that have been leaving your lips for the better part of an hour. He can’t get enough of you, the way you look so ruined for him, and he’s only made you come once.
“What, baby? Tell me what you need.” He coos, reaching up to thumb away the tears sliding down your cheeks. Your lips part, yet no words escape, lost in the feel of Remus thrusting back into you, unable to form a coherent response.
His thumb dips down, rubbing firm circles onto your clit, “C’mon, dove. Use your words.” Your back arches with the added stimulation, tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrusts. Remus grins, ego fed by the sight of you below him.
“Harder, please.” You murmur, your voice unrecognizable, its tone gravelly from your whimpers and whines. Your lashes flutter, eyes fighting to stay open, struggling to maintain focus on him. Remus obliges, snapping his hips into yours, ripping a harsh scream from your throat. The new pace he sets is brutal, your hands grip onto the sheets in an attempt to steady yourself.
“Jesus, I can’t get enough of you,” He groans, thrusts turning sloppy and rough. “I love you. S’much.”
#elina's requests#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin#remus lupin fic#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x you#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin baby blurb#remus lupin dialogue#remus lupin headcanon#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin x reader
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remus lupin who takes you on any surface in his house.
one thing about remus is that he fucked harsh and rough. when he had you resting against a wall; one leg around his hip as your arms wrapped around his shoulders, he thrusted his cock inside of you fast and slick, his balls hitting your cunt as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.
if he was in the middle of work and you were too needy or horny, he wouldn’t fuss; bending you over his desk, hands clutching at your waist and digging into your skin as he slammed into your tight hole. you’d have your palms laid out on the wood surface in front of you, head thrown back in utter pleasure as remus grunted in unison to your whiny moans.
he especially loved fucking you into his couch — your body sprawled beneath him — as he watched how your boobs bounced about and his cock enter your pretty pussy. the way you’d bite your lips and have your eyes screwed shut while you made sinful noises only spurred remus on further, thrusting into you harder and eventually moving a hand from beside your head to pinch onto your nipples.
when it came to you both cumming, remus would always want to hold onto you as he let out a loud groan and cursed; the feeling of your skin coming to contact bringing him complete comfort.
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#remus lupin smut#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin drabble#harry potter imagine#harry potter smut#harry potter x reader#harry potter x you#harry potter scenarios#harry potter drabble#harry potter#sinnersami
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Rem’s copycat daughter. ~ R.J.L
{in which Remus’s daughter notices his scars, but thinks they’re just as pretty as you do.}
Harsh droning permeates your slumber and you reach to turn off your alarm clock. Once silence welcomes you again, you lay against your pillow with a deep sigh, soaking in the morning sun. Large, warm arms wrap firmly around your waist, and a warmth lays heavy on your ribcage. You look down to see a mop of disheveled brunette curls splayed across your middle. Unable to hold back your lovesick smile, you move to play with Remus’s hair. At the scratching at his scalp, he groans softly, squeezing you tighter while rubbing his nose into you. He looked like an angel in the morning light and it made you excited to live another day. With him.
“Daddy! Daddy!” A sweet, high voice calls. Your messy-haired daughter, all dimples and giggles, runs into the room. She launches herself onto Remus’s back, earning a hearty groan. “Ahh.. careful, sweetheart…” he mumbles, but rolls away from you to tend to his baby. You tuck yourself into his side, though, unable to face the morning chill even centimetres away from your husband. She’s already got herself under Remus’s other arm, her head laying on his shoulder. She’s looking at you with a big, excited smile. Much like her parents, she loves cuddles. Remus could die like this, he thinks. Both of his girls tucked under his arms. Protected. Safe.
Later in the day, in the kitchen bathed in glorious midday sunshine, Remus glides around, making his girls lunch. You sometimes make food, but Remus enjoys cooking thoroughly, and so he’ll make the occasional meal. He hums under his breath, clad in sweatpants and an oversized autumn jumper as he butters the bread.
“DADA! DADA, LOOKS AT ME!!” He hears his daughter cry, tiny arms locking around his shin. Dimples crack his cheeks as he puts the knife down, turning to admire his baby. You stand behind her, the proudest look on your face as you watch. She’s painted herself with felt-tip pens, drawing lines and swirls in all the places Remus has scars. His heart wrenches. “Look, daddy! Im you now!!! Super pretty!” She sings, jumping up and down, her hair bouncing and her grin wide. Remus kneels and pulls her into his arms, which she giggles and enjoys thoroughly. Nose buried in her hair, he blinks away unshed tears of pride, which dribble down the apples of his cheeks. “Oh, my baby..” he mumbles, before you stoop to join the hug. “You hear that rem? Super pretty.” You whisper, holding his head, and sandwiching your daughter in a gentle hug.
#marauders#marauders x reader#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin prompt#remus lupin#remus lupin x you#moony x reader#Remus Lupin💌*~
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delivered a crime.
pairing: remus x fem!reader.
summary: once a month remus needs to be patched up. that times 15 equals how many times he has to patch you up monthly.
content warnings: fluff, mentions of violence, condoning of violence, cuss words.
word count: 1,3k
"ouch ouch ouchhhh—" you wince scrunching your face hard, almost moving it altogether if it wasn't for remus' strong grip on your chin as he cleans your bloody nose. "remmyyyy, it hurts." you pout and he only shakes his head, chuckling through his nose.
"d'whine like this when you punched her first?" you frown dramatically, he knew too well of your antics, too good of a boyfriend, you would get into some fight, like some super hero, no pain, no tears, and then would transform into a cry baby when he was patching you up simply because you loved being taken care of by him. and by him only, obviously, not a side of you that was shown to anyone else.
"nop, but that cocksucker sure did." you try to smirk while you reply, but his grip on your face makes it almost impossible too, still your shoulders move a bit as you laugh.
"language, lady." he doesn't really care for that, but remus finds it endlessly amusing how far back you can roll your eyes when he teases you about it, specially because your mouth was always particularly dirty after a fight, still riled up from the adrenaline. he let your chin go and lightly pushed your cheek, turning your face around so he could clean a bruise near your scalp. "she smacked your head into a wall or something?"
"floor actually." remus tries, he really does try not to be amused, he doesn't want to enable this behavior, it's not safe, it's not right. and he worries so much about you, he does. but how can he not laugh when you're in front of him, all bruised, bloodied up, and still look so beautiful and so charming and talk about so nonchalantly? not a single worry behind those eyes, only recklessness. he's almost jealous. he plants a kiss beside the injury, glad it wasn't deep and it wouldn't need any stitches this time.
in a very sick sick sick way, this always calms him down, it makes him feel more normal. once a month it's the other way around, it's you going through his body for cuts and cleaning the blood and checking if he would absolutely need pomfrey this time (after a while it gets tiring being in a hospital bed). some couples learn to paint, or to knit, for you two it was first aid. first aid was remus' and yours thing.
remus takes both your hands with his carefully, looking to see which one was worse, your dominant one of course, he let the other go and kissed your knuckles, you tried not to but you still flinch, those were bad, you ended up hitting the floor a couple of times while you aimed for the hufflepuff's chin. at least it bloody broke, along with her nose and a least three teeth. "love, y'know so many jinxes, why, why always your pretty fists?" he always asks, he hopes anytime soon you will give him a different answer, but you don't.
"i'm not a bloody coward, rem." james and sirius are never happy when they hear you talk like that, they were avid users of jinxes as prank devices, and... problem solving devices. you told remus you believed violence to be more effective, he knew, or hoped, you felt it was easier to truly hurt someone with no way back with magic. he bandaged the first hand thinly, so you could still move it with a bit of freedom and went to clean the other one.
"why this time?" you stayed quiet. very quiet. too quiet. remus hated when you were quiet. you were not a quiet person, if you were quiet it meant you were in trouble. you were already being patched up so how worse could it be? "darling, why?"
"dunno, quidditch stuff." you don't play quidditch. you close your eyes immediately as the terrible terrible lie leaves your lips. quidditch? where did that even come from? you so didn't want to tell him the real reason.
remus didn't like you getting hurt, he specially didn't like you getting hurt because of him, that was even the only reason sirius kept you from punching severus months before, if he knows i was here and i let you start this i'm fuckin' dead, but you couldn't help it, he's your beautiful, caring boyfriend, who reads you to sleep, who shares cigs with you even when he says he's trying to stop, he patches you up after fights, and he gets you coffee even when he's drinking tea. he opens his coat so you can hug him and snuggle inside of it when it's snowy, and he asks you to stay up late with him studying even if you're gonna fall asleep on his lap because the sound of your breathing helps him focus. how, just how are you going to let anyone say anything about him?
he doesn't tell you off on your blatant lie instantly, finishing up the bandage on your hand. he sighs deeply and you know you did not get away with it, his right index finger goes to your chin and he uses it to push it softly so you're looking directly into his beautiful, worried, sincere eyes. "why?"
"she had it bloody coming a'ight—fourth year prick, too old to be blabbing about shit she knows fuckall about." remus doesn't respond, because you haven't either, you're stalling, he crosses his arms in front of his chest and gives you the courtesy of ignoring the fact the girl was three years younger than you. you try to fidget with your fingers but the bandages stop you, so you shrug and give him what he wants, "she was saying shit about your scars, thought she needed sum' of her own." for him, for his sake. his hands drop to his waist and he looks at you shaking his head, but his heart is warm and he hopes his cheeks aren't.
sure, he could be sad, offended, about some kids being idiots about his appearance, and truthfully, if he was younger, he would. remus didn't care about it much anymore, and how could he, when he pulled one of the most gorgeous girls he could ever dream of and you were smart, talented and could even easily destroy him with your fists if you wanted to. and there you were, all fucked up because you couldn't accept people talking about him. it was too endearing, and he shouldn't enable it, he knows it, his mind is yelling him not to, but his hands are pulling you to him for the tightest hug he's ever given you. "you gonna get scarred too, you—" he doesn't even have the mind to remember any cuss words to start any banter, really, "beautiful, little, crazy, thing." he kisses your neck countless times, his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you close.
"don' care, wear mine with honour." your voice is muffled, your mouth too close to his chest, you pull away just enough to look up to him, your hands flat to his body, "as should you." he leans in, closing the distance between you both once more, now with with a chaste kiss, that even so tastes like iron, and stings like a bitch.
"i love you, deeply, terribly. please, please, don't do this again... goddamn loony—oh no." you widen your eyes instantly, but you both laugh, glad that neither james nor sirius are nearby. if any one of them heard him slip up like that and use that word, of all the ones he could have... the two of you would never hear the end of it.
but that was truly it. moony was completely, head over heels, too far gone, heels over head, intensely in love... with a total loony.
he was enjoying every minute of it, though, even right now, the tight hug, the blood tasting kisses, and the way you looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
and he was. as you were his.
#lari writes sometimes#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus x you#remus x reader#remus x y/n#its 5am i NEEDED TO GET THIS OUTOF MY HEAD
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