I Feel Like Remus Is One Of Those Cat People Who Can Sleep Anytime They Want To, Like He’ll Literally

i wish to only sit with you for a while

Sirius tried to carve info on the walls of his cell in Azkaban, after he starts to realize that one day he’ll forget Remus.

And although the dementors make him relieve his worst memories forever, nothing terrifies him more than the thought of forgetting Remus. He thinks about the way his lips had felt against his and he resists the urge to touch them, scared of losing the memory. He knows that he would feel the same pain he felt, when James died. So, that’s why he starts writting about Remus’ appearance. The colour of his eyes and hair, the way he tilts his head back when he smiles, the sound of his sweet laughter, habits, likes, dislikes... everything.

Headcanon that Sirius would sometimes say “I love you to the moon and back” and Remus would always answer with “I love you more than there are stars in the sky.”

Don’t hate me, but imagine this song playing in the background in All The Young Dudes during Mary’s and Remus’ phone call and him sinking to his knees.

w o l f s t a r f l u f f f f f.

Forgot I did this and never posted it, ♥️

My Love

Sirius Black called everyone love, it was just his thing.

No one was certain how or when it had started, but by the end of fourth year, it had become his thing.

When Peter would suggest a prank,

"We should hide dungbombs in the Slytherin common room—"

"Love, this isn't second year."

When Marlene would ask for advice,

"I just don't know why she's upset with me!"

"Have you even asked Dorcas?"

"...Well, no—"

"Marlene!"

"I thought you could ask her!"

"Love, I'm not a mind reader, ask her yourself!"

When he would plan parties with James,

"Don't ya think this is enough alcohol for one party, Pads?"

"Do you know who you're planning this party for? Gryffindors can drink, love."

When he would study with Lily,

"How do you get this so easy?"

"It's a natural gift, love—okay, fine, I looked at Remus' paper."

But there was one person Sirius found felt unnatural calling love, and that was Remus Lupin.

It wasn't that Remus would make a face, or squirm, or had ever said anything about it, but Sirius found it odd to say around the boy.

Perhaps it was the odd feeling he got around his friend, or the weird feeling he got when the word rolled off his tongue when he called Remus, love, but whatever it was, Sirius found himself getting flustered by saying the word.

He quickly realized why when Remus had ever said it one day to Sirius.

They had been studying for OWLs in the library when without looking up, Remus casually said,

"Can you pass that book, love?"

Sirius' head shot up and he felt his heart race as he fumbled with the book in his hand.

It was just a four letter word that he said to everyone, why was he so flustered when Remus said it back?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized his true feelings for the particular boy.

When he would say call everyone else love, sure he loved them—of course he loved his friends—but with Remus, it was because he was in love with him.

The more time he had spent analyzing his friendship with Remus, the more Sirius realized there were obvious signs that Remus felt the same way.

Remus would smile whenever he saw his friends in the hospital wing after a full moon, but he would smile the biggest once he saw Sirius.

When Sirius would be explaining something, Remus would stare at Sirius, carefully watching every way Sirius moved his hands in the air as though it helped him comprehend whatever Sirius was saying.

Remus would happily help Sirius whenever he needed it, even if he had already ranted about how much work he had.

Remus would loudly cheer Sirius on at each quidditch game and even the practices despite showing zero interest in the sport before.

Remus would smile and blush whenever Sirius would pass a note in transfiguration or whatever other class they sat beside each other in.

He would share almost everything of his with Sirius, even his secret chocolate stash.

It was all small things that Remus would do and once Sirius had finally picked up on them, he grinned at the thought of how he would subtly tell Remus he knew.

The idea was small and at first, Sirius wasn't certain if it had worked, but after three days, he knew it had when Remus pulled him aside on their way to charms.

"What's going on?"

"What are you talking about?"

Remus furrowed his brows.

"Sirius, c'mon. I know I'm not imagining it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, my love."

Remus' eyes widened as he pointed at Sirius with his finger.

"There it is! You just said it!"

Sirius smirked and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Why do you keep saying that?" Remus continued.

Sirius shrugged, "Because I can."

"You're referring to me as 'my love' because you can?" Remus slowly said, the faintest blush forming on his cheeks.

Sirius shrugged again and tried to act as though none of this bothered him when in reality, his heart was pounding from his chest. "And because I love you."

Sirius watched as the blush on Remus' face darkened until his entire face was crimson.

"S'what are you gonna do about it?" Sirius boldly asked above the ringing in his ears.

There was a smirk on Remus' face as he ever so slightly shook his head.

In one motion, Remus brought his bag from his shoulder to the floor, swiftly cupped Sirius' face, and brought their lips together.

From then on, Sirius had an actual reason to refer to Remus as my love, and naturally, he said it whenever he could.

It continued even after they had finished Hogwarts and for years, it was the only way he would refer to Remus.

It was his thing and it became useful and not just endearing in the midst of the war.

On the night of October 31st, 1981, Sirius was on their doorstep, banging on the door with a bundle of blankets in his arms.

When Remus finally opened the door, his eyes widened.

"Sirius—"

"Remus, I-I can explain—What are you doing?" He cut himself off as Remus had backed further into their flat and almost shut the door.

"You called me by my name. You haven't called me that—"

"Since the end of fifth year when I told you I loved you, now will you please let me in, my love?" Sirius rushed.

In one night, they had not only lost their best friends, but they became parents to their Godson.

As the years passed, the only way Sirius would address Remus would be with those two words.

My love.

And if it wasn’t my love, then it was darling, sweetheart, Moons, but it was almost always my love.

After a particular bad moon, Remus was confined to their bed while Sirius did his best to keep Harry away from Uncle Moony, but that was easier said than done when raising a five year old.

Eventually, Sirius gave up in trying to keep Harry away from Remus when the boy ever suggested cuddles in bed. It wasn’t as though Sirius could refuse cuddling, especially if it was with his two favorite people in the world.

He sighed and Harry reached for his hand and dragged his Uncle Padfoot to the closed bedroom door.

Sirius quickly pulled Harry to his hip as he fumbled with the child lock on the door and as soon as the door opened to reveal a bandaged up Remus, Harry squirmed in Sirius’ arms.

His heart had seemed to swell as he watched Harry run to the bed and bring himself under the covers, curling up to Remus’ side with a concerned look on his face. He followed the boy and climbed in the bed, leaving Harry in the middle, and slowly brought his hand through Remus’ curls.

He watched as Remus had begun to wake, his brown eyes slowly opening and he tried to force a smile once he saw Sirius looking down at him.

“‘m sorry, my love, but someone insisted on cuddling Uncle Moony.” Sirius whispered as Harry carefully snuggled up into Remus’ chest.

Remus smiled and gently kissed the top of Harry’s head.

“Are you okay?” Harry quietly asked, the words mumbled against Remus’ chest.

“I will be. With you and Uncle Padfoot, I’ll be better before you know it.” Remus softly assured, his voice still raspy. His eyes began to droop as he slowly pulled an arm around Harry.

“Cuddles can make anything better, my love.” The small voice said and suddenly both of the adults were wide eyed.

“Harry, what did you just call Uncle Moony?” Sirius softly asked.

Harry pulled himself away from Remus’ chest and turned to look up at his godfathers.

“His name.” He simply said then turned to directly address Remus. “I mean that is what Uncle Padfoot calls you, right?”

Remus immediately turned his head to Sirius, both of their eyes filling with tears.

They both kissed the top of Harry’s head and if the boy was confused, he didn’t mention it—though random head kisses were normal in the Black-Lupin-Potter household.

When they pulled away, their tear filled eyes met again as Sirius quickly reached over Harry and gently cupped his partner’s face before softly bringing their lips together.

“Don’t ever stop saying it.” Remus whispered against Sirius’ lips.

“For you, my love, of course.” Sirius whispered as he pulled away with a smile on his lips and happy tears streaming down his cheeks.

Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve  g o t

request by anon: sophie skelton as lily evans

“One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl.”

this was.. *chief kiss*

just plain beautiful

vivre d'amour et d'eau fraîche || s.b. x reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: smoking, fluff, me not knowing french

a/n: extra translations at the end

—————

The air was thick was the scent of smoke, the curling of which held your attention. It wisped gently above you, nearly a dance, and your fingertips itched with the urge to mingle with the tainted exhalation. But you were weighed down by the effects of lethargy, slipping in and out of consciousness.

Sirius’ fingers chose indolence as their nature, combing through your hair and trailing down your spine, recurrent actions that lulled you. His free digits were attending to the lit cigarette, his lips spilling comfort from such perfume.

“You still tired, baby?” he murmured, noticing your half-lids. His ministrations paused to help tilt your head up, your chin seating on his chest.

You managed a slight nod. The common room was empty, the students blissfully stuck in classes—exactly where you and your boyfriend were also meant to be.

He made a soft sound, brushing the strands from your forehead. His eyes held adoration—the sort you rarely saw without such privacy. It was pure. He offered you the tobacco, a subtle lift of his wrist, but you declined it, instead turning your head back down and staring into the perfunctory fire.

“How many more exams?” he asked, taking another drag.

You sighed, “Two? Three? I don’t remember.” Your nails drew along the fabric of his button-up, the cotton soft.

Skipping class with Sirius was a common pastime, and it only grew more regular as exams finished. Often, he drew you into the common room, laying across couches and pillows, letting you rest; it was one of the few times you could do so serenely, nights dedicated to studying. The two of you would sleep, or speak, or merely stare into space; there was no pressure, no worries, no intrusions.

“Doing so well, love,” he murmured, stubbing the cigarette out on the nearby ashtray. He left the paper there, letting both arms wrap around you. “I’m proud of you, you know. You work so hard.”

The praise settled any anxiety that prevailed, and you smiled, pressing a spare kiss to his collarbone. “Thank you.”

Sirius’ own lips found the crown of your head, lingering for only a moment, just as his fingers dragged along your side. “Of course, ma vie.”

Those words, the endearment, curled your mouth further; his French was something few were privy to, the side of him he kept hidden—remnants of who he truly was, where he came from. It was all the push you needed, getting the energy to squirm and sit up.

Sirius followed you, pushing to be propped against the armrest, then pulling you to be straddling his lap. You reacclimated, then grinned, smoothing down his hair and playing with his tie. His hands settled on your hips, and his head cocked in question.

“Tell me something in French,” you said, dusting your touch across his shoulders.

But one of your hands was quickly removed, courtesy of his own grip. His other stayed on your torso, thumb rubbing circles on your waist. “Je vois la vie en rose,” Sirius hummed, placing the tips of your fingers to his lips. “À cause de toi.”

He finished with a kiss to the pads, though didn’t move to extract them.

“What?” A soft giggle tumbled out, your index dragging over his cupid’s bow. “Je ne comprends pas.”

He grinned at your poor attempt at the language, leaving one more kiss to your knuckles before dropping the appendage to his chest. His brow raised in amusement. “You’ll just have to learn to find out, then, won’t you?”

Ignoring the taunt, you quickly scooted closer. The sun that filtered in highlighted the scene, nearly picturesque; smoke still rose behind him, and you absently loosened his tie, getting comfortable. “Teach me?”

He considered you for a second, chin raising, then: “What do you want to know?”

You tapped a staccato to the hollow of his throat, thinking. “How do you say…‘I love you’?”

“Really?” he laughed.

Your mouth turned down, a pulled frown, but affection lit his pupils, his head shaking.

“Je t’aime,” he answered.

And this time, it was his fingers that traced your lips. “Je t’aime,” you repeated. When he smiled, you continued, “What about…” you paused once more, “...‘I always think of you’?”

His eyes flickered. “Je pense à toi tout le temps.”

Slowly, you fumbled the words back.

It earned another chuckle. “What else?”

You rolled your eyes, but did melt further into his body as he shifted down the couch. Your lips poised over his left pectoral, the steady beat lying there. “‘You make my heart race.’”

“Tu fais battre mon cœur.”

“Tu fais battre mon cœur,” you echoed, easing your eyes shut, his tenderness too much a balm. “‘I want you.’”

“J’ai envie de toi.”

You murmured it back, voice muffled. After, you remediated, “‘I want to be with you forever.’”

Sirius trailed a thumb along your bottom lip, letting your limbs entangle. He joined you in such relaxation, sunlight and studies draining you both of all energy. One arm curled around your waist, legs slotting, but he kept the hand grazing your face. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

Your words, whilst slurred, still copied him. “Je veux être avec toi pour toujours.”

Sirius shifted under you, and you looked up, finding his gaze already on you; you, the slope of your nose, the angle of your jaw, the face he would know blind. He gave you a more personal smile, letting your admission ring a few moments more. “Moi aussi, ma chérie. Je veux passer ma vie avec toi.”

Your brow furrowed, mouth heavy with the new phonetics. “What does that mean?”

“Me too, my darling,” he responded, English this time. “I want a lifetime with you.”

You met his smile with one of equal ardor. You adjusted so you could lay on his shoulder, then within the crook of his neck. The smell of smoke wafted off of him, and it reminded you of home. “And that’s what we will have.”

The seconds ticked by, no disruptions. It was only you, him, midday light blooming through the common room. Cigarettes and kisses and mirrored French. Your arms and his legs and the lips that met once, twice, three times.

Lids weighed heavy, dragged down in satisfied fatigue; relaxation you earned. And, as always, you were asleep first, curled against him, later to be found by James, Remus, and entertained smirks.

But before he let go, Sirius let his unfinished sentiment depart, unbeknownst to your half-awake state—the state that caught onto the unfamiliar words. “Tu fais partie de moi,” he breathed, a tongue he hadn’t spoken in so long, “Je t’aimerai pour toujours.”

—————

translations:

ma vie — my life

Je vois la vie en rose. À cause de toi — I see life in rose. Because of you.

Je ne comprends pas — I don't understand

Tu fais partie de moi — You are a part of me

Je t’aimerai pour toujours — I will love you forever

—

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*Sirius, James & Peter not being able to sleep in the Gryffindor common room at 3 am, while Remus quietly sleeps*

Sirius (whispering): According to a study, one out of four boys is homosexual. We’re four boys and that means one of us is homosexual. I just hope it's Remus, because he's such a cute and handsome guy.

James: .....

Peter: Yeah it’s definitely Moony, for sure.