Would you ever do a rockstar!remus one from before he’s famous or when he’s a ‘starving musician’ sort of deal? How do you think it was for them back then? Feel free to ignore or do headcanons or change it or whatever you want!!
No pressure I just love your work!!!!!
ty for ur request! I took starving artist literally because it's an unfortunate truth so tw for having little money ♡
"Did you eat today?" you ask a very tired Remus.
He's collapsed on your sofa with a hot water bottle held to his sore hip. His response comes sluggishly. "Yeah, I did. Did you?"
He turns his head to watch you where you're looking through your fridge. It's better stocked than his, but barely. "James' mum sent him with a bunch of things. Are you hungry? We can go out if you want to, dove."
The door shuts with a thunk. You turn to him, a starving artist in your own right. There's oil paint lining the stretch of your naked forearm. If he weren't so tired from work and rehearsal he'd rub it away for you with a little of the white spirit you keep in the corner of your flat sarcastically dubbed 'the studio'. As it is, the thought of standing makes him want to cry.
You sit heavily on the armrest by his head, turned so you're facing each other. Your hand, similarly paint-flecked, cards through his hair tenderly. "We can't afford it."
"But to spend on takeaway?"
He closes his eyes because your touch is more soothing than any balm, and because you're right. If you get food tonight he won't be able to get the bus tomorrow, and if he can't get the bus he can't work. He feels more than guilty about it; if he hadn't needed new strings he could treat you to something nice. You deserve something nice.
He curls his fingers around your elbow and follows a soft line up until he's covering your hand with his own and pulling it to his mouth. He kisses your palm slowly, eyes closed.
"When this whole thing works out, I'll get you everything," he promises quietly.
Everything. You'll never worry about food or rent or clothes. He'll cut your credit card in half. He'll buy you a thousand different oil paints, every colour he can find.
"I don't want everything," you say, without a hint of performance. "I just want you."
After a bit of persuasion you duck your face down to his level and he kisses you, so full of love that each sluggish press of his lips is bursting with it.
