#remus lupin fanfic | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pretentious-blonde · 2 days

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patched up

pairing: remus lupin x reader

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

warnings: cuts, wounds, physical pain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you did know. Painfully so.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

James nods. “You have our word.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly,” you nestle your head against him.

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

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inkdrinkerworld · 2 days

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Remus doesn't love when you get sick, he hates seeing you with a red raw nose and a fever but he loves how you act when you're under the weather.

You're usually his independent girlfriend when you're fully healthy, but the minute you're even a bit sniffly, you can't lift a finger for yourself and he loves that he can take care of you.

"Remmy," you whine, shoving your face into his chest as he helps you sit up in bed. You'd be wrecked with a fever over the night and Remus had been a diligent doctor and placed a cool rag on your chest and back and had you bundled up all night.

This little routine had gone on all morning when he realised that the fever never broke fully.

"My love," he responds, smiling when you lift your head with a shy smile. "What can I do for you?" He pulls the rag from behind you, feeling the back of your neck and finding the fever reduced but not gone.

"I just want a cuddle and a kiss." Remus pouts, smearing a kiss to your forehead, cheek and then your lips and pulls you a little closer to him and squeezes you tight.

Remus smiles over your head, especially when you nuzzle closer to his neck and shift your body to his lap. "Better?" he asks, amusement colouring his tone as he moves his hands around you to hold you better.

"A little," you're too nasal for your liking. You hate being ill. You hate it more than anything in the world, but your job gets you sick every term. "Do we have vegetable soup?"

Remus hums, "I can make you some. With beef stock?"

You perk a little, leaning back to look at him with your bleary eyes. "And lots of egg noodles."

Remus nods, "But you have to take all your medicine." That deflates you instantly and he chuckles at the way you grimace. "Baby, you have to."

"But I don't want the syrup." You sound petulant and whiny but you lean even more into Remus, like you can hide away yourself in him and it makes his heart stampede in his chest.

"I won't give you the syrup, babylove." he pushes back your sweaty hair and kisses your forehead, frowning when he feels your fever again. "However," and at that you whine again, holding onto his neck as if it would save you from whatever heartbreaking news Remus was about to tell you.

"Rem," you cut him off and he shakes his head, only a little stern as he speaks again.

"You'll have to take something for your fever and they won't be the gummies you like. They'll more likely be tablets."

You sniffle wetly, congested making you sound worse as you speak. "Just two?"

Remus nods and pulls you from his neck, wiping the tears that tumble down your cheeks. "Just two. Give me thirty minutes to get everything together and we can have a cwtch and watch a show while you eat."

You nod, kissing Remus' wrist as you climb out of his lap and lay on the bed. He tucks you in and sets a cool rag on your chest just before he leaves and heads to the kitchen.

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allllium · 11 hours

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The Perfect Gift

~ Today is my birthday and I immediately thought about Remus being the best boyfriend ever so here's something short and sweet about Remus being amazing for your birthday <3

~ Fluff, Remus being a little insecure, WC: 963

~ Remus gets you the perfect birthday gift

Remus was really nervous. He often is around you but this time it's worse. Today is your birthday and he got you what at the time seemed like a great gift, but now, after seeing the things you got from everything else, he doesn't feel like it's so great anymore.

All day he has seen you get these amazing, slightly expensive gifts, all of which now make his gift pale in comparison. He decided not to buy you anything this year, feeling like nothing was good enough for you, instead he made you something. More like he tries to make something and ending up needing his mum to help him.

He holds the bag tentatively in his hand. A simple black bag with a ribbon of your favorite color keeping it tied. He makes his way to the muggle restaurant you agreed to meet at for dinner. After spending all day at a birthday party with your friends and family, you went shopping with a couple close friends to get new clothes for a fancy dinner.

"Rem!" You light up when you see him. You'd just gotten there moments before and decided to wait outside until he showed up.

"Hi angel." He greets in a gently murmur, pulling you in for a quiet kiss.

"You got me a gift?" You smile and ask. Of course you expected it considering Remus gets you gifts more often than you can count.

"Obviously. I love any day where I can celebrate you." He begins to walk into the restaurant as if he didn't just make you swoon. You move quickly to catch up and grab his hand.

"What is it?" You question inpatiently. You've been waiting all day for this, not just for a gift but getting a gift from him specifically. You know whatever is in that bag will be much more thoughtful and meanful to you than anything else you've gotten today. Everything else were things that people spent a lot of money on to make up for the up they don't really know what you would want. Remus knows.

"You're gonna have to wait till after dinner."

"Awwww why?" You immediately whine.

"Cause I said so."

"Meanie." You whisper, walking up towards the hostess.

Dinner lasts well over an hour. Well dinner lasted about 20 minutes once you got your food, but you and Remus stayed far longer. You spent the time talking and laughing and on Remus's end clearly procrastinating giving you your gift.

You know he's doing this because he's been fiddling with the ribbon and steering the conversation away from it every time.

"So what's making you overthink this time?"

For a moment he gives you a strange look but he quickly smiles and asks what you mean.

"Well you won't give me the gift which wouldn't matter except you've been really excited about it for weeks. Obviously you're thinking about something and I guarantee you have no reason to." You swiftly explain.

"I'm sorry, angel. I didn't get you a gift. I made you one well my mother and I made you one. But I don't know if it'll match up to the other gifts you got today." He shyly says. His face turning a shade of red.

"You made me something?" You grin wildly at him and his overly sweet heart. "Gimme it. Please."

"I don't know maybe I should get you something else."

"Hell no. Hand it over before I come over this table and get it myself." The threat comes out of your mouth before you have the opportunity to stop it. Remus only smiles at you, both because he knows you'll actually do it and it makes him feel slightly better about his strange insecurity.

He finally sighs and hands over the bag. Knowing he really has no choice. He watches anxiously as you carefully pull off the ribbon and remove the tissue paper. Watching as your face drops and eyes slightly tear. For a moment he thinks he was right in being scared but you jump out of your seat and move to his side of the table. Your chair scraps loudly against the tile floor and he winces at the noise.

At his side of the table you hug him enough to push the air out of his lungs. You grab his face and give him many quick kisses, ignoring the strange looks from people at surrounding tables.

"I love it. I love it. I love you!" You exclaim.

"Are you sure?" He asks, confused by your out of ordinary outburst.

"Remus this is the best gift I've ever gotten. I love you so much." You immediately ask him to put it on you. Lighting up even more if possible when you look down at your wrist to see the gorgeous bracelet. The gorgeous bracelet that your amazing boyfriend, and his mum, hand made just for you. The gorgeous bracelet with carved, metal charms dangling from it. The gorgeous bracelet that somehow fits you perfectly.

"I thought that I could make you more charms as time goes on. Things that represent what we are together, y'know." You look at him for a split second, with tears in your eyes, before looking back down to closely admire the charms you already have. As of right now there's a wolf, a star, a flower, and a sun. The sun is special. You flip it over to see a small engraved heart with both your initials in it.

"You are the most perfect man to exist." You turn to him and say. "Seriously this is the best gift ever."

"I love you." He says. Standing from his chair and pulling you in by the waist.

Putting your head against his, you whisper, "I love you more."

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slytherinspired · 1 day

Text

Yet - A Remus Lupin Imagine (smut)

Following the same story and universe as Tell Me About series! Here I am... 10 years later?

Remus stood before the counter, his hands trembling with a desperation he struggled to suppress. His clothes, worn and faded, hung loosely on his frame. His voice, when it came, was loud yet strained, as if it had been dragged from a place of deep frustration. The clerk in front of him sat behind a towering mahogany desk, her fingers moving in swift, precise gestures, as though casting spells without a wand. Her face was pale and angular, softened only by the shadow of dim candlelight that flickered along the Ministry’s endless corridors. The clerk was dressed in the neat, sober attire of Ministry officials, a crisp grey uniform with silver buttons that reflected the cold, bureaucratic glow of the room. Her brown hair was pinned back tightly, not a strand out of place, except for a thin streak of white that curled at her temple.

“You don’t understand!” he shouted. The words felt twisted, as if they fought to balance on the edge between civility and rage. The witch behind the counter flinched but remained still, her fingers gripping the edge of the desk. She had no more to offer him than the faint apology etched into her expression. “I need to work.”

He needed the money. That need pulsed in the room like a living thing, thickening the air between them. But all she could offer was silence, her eyes downcast, her hands empty. Papers floated softly to her from unseen corners, filing themselves with barely a flick of her wrist. Behind her desk, a charmed quill wrote furiously on a long parchment, recording the day’s tasks with an efficiency that bordered on eerie.

“Like I told you –” she said, “Mr Collins needs help with his books, but I don’t have anything else right now for you.”

Remus shook his head. “Mr Collins won’t work with me. You know it.”

There it was—unspoken but palpable. The reason why each request was met with hesitance, each job prospect slipped through his fingers like grains of sand. He didn’t need to say it aloud anymore; the label had been burned into his very being. Werewolf. In the wizarding world, it was more than a condition—it was a curse. Few wanted to hire a werewolf. The fear lingered in every interaction, no matter how mundane. The Ministry had their own discreet policies on “dangerous creatures”.

“I am sorry, Mr Lupin.” Her voice was smooth and low, tinged with the practiced indifference of someone who had seen many come and go from the Ministry’s endless halls. Her brown eyes showed nothing but disinterest. “Just come back next week.”

“I’m here every week,” he sighed, “asking you for work, and each time it is the same. Why don’t you send me an owl if there’s something in the meantime? It would spare me from having to come here and bother you.”

The witch raised her eyebrows and smiled mockingly. “Oh? And to what address should I send it?”

She knew too well he didn’t have an address. He lived in his damn car – had been living in it for months now. The Ministry’s endless red tape, combined with the stigma of his condition, had shut every door before him. Each job interview, each opportunity, crumbled the moment his lycanthropy was mentioned or even hinted at. It was as if the wizarding world had no place for him outside the fringes of society.

He turned away without bothering to say goodbye. There was nothing for him there.

Finding work in the Muggle world had proven just as impossible. At first, it seemed like an escape—no one in the Muggle realm knew about werewolves, and the Ministry couldn’t interfere as easily. But even there, he couldn’t outrun his condition. Each month, as the full moon approached, he would feel the familiar dread tightening in his chest. He couldn’t just call in sick for three days without raising suspicion, and disappearing every month had quickly made him unreliable. Employers grew wary, questioning the strange absences. He had been let go from more jobs than he cared to remember, dismissed for being "untrustworthy" or "inconsistent."

Remus had been careful with the modest inheritance his parents had left him, stretching every Galleon to make it last. For a time, it allowed him to rent a small flat near Diagon Alley, a place where he could be somewhat connected to the magical world. But even that fragile stability crumbled after two years, when Mrs. Daisy, his elderly neighbour, had complained to the landlord, claiming she didn’t feel safe living next door to a werewolf. No one had said it outright, but the eviction notice came soon after.

Afterward, he managed to find a tiny studio in London, outside the magical community, but the rent required sterling pounds, not Galleons, and even without his affliction, finding work in the Muggle world have proved nearly impossible without the proper credentials. He had no Muggle schooling, no tangible proof of any experience, and no one was willing to take a risk on a man with an incomplete story. For a brief spell, he worked at a small café, washing dishes in the back, but his frequent absences around the full moon quickly made him expendable. “It’s just not working out,” his manager had said, barely meeting his eyes as he handed over the final pay check.

After that, it had been a string of odd jobs—cleaning homes, scrubbing cars, whatever he could find that didn’t require questions or paperwork. But even those jobs dried up after a few months, the repeated absences stacking up like a curse he couldn’t escape. It didn’t matter how hard he worked or how much he tried to hide his condition; sooner or later, the same pattern emerged. He’d disappear for a few days, recover in secret, and by the time he returned, the whispers had already started. They always ended the same way: with him packing his few belongings and moving on to the next temporary refuge, the shadows of his secret following him wherever he went.

But then, happier days came. And he embraced them as much as he could.

Mr. Collins had been one of the rare few to take a chance on Remus, inviting him into his home with little fuss or prying questions. The old wizard had an impressive collection of books and papers in desperate need of organization, and Remus had relished the work. The house itself felt like a sanctuary—a sprawling estate tucked away from the bustling wizarding world, with its heart being the grand library that stretched wall to wall with ancient tomes and fragile manuscripts. For six peaceful months, Remus had lived there, surrounded by books, his evenings filled with the quiet companionship of Mr. Collins. They would often sit by the fire, sipping tea or scotch depending on the mood, talking about the wizard’s past adventures and far-flung travels. Remus had almost allowed himself to believe that he had found a place where his affliction didn’t matter.

Everything changed overnight.

The trouble had started with a routine trip to the Ministry to pick up his Wolfsbane Potion. With the full moon only days away, Remus needed it to maintain control during his transformation. But that day, there had been none. The Ministry’s supplies had run dry, and in a rising panic, Remus went to every apothecary in Diagon Alley, pleading for them to brew it for him. The answer was always the same—there was no Wolfsbane to be had, not until a delayed shipment of rare herbs arrived. Desperation clawed at him as the full moon loomed closer.

When the night finally came, Remus did the only thing he could—he locked himself in the cellar beneath the guest house on Mr. Collins’ estate, far away from the main house and anyone who could be harmed. He chained himself tightly, trying to prepare for the agonizing transformation. But without the Wolfsbane, Remus knew that the wolf was savage, uncontrollable. As the change tore through his body, so too did the creature’s instincts, stronger than any chain he had prepared. The bonds snapped, and the beast roamed the grounds, its hunger and rage unleashed. The wolf howled to the moon, its cries cutting through the still night air as it hunted the estate, searching for prey.

Mr. Collins’ housekeeper had been outside that night, restless and unable to sleep. She had been wandering through the gardens when the wolf appeared, a massive shadow with glowing eyes. In a split second, it lunged. Only the quick intervention of Mr. Collins, who had been awakened by the howling, had saved her. He subdued the wolf before it could do any real damage, but the incident left its mark.

The next morning, Remus awoke in human form, bruised, aching, and filled with dread. He didn’t need to hear Mr. Collins' words to know what was coming. When he entered the kitchen, his pay was already waiting for him on the counter, along with a leather trunk packed with his few belongings. On top of the trunk rested a book from Mr. Collins' private collection—Remus's favourite, one he had admired during his long nights in the library. The wizard had even engraved the trunk with Remus’s initials, a final gesture of parting kindness.

Beside it, a note in Mr. Collins’ elegant script read simply: Thank you for your service.

It was over. Whatever peace he had found there was gone, lost in a single night.

When Remus came back to London, the weight of his situation bore down on him like a suffocating fog. He needed a place to live, but the few Galleons he had saved were barely enough to cover the cost of a small studio, let alone food and the Wolfsbane Potion that he relied on every month. He ran the calculations over and over in his head—if he paid for rent, he’d only have enough to survive for a couple of months before everything dried up.

That was when he met a young wizard at the Leaky Cauldron, selling an old, battered car for next to nothing. The decision had been easy. The car was cheaper than rent, and living in it meant he could stretch his money long enough to eat and scrape by while searching for work. So, Remus took it, and for two months now, the car had become his home—an old, rusting shelter parked in the backstreets of Muggle London. But work never came. Not for someone like him.

Each Friday became a routine of survival. Remus would head to the Leaky Cauldron, where the kindly innkeeper allowed him to sit down with a free bowl of soup and a cup of tea. Sometimes, if the inn wasn’t fully booked, he was even allowed to use one of the rooms to take a hot shower, a luxury he was rarely afforded. Those brief moments of warmth and comfort were fleeting, but he clung to them like a lifeline.

After his shower, he’d walk back to the Ministry, heading straight to the Wizarding Work Bureau, where hope flickered and died week after week. Every Friday, he found himself standing before the same brown-haired clerk. And every Friday, her reply was the same: nothing new, no work available. The expression on her face was always tired, indifferent. Remus couldn’t blame her—his situation was just another file in a growing stack. Another life falling through the cracks.

He’d leave the bureau and step into the great hall of the Ministry, watching witches and wizards bustling about their business, oblivious to the fact that his world was crumbling. He wondered sometimes if he could even blame them. After all, his affliction was real, dangerous, and he understood their fear. But understanding didn’t make it easier to live with. He had grown thinner, his clothes hung loosely on his frame, and his face had become gaunt, his eyes shadowed by dark circles that deepened with each restless night spent in the backseat of his car. At just 28, streaks of grey had already woven through his hair, and he looked older than his years—like the ghost of the man he had once been.

He was about to leave the Ministry, ready to disappear into the crowded streets once more, when something stopped him. A glimpse of black hair. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it—his tired mind playing tricks on him—but then he saw her again.

Eliana.

It all came rushing back to him in an instant, as if the past had never let him go. Eliana had arrived at Hogwarts during their sixth year, transferring from an old, distinguished town in Italy. Her beauty had been striking—impossible to ignore—and it wasn’t long before she caught the attention of everyone. Sirius, however, had despised her from the moment he noticed the colour of her tie. Ellie and her younger sister had been sorted into Slytherin. But Remus had seen the look in his friend's eyes, the disdain that masked something deeper.

It wasn’t just the house she’d been placed in; it was the undeniable pull she had over him. She was one of the most captivating girls Remus had ever laid eyes on, and though Sirius never admitted it, Remus knew he felt the same. They had fought constantly—Sirius and Eliana—bickering in the halls, trading insults in class, to the point where even the professors made a point of keeping them apart.

But everything shifted that summer. Sirius had run away from his family, severing ties with the House of Black once and for all. When they returned to Hogwarts for their final year, something about him had changed. Remus noticed how Sirius’s silver eyes lingered on Ellie now, no longer filled with resentment, but something softer. By Christmas, they were holding hands, sitting together at meals, whispering in quiet corners. They were inseparable, and it wasn’t long before everyone was talking about how perfect they were for each other—two rebels who had found solace in each other’s arms.

Everyone agreed they were made for each other—everyone except Eliana’s family. Her parents couldn’t accept that their eldest daughter, heir to an old and revered lineage, was in love with the disowned son of one of the most infamous wizarding families. The Blacks may have been prestigious, but Sirius’s rebellion had tarnished their name in the eyes of the pure-blood elite. Yet, despite the tension, Eliana stood by him. She had promised that one day, she would confront her family, make them understand. But that day never came.

Everything fell apart. Darkness had crept into Sirius’s world, and when Remus told Eliana what he had done, to Peter and James – and Lily, the crimes he’d committed, she refused to believe it. She couldn’t. They fought—terribly, violently—words flung at each other like curses. A month later, she disappeared. Without a word, she left, and no one knew where she had gone. Remus had tried to reach her, sending letters to her parents, even tracking down her younger sister, begging for answers. But there had been no replies, just silence. A year later, he found out her family had sold their house in London. Ellie had vanished from his life, as though she had never existed at all.

She left the Ministry, and Remus followed, keeping his distance, too afraid to call out, too afraid to shatter the fragile image of her that had lingered in his mind for years. What if she wasn’t the same? What if the Eliana he remembered—the one who had disappeared so suddenly—was gone, replaced by someone colder, more distant? Her hurried steps echoed in the quiet streets until she reached the door of the Leaky Cauldron. Remus watched from the shadows as she slipped inside. He hesitated for a moment, then followed.

She made her way to the bar, her movements quick and deliberate. He stayed back, watching, listening, his heart hammering in his chest. He heard her voice, unmistakable even after all these years.

“Fire whiskey, please.”

That voice—it sent a shiver through him. It was hers, no doubt about it. He could have recognized it anywhere.

He stood at a distance, watching as she downed the glass in one swift gulp, her fingers gripping the empty glass as if trying to hold on to something far more elusive.

“One more,” she said, her voice steady, but there was an edge to it—something raw and unguarded.

The bartender frowned but obliged, pouring another glass. She tossed it back just as quickly.

“In fact,” Eliana said, placing a piece of gold on the counter, “just give me the whole bottle.”

The bartender raised an eyebrow. “Careful with that,” he warned. “It’s strong.”

She scoffed. “Strong is exactly what I need right now.”

She grabbed the bottle and turned—only to find herself face-to-face with Remus. Their eyes locked. For a moment, the world seemed to stop, suspended in the charged space between them. The bottle slipped from her grasp, but before it could hit the floor, Remus caught it with a quick flick of his hand.

“Careful with that,” he echoed the bartender's words, offering her a small, shy smile as he handed the bottle back to her.

Eliana stood there, stunned, her expression unreadable. She blinked, seemingly unsure of what to say, then turned back to the bar, grabbing an empty glass. After a long pause, she took a deep breath and finally spoke.

“Shall we... sit?” she asked quietly.

Remus frowned, feeling a twinge of disappointment. He hadn’t expected her to rush into his arms, not after everything, but he hadn’t expected her to be so... indifferent. They found a quiet, dimly lit corner, away from the crowd, and sat down. The air between them felt thick, like an unspoken question hanging there, unanswered.

“I didn’t know you were in London,” Remus said, breaking the silence. His voice was softer than he intended, as if he feared that if he didn’t speak, she might vanish again.

“You weren’t supposed to know,” she replied, pouring the fire whiskey into two glasses and sliding one toward him.

He took it, feeling the warmth of the liquid as he sipped, the heat spreading through his chest. “How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I arrived yesterday,” she said, swirling the amber liquid in her glass. “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Remus frowned. “Do you come to London often?”

Her eyes stayed fixed on her drink. “First time in five years,” she muttered. “I wasn’t supposed to ever come back.”

That, he had guessed.

“So, why are you here?” His voice was barely more than a whisper, but the question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of the years between them.

She took another sip, her gaze distant. “It’s Clara’s birthday. I came to visit her.”

“Clara’s in London?” Remus was genuinely surprised. Eliana’s younger sister had left the city around the same time she did.

“She’s been here for two years now,” Eliana replied, finally looking up at him. “She studied healing in America, but she got an opportunity to be a resident at St. Mungo’s.”

Remus felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t known. He’d never seen Clara in all this time, never even heard whispers of her name.

“Usually, she comes back to Italy for her birthday, but this year she’s on call, so I thought I’d surprise her,” Eliana continued, her voice quieter now, as if the weight of everything was pressing down on her.

“And you?” Remus asked, his voice low. “You’re in Italy now?”

She nodded, but there was no warmth in the gesture. He had thought she had returned to her family after leaving London, but he didn’t know where nor did he have the means to search for her. Over time, he had accepted that she was gone, that she didn’t want to be found.

“I looked for you,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “The first year. I wrote to your parents. They sold the house, and I couldn’t find where you had gone. I wanted to write, but—”

Eliana reached out, her hand resting on his. The touch was sudden, unexpected, and he nearly flinched from the warmth of it. He hadn’t felt her touch in years.

She used to be so kind to him. They’d study together when Sirius was too tired to care. They’d spend whole nights in the library, preparing for the next test. Often, they’d compare their answers and have burst of laughs. And when she had guessed his condition, she never pulled back, on the contrary, she used to help him and the boys prepare for the full moon. She took care of him after, bringing him hot chocolate the following mornings after a transformation.

“I left for a reason, Remus,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of something final, something unspoken. “I didn’t want to be found.”

“Why?” he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

She looked away, her fingers slipping from his hand as quickly as they had touched it. Remus could see the hurt in her eyes, the grief she had carried for so long. She had been mourning—Sirius, their future, everything she had lost—but was it enough to leave without a word? Was the pain of losing Sirius worth abandoning everything else?

She didn’t answer the question burning on his lips, but she took his hand, her touch soft, hesitant. “I never meant to hurt you,” she whispered.

He knew she had been angry—angry with him for not believing in Sirius’s innocence, for standing against her when she had tried so hard to defend the man she loved. Their last conversation had been bitter, sharp words exchanged like hexes. She had called him a horrible friend, accused him of betraying Sirius’s memory, of believing that his best friend could be capable of murder and treachery. And he, in his grief, had thrown her words back at her, refusing to believe that she could still defend the man who had killed Peter, who had betrayed James and Lily’s trust. Who had made his own godson an orphan.

Remus shook his head, squeezing her hand gently. “I didn’t mean to either.”

She laughed softly, but it was a sad, hollow sound. She pulled her hand away, running her fingers nervously through her dark hair. “I didn’t plan on seeing you again,” she admitted. “I wasn’t supposed to be here.”

“You must have known I wasn’t far...” he replied quietly, studying her face, trying to read the thoughts behind her guarded expression.

She shrugged, her lips curving into a faint, almost wistful smile. “To be honest, Remus, I thought you’d have left London by now. You never liked it here.”

She was right, of course. He had always craved the quiet solitude of the countryside, the peace it offered compared to the chaos of city life. But circumstances had tied him to this place. “I don’t really have a choice at the moment.”

Eliana’s gaze flickered with curiosity, but she didn’t push. She could see the weariness in his face, the gauntness in his frame, and he didn’t want to burden her with the details of his life. Not after all this time.

“So,” he said, changing the subject as he poured them another round of fire whiskey, “what are you doing now, back home?”

She hesitated for a moment, as if weighing her words. “I’m a barrister,” she said finally, her voice soft but steady.

Of course she was, Remus thought. She had always had a fierce sense of justice, always fighting for the underdog. It seemed fitting. She studied him with a small, knowing smile. “It suits me, don’t you think?”

She had not been able to fight for Sirius.

Remus smiled back, but there was something faint about it, as if he couldn’t quite summon the warmth he used to feel. “And are you happy?” he asked, his eyes falling to her left hand, where he had noticed the glint of a ring earlier.

Eliana glanced down at the ring, as if surprised to see it there herself. “Yes,” she answered softly. “I am.”

“He’s a lucky man,” Remus said, his tone genuine, though there was a flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

Her expression faltered for just a moment, her gaze clouding over with something unreadable.

They talked for what felt like hours, dancing around the past, avoiding the name that hung between them like a shadow. They didn’t dare speak of Sirius, both too afraid that the mention of him would reignite the pain and bitterness that had driven them apart all those years ago. Eliana tried, more than once, to ask about Remus—how he was really doing—but it was clear she already knew. She could see the struggle etched into his skin.

At one point, she offered to order dinner, but Remus refused, his pride too strong to accept her charity, especially from her. He could feel her pity, and he hated it. The night wore on, and eventually, Ellie glanced out the window, watching as the sky darkened and snow began to fall, dusting the streets in a soft, silent white.

“I should go,” she said, standing up reluctantly.

Remus rose with her. “Let me walk you outside,” he offered.

She shook her head. “There’s no need.”

But Remus reached for her hand, and she let him take it. His eyes locked onto hers, his voice low and serious. “If this is the last time I see you, Ellie, at least let me walk with you. I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye last time.”

She hesitated, then nodded.

Outside, the air was crisp, the snowflakes catching the glow of the Christmas lights strung along the street. The festive scene felt oddly out of place, the cheerful lights at odds with the heaviness between them. Eliana walked beside him in silence for a while, her arms wrapped tightly around herself.

“Are you living far from here?” she asked, glancing sideways at him. “I’m just around the corner. Maybe we could walk together?”

“I’m fine,” Remus said, offering her a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She stopped, then, looking up at him with concern. Before he could protest, she stepped into his arms, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. He rested his chin on the top of her head, breathing in the faint scent of her perfume, a familiar comfort from a time long past.

“I can’t shake the feeling that you’re not,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. Her green eyes shimmered with tears, and for a moment, Remus felt something in him break.

“Don’t worry about me,” he said lightly, scoffing to cover the ache in his chest. He pointed to the old red car parked just a few feet away. “I’ve got all I need.”

Eliana pulled away from him, frowning as she walked up to the car, her brow furrowed. “Is this... yours?”

“Not bad, eh?” Remus said with a laugh, trying to brush it off.

But it was absurd. She came from a world of wealth and privilege, and here he was, trying to play off the fact that he was living out of a beat-up car.

“Well, it’s got style, I’ll give you that,” she said with a soft smile, but then her expression shifted. She peered through the windows of the car, her face growing serious.

“Remus,” she asked, her voice quiet, “are you... living in your car?”

He sighed, tilting his head back to look at the sky. “It’s just temporary,” he said, the words feeling hollow even as he spoke them.

Eliana stepped closer, her hand finding his once again. Her face was filled with concern, the same look she used to give him at Hogwarts, whenever she worried for his well-being.

All those years, always worrying about him.

And here she was, still doing it.

She wore the same worried look when Sirius would show too much affection towards her in front of him. She always glanced at Remus, a quick look to make sure he was alright. And every time, he ignored it—ignored that pitiful gaze he despised so much.

“Let me show you something,” she said, her voice soft but firm.

She took his hand, and together they walked through the blurry, illuminated streets. The night felt strange, the lights of the city glowing brighter than usual, casting everything in an almost dreamlike haze. They stopped in front of an old Victorian building, its weathered brickwork speaking of better days. Without a word, Eliana opened the front door, and Remus stepped in, his heart heavy but his feet following her without hesitation.

The entrance led through a narrow, dimly lit hallway with a winding staircase, where the sounds of distant conversations echoed faintly from above. Inside, the flat was modest but charming. Tall sash windows framed the streets below, and the living room, with its classic crown mouldings, felt warm despite the unused fireplace. Wooden floorboards creaked beneath her feet.

“Clara’s rented this place when she came back to London,” Eliana said as she flicked on the lights with a casual wave of her hand. “But she moved in with her partner six months ago, so now she just uses it as storage. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s comfortable.”

“It’s nice,” Remus murmured, still standing in the doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets.

Ellie frowned and gestured for him to come in properly. “Please, make yourself at home.”

Remus cleared his throat and stepped further inside, still cautious, as if he were afraid he might knock something over or leave a mark where he didn’t belong. Eliana removed her black cloak, revealing an all-black outfit underneath. The simplicity made her seem almost otherworldly in the soft light.

“There’s a small living room here, the kitchen’s just over there,” she said, pointing to a tiny space to her right. “An office through that door, and a decent-sized bedroom next to it. The bathroom’s at the end of the hall.”

As she spoke, Remus couldn’t help but wonder why she was describing all this to him. This was the kind of flat he couldn’t even dream of renting. He wasn’t sure why she had brought him here—until he felt something cold press into his hand. Looking down, he saw a key.

“What—”

“Clara’s moving to France in a couple of months,” Eliana explained, cutting him off before he could protest. “There’s still two years left on the lease, and it’s a nightmare finding someone reliable to sublet. The owner’s a witch who only rents to people like us. It would be a waste to leave it empty when I know you could use it.”

Remus shook his head, immediately trying to hand the key back to her. “I can’t accept this. It’s a kind offer, but—”

“But what?” she interrupted; her tone sharp but not unkind. “It’s almost winter, Remus. You can’t live in your car. I won’t allow it.”

He scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping before he could stop it. “You haven’t cared where I’ve lived for the last five years. Why now?”

The words sounded harsher than he had intended, but he couldn’t take them back.

Eliana didn’t flinch. She didn’t even seem angry, just... resigned. “I understand why you’d feel that way,” she said softly. “I know I’ve hurt you, but believe me, Remus, I didn’t want to leave you behind like that. It wasn’t just my choice.”

“Then why did you?” His voice was low, but the question cut through the space between them like a knife.

She sighed, running a hand through her long hair. “I was angry. Angry that you could believe such awful things about him.” She didn’t dare speak his name. “I needed you to fight with me, to at least give him a chance, to hear his side of the story. And when you didn’t... I felt like I was losing everything. You didn’t just turn your back on him—you left me alone too.”

Remus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to stave off the familiar sting of guilt. It was the same argument they’d had all those years ago, and yet here it was again, haunting them both.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I wasn’t the friend you needed. I’m sorry I abandoned you.” He held out the key again, offering it back. “But I can’t accept this, Ellie. I don’t need your pity.”

She let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Pity?” she echoed. “Is that really what you think this is?”

What else could it be?

“You’ve always tried to protect me,” Remus said quietly, his voice strained. “Even back at Hogwarts. I know you knew... how I felt.”

He hesitated, but there was no need to finish. She knew. She had always known how he felt—how much he wished she didn’t love Sirius the way she did. And how much he wished Sirius didn’t love her back just as fiercely. They were soulmates, and it had always crushed him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

“This isn’t pity, Remus,” she said, sitting down on the couch, her fingers pressing into her temples as though she could push away the weight of the conversation. She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “It’s care. It’s love. I can’t stand the idea of you being homeless, living in your car. I had no idea things were this bad.”

Remus sighed, his exhaustion overwhelming him. He sat down too, sinking into the cushions beside her, his body heavy with the burden of everything left unsaid.

“Has it been this way since I left?” she asked, her gaze fixed on him.

He shook his head, not wanting her to carry the full weight of his struggles. But he didn’t have the strength to lie, either. The truth was somewhere in between, and as they sat in the quiet flat, the years of pain and silence between them felt heavier than ever.

“It was fine for a while,” he began, hesitating. “But being what I am… you know. People fear me. They’re right to.”

Eliana edged closer, her expression softening as she reached for his hand. “No one should fear you.”

Remus gave a hollow laugh. “I’m a monster, Ellie. Quite literally.”

Her hand moved to his chin, gently turning his face toward hers. “Look at me,” she said firmly. “You are not a monster. You’re the kindest, most thoughtful person I’ve ever known.”

“Kindness doesn’t matter much when I turn into a wild animal every full moon,” he muttered, eyes drifting to the window. “Even with wolfsbane, I’m just a shadow of myself, too drained to do anything but exist.”

His gaze traced the night sky, as if searching for answers in the stars. “It’s coming again… two days from now. I’m already worn out. Everything hurts.”

Eliana’s voice broke as she whispered, “I’m so sorry.” A tear slipped down her cheek.

“It is what it is,” Remus replied, standing slowly and moving toward the door.

“Stay,” she called after him, her voice trembling.

He paused, eyes closing against the weight of her plea.

“Please, Remus,” she said again, stepping closer. “Let this be your home, just for a while. Let me give you a chance to rest, to not worry about where you’ll sleep tomorrow.”

His heart clenched painfully. He turned to her, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “There’s only one thing I want, Ellie,” he whispered. “Don’t leave. I can’t be alone anymore. I need a friend.”

He broke down, his voice cracking under the weight of his confession. Eliana was at his side in an instant, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I can’t stay, Remus,” she said softly.

He looked down, his heart sinking further. He knew she had a life elsewhere, with someone waiting for her. Someone she loved.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice hollow.

Ellie gave a nervous laugh. “I didn’t want to see you again,” she admitted, her gaze locking with his. “I was terrified of this moment…”

“Am I that frightening?” he tried to joke, though his heart wasn’t in it.

She traced the scar on his face with a gentle touch. “Not at all,” she whispered, leaning in to press a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re everything but.”

Her hand lingered on his skin, their faces now inches apart. Remus felt the pull, the uncontrollable urge rising within him, the wildness that came with the moon. But he fought it, grounding himself in the moment.

When she kissed his other cheek, the rawness of it nearly undid him. Her breath warmed his neck, and before he could stop himself, he leaned into her, eyes closed against the flood of desire.

“Ellie…” he murmured, his control slipping.

“This is the last time we’ll see each other,” she whispered against his skin. “Don’t ruin it.”

Her hands found his bare skin, fingers tracing the edge of his shirt, moving lower. His mind spun. He felt as though he were betraying the memory of his lost brother, but the weight of her closeness, the tenderness he had craved for so long, was too much to resist. If pity was all she had to offer, then maybe… maybe it was enough.

The memory of one past night haunted him—one of those memories that never faded, no matter how much time passed. It was their last year at Hogwarts. The entire school had descended on Hogsmeade for one last wild celebration, all the houses mingling, no divisions, no rivalries—just freedom and exhilaration. Remus had felt it too, for a while, but exhaustion caught up with him before the night was over. He decided to return to the dorms early, slipping away unnoticed, or so he thought.

He hadn’t realized that Sirius and Ellie weren’t with the rest of the group when he made his way back to the Gryffindor Tower. He had planned to take a long bath and go to bed, hoping to escape the noise and chaos that usually drained him.

But when he opened the dormitory door, something stopped him cold.

There, pinned against the wall, was Eliana. Sirius was with her, moving against her, his breath heavy. Her hands had been tangled in his hair, her back arching into him as if seeking more. Remus had frozen. Sirius’s trousers were bunched around his ankles, his shirt barely covering his body, and Ellie—her clothes had been dishevelled, exposing enough for Remus to know what was happening.

He had been wanting to turn around, to give them their privacy, but something held him in place. Ellie’s eyes met his. For a heartbeat, he was sure she saw him. Her lips parted, and for that brief moment, he swore there was something more than surprise in her gaze. Was it… desire? For him?

No, he had imagined it.

Shaken, he had flown back to the common room, trying to focus on a book, anything to erase the scene from his mind. Half an hour later, Sirius and Ellie had reappeared, laughing as though nothing had happened. Sirius joked about Remus turning in early, while Ellie said nothing, avoiding his gaze completely. He had never brought it up. He convinced himself it was a trick of the light, a figment of his imagination. Surely, she hadn’t seen him at all.

And now, with a broken heart and trembling hands, he gave in.

She was kissing him, and as he pressed his body against hers, he couldn’t help but recall that night—couldn’t help but recreate the image of her against the wall, except this time, it was him pinning her there. His breath came ragged in her ear, and he fought to keep control. He had imagined this for so long—what she might taste like, how her body would feel wrapped around him.

Ellie unbuckled his belt, her hands steady, as his trousers fell to the floor. When she pulled off her shirt, revealing herself to him, he couldn’t breathe. She was perfect. More perfect than he had ever dared to imagine.

For so long, he had envied Sirius, envied him for knowing her in ways Remus never would. But now, with her in front of him, he felt a shame deeper than anything he had known.

But the desire, the wildness in him, wouldn’t be silenced. He bent to kiss her skin—her lips, her neck, her collarbone—his breath hot and uncontrolled. He wasn’t a man anymore. He was something primal, something desperate. Ellie tilted her head back, and he slid his mouth lower, removing the last barrier of clothing between them.

When his lips found the warmth between her legs, her quiet moan broke the silence, sending a shiver down his spine. She grabbed his hair, pulling him closer as his tongue moved between her folds, tasting her. She moaned again, her fingers gripping him tighter, and for a moment, he forgot everything. Forgot who he was, forgot who she was. All that mattered was the taste of her, the feel of her skin under his tongue.

He could stay like this forever, he thought. But the ache between his own legs, the pressure building inside him, refused to be ignored. He stood, lifting her in his arms, carrying her to the couch. Ellie’s legs parted without hesitation, inviting him in. He saw that same look in her eyes—the one he had seen all those years ago. Perhaps, he hadn’t been imagining it after all.

His breath hitched as he nudged at her entrance, and when he pushed into her, they both let out a gasp—surprise and pleasure all at once. He moved slowly at first, trying to remind himself to be gentle, to be soft. But he couldn’t hold back. Not with her. He wanted to feel her completely, to lose himself in her warmth.

Her moans grew louder as he quickened his pace, the sound of his body moving against hers driving him to the edge. She arched beneath him, her breasts rising and falling with each thrust, and he was lost—growling low in his throat, forgetting everything but this moment, this need.

Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pounded into her, harder now, his humanity slipping away. And then, he felt her tighten around him, her body trembling with the release he had been chasing.

With her eyes closed, he wondered for a moment if she was thinking of somebody else, of him or the man that awaited her back home.

But Ellie whispered his name in a breathless gasp, and it was all he needed. He followed her over the edge, spilling into her with a moan, his body shaking from the force of it.

For a moment, the world stood still.

As the last waves of pleasure faded, Remus pulled away, his mind reeling. What had he done? His heart pounded in his chest, guilt flooding him as he ran a trembling hand over his face. He wasn’t meant for this—not with her. Not with Ellie. Not with the woman who had once belonged with his best friend.

Eliana leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder, her voice soft and broken. “I would have loved you so much, Remus… if I hadn’t loved him.”

“I know,” he whispered, his chest tight.

Her words hit him harder than he expected, words he had longed to hear but never allowed himself to hope for. He had known, from the moment they met, that she would always belong to Sirius and Sirius to her. But to hear her say it—it tore him apart.

“In another life, maybe,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He let out a bitter chuckle. “Maybe.”

“I wanted this,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hope you did too.”

He looked at her, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She was beautiful, even in her sadness. But it wasn’t him she loved. It never would be.

“I wish it had been you,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

“But it’s him,” he replied.

“It’s always going to be him,” she whispered with a trembling voice.

He nodded, understanding in the pit of his stomach. “I get it.”

Ellie touched his face, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t love you. You deserve to be loved, Remus, if only you could see yourself the way I see you.”

Remus closed his eyes, fighting back the tears. It was selfish to want more from her, to ask her to stay. He knew that now. He’d never have her fully, but this—this was something. Wasn’t it better than nothing?

“One day, you’ll meet someone,” she said softly. “Someone who will love you completely, without fear or hesitation. Please, don’t push them away when you do.”

He let out a hollow laugh, the same words James had told him countless times. It had never felt true, and it didn’t now. No one would accept him, not as he was. But he nodded, if only to make her stop crying.

Ellie kissed him once more, her lips lingering for a moment longer than before. “I don’t think our paths will cross again,” she whispered, tears spilling down her face. “It’s better this way.”

Remus shook his head, his heart aching. His eyes pleaded with her. “This is goodbye, then,” he said, his voice breaking.

She nodded. “This is goodbye.”

Defeated, Remus rested his head against the cushion, his eyelids growing heavier with each passing second. The weight of exhaustion settled over him like a thick blanket. He felt her arms around him, warm and familiar, offering a fleeting comfort. Ellie’s embrace tightened gently, and she pressed a soft kiss against his cheek, lingering just long enough for him to feel the warmth of her breath on his skin.

For a moment, the world seemed to quiet, and he let himself sink into that small, stolen tenderness—something he knew would soon slip away.

“I’m sorry you lost the love of your life,” he said, the words catching in his throat.

Remus quietly surrendered to the sleep that had been tugging at him for too long, its embrace pulling him deeper into a long-overdue rest. As the weight of consciousness slipped away, he felt himself sinking, drifting into the quiet abyss where exhaustion finally gave way to peace.

When Remus woke the next morning, soft sunlight filtered through the window, casting a golden glow across the room. The duvet from the bedroom had been gently draped over him, a small gesture of care left in the silence. The apartment was still, empty.

Ellie was gone.

Rising slowly, he walked to the kitchen, where a folded note lay beside an envelope. His chest tightened as he opened it, reading the words in her familiar handwriting:

“You’re sorry I’ve lost the love of my life, Remus. But I’m sorry you haven’t met yours.”

He hesitated before opening the envelope. Inside, the key to the flat rested, cold and waiting. Etched into its surface was a single word: "Yet."

#harry potter #hogwarts #slytherin #slytherin pride #marauders #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin headcanon #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin #remus smut #young remus smut #young remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x original character #sirius black #sirius #young sirius #sirius black fanfic #professor lupin

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ddejavvu · 4 months

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would you be up to do bff remus with no boundaries?? i think that would be an interesting dynamic

maybe like after a full moon and she just like fully gives him a shower, or something where he’s just completely naked and the boys are so confused at what’s happening

"Arm up, Rem," You hum, but your fingers pry at his pale, scarred skin before he can even begin moving a muscle.

You lift his bicep away from his side, bringing the lathered loofa in your hand to swipe through the curve of his armpit. Suds slide down his sides and you hear him hiss as they mingle with his still-healing cuts and scrapes, but there's nothing to be done except cleaning them before they can be dressed.

"Easy, easy," You rub a hand over his back in a soothing circle that carefully avoids his injuries, "Just gotta get 'em clean, then we can dress them. You can sleep on your stomach, that'll help the ones on your back. How'd you even get scratches on your back?"

"It's all the ladies I occupy my time with," Remus drawls, but his pain is evident in the weakness of his voice, "Women love werewolves."

When you don't answer, leaving an purposefully awkward silence behind that swirls with the steam from the shower, Remus sighs, "Got all scratched up from the tree branches out there."

You drag the loofa from his side to his back, carefully ghosting over the caked dirt around his wounds. His knuckles turn white as he clenches his fists, but when he tries drawing one into his mouth to bite at it you take it in your own free hand.

"No biting. That's reserved for your better half."

"Are you talking about Sirius, or the wolf? Sirius bites me," Remus grumbles, and- speak of the devil, there's feet pounding obnoxiously up the stairs and towards the dorms.

"Moony, we've got all the chocolate we could carry," Sirius informs him, and there's the sound of wrapped goods being piled on Remus's comforter before James and Sirius step into the doorway of the bathroom.

James lets out an 'ooh' and turns away with a grimace when he sees you kneeled beside Remus's naked form beneath the spray of water, but Sirius stands stock-still, frozen by some mix of intrigue and horror.

"Uh, are we interrupting something?"

"Just a bath," You smile kindly at them, scrubbing gently at Remus's neck, "He has trouble getting his back sometimes."

"Sometimes- have you two done this before?"

"After every moon." You nod helpfully when Remus merely ducks his head to rest between his knees, "You two are usually either asleep or trying to get grass out of your pelts."

There's something green in Sirius's hair that proves the two were unsuccessful this time around.

"Oh. I'm sorry, Moony, I didn't know you had a caregiver," Sirius snickers, "Does she help you put your panties on too?"

"Don't let him get to you, dove," Remus murmurs, his eyes slipping shut as the warm water seeps into his skin and heals an ancient ache in his bones, "He's just mad he'll never get to take yours off. They're a real pretty pattern, y'know," Remus glances up at Sirius with the ghost of a smirk on his face, muffled by pain but persistent all the same, "Shame she's not interested in showing 'em to you."

"You've seen her panties, mate?" James cuts in, peering over Sirius's shoulder, "What are you two?"

"Friends," You shrug, "But it's stuffy in here at night, and my sleeping pants get too warm."

"You're telling me all the times you two have slept over in here all snuggled up in his bed, that you've not had any pants on?"

"Well I don't make it a habit to strip in his bed," You scoff, scrubbing at a particularly stubborn grass stain on the pale plane of his hip, "But I can promise you that my pants are never gonna be on your floor, either one of you."

"Oh please, we wouldn't dream of stealing Moony's girl," Sirius claps James on the shoulder, "But whaddya think about that, mate? Strippin' down to cuddle in bed together? They seem to think it's a friendly endeavor."

"I typically only ditch my pants for Lily, Padfoot," James informs Sirius with a sympathetic smile, "But I'll ask her if I can bring my dog to her dorm tomorrow night. You can sleep at our feet."

Sirius begins valiantly arguing for a spot higher up on the bed, every dog's hardest battle to fight, but you're no longer interested in their antics or the noise they're producing. You reach out your foot to kick at the door, and it swings shut with a satisfying click.

"Thanks, love." Remus groans, his face squished between his knees, "They were givin' me a headache."

"They always give you a headache," You dig your thumbs into a tense spot on his back and he twitches beneath you with a hum of appreciation, "We should get a flat together without them. They can be the feral deer and dog that live outside our cottage."

"We'll have to call animal control" Remus grins wryly against the rounded bend of his knee as you lean forwards to wash beneath his thighs, "How strong are their strongest tranquilizer darts?"

#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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luveline · 1 year

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𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you."

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say.

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet."

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?"

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose."

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed.

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs.

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden."

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?"

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you.

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both.

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small.

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table.

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach.

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you.

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer.

"And what do you do?" you ask him.

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book."

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while.

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you.

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand.

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile.

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick."

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #luveline's 40k party

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brokenmenswhore · 3 months

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Hi! I see you wrote that you’re going to start writing for Marauders? I was wondering if maybe you could write a fic where the reader is dating one of the boys and they keep doing stuff in front of the others, and the others are all frustrated and horny? You can decline if you want!

don’t look | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader, remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism, language

part 2

────── ☾ ──────

Remus was never shy around his friends, but he wasn’t decent, either. He didn’t understand what the big deal was about fucking you when they were around. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he didn’t care if James or Sirius heard you, as long as they didn’t look.

He started touching you when they were around, causing you to blush and push him off of you.

“Relax, Y/N, they don’t care,” he said.

“I care,” you retorted, “you aren’t gonna rub me off in front of everyone in this dorm room.”

“Why not?” he pouted, continuing his actions no matter what. It felt too good to stop him, and besides, what did you have to be ashamed of? You always spoke of sex positivity, and it isn’t anything the other boys haven’t heard before.

When Sirius and James started to hear your whimpers, they looked over at you from their beds, and Remus glared at them.

“What the fuck are you two looking at?” he asked, slowly inserting a finger into your hole.

“Fuck do you mean?” James asked, “you’re fucking her in front of us.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to see her like this,” Remus replied, and that was enough to make it clear to the boys that they were not to look at you when they heard Remus work you up.

But there you were, spread eagle on the couch, Remus’s tongue inside of you while his thumb circled and flicked at your bud.

You couldn’t stop the moans that poured out of your lips, your hands pulling at Remus’ hair, causing him to moan into your hole.

“Shit, Rem,” you sighed out, whines and whimpers filling up the room.

Sirius was sat across from you, trying his hardest to keep his attention on the books in his lap.

You let out a particularly filthy moan, and Sirius couldn’t help but sneak a peek. You threw your head back, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He thought you looked so pretty.

Remus had his back turned to Sirius since he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, so Sirius saw no issue in keeping his gaze on you.

Remus ate you like a man starved, gripping your thighs to keep them open as you pushed his head closer to your cunt.

Your moans were growling louder, and you were completely unashamed of it. “Rem!” you squealed as the feeling grew and grew.

You tilted your head down to watch Remus eat you, and your eyes caught Sirius’ on the way down. He was looking straight at you. You thought about maybe signaling to Remus, but you honestly didn’t care. “Don’t look” was Remus’ rule, not yours, and besides, Sirius was hot.

You whined as you stared Sirius, Remus’s fingers moving faster and faster as you began to clench around his tongue. Your high hit you like a train, and you fought to keep your eyes open and trained on Sirius.

Sirius shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable in his pants, as he watched you come and then come down from your high. Your breathing started to still and Remus looked up at you, noticing you staring forward. He whipped his head around, making direct eye contact with Sirius.

“Sirius!” he screamed.

Sirius shot up and leaped over the couch, running out of the room as Remus chased him.

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daenysx · 4 months

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hi! how about remus lupin with a shy reader? or something along those lines haha thank you and have a nice day :)

thank you for requesting!! <333 requests are open

remus lupin x fem!reader, fluff

"morning, dove" someone whispers against your ear. there's a kiss brushed on your cheek. you bury your face further into the pillow with a soft hum. the person in question chuckles.

you blink your eyes open. "remus?"

remus smiles, he leans on his elbow as he looks at you with lovesick eyes. "good morning."

he's in your room. on your bed. he sees your sleepy face and your messed up hair. god, he's so pretty and you-

"morning, remus." you jump from bed, your cheeks blushed under his playful eyes. "um- how did you-"

"shelby let me in."

you can't believe you forget you live with a roommate. how else would he be here? "oh- right." you mumble.

"i'm sorry, did i make you uncomfortable?" remus asks, he sits properly to look into your eyes.

"no!" you say, panicking. "no, of course not. i just- i wasn't expecting you and i'm-"

"so pretty." he says. his eyes are so easy to get lost in.

you shake your head. "um- i just, i'm gonna go to the bathroom, 5 minutes."

remus chuckles behind you, he leans back to your headboard.

you have a small bathroom mirror but it doesn't hide how blushed your cheeks are. "come on." you mutter to yourself. you can't help it, your stomach fills with butterflies whenever you see remus. having him on your bed, waking you up? both a dream and a nightmare apparently. you wash your face with cold water, such a poor attempt to calm down.

you leave the bathroom with slow steps, remus is in your kitchen now. he holds a coffee mug in his hand, you hear the sound of coffee machine. he extends a hand to you, long fingers covering your entire hand when you touch him.

"shelby left." remus says, pulling you closer to him. "i'm sorry again. i thought i'd surprised you."

you try to control your heartbeat enough to kiss your new boyfriend. it's only been two weeks but remus is a charming guy. he made his way into your heart quickly, you don't even know how to react to him most of the time. it's all too exciting- his every word and every touch.

"you don't have to say sorry." you say, lifting your chin. "i was surprised, so it worked."

remus leans down to close your height difference. "can i kiss you?"

you do something in between nodding and smiling. he presses his lips against yours and you close your eyes. you don't think you can manage to see his pretty face so close to yours right now. remus holds your waist to get you closer. you sigh happily into the kiss.

"you look so beautiful by the way." he whispers between two lovely kisses. "when you try to keep sleeping, when you frown against the pillow."

"please." you whisper. he should stop if he wants you alive in his arms.

remus kisses you so sweetly, you think you really need a cup of coffee to get back to yourself. his now free hand cups your cheek to rub the sensitive skin, the other hand still on your waist. you bring your hands to his neck, realizing he enjoys the kiss as much as you do. he is warm, your fingertips rest against his skin.

you have to stop for a minute or you'll lose your mind. can you get addicted to kissing someone? his lips are testing your patience early in the morning, his hands are whole another issue. remus smiles when you break the kiss, he brushes his lips against your forehead to keep you in his arms.

totally buried in remus's chest, you stand in the center of your kitchen. the smell of coffee is tempting but you can't separate yourself from remus. stolen seconds of the morning with him, is it possible to spend every early hours of your days like this now? your poor heart will not take it.

"what do you wanna have for breakfast?" he asks with a low voice.

"coffee." you say against his chest, lifting your head up to see him.

he laughs. "coffee's not a breakfast, sweetheart. tell me something with actual food."

you nuzzle closer to his chest. "avocado toast? and i got blueberries from the store yesterday."

"perfect." he says. "can i make your toast for you?"

"do you want to?" you ask with a stupid smile on your face. god, you're falling in love.

"of course i want to." he says. "okay, breakfast game, you'll sit on the counter and tell me where everything is as i prepare our toasts."

he lifts you quickly, you can see his eyes properly now that you're almost the same height.

you part your legs instinctively, your eyes on the ground. remus stays right there, standing in front of you with your thighs under his big hands. you want to kiss him like this so badly. you wish you can ask him without getting shy but it feels impossible for now.

"what's that?" he asks, his head following every move of yours. "what's with the pout, angel girl?"

are you pouting? you don't realize. you wanna kiss him.

"kiss?" you whisper. remus smiles. you blush. he kisses you, his lips move against yours delicately. his morning kisses are perfect, there's no rush, they are simply slow and passionate. he rubs the soft flesh of your thighs, you follow his lead on kisses.

he breaks the kiss this time. "we gotta eat something or else i'm gonna faint."

you kiss him for one more second. "it's okay, i'll take care of you."

"yeah?" he asks against your lips. "such a tempting little thing you are, and it's only 9 am."

your cheeks heaten up again but it's nothing unusual now. remus looks at you with barely open eyes, you swallow. he takes a step back, taking the mug he had in his hand earlier.

"coffee?" he asks, like he hasn't played with your heartbeat seconds ago. you manage to nod.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfic #remus x you #remus x reader #remus x fem!reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders fic #marauders fanfic #marauders imagine

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bruisedboys · 11 months

Note

remus who needs to make eye contact with reader when talking bc she has his full attention but she tries averting her gaze and he’s Tall so he does that thing where he bends his head down/chases her eyes so they maintain contact

ugh this!!!!!!!! he definitely does this, so hot of him honestly. I didn’t do justice to your idea at all but I gave it a shot!!!

rockstar!remus lupin x fem!reader

Remus gets off stage and he’s somehow a billion times hotter than he was two hours ago. It’s cruel. He’s the kind of handsome that begs to be looked at. You don’t blame his screaming fans. Not when you’d definitely be one of them if it weren’t for your lucky position of the bassists girlfriend.

“Hey,” Remus says, slinging his bass over his shoulder as he jogs towards you. His headset dangles around his neck, makeup smudged under his eyes and his hair in disarray, and yet he heads straight for you, brushing away a couple of techies who try to wave him down. He comes to a halt in front of you, still buzzing with onstage energy. “Can I hug you?”

“Yeah,” you nod, breathless and he’s only said a few words. He’s so handsome you can’t think straight. He hugs you hard, and you don’t even care that he’s sweating buckets. His arms cage you, strong and heavy, and he smells like sweat and musk, his cologne subtle but heady.

“You played amazing,” you tell him as his hands roam your back, one between your shoulder blades and another at the small of your back, pressing you in.

Remus pulls back, hot hands sliding to hold you by the shoulders. He squeezes you, calloused thumbs at your collar. He’s smiling so big you’re sure his cheeks hurt. “

“Cause I had my lucky charm,” he says, chucking you under the chin. “I’m so glad you came, pretty girl.”

Heat flares behind your cheeks. You can’t believe he’s real, can’t believe he’s this handsome and calling you pretty and telling you he’s glad you came to his show. As if you’d ever even think about being anywhere else tonight but here. You dip your head so you don’t have to look at his handsome face, opting instead for the dirty backstage floor.

“I’m glad I came too,” you mumble, toeing a rogue piece of confetti with the tip of your shoe.

Remus follows you down, bending to your height and tilting his head up so you’re forced to look him in the eyes. He’s gorgeous and he’s lovely and he’s so close you could kiss him.

“What did you say, sweetheart?” He asks, lips quirked, his mouth so close that his warm breath fans over your lips. “Can’t hear you when you get all shy like that.”

You groan. He’s awful. “I’m not shy,” you protest, though you are, especially with him. You stick your chin out in a show of fake confidence. “I said I’m glad I came too.”

Remus’ grins and thumbs your jaw, then cards a hand through his messy, sweaty hair. “Mm, I bet you are, sweetheart.”

You know he’s teasing. You don’t mind it as much as you should.

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sleyu · 1 year

Note

no thoughts just mean!bf remus mocking your cries n whimpers as he fucks into you n tells you how desperate you are for him

i genuinely needed to sit down and stare at my phone for a good two minutes to process this i am going crazy.

he would be so, so, so mean. the gag is that he’s the one who initiates everything and is, in fact, equally if not more desperate. but, mean ! remus loves ignoring this and instead, mocks you for your every cry and whine.

remus’ cock is so big, both in length and width. every time he’s inside you, it feels like the first time all over again because his size is just so overwhelming. remus sometimes feels bad for doing this, but his cock throbs at the sight of you struggling to take him and he often loses self-control and meanly laughs in your face when you cry out at the feeling of him suddenly pushing into you. every time you would tell him to slow down, he’d only go faster, laughing breathlessly at your whines and the tears on your cheeks.

‘telling me to stop but i’m sure you like this, don’t you, baby? cunt’s so fuckin’ wet.’

‘does it hurt, dove? thought you said you could take me?’

just imagine remus calling you his fussy little baby; every time you paw at his thighs, attempting to tell him that you need him while he’s studying, he’d just sigh in annoyance and bend you over his desk to fuck you stupid :( i don’t know if remus would slap you or not, but he would definitely tug your hair to force you to look up at him every time he takes you from behind !

‘is that what you needed, hm? all you fuckin’ think about is getting filled up—is this what my baby needed? such a fuckin’ brat, no patience at all.’

he genuinely has to control himself from busting inside you at the sight of your wobbly lips and furrowed eyebrows, paired with your teary eyes and the quiet mewls coming out from your mouth. you just look so fucked out and cute, he has to resist leaning down and peppering kisses all over your face.

i know this is a little unhinged but all i’ve been thinking about is remus fucking you in your childhood bedroom and calling you gross and disgusting for enjoying it when he ruins you as your parents are downstairs.

‘fuck—imagine what they’d say when they see their little girl slutting herself out like this. i’ve completely ruined you, haven’t i? no longer their innocent baby, are you, honey?’ BRRRRR i need psychiatric help.

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moonstruckme · 2 months

Text

A Friendly Proposition

Based on this request: Hi mae!!! Would you be open to writing tasm!peter parker or Remus lupin with best friend reader who hasn’t cum before, and he is outraged when he hears this? And he’s like, why don’t I show you (wink wink) -- Thank you for requesting!! I chose Remus for this but I would love to do some Peter smut in the future if anyone has any ideas :)

cw: smut mdni, fingering, not necessarily inexperienced reader but kind of has that vibe, basically smut no plot

bestfriend!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 2.2k words

“I dunno, I guess overall it was fine.”

“Fine?” Remus looks up from where he’s lying on his bed, one eyebrow lifted in that way you don’t think he knows he does. You’re sitting on the floor in front of his mirror, attempting to cover up a particularly bad hickey your date from last night had left you as a parting gift. His reflection has a wry twist to its mouth. “I should hope it was more than just fine.”

You shrug, tilting your head to dab at the makeup on your neck. “Not the best, not horrible. I’d call it thoroughly average.”

Your friend hisses sympathetically through his teeth. “Not the sort of rave review most guys strive for. If I left someone with a mark like that, I’d hope I made it worth their while.”

You can’t keep your lips from curving. “I didn’t say it wasn’t worthwhile.”

“Did he at least make you cum?”

You cough in surprise. “At least?” You turn around, giving him a disbelieving look.

Remus’ answering expression is equally incredulous.

“How common do you think that is?” you ask him.

The eyebrow lifts higher. “Well, now I’m not sure, but I’ve never had any problems.”

You scoff, turning back to the mirror. “That’s because you’re a guy.”

“No,” Remus says, amusement tingling in his tone. “I mean, yes, but I meant I’ve never had any problems making other people cum.”

“Seriously?” You freeze with your hand upheld awkwardly above your neck. You’re doing your best to make this conversation feel casual, but sometimes having an attractive guy for a best friend can get confusing, and the room is starting to feel a tad warm despite the open windows. “Like, what’s your success rate?”

“What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

Remus’ lips twitch, fondness beneath his exasperation. “For women specifically?”

“Sure.”

He nods, expression turning pensive. “I can’t be exactly sure. I mean, it’s not like I’m constantly fucking loads of women.” He says it so offhandedly, but just the language makes a tickle of warmth start up in your cheeks. “There were a couple who didn’t, when I was younger, still learning, but since then it’s been fairly high.”

You swallow. You wonder what the learning had entailed, what Remus had picked up that you and anyone you’ve hooked up with hasn’t. It’s typically not for a lack of trying, though some certainly invest more time into the ambition than others. You can’t say you’ve even tried that hard yourself, not in a while and not since you’ve reckoned with the idea that it may simply not happen for you. It feels like a pointless exercise.

You break from your reverie when you notice Remus watching you in the mirror.

“Your turn,” he prompts.

“You can’t make fun of me.”

“You know I wouldn’t.”

You absolutely do not know that, he loves to tease, but he’s right in that you don’t think he would about this. You catch yourself nibbling on your bottom lip, and stop.

You do your best to affect his unflappable blasé when you say, “Zero, so far.”

That blasé hardly holds up now. Remus sits straight up. “Never? Not once?”

You can’t bring yourself to look at him, so you focus on covering the spot on your neck. “Nope.”

“Not even by yourself?”

“You make it sound like it’s so easy.” There’s some bitterness in your tone as you tilt your head up, inspecting your work in the light. “I haven’t tried in a while, because I was never able to. I got sick of it.”

“Oh, sweetheart.”

You try not to melt. Remus will call you that, from time to time, but given the context of your conversation you wish he wouldn’t. Suddenly his room feels a little bit smaller, the atmosphere more private than before.

You look at his reflection, expecting to find teasing in his expression, but it’s thoughtful. Contemplative.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun,” you remind him. “I feel like that should also include feelings of pity. Let’s not act like it’s some great tragedy to not have cum before.”

“No, I’m…it’s not that. You’re right, there are worse fates.” One corner of his lips curves slightly, and you mirror him, relieved. “I was just thinking that I could…well, I might be able to help.”

“What?” A little laugh trips off your tongue. Your face is really feeling warm now. “Do you have some kind of manual or something?”

“Would you want my help?”

“Is there a diagram you’re going to show me? Trust me, I’ve seen those.”

“Answer the question, love.”

You set your makeup down, expelling a breath. Meet his eyes in the mirror with a shrug. “Yeah. Sure, I’d be curious.”

Remus studies you. Analytical hazel eyes and a map of scars you would know blind. “Tell me if this makes you uncomfortable, but I could show you, if you’d like.”

Your breath seems to stall in your lungs. “On…” you trail off, not wanting to misunderstand him.

“On you,” he confirms. “Would you want that?”

You’re nodding before you can think enough to speak. Your head feels slow and fuzzy, like you’re navigating a dream. “Yeah,” you manage. “If you’re alright with that.”

“Wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.” Remus spreads his legs open on the bed, patting the space between them. “C’mere, love.”

“What—like, now?”

“Do you have another engagement?” He gives you a little smile. It squishes the scar underneath his left eye adorably, but when you hesitate he sobers. “Hey, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

You shake your head, and it’s like your body remembers how to move, propelling you up from your seated position. “No, sorry, I’m good with this. I think I’m just a bit nervous.”

“That’s alright,” he reassures you. “You don’t need to be, though. It’s only me.”

You see his eyes drop to your mouth, and you let your lip slip from between your teeth a second time. Remus is right. If there’s anyone you should be comfortable learning this with, it’s him.

When you go to crawl up on the bed, he stops you. “Probably want to lose the pants first,” he suggests.

Right. You set your fingers to the button, and it seems to fly open of its own regard. You feel Remus’ eyes on you as you slide them over your hips and step out.

“Underwear too, or…”

“No, we’ll keep those for now.” Remus holds a hand out for you, and you get up onto the bed, letting him help you settle in between his legs. It’s impossible not to be conscious of the feel of his pants against your bare skin, or how comfortably he wraps a hand around your thigh, pulling it open that much wider. “Do you usually start with everything off?”

“Yeah,” you say. “Isn’t that sort of the point?”

“Sometimes,” he hums. “Sometimes, though, it helps to work up to it. You need to get warmed up, you know?”

You murmur an affirmation, though you don’t actually know. There’s never been much warming up when you or anyone else has tried to do this before. But it doesn’t matter, because then Remus starts rubbing the outsides of your thighs with both hands, and any sound dies in your throat.

“You have to start slow,” he says in a low voice. Scarred, strong hands moving over your skin. “Everyone responds to different things, and it’s about feeling out what works for you.”

You can’t imagine how this wouldn’t work for anyone. Remus touch starts moving inward, until his long fingers are dragging over your inner thighs, fuelling a familiar warmth at their apex.

“Are you feeling more relaxed now?”

You wet your lips. “I think so.”

“Good. If you’re feeling up to it, you could try touching yourself other places, see what works.”

Tentatively, you slip one of your hands up your shirt. Your breasts feel more sensitive than usual, and when you squeeze one, combined with Remus’ hands on your thighs, it makes your breath catch.

“There you go, sweetheart. You’ve got it.”

Your body starts to slacken against him, but Remus doesn’t seem to mind. He only uses his grip on your thighs to drag you closer, propping you up. You can’t tell which one of you is warmer.

Without warning, his hand brushes over your mound. You gasp.

“Is this okay?” Remus asks, his voice closer to your ear than it had been. He gives you another stroke over your panties.

“Yes,” you breathe out.

“Alright. Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”

One hand continues moving over your thigh while the other drags the fabric of your panties aside, flattening over your cunt.

“Oh, poor girl,” he coos. “Is all this for me?”

Your silence must scream mortification, because he chuckles and bumps the side of your head with his affectionately.

“Sorry, I’m only messing with you. Is it always like this?”

You lie. “Yeah.”

Remus hums, dragging two fingers through your folds. You squirm in his lap. Your hand has completely forgotten your breast.

“I usually start here,” he says, one finger circling your clit. It slips and slides in the mess you’ve already made. “You do the same?”

You nod fervently. He adds another finger, moving over it gently, and has to tighten his grip on your leg to keep it open. Your breaths start coming faster as he repeats the motion. You can feel him getting hard behind you.

Just as your pleasure starts to take you under, Remus’ fingers fall away.

“Your turn,” he says. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

When you hesitate, confused and a bit bereaved, he chuckles, taking your hand in his and pressing your fingers to your clit.

“Show me how you’re gonna do it, sweetheart.”

Tentatively, you try to copy his movements. Your own fingers feel clumsy and inadequate compared to his, but after all the work Remus has put in they’re still enough. You chase that tightening sensation, hips twitching into your own touch.

Remus doesn’t leave you on your own for long. His hand finds your cunt again, seeking, it seems, every possible way to drive you to madness. He collects the slick pooling by your entrance, sliding it up and down through your folds, and when his fingers breach your hole you make a soft, surprised sound that sends his lips down onto your shoulder.

Instantly, you’re aware of how much better this feels. Remus’ mouth is warm and soft, a contrast against the roughness of his stubble. He sucks at you gently, warming you up like he had your cunt, before letting his teeth scrape lightly over your skin. Your date from last night had been so eager to get your neck into his mouth, suctioning onto you like a parasite and rolling your skin between his teeth in a way that hurt more than it helped. Remus is all temperance. He bites you, and then licks it over to make sure you’re soothed.

The thought occurs to you that maybe you shouldn’t be comparing Remus to someone you actually dated.

He curls his fingers inside you, and every thought you’ve ever had falls away. All you are is a collection of sensations and wants.

“You’ve got it, darling, keep going. You’re doing so well.”

Your fingers and Remus’ working like one mind, until your thighs are shivering and he has to redouble his efforts to keep you still. Your head lolling onto his shoulder, the way his lips transfer to your neck as if it's the most natural thing in the world. His scruff scratching under your jaw, moving as he says your name.

The myriad of other things he says, sweetheart, baby, good girl, you’re doing so good, growing raspier as the pressure in your core worsens until you worry you’ll shatter if he doesn’t keep ahold of you.

“Let go,” he instructs, kissing the skin beneath your ear lovingly. “You’re alright, just let go.”

You choose to trust him, and your body—your being—snaps.

You make sounds you can’t hear, your own fingers stuttering and stopping while Remus works you through the new sensation, murmuring assurances into your skin. Runs his free hand over your trembling thigh.

Eventually, your mind quiets enough to hear that his breathing is nearly as labored as your own. He slips his fingers out of you. You try to turn around to face him, but your body betrays you, slumping against his front.

Remus chuckles, smoothing a hand up your side. “Good job, sweetheart. You did beautifully.” He smears a kiss over your cheek. “How was that?”

You sigh blissfully. Your brain feels pulverized. “Really good.”

Another soft laugh. “Yeah? Glad to hear it.”

“Thank you.” You lean your head on his shoulder, trying to look up at him.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, voice warm with amusement. “Honestly, I should probably be thanking you. I feel quite lucky.”

You hum bemusedly. Remus’ sex-slicked fingers run lazily over the inside of your thigh. Perhaps your mind is still addled from your orgasm, but this feels incredibly normal to you now.

“Really? Why?”

“I just,” he exhales, leaning his head against yours lightly. “I just can’t believe I was the first person to hear you make those sounds.”

“Oh.” You feel the tickle of embarrassment coming back to you. It draws your shoulders in. “Sorry. Was I very loud?”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart.” Remus turns his head, kissing your temple firmly. “You were perfect.”

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angelfic · 1 year

Text

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

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inkdrinkerworld · 23 hours

Note

Hello again I’m the one addicted to your dealer!remus writing, you have such a good way of writing his character and I love it! Anyways I hope you’re feeling better I’m currently poorly as well and it sucks. If you’re feeling up to it I would love more of your writing. Maybe a dealer!remus who meets fem reader at a ren faire and she’s like a siren or fairy or something? Idk I trust you

Also if you don’t have a 🐡 or 🫧 anon I would love to be one or both of those since I have a feeling you might be seeing more of me 🥰

I hope this is okay! I’ve never been to a ren faire but I’d love to go one day though! Of course you can be both!

“You’re a nymph.” A man in pirate costume says as he helps you climb up the stairs to the stalls.

You’re in a sheer purple skirt that has vines hanging down to your thighs, there’s a slit somewhere that shows off your skin and your green blouse has sleeves that flow down your arms and behind you.

The chains in your waist clink as the crystals hanging on them knock against each other with each step.

“And you’re a pirate,” you take a glance at his eyes and flash him a smile when you notice how red his eyes are. “A very high pirate.”

The pirate man smiles, a silver scar splitting his lip making him look handsome. His sandy brown hair also works with his outfit, making it look like he’s spent years at sea with the sun and salt water to bleach his hair.

“They do like their influences.” He says making you laugh. “What about nymphs?”

You give a demure shrug, “We do live amongst them.” The pirate man’s hand shifts to your shoulder, adjusting some of the leaves and foliage there.

You know in your bones this man is a flirt, especially when he flashes you an easy smile when you look up at him.

“Is this your first ren faire?” You ask you walk ahead of him, smiling when you hear his boots clicking as he follows behind you.

“Second, but my friends seem to have abandoned me.”

You glance over your shoulder, finding the pirate man tucking a roll on behind his ear. You never would have imagined a simple action like that would be so attractive. “I can keep you company for the time being then. Will you drink tap beer?”

When he nods you smile and order two glasses.

“Where are your friends? Or are you a veteran of the ren faire?” You ask as you wait for the beer, leaning on the counter as you look at the man before you.

He has this soft beauty to him and his pirate get up makes it rogue-ish but also there’s flashes of the softness of it all underneath it all.

You smile as the pirate man rushes to pay, and hands you your glass first. “It’s my fifth year, but my friends are about somewhere.” You take a sip of your beer. “To be honest, I snuck away to save myself from being tie breaker to a game of darts.”

Your new friend raises an eyebrow and you spy another scar slicing through the skin there. “What’s so bad about darts?”

Your tone turns bashful and you look up at him through your eyelashes, “I have terrible aim. What’s missing from this outfit is a pair of glasses that irritate my eyes much less than the contacts I’m currently wearing.”

The pirate man falters for a moment your gaze soft yet intense as you look up at him. “I see. What would you rather be doing then?”

You smile, “My favourite parts are the jousting tournaments and the petting zoo. Also spending loads on trinkets.”

The man nods, about to say something in reply when a pair of pirates, one lanky with black hair and one burly rush up to him.

“Remus you can’t just wander off! We’ve been looking for you for ages.”

You laugh at the way the pirate man, Remus, flushes. Pink looks good on him.

He looks back and smiles at you and it’s even more handsome the second time; especially when it seems intimate and shared just between the two of you.

“I was here getting something to drink with the pretty nymph.” He gestures to you and you give his friends a wave and introduce yourself.

Remus tucks away the sound of your name in every nook in his mind. It suits you entirely.

The black haired one smirks and the burly one gives you a dimpled smile hello.

“How chivalrous, did he bore you to death with the fact that he’s about to be jousting and the historical reasons behind it?” The lanky one asked, clearly teasing his friend.

“No he did not, but now I’m even more excited to look at the tournament.” There’s a wicked grin on the black haired boy’s face.

Remus turns to you, “Does that mean you’ll toss me a ring of flowers?” He’s a flirt in all the ways, and by god you’d probably pass away if he looks at you any more intensely.

“Maybe I will, Remus.” You leave then, giving him a wave and a smile as you walk off towards the tents that sell all the odds and ends.

The black haired man turns to him, “You better hope you win, Moony. How embarrassing would it be if you let the pretty girl down.”

Remus rolls his shoulders back as he drains his beer, no pressure then, he thinks to himself. Maybe he’ll even get your number if he wins.

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allllium · 15 days

Text

☾ Best Remus Lupin Fics on Tumblr ☆

> Fluff <

Period Pains

I'm Your Boyfriend

Skin

Shy!Remus

Whimsical

↳ [ @moonstruckme ]

Little Family

Full Moon Drabble

↳ [ @wasteddmoondust ]

It's Blue the Feeling I've got

↳ [ @jamespottersdaisy ]

Drunk

Sunshine!Reader

↳ [ @luveline ]

Kiss

Whipped

↳ [ @bruisedboys ]

Shy!Reader ~ [ @daenysx ]

Lazy Sunday Morning ~ [ @gtgbabie0 ]

No Boundaries ~ [ @ddejavvu ]

Sore ~ [ @ellecdc ]

Missed Hints ~ [ @empress-simps ]

Scars ~ [ @crimsntwlip ]

Kisses as Payment ~ [ @diwatopia ]

Lunar Possession ~ [ @jasmines-library ]

Anxious!Reader ~ [ @madwcman ]

Drabble ~ [ @contrarinshiit ]

Annoying Serenading ~ [ @shiftermia ]

Infatuated ~ [ @fourmoony ]

Touch Starved ~ [ @gtgbabie0 ]

Introduction to the Son ~ [ @starzqzi ]

Never His ~ [ @weasleykisses ]

> Hurt/Comfort <

It's Nice to Have a Friend

Sweet Nothing

↳ [ @jamespottersdaisy ]

Migraine ~ [ @moonstruckme ]

Blue Moon ~ [ @ellecdc ]

Unconditionally ~ [ @sarahisslytherin ]

Snappy ~ [ @luveline ]

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pretentious-blonde · 12 days

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after the storm

pairing: remus x reader

summary: the full moon is looming and remus takes it out on the one person he promised not to.

warnings: smoking, arguments

a/n: this is my first fic ever so please be nice!! if people like it, there might be more <3

The moonlight shone through the thin curtains of your shared flat, the beams from the sky cast pale, silver lines across the dark wooden floor of the apartment. It was a modest space the two of you had saved up for, tucked away behind an alley, just off the main road to quiet the bustling sounds of the city outside. The flat, which was on the smaller side, was home to you both. The original ornate fireplace crackled quietly in the corner, the warm orange glow from the flames it emitted danced across the pale walls. Books that the two of you have collected over the years filled not only the bookcase, but a few had migrated to the shared desk in the corner and coffee table. Their spines old from years of use. The familiar scent of parchment and tea permeated the air, and the smell of herbs drying near the windowsill felt comforting. It all reminded you of him.

The evening outside was unusually quiet for a night in the city. Cars and passers-by were not as loud as they normally were, instead, there was a silence that felt almost oppressive. Spreading across the shared space. The full moon was due in just a few short days, the weight of that fact hung in the air you both shared.

Remus sat by the slightly open window, back hunched with a cigarette in hand, staring out at the dark sky above him. The warmth of the fire didn’t quite reach his body, leaving him partially veiled in the shadows surrounding him. His whole posture was tense, his shoulders had turned in on themselves as if he was trying to make himself smaller, as if he could somehow disappear. His brown hair, messy from how many times he had raked his fingers through it, fell into his sunken eyes.

He has always been on the leaner side, however, the days that lead up to the full moon only helped accentuate his lanky figure. His stress usually makes food seem irrelevant around this time. The faint lines around his mouth and eyes, formed from laughing with you or James or Sirius, were more pronounced. His deep amber eyes looked empty and fatigued, lips dragging once more on the cigarette in his hand, jaw clenching as he exhaled. Holding back words he dare not say.

You were snuggled into the couch just across the room, your gaze unable to focus on the book in your lap as concern gnawed away inside of you. You were more than familiar with nights like these. The shift in his mood, shutting you out. He became distant as the moon loomed over him, more irritable than usual. The weight of his condition becoming more burdensome, even with you there. Tonight, however, felt different. He felt darker in the way he held himself. His movements were sharper, tighter, you could feel the tension radiating off him much like the fire that was warming your tired body.

Placing your book down on the coffee table in front of you, standing as you began to approach the boy in the corner, the floor creaked gently as you came closer. He had smoked half a pack just this evening and you wanted nothing more than for him to hold you in his arms.

“Remus?” You used his full name to get his attention, your voice was filled with a soft tenderness that always seemed to calm him. “Are you alright?”

There was a brief pause as he didn’t respond to you. His eyes were glazed over as he continued to focus on the dark sky outside, his long fingers tapping on the windowsill, a small sign of the restless energy that was threatening to burst through him. When he did finally respond, his voice was low—lower than usual.

“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath, though the words felt hollow. He stubbed out his cigarette and formed a fist with his hand, the knuckles turning white as he tried to ground himself. “I’m just tired.”

Your eyes softened as you understood, but you knew better than to leave the conversation there. You could see the cloud surrounding him and couldn’t just sit there and pretend that nothing was wrong. Taking a tentative step further, glancing down at your sock-clad feet, feeling the warmth of the fire on your back as you moved closer. “Rem,” you began gently, “I know the full moon is in a few days, do you want to talk?”

Remus’s gaze finally tore away from beyond the window, his dark eyes now locking on yours. You could fully see the damage the stress had done to him. The shadows under his eyes made him look older, more worn than a boy in their twenties should be. His lips parted as if he wanted to respond to you, but they soon shut as he shook his head from frustration.

“No,” he said sharply. His eyes flickered with irritation that you knew he wasn’t trying to direct at you. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

The silence that followed was more unbearable than the previous one, his sharp words pressed down on the both of you. Your heart clenched in your chest, but you, being ever stubborn, refused to back down when he looked like this. You knew it was not in his nature to be cruel, the sweet boy that captured your heart all those years ago, but his tone hurt all the same. Ever the martyr, he tended to shut people out, even those who cared for him. He had built walls around himself for protection, rightfully so, but the isolation you felt was becoming too much to bear.

Taking a deep breath as you nervously clenched your hands at your sides. “Remus, you can’t keep treating yourself this way,” you tell him, keeping your voice firm but caring, but Remus could hear the tremor of hurt beneath your facade. “I know what you’re going through and that you’re hurting, but I’m trying to help. Please, don’t push me away.”

He scoffed and the sound felt cold and bitter, he finally stood up. He towered over you as he shut the window, his tall frame pulling away from yours as he paced over to the living room, running his hand once again through his hair in frustration. “Push you away?” He repeated your question sarcastically. “I should have done that years ago.”

He spun his body around to fully face you, his eyes blazing with so many emotions it was hard to pin one down. It was frightening. He had never frightened you before, not like this.

“You really don’t get it,” his voice lacking all the usual tenderness it had when talking to you. “Living like this, every month, turning into this—this monster. I can’t—I shouldn’t—have to put you in danger because of me.”

His words stung deep as you try not to flinch backwards. “I’m not scared of you,” you insist, keeping your voice level so as to not match his rising tone. “We have been over this. I know you—the real you—you should know better than anyone that I’m not going anywhere.”

“Have you ever thought that you should be scared?” He snapped back at you, his voice filled with panic and self-loathing. “You think you know what it’s like, and that’s the problem. You think you do but you don’t. You’ve never seen me—what I become—you haven’t seen what I am capable of.”

Your features softened as your frustration turned into sympathy, but you refused to allow him to shut you out more. “I know you’re not a monster,” you say truthfully, voice firm. “You are kind, kinder than anyone I have met before, strong too. This part of you doesn’t change that.”

He barked out a sharp laugh, one filled with no humour as he shook his head back and forth. “Of course, you say that now,” he muttered under his breath. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you saw what I turn into. One day, I will lose control, and you will despise everything you think you know about me.”

The words hit you like a blow to the stomach, you knew he was spiralling and your demeanour faltered slightly. You could feel the raw pain behind his outburst, the fear that had been eating this boy alive for years at this point. You refused to join him in being afraid, not allowing him to shove you aside.

“Rem,” you said lowly, voice determined. “I know you’re scared. I know you think you are protecting me by lashing out like this, but ultimately, this is my decision. I am here because I love you. Every part of you.”

His expression twisted painfully into one of disbelief. “Love me huh?” He asked. “You don’t even know every part of me. Not really. All you see if the version of me that I let you see. The one who tries to act normal, to convince everyone that everything is fine when really that is the furthest from the truth.

“Do you understand what is it like to live in fear of hurting someone you love? To be terrified of yourself? I know you can just pretend that everything is fine, but—fuck—I can’t” His voice rang out through the room, now still with the implication of his words.

You stood frozen in place, the weight of his confession hitting you with the intensity of a steam train. You both didn’t speak for a while and you felt your throat tighten, your waterline burned with tears that threatened to spill. The warmth from the fire did nothing to alleviate the coldness you felt from him now, the distance between you felt greater than just a few feet.

How many times have you held him whilst he struggled with his condition, picking up the pieces it left when it tore at him from the inside? This uncensored anger, brutal honesty, was new. The more you stared at him, the more you saw the scared boy that you fell for back in school. You couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I…” you began to say, unwilling to raise your voice above a whisper, in fear you would break down in tears. “I can’t be around you right now.”

Remus’ eyes widened slightly at the words that left your mouth, as if that response was unwarranted after his outburst. He wanted nothing more than to take it all back, but something held him back from speaking anything else.

You shook your head as the ache in your chest continued to grow. You wanted nothing more than to be there for him and expected nothing in return, but the pain of his words was too fresh to do any of that now, too overwhelming. You still loved him, but you couldn’t show it well right now. Not when every fibre of your being was screaming with hurt.

“I just… I need some time alone,” you turn away swiftly, not allowing him to see the tears fall.

You quickly retreated to your shared bedroom and softly shut the door behind you. The click of the handle sounded so much heavier than usual, the catalyst that broke the dam. Silent tears slipped down your face as you leaned on the frame for support, Your hand covered your mouth so as to not allow him to hear the effect his words had on you. Trying to catch your breath and calm down.

In the room just across from you, the soft crackle of the fire was the only sound that remained. Remus stood in the centre of the living room, aching as he looked at the door you had just shut. Locking him out. The realisation began to sink in, slowly, painfully. More painful than any transformation he had felt before. His body was cold, he felt hollow.

His fingers trembled as he combed them through his hair for the hundredth time that evening, guilt shattering through his frame and completely drowning out the last of his anger. He pushed you too far. Way too far. He didn’t mean anything he said, none of it. The one person who had always stood by him though everything was now hiding from him. The thought of it made his stomach churn.

He allowed his eyes to wander to the couch where you once sat, the soft cushions piled up to hold you comfortably, something he should have been doing. He glanced over to the bedroom. There was no way you would want to see him after tonight, let alone share the bed with him.

With a defeated sigh, he sunk down onto the couch, catching his head in his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees. The shadows from the fire danced around his vision as he stared at the floor, mocking him as his mind reeled.

•••

The morning light shone through the curtains he forgot to close last night. The sky was dim and muted, stereotypical of the English weather, making the apartment feel even more depressing than he felt. The dying embers of the fire drowned out the sounds of the city waking up outside, he tried to get his mind to focus on something—anything—that wasn’t the previous evening.

He groaned as he shifted uncomfortably, his tall frame stiff from the hours of not sleeping on the couch. He welcomed the ache, a self-inflicted punishment of sorts, one he deserved. His mind continued to race, he didn’t need to look at his watch to know that it was early, way too early. But he couldn’t bear to lie there any longer.

Eyes looking over to the bedroom door that was still shut. The urge to simply go over there and open it, to fix things, was overwhelming, but how could he just barge in? Especially after what transpired. The hurt look on your face was burned on the back of his eyelids, something he never wanted to see again. Ever.

He sighed and decided to stand, making his way to the kitchen fully on autopilot. His fingers shook slightly as he picked up the kettle, holding it under the tap to fill it up, the sound of it bubbling to life filling the silence. His mind flicking through everything he could say to you.

He shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, like you were a burden to him.

The kettle began to whistle as he opened the cupboard for the tea bags, the familiarity of his actions helped him ground himself as he prepared the tea, just the way you liked it. It was a small gesture, nowhere near as big as it should have been, but it was all he could think to do. It wouldn’t fix everything, but it could be a start. A pathetic attempt at an apology, but hopefully, it would show he wasn’t trying to run away again.

He poured the tea into two cups, he selected your favourite one too. One he picked up for you in one of the old antique shops in Diagon Alley, you refused to drink out of anything else for a week. For a brief moment, he paused, staring down at the steam as it slowly rose from the mugs. The anxiety shot through him and everything inside was telling him to leave the tea on the counter and walk away. But he couldn’t. Not to you. You needed him as much as he needed you and even his fear couldn’t keep him away.

His breath shook as he inhaled, picking up both mugs as he made his way to the shared bedroom. He pushed down on the handle with his elbow and winced at the creak of the door as it opened, stepping inside as quietly as he could manage.

The room was perfectly still, the same soft light from the morning cast gentle shadows across the bed you were huddled up in. His eyes fell to your sleeping figure and his chest clenched. You were fast asleep still, engulfed in the large blanket, but even as you slept, he could see the clear evidence of the night before—the faint tear stains that marked your cheeks, brow still visibly tense.

Remus almost dropped the cups in his hands, breath catching in his throat. He caused this. Made you cry. The guilt was overwhelming, suffocating him, it wrapped around his chest as breathing became more strenuous. If he hated himself yesterday, he loathed himself now, forced to face the consequences of his own fear. Drove away the one person, who only ever asked him to love them.

Carefully and quietly, he set the two cups down on the cluttered bedside table, hand trembling slightly as he knelt down next to the bed. His eyes were fixed on your face, the tear tracks were a painful reminder of everything he wished he could take back.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered from beside you, voice barely audible as you slept so close to where he was kneeling. He didn’t know if you could hear him, he didn’t know if it would make a difference, but he needed to say it anyway. Even just for himself.

His eyes began to burn with the tears that didn’t fall last night as he sat back on his heels, staring at the floor as regret washed over him in waves. In truth, he knew he didn’t deserve forgiveness, but he wanted—needed to try. Maybe when you woke up, you could talk. Maybe he could try to explain. Maybe you would yell at him. Anything would do, as long as you didn’t walk out that door.

He remained there, kneeling by your side, watching over you as you slept. Praying for any sign that you might forgive him. He didn’t want to wake you, if you had slept as badly as he did last night, you needed all the rest you could get. He would wait. It was the least he could do.

You felt yourself drift back to consciousness as the light continued to pour into the room. For a brief moment, everything was still, quiet—until the events of last night came rushing back to you. Unease filled your body and the argument flashed through your mind. How he pushed you away. How he looked at you.

You blinked slowly, eyes still heavy from the lack of sleep and last night’s tears. You turn your body slightly, and you are face to face with the sight of your boyfriend kneeling by the side of your bed, eyes wide with worry and regret. He looked even worse than yesterday, like he hadn’t slept at all. His dark circles were more prominent and his posture slumped over, like he didn’t have the energy to hold himself up. You felt your throat tighten.

Brown eyes met yours as he shifted uncomfortably on the floor, body thrumming with nervous energy once again.

“Hey,” he said softly, testing the waters with a tentative tone, almost breaking. He attempted to give you a weak smile but it fell before it could reach his eyes. “I—I made you some tea.”

You pushed yourself up into a seated position and glanced over at the bedside table, the anxiety increasing as you sat up, pulling the blanket closer to you for comfort. You glance between the tea and Remus, not knowing how to start this conversation just yet, scared of what he might say.

He seemed to sense the distance between you both. “I…I’m sorry,” he began, his words rushed, as if he was scared you would leave before he had the chance to fully explain himself. “Last night—I didn’t mean any of it. I was out of line, and I—” He took a breath and fiddled with the fabric of his sleeve. “I’m an idiot.”

As he looked at you, you could see the same raw fear that filled his being. “I was angry at myself, not at you. Never at you, darling.” He spilled out, stumbling over his own words. “I shouldn’t have let it come out like that. I’m so so sorry.”

Your heart softened at the familiar pet name that fell from his lips, the usual warmth of his voice was present as he fought through his panic. You wanted to tell him to stop. To slow down. Tell him you weren’t angry. But the nerves that lingered from that evening held you back. You had seen him unsteady before, but not like this. It was jarring to you, to see someone who was usually so composed, so calm, completely unravelling before you.

Remus reached forward but stopped himself, scared to touch you without permission. His slender hand retreated backwards as your heart broke for him. “Please, dove… don’t—don’t go. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

His voice cracked as he finished his sentence, his whole body rigid as if to prepare himself for the final blow. He wasn't just sorry—he was terrified. Terrified that he allowed himself to ruin everything, that you won’t forgive him, maybe he had pushed you too hard this time. Too hard to bring you back.

The tension in your chest eased slightly, the pain from last night was now beginning to soften as you saw your sweet boy crumbling just below where you sat. You had always known he carried so much on his shoulders, so much uncertainty, but seeing it so raw—laid bare in front of you—was a different experience entirely. His words no longer hurt you, what did was knowing how much he hated himself for using them.

“Remus…” you began to speak, voice a little hoarse from the tears last night.

“I love you,” he blurted out suddenly, desperate to let you know. “I love you so much, sweetheart. I was scared—I was so bloody scared of hurting you I couldn’t realise I was doing it myself. I need you to understand I’m sorry. I don’t deserve you but—Merlin—I can’t bear to lose you.”

He leaned forward, his soft eyes searching your own for any sign you still want him. “Please, darling. Forgive me.”

Your heart constricted tightly in your chest at the sight of the broken boy on your floor, his vulnerability broke the last of your resistance. He was horrified by the thought of you leaving, it was clear it was tearing him apart.

You sighed gently and took his unstable hand in your own, heartbreaking as you felt his fingers curl desperately around yours. “I forgive you,” you reassure him, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I know you didn’t mean it. You were just scared.”

The relief that washed over Remus’ face was immediate, his body relaxing as he let out a shaky breath. He smiled as he looked over at your two hands intertwined, running his thumb gently over your soft skin. “Thank you,” his voice was still filled with emotion. “I’ll do better, I promise.”

He leaned in closer to you, cupping your face with the same tenderness you were so used to. “I love you, dove,” he tells you honestly, his eyes shining with adoration. “More than anything.”

You both stayed like that for a moment as you let all of the negative emotions leave the room, allowing it to be replaced with a now comforting silence. He made mistakes in the past, far too many to count probably, but he owned them. He was willing to make things right, and that was all you could ask for.

You allowed yourself to lean back into the pillows behind you, muscles relaxing for the first time today. You glanced down at Remus, his face still a little bit pale, but the nervous energy had seemingly disappeared, now replaced by relief.

“You know, I expected you to come in here last night, it was terrible. Sulking on the couch might be a new low for you.” You say teasingly, a playful smile now playing on your lips as you test the waters with humour.

He blicked up at you, caught off guard slightly, but allowed a small smile to grace his features. “Oh, is that right?” He asked with a tired but amused expression. “And what else am I so terrible at, darling?”

You pulled your shoulders up and shrugged, pretending to think deeply for a moment. “Let’s see..brooding? You are certainly a natural at that. And it was a relief that you weren’t there to steal the blanket last night too.”

He lets out a small chuckle, tilting his head to admire your happier expression, something he was unaware that he missed so much. “I’ll have to work on that I suppose,” he replied, although his voice was still laced with concern.

“Are you really alright?” You ask once more, still wanting to help like you did last night. “The moon is full in a few days.”

The brunette’s smile faded ever so slightly as he nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted, now feeling better about having this conversation. “I’ve been worried. More than usual, I think.”

You frowned and squeezed his hands once more, silently communicating that you were there for him. “Why don’t you get in, lie here for a while with me? It might help calm you down a bit.” You ask, hoping beyond anything he would say yes. “And since it’s the weekend, we can do whatever you want. Sleep, read, watch a movie…or just stay here, as long as you want.”

“Whatever I want?” He asked as he looked at you with a silent gratitude, followed by a light chuckle. “That sounds dangerous.”

He quickly clambered into the bed beside you, pulling you into his aching arms and placing a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, darling,” he hummed with satisfaction as you snuggled deeper into his chest. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He pulled you even closer as if you might disappear in a moment. You allowed his body heat to soothe all of the residual emotions you felt last night, melting into his embrace. Leaving only the quiet sounds of your breathing getting heavier as Remus heard you drifting back to sleep, in his arms. Right where you are supposed to be.

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