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Sirius Black not knowing how to initiate a conversation because he spent his whole childhood being conditioned to only speak when spoken to.

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The “oh I could definitely write this fanfic in under 5000 words and it really wouldn’t take me that long” voice in your head is actually the devil speaking

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I have been waiting all year to post this.

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the marauders are the type of guys to push each other into random girls and say “he likes you”

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jily headcanons

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Hi Jade!! Can I request a hurt/comfort with Remus where you get really severely hurt or are in the hospital and he’s very worried about you and takes care of you?? Thank you!

Hi! Thank you so much for your request, I think this is my favourite thing I’ve written in so long and I missed Remus very much. I hope this is okay <3 fem!reader, tw hospital and implied painful injury/illness (not specified)

Remus is there when you wake up. He always is. 

He's got one hand over yours, rubbing your dry skin gently, steadily, a ceaseless back and forth. The other is in his lap holding open a small paperback. You watch him as you gather your bearings, minutes of bleary blinking and an aching throat. He doesn't once turn the page. 

"Good morning," you say, barely audible. 

He lets out a relieved breath, book dropped as he turns in the chair toward you. The hospital bed is much higher than his seat, so he has to stand up when he kisses you.  

"Good morning," he says, lips pressed to your cheek. He kisses you twice in succession. "Oh, I'm so happy you're up. How's your pain, lovey?" 

Maybe you haven't woken up properly yet, or maybe they've given you something in your drip, but the pain is much better than it had been last night, when you'd cried enough to wake with sore eyes. You think of how he'd advocated for you, gently and then less so, until they'd taken you seriously and given you some strong painkillers. You feel a thousand times safer with him beside you, knowing he's always gonna stick up for you. 

"I'm fine." 

He strokes your cheek. "Yeah?" he asks. "Shall we sit the bed up?" 

Remus grabs the controller from the side of the hospital bed and clicks the right button on his first try. The bed starts to rise, until your back is nearly straight and your abdomen aches. You don't mention it. 

"That better?" 

You nod, wordless. Not uncommon with your being in hospital, you've found yourself overwhelmed more often than not by everything that's happening. Remus has been your glue, undoubtedly. Praising you, loving on you, taking amazing care of you. Of course, your doctor and nurses have been invaluable, but you really couldn't make it through this without him.  

You try to tell him and the words get stuck. He's not waiting for anything, he's fussing, tucking your blankets neatly under each thigh, all the way down to your ankles. 

"It's a bit cold, isn't it? Do you want your jumper, darling?" 

Remus doesn't usually call you darling. Dove is and always will be his go to, but he's called you just about anything sweet since your admittance. 

"I'm okay." You rub your hurting eyes. You feel oddly like crying, though this is as well as you've felt for days. "Remus-" 

You don't mean to stop talking, but you know if you keep trying you'll burst into tears, ugly and dramatic sobs that won't do you any good. 

He thinks the same thing, sitting carefully on the side of your bed, his hands falling to your waist. 

"Don't cry," he says. There’s a well-meaning sternness in his gaze. "Tell me what it is and I'll fix it, promise." 

That's why you want to cry. You bite your tongue until it hurts and the heat of your tears has faded. 

"Can you wipe my face for me?" you ask. 

"Yes, I can." 

He grabs your wash bag from the small cubby hole under the nightstand and pulls out a flannel, wetting it in the sink in the corner of the room. Only when he does do you remember that you're on a ward. It's loud, four beds to a room, two with the privacy curtains pulled around them and one without. The bed across from you is empty. 

Remus returns and tilts your head back. 

"The lady with the hernia," he whispers, dabbing your face with the flannel tenderly, "when I got here, she was screaming bloody murder. You woke up for a couple of seconds, do you remember?" 

You aren't sure. Vaguely, you might recall his hand stroking your hair from your face, his voice whispering, "It's okay, dove, it's alright." 

"She fucking wailed," he finishes. 

You giggle at his language and his gossiping tone, eyes slipping closed as he wipes the oil from your nose. 

"Poor woman, she doesn't have a lovely guy like you taking care of her," you say, tangling your fingers in the hem of his t-shirt. 

"She has a hernia, my love." 

"They can be really painful," you say, lightly chiding.

He turns the flannel inside out, rubbing around your hairline with the fresh side. "I'll never let anyone complain to me ever again, after you." He pulls the flannel away, his chin dipping toward his neck. "You look brand new." 

He looks tired. He has shadows under his eyes, stubble around his mouth. You've seen him unwell, in pain, in agony, and you'd never pictured what it would be like to be on the other side. You take care of him, good care of him, and you can finally understand how and why he pulls through it every time. 

"You're so good to me," you say, tears welling in your eyes. You can feel them dancing along your waterline. 

"I love you," he says simply, frowning as the first tear falls. "Dove, seriously, I love you so much, I just want you to get better, okay?" 

"Okay," you say, sniffling.

He catches your tears with the flannel. "Your poor eyes, all this crying. You're gonna need my glasses if you don't stop soon." 

"They look good on me." 

He pouts at your tearful tone. "Yeah, they do. Everything looks good on you. Except for tears," he says pointedly, leaning in until you're eye to eye. "Don't cry anymore. For me?" 

You nod fiercely, blinking away the last few strays. "Okay." 

He's ridiculously grateful. "Thank you." He kisses your damp cheek. Rests his nose against your nose. You don't fit like that and it doesn't matter. He breathes you in. "This will all be over soon. You've been so brave." 

"Remus, if you want me to stop, you can't say anything nice to me for the rest of the day." 

His laugh fans over your skin. He stands at full height. "Sorry. Love you. Your flannel's dripping down my arm." 

You push him away with as much strength as you can muster. It isn't much, but he's everything, so he pretends you've hurt his arm and murmurs grievances all the way to the sink. 

#dani’s april favorites 🩷 #this is so warm and soft and cute i love it <3 #remus lupin x you

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Hi! I love your writing so much and was wondering if you could write Remus giving super lovey dovey aftercare to the reader? (Like maybe the reader gets really tired or has a bit of muscle pain after the deed and it’s just Rem taking care of her)

Thanks sm for requesting!

cw: definite implied smut, but no real details

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 798 words

It’s almost embarrassing that you’re hurting. You’d been talking big a little while ago, all I can take it and don’t stop, feels so good, and that had felt very (very) true at the time, but now that you’re coming down from your high, the ramifications of going so hard are catching up to you. You wish Remus wouldn’t notice, because it wasn’t long ago that he was telling you how good you were being for him and you’d hate to lose that reputation, but of course Remus misses nothing. 

He’s trailing a finger lazily up and down your side when he stops just shy of your hip. “You’re tense,” he murmurs, prodding carefully at your lower belly. “Are you cramping?”

“It’s not bad,” you try, and he frowns. “Just a little, uh, muscle pain.” 

“Dovey.” He pouts, and it’s almost comical, the mouth that had teased and bitten at you minutes before all pursed in sympathy. He begins rubbing your stomach with his palm tenderly, one hip bone to the other and back again. “Where does it hurt, love?”

“Right…there,” you hiss as he adds a bit of pressure, and Remus stops immediately. “And—and my legs.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” He moves his other hand to rest on your thigh, like he can banish your pain with just his touch. “I knew I shouldn’t have been so rough with you.” 

“Worth it.” You grin at him, and you’re rewarded with a low chuckle. 

“Still, I think I’ll work on having a bit more restraint in the future.” Now it’s your turn to pout, and Remus thumbs affectionately at your cheek, following his touch with a kiss. “I’m gonna go get your heating pad, see if that helps. Just relax, yeah?”

You start to shiver after he goes, the slight chill in the room more apparent now that your blood isn’t flowing like it was. You’re considering going under the covers, but when Remus comes back he grabs one of his sweaters, passing it to you wordlessly as he plugs in your heating pad. The knowingness of the gesture warms your heart, and you wonder that you don’t see it glowing softly through the material of Remus’ sweater. He lifts up the hem, adjusting the heating pad over your stomach before letting it fall back in place. You widen your eyes at him pitifully, and Remus smiles as he leans down, obliging you with a sweet, lingering kiss before he sits on the bed and takes your leg in his hands. 

“It’s here, yeah?” he asks, pressing his fingertips to the taut muscles underneath your thigh. 

“Mhm.” 

“Alright, love, just straighten your leg out for me.” 

“Rem.” 

“Hm?”

You flush. “Can you not talk like that, please? I mean, right after?”

Remus’ smile is sheepish, but you don’t think you imagine the glint of smugness in his amber eyes. “Sorry, darling.”

You extend your leg on the bed, and Remus begins to knead at it, testing the stiffness of your muscles and then working it out with long, skilled fingers still sticky with sex. You make a sound in the back of your throat when he pushes at a particularly tight area, and Remus coos, dipping his head to drop a light, conciliatory kiss to the top of your thigh. 

“My poor, lovely thing,” he murmurs, resuming his ministrations even more gently than before. “Didn’t mean to put so much strain on you.” 

“Remus, please, I asked you to,” you sigh.

“Shh, darling. I’m talking to your leg.” 

You make a sound of startled amusement, but Remus keeps his composure, his expression grave as he sets down your thigh and moves to your other side, starting on the next. 

“It gets a kiss, but not me?” you ask, suffusing your tone with a good helping of neediness. 

“You’ve already had a kiss,” he reminds you, but doesn’t hold out more than a second after you pout, leaning over and taking your face in his hand. He squeezes your cheeks together, keeping your lips pushed out for him as he presses a kiss there, to your cheek, to your forehead. “My poor. Lovely. Girl,” he says between each one, dropping once more to your lips for good measure. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Yes.” You smile, not caring that it’s all mushed up in his hand. “But only if you mean it.” 

He rolls his eyes, feigning benevolence, but he can no longer suppress the lopsided curve of his lips. “I mean it,” he sighs. “Do you think I’d be offering you free reign of my chocolate stores if I didn’t mean it?”

You brighten. “Really?’

“Just for tonight,” he says sternly, but it’s all for show. He’ll give you anything you want, whenever it pleases you.

#this is so warm and soft and cute i love it <3 #dani’s april favorites 🩷 #remus lupin x you

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Burnt Out

summary: when you're overworking yourself trying to please everyone, Remus wants you to take some time for yourself

cw: mention of not eating, exhaustion 

Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.3k words

Remus is reading in your bedroom when he hears the door open, screaming on its hinges, and slam shut. Just that noise lets him know what kind of day you’re having, but he gets up and moves towards the sound anyway, eager to see you.

“Dove?” he calls as he enters the kitchen, where he finds you already surrounded by sandwich supplies, slathering jelly onto a piece of bread you’ve placed directly onto the counter in your rush.

You turn around at his voice. “Remus, hi!” You beam, surging toward him. 

He catches you as you stumble, clipping your hip on the corner of the counter, and a soft, sympathetic hiss escapes him. “Careful,” he murmurs, covering the spot with his hand protectively as you press yourself to his chest, your arms winding around his neck. Remus brings his other hand to the center of your back, squeezing gently, and he wishes he could pour his affection into you this way, through the palm of his hand. 

“Sorry,” you say into his neck, though he’s unsure why you’re apologizing to him. It’s your poor hip that’s been slighted. “I didn’t know you were home.” 

“I haven’t been here long,” he assures you. 

You pull back, brushing your lips against his in a kiss that feels like it’s over before it’s begun, and he tries in vain to hold onto you as you move away. You resume rushing around the kitchen, letting cabinets and drawers bang shut behind you. Ordinarily you move almost silently, always easing the front door shut behind you and moving around the apartment on socked feet, much to Remus’ amusement when he comes into the living room to find you curled up on the couch with a cup of tea and dinner already in the oven, and he wasn’t even aware you were home. But on your busiest days, you turn into this—what he’s affectionately dubbed your Tornado of Productivity—and the time it takes to be your usual quiet, careful self simply doesn’t serve your goal of functioning at maximum efficiency. You’d been in this state for the last few days, never seeming to have more than a few minutes’ break between work and school and the myriad of social obligations Remus suspects you only agree to because of the guilt you’ve associated with the word “no.”

“How was your day?” Remus asks probingly. 

You blow out a breath that answers his question before you do. “Crazy,” you admit, washing a tomato in the sink. “I had a test at noon, and I didn’t study yesterday because I thought I’d have time this morning, but then I had to go in to work.” 

He feels his brow furrow. “Didn’t you work last night?”

“Yeah, but—” you absentmindedly grab a knife from the drawer, then another, until finally you find the one you need “—Mia didn’t sleep well last night, so I told her I could take her shift.” 

“Dove.” Remus tries to keep his reprimanding tone gentle. “You barely slept last night either.”

“I know,” you sigh again, and you sound so exhausted Remus wants to seize you and swaddle you in blankets so you have no choice but to rest. Get you in bed and kiss the crease between your eyebrows until it fades away. Give you the cosseting you deserve. “But she asked for my help, and—anyway, I don’t feel great about the test since I only had a few minutes to study right before.”

“I’m sorry,” he says earnestly. “I’m sure it went better than you think.”

You flash him a kind, if somewhat forced, smile. “Thanks.” You’ve just finished the sandwiches, of which Remus now notices there are three. Three completely different sandwiches: peanut butter and jelly, ham and cheese, and something involving lettuce and tomato. He can’t imagine what you need that variety for, but he rarely understands what you’re up to when you’re this scatterbrained. Your mission nearly complete, you seem to be short-circuiting in the middle of the kitchen, standing with your hands raised as if prepared for your next task and your features scrunched up bemusedly. 

“Plates?” Remus suggests gently. 

“No, sorry—I need, um—” You shake your head as if chastising yourself. “Tupperware. I need tupperware.” You roll your eyes, seemingly at your own forgetfulness. It makes Remus feel defensive, though to defend you against yourself seems like a conflict of interests. You open the cabinet above your microwave, reaching for the containers. “Marlene and Mary want to meet, but I haven’t had time to eat since breakfast…” You appear sheepish at Remus’ exasperated look, but he doesn’t interrupt. “...so I said I’d make us all sandwiches.” 

You’re struggling to reach the tupperware, and Remus nudges you out of the way, passing them to you. “Dove,” he says, using his new proximity to set his hands on your shoulders, preventing you from dashing off again, “don’t you think you need some time to rest? You’ve had a long day, I’m sure the girls will understand you wanting to meet another time.” You bite your lip, anxious at the idea of canceling on your friends. “And,” he adds lightly, “I wouldn’t mind getting to spend some time with you too. I feel like I’ve hardly seen you the last few days.”

“Oh.” Your eyes widen, so instantaneously guilty he wishes he could take it back. “I’m so sorry, Remus, you’re right. I, um.” Your brow furrows, gaze moving over his shoulder to some faraway place, and Remus can see your overworked gears turning again, your fatigued brain struggling to solve this new dilemma. “I have class in the morning, but I shouldn’t be home too late tonight if—or, I actually have about fifteen minutes before I’m meeting Mary and Marl, do you want to hang for a bit now and then maybe walk with me?”

“I want you to take time for yourself,” Remus says firmly, though not unkindly. “I’m not trying to give you another task, love, I promise.” He lets his hands drop from your shoulders to where your fingers are fidgeting anxiously, easing his own between them. “But you’re spreading yourself too thin. Marlene and Mary love you, and that’s not gonna change if you don’t always have time to meet when they do.” You slouch slightly against the counter, beginning to resign yourself unhappily to the idea of staying in, and Remus kisses the top of your head sympathetically. “You can put your sandwiches in the fridge so they stay ready for you, and I’ll make us whatever you want for dinner. Pasta?” he asks, to sweeten the deal. 

Your gaze meets his again, your interest piqued. “That sounds amazing.”

“Alright, pasta,” he says decisively, smiling at you solely so you’ll smile back. It works, and he’s pleased to note that it looks a bit less strained than before. He begins herding you towards the living room, and maybe it’s wishful thinking, but he imagines he can see the guilt in your eyes slowly fading away as you let them droop slightly, giving into the relaxation Remus is peddling so persuasively. “And we can watch a movie, and cuddle, yeah?”

You hum assent, releasing a little sigh of contentment as you sink into the couch cushions and giving Remus your sweetest, most adoring look as he settles in beside you, covering you with a blanket. “Thank you,” you say, packing the words with enough sincerity to make Remus’ heart ache. “I’ll try to…cut back, a bit.” 

“No one will hold it against you,” he promises, knowing you need to hear it, “and if they do, send them to me for a scolding.”

You grin. “That would be a cruel punishment, I’m not sure I could do that to some poor soul.” You tilt your chin upwards, and he meets you halfway, the kiss lingering and sweet. You brush your thumb tenderly along Remus’ jaw as you pull away, and he knows what you’re feeling before you open your mouth. The same sentiment echoes through his chest. “I love you,” you whisper, like it’s a sacrament. “Promise you’ll still love me back if I meet up with the girls tomorrow and pencil you in for after?”

Remus huffs a laugh, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Alright, love, I promise.” 

#🥹 #literally all i need right now #all my lifes problems will be solved if remus tells me i should take care of myself first #remus lupin x you #crying #this is so warm and soft and cute i love it <3 #dani’s april favorites 🩷

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‘james potter would nev-‘ please have him. i’m almost begging you, have the canon version of james potter, he’s straight and dead and most likely would never.

my james is different breed, he sucks dicks (proudly) and takes them up his ass (enthusiastically) and doesn’t give a fuck if you perceive him differently. he also fucks the life out of his death-eater boyfriend so good that twink has no choice but to quit his cult and start a new one, in james’ name.

so yeah, have canon james. i don’t want him.

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sigh

Hello I’m new here (tumblr) and idk if I’m doing this right but hi!

Your fics first came up with regulus and moon water so I’ve been binge reading your fics :), I was wondering if you would write Sirius x reader?

Where like Sirius is like head over heels for reader and it’s just him talking to the marauders about her because she’s like on prefect duties so he misses her.

If not that’s fine.

hahaha lovesick Siri is my kryptonite - thanks for your request; here's a cute little baby blurb <3

please note: my requests are currently closed as I finish exams and work through the requests that I currently have.

lovesick!Sirius Black x fem!reader who's on prefect rounds and he's upset about it

“So….why exactly is Padfoot pouting right now?” Peter asked cautiously as he shed off his bookbag and sat down to watch James and Remus’ game of wizard chess as Sirius hung upside down from a grandfather chair looking awfully contemplative. 

“His bird ditched him for some other bloke.” James muttered without raising his head.

Sirius scoffed dramatically and shot James what was probably supposed to be a withering glare, but was significantly diminished from his current upside-downness. 

“First of all, do not call my darling girl a bird. Second of all, she did not ditch me for another man, she has prefect rounds with Regulus.”

“The better of the Black brothers; good for her.” Remus commented; dodging a throw pillow lobbed at him from Sirius without moving his attention from the board. 

“What? You think you’re going to die if she’s not here to stroke your ego, Pads?” James asked teasingly.

“I might.” Sirius responded earnestly.

The other three Marauders groaned.

“You’re all just jealous you don’t know what it’s like to be in love.” Sirius accused as he repositioned himself upright in the chair.

Remus and James both turned to give him unimpressed glares.

“You’re nearly as bad as Prongs now.” Peter muttered, earning him indignant “oi!”’s from both James and Sirius.

“I can’t help it if she’s the best thing to ever happen to me, Wormy.” Sirius pouted.

“I am sitting right here.” James grumbled. 

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You’re a close second, Prongs.”

“She can’t be that great if she willingly puts up with you.” Remus commented, causing Sirius to launch himself out of the grandfather chair and onto Remus’ back.

“You take that back right now! My girl is the sweetest, most angelic, lovely person in the whole wide world and we’re all better for it.”

“Oh my gods, okay, okay. Merlin’s tits you’re wild.” Remus muttered as he bodily shoved Sirius off of his person.

“I can’t believe she puts up with you if this is what you’re like around her.” Peter commented, earning him a laugh from James.

“Oh, you should see it, Worms. She reduces him to nothing but a soppy lovesick smile whenever she’s around; no more feral Pads, he’s right docile with her.”

Sirius stared between his three friends with his mouth hanging open, face painted in a look of pure betrayal.

“See, this is why I spend so much time with her; she’d never treat me like this.”

“And yet, here you are.” Remus taunted.

Sirius stood quickly as he scoffed derisively. “Fine. I’m going to go hang out with her; at least then I’ll know I’m wanted.”

No one said anything as Sirius dramatically stormed out of the portrait hole and the Gryffindor common room once again returned to its appropriate volume.

“His logic is flawed if he thinks Regulus wants him anywhere near them during their rounds.” Peter commented, causing James to groan.

“Reg’s gonna hex him into oblivion if he disrupts their prefect duties again.” The Headboy groaned.

Remus let out a long suffering sigh as he stood from his long since abandoned chess game and made for the portrait hole.“I’ll go play interference…again.”

#sirius black x you #dani’s april favorites 🩷 #yearning #yearning once again #this is so warm and soft and cute i love it <3

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sum domestic jegulus ☕️☀️

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sirius and/or regulus telling a story: "when i was little..."

remus and james: *braces for the absolute worse*

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SUCCESSION + biblical imageries (requested by anon):  - The Crucifixion of Christ (Matthew 27:27-44), Christ Crucified by Diego Velázquez - The Kiss of Judas (Luke 22:48), The Taking of Christ by Caravaggio - The Last Supper (Matthew 26:17-30), The Last Supper by Leonardo da Vinci - The Roman Soldiers Mock Jesus (Mark 15:16-21), Christ Falling on the Way to Calvary by Raphael  - Pontius Pilate Washing His Hands (Matthew 27:24), Pilate Washing his Hands by Matthias Stomer

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