#resmus lupin x reader

[cosmal]

𝐇𝐨𝐭 — 𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧

day three of my christmas drabbles advent calendar

summary — you bring remus home to visit your family for the holidays. he grows to love spending christmas in summer.

warnings/tags — fem!afab!reader, she/her pronouns, reader goes swimming, reader has hair long enough to be tied back

note!! — this is a totally self-indulgent fic. and for all my aussie/kiwi marauders fans!!

“This is weird,” Remus murmurs, handing you a tray of prawns. Along with the water dish.

“They’re gross, I know,” you giggle. “My dad loves them.”

Remus shifts in his seat, “No, not that,” he’s smiling, “It’s hot. It’s Christmas. It’s Christmas and I’m in a t-shirt.”

"You can take it off if you want," you giggle over the top of your bottle, sitting back in your chair.

"I will not," he gasps.

You love this look on him. He's been here for a week and he's all sunkissed and glowy. If you weren't spending the holidays at your parent's house, you'd have already jumped his bones.

"You'll go swimming with me, though?"

The backyard is full of your family members. Cousins running around with sticky, red iceblocks in their hands - your aunty's chasing them in turn, with wet paper towels. They're loud. Really loud and they really love Remus.

You're not surprised, he's perfect. You think they might love him more than you do. Impossible, obviously. But your dad had sat down with him in the lounge room and seemed genuinely interested in whatever Remus was telling him about his work. Your father has never read a book in his life, but for your boyfriend, he'll listen to him ramble about writing processes and workshops. In turn, your dad will force him to watch the boxing day cricket match tomorrow because Australia's playing England, so Remus must know a thing or two about cricket test matches.

"I told your mum I'd help her with the desserts," he leans over to kiss you on the cheek. His lips a burning heat over your already warm skin. It feels nice.

"Then you'll come for a swim?" you ask hopefully, lips pouting. You know he will, he'll do pretty much anything to make you happy. Sometimes you despise him for it in a totally loving girlfriend type of way. He's already in his swimming trunks. His legs looking fucking lovely.

He gets up from his seat at your outdoor table and it scrapes along your deck, "I'll be 20 minutes," he says with one more kiss. Quicker than the last but still as fond. You think maybe, even more, when he presses his fingers into your scorched skin.

You let him and your mum dish up trifles and a pavlova that always seems to be bigger than the year before. Remus says something really stupid and it makes your mum laugh. A full-on, hearty chuckle that is usually only produced at the cost of your own father. You smile all the way to your room.

Once in your swimmers, a set that you know Remus loves, modest enough in your own backyard, surrounded by your own family, but enough that you'll expect to be stuck to your boyfriend's side for the rest of the day. You walk back out to your backyard to find him in the middle of your lawn.

A cousin wrapped around his leg, another climbing their way up his torso. He's laughing, you're not sure how, because they both keep kneeing him in bruisable areas as they climb him like a jungle gym. Eventually, they pull him to the soft grass and it ends up in a sort of tickle-fight. It's more giggling than anything.

Your chest fills with as much warmth as you think it can allow without you feeling the urge to cry. Watching him get along with your family so well is more than you'd ever expected. He keeps surprising you and then he doesn't because he's Remus. Your boyfriend Remus, and he treats you with so much love and respect that you know that's just him. It's second nature to him and you'd expect nothing less for the people he knows you love also.

You know you're staring, you can't help it. Your cheeks ache with how wide you're smiling. Remus walks up to you once he's toddler free and pokes you in the cheek. You snap out of the little lovesick bubble you'd found yourself in.

"He's strong for four years old," Remus laughs, kissing you on the cheek again like he can't help it. You know he can't because you kiss him just as often.

"My aunty thinks he'll be good at rugby," you giggle.

"Or wrestling."

You lean in to wrap your arms around his waist, he doesn't let you. You startle, confused.

"I've never seen this before," Remus can be smug when he wants to be, sliding a finger under the strap of your swimmers, snapping the tight material against your skin.

"Yes, you have." You go too shy under his loving gaze. His eyes droopy but still full of mirth. You can feel a heat eat its way up your chest. If he makes fun of you for it, you'll be sure to blame it on the sun.

"Right," he runs the material between his fingers, distracted.

"Remus, stop it," you mumble. Completely melted.

"Stop what?" Still smug.

"Just take your shirt off, please. I wanna go for a swim."

Remus doesn't have to be asked twice. He takes his white button-up off, a gift from your family, and you try to ignore the feeling you suddenly have to stare more than would be acceptable in your setting. You also ignore the wolf whistle your uncle let's out.

Remus genuinely blushes.

"I think my family really likes you," you tell him, tracing a scar in the hinge of his elbow.

"I'm really happy they do," Remus pulls the hair tie from your wrist, moving to tie your back from your face. His fingers tickle your neck and you shiver despite the temperature. Remus grins. "I didn't just spend fifteen minutes decorating a Pavlov for no reason."

You snort. "Pavlova."

"Hmm?"

"It's a pavlova."

"Right..." he chuckles.

"Pavlov was the guy with the dog theory."

It's Remus's turn to snort. "Dog theory."

"Yeah."

He traces a knuckle down your cheek, "You're adorable."

"Stop it."

"Really."

"Remus..."

"That's why I'm really sorry." He says. Suddenly serious.

"For what?" you ask. Also suddenly just as confused as he is stern.

He doesn't respond.

"For what, Remus?"

The squeal you let out when Remus throws you over his shoulder is loud and pretty, in his own opinion. That's why he has no problems when you tug at his hair to stable yourself. You're suddenly dizzy, blood rushing to your head. Remus feels worse when you giggle in his ear.

"Remus!" Your protests are broken up by peels of laughter.

"I said I'm sorry!" he laughs.

"Don't! I'm serious."

He jumps in the pool, pulling you under with him and you both come up, smiling like idiots. Your family roars with adored laughter and your smile widens.

You swim towards him where he's standing just before the deep end. His laughter dies down as you pull him down so the water's up to his neck.

"I hate you."

Remus lets you wrap your legs around his waist. Content with holding you up. "No, you don't."

"We're breaking up."

Remus gasps, "Don't tell your dad."

"I think he'd die," you giggle.

"I think I would too."

You press your face into his wet chest, "Don't die."

"Never," he sighs. He has zero problems with kissing you over chlorine-soaked hair.

Christmas in the summer is better, Remus thinks. But only if he gets to spend it with you.

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