messylxve

Latest Posts by messylxve

Maybe you dint ask for it but here it is.. Saja Girls~

i need something beautiful and romantic to happen to me NOW

Literally the best thing I’ve ever read

Where the Fire Settles

Pairing: Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader, Rebekah x Fem!Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Kol Mikaelson has always been chaos wrapped in charm—fire and fury personified. But with you, he's something softer, quieter, settled. You can't help but wonder if Kol really sees you, or a lesser version of what he lost.

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Angst (Of course! Are we surprised?), Insecurity, Hurt/Comfort. Let Me Know If I Forgot Something

A/N: This is based on this request. Thank you so much Anon for sending this in. I hope this is exactly how you envisioned it! As always, thank you all so much for reading. I really hope you enjoy and that you have a wonderful day from this point forward!

Masterlist | TVDU Masterlist

The chandeliers above the compound flicker with warm candlelight, casting long shadows over the worn brick walls and aged leather. Jazz drifts in from somewhere deep in the French Quarter—lazy and low—mingling with the clink of crystal and the occasional burst of laughter. Real laughter. The kind this house almost never hears.

At the heart of it all, Kol lounges on one of the vintage leather sofas, grinning like a king who’s conquered death itself. He’s practically glowing—relaxed in the way he only gets when he’s fully adored, which, tonight, he is. Surrounded by his siblings, and for once, no blood spilled, no daggers drawn. Just a toast to his eternal existence.

You’re tucked in beside him, a half-empty glass of champagne in hand, your fingers laced with his. The candlelight catches on the ring he gave you— antique, intricate, older than most empires. It gleams like a promise whispered across centuries. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, lingering just beneath the stone— a grounding gesture you’ve come to know well. He always touches you like he’s making sure you’re still there. 

The room smells like bourbon and birthday cake.

Rebekah is deep into one of her favorite stories, hands carving the air as she reenacts one of Kol’s more infamous escapades.

“You nearly exposed us that night in Madrid,” she says, laughing. “Nik was ready to dagger you on the spot.”

Kol scoffs. “Nik’s always ready to dagger me.”

“Only because you bloody earned it,” Klaus adds smoothly, swirling his bourbon with a smirk curling at the edges of his mouth.

“You impersonated a Spanish nobleman,” Elijah adds with a chuckle, “and seduced both the wife and the mistress. Simultaneously.”

Laughter erupts. You join in, but mostly, you watch. Listen. Trying to imagine this version of Kol— reckless, gleefully unhinged. It feels impossible. Not when the man they’re describing just gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Not when he looks at you like the world isn’t something to burn but something to protect.

It’s like hearing stories about a ghost. A Kol who doesn’t exist anymore.

Your Kol makes you breakfast in bed. He reads to you when you can’t sleep. He kisses your forehead like you’re made of glass. So different from the man who once danced on a burning bar with blood on his shirt and laughter in his lungs. 

Rebekah turns to Elijah, mischief dancing in her eyes. “What about the time he and Davina took on those cursed covens in the Quarter?”

You stiffen, just slightly. But Kol feels it. You know he does.

Davina.

The one name Kol never says around you. The one part of his past that stays locked away.

Elijah’s eyes gleam with the memory. “Ah, yes. Quite the spectacle.”

“She was a hell of a witch,” Klaus says, grinning into his glass. “Young, fierce, dangerously gifted.”

“She matched Kol in every way that mattered,” Elijah muses.

Something inside you twists.  

“They were inseparable,” Klaus continues, almost fond. “He adored that little spell of hers. Snap a neck with the flick of a wrist.”

Kol’s fingers are still laced with yours, but they feel heavier now. Or maybe it’s your heart.

You hadn’t heard much about her—just whispers, fragmented echoes. His partner in mayhem. The girl who nearly became Mrs. Kol Mikaelson. She had magic. Power. She had him when he belonged to the blood and chaos. The world he still carries in his bones. The world you’ll never fully touch.

What were you, compared to that?

Just… human.

Kol turns to you with a lazy smile, eyes warm. “You’re awfully quiet, darling. Everything alright?”

You nod. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

And you mean to be. Because it’s his birthday. He’s happy. And you love him more than anything.

So you swallow the ache pressing against your ribs. You laugh at the next story. You raise your glass when they toast. You kiss him when they cut the cake.

But somewhere deep in your mind, a whisper takes root:

Why would he choose you?

-*-

You stand alone in the parlor, stacking a few stray glasses onto a tray. The air still holds the scent of melting wax and leftover cake. From the kitchen, Rebekah’s voice drifts in—giving Kol hell over something, probably the way he butchered the cake. His laugh echoes back, warm and carefree.

Your fingers drift unconsciously to the ring on your hand. You twist it slowly, again and again, the way you always do when your thoughts get too loud. A silent comfort. A grounding weight.

You should be happy. Content. The night went well. Kol is happy. The house hums with family, laughter, warmth.

But your mind keeps drifting.

To her. To those stories. To Elijah’s voice, low and reverent.  

She matched Kol in every way that mattered.

Your stomach churns. Not in anger. In something softer. Meaner. The slow, creeping ache you could never explain out loud.

Hearing about his time with the witch wasn’t new. You knew the broad strokes— the engagement, the subsequent heartbreak, the legendary love wrapped in blood and fire. You heard the whispers about her. The legacy. The power. Kol never talks about her, but the world does. Witches who whisper her name, Vampires who remember how fiercely they fought for each other. A girl who lit the Quarter ablaze and stood her ground beside an Original Vampire.

And you? You’re just… human.

No magic. No bloodline. No armor.

No place in this world except the one directly next to Kol.

You don’t hear him come in until his arms slide around your waist from behind. He presses a lazy kiss just behind your ear.

“You vanished,” he murmurs into your hair. “Thought I’d been abandoned on my own bloody birthday.”

You smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. “Just cleaning up.”

He turns you gently in his arms, his fingers warm against your sides. His eyes— soft, brown, and endlessly mischievous— study you. His gaze narrows slightly.

“You’re quiet, darling. What’s going on in that head of yours?”

You look up at him. Hesitant. 

It’s stupid, really. It’s not fair to ruin his night.

And yet.

“She meant a lot to you.” 

It isn’t accusatory. It isn’t bitter. Just factual. But it drops between you like a stone in still water.

You don’t say her name. You don’t have to.

His expression shifts— subtle, but immediate. The warmth drains just a little.

He lets out a slow breath, stepping back just enough to really look at you. He waits a beat, then nods. “She did.”

You nod too. You already knew that. That’s not what hurts.

Your eyes drop to your hands, to the ring on your finger. You twist it once, then again, like the motion might steady your thoughts. Like it might anchor you to him. But tonight, even that familiar weight feels unsteady. 

“She was powerful. Fierce. She was part of your world in a way I’ll never be.”

“Hey,” Kol’s voice sharpens slightly. He lifts your chin with two fingers, trying to catch your eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m not trying to start something,” you say quickly. “I just… I can’t stop thinking about it. The stories. The way everyone talks about her like she’s fire and fury. Like she fit beside you. And I’m—”

“Mine,” Kol interrupts, firmer now. “You’re mine. You belong with me.”

You try to laugh, but it cracks halfway through. “Do I? Or are you still trying to convince yourself?”

Kol’s eyes narrow, the first real flicker of temper rising.

You keep going. The words are tumbling out faster than your brain can catch them.

“Everyone looks at us and wonders what an Original Vampire like you is doing with someone like me. And maybe they don’t say it out loud, but I see it. I feel it in every single one of their gazes.”

You take a shaky breath. Your voice softens.

“I don’t have magic, Kol. I don’t have power. I don’t even have a place in this city unless it’s beside you. And I know you love me — I do — but part of me keeps wondering…”

Your throat tightens. The ache crawls higher.

“If you ever miss what you had with her.”

Kol tenses. “This again?”

“Yes. This,” you snap, louder than you intended. “Because she fought with you. Bled with you. She was part of the fire and the dark. And me? I just sit here and hope you come home in one piece.”

Kol’s jaw tightens. “You think that’s what I want? That chaos again?”

“I think part of you misses it,” you whisper. “And if not the chaos… maybe just her.”

Kol runs a hand through his hair, exasperated. “Maybe I do miss her— at least she didn’t turn every bloody conversation into a trial.”

The words are out before he can catch them.

Silence.

Your breath catches, unable to breathe around the impact. You stare at him— disbelieving, shattered.

Kol’s face shifts instantly. “Wait—darling, that’s not—”

You don’t give him a chance.

“No.” Your voice is low. Flat. “That’s exactly what you meant.”

You step back. The weight of the ring on your finger suddenly unbearable.

“Maybe you should go find her, then.”

You twist the ring off your finger, undoing something that you thought was sacred. You shove the piece of jewelry into his palm like it’s searing through your skin. He doesn’t stop you.

“I’m sorry I’m not her,” you whisper. “But I won’t stand here and be punished for it.”

You turn, tears finally spilling over. The sound of your heartbeat drowning out the sound of your footsteps on the tile. You barely register Rebekah’s voice from the hall. All you see is the bedroom door and the blur of tears as you lock yourself inside. 

And when the sob finally breaks from your chest, it doesn’t stop.

Kol stares at the closed bedroom door, the ring heavy in his palm. The warmth of your hand still clings to the metal like a ghost. His brain hasn't quite caught up to his mouth— the words still hang in the air, ugly and unforgiving.

What the hell had he just done?

He takes a step forward, ready to knock, to beg, to undo it all— but a voice cuts through the tension, sharp and low.

“Don’t.”

Rebekah.

She steps out from the hallway shadows,arms folded, posture stiff with fury. Her heels click against the floor — precise, deliberate — as she closes the distance between them.

There’s a long beat. A quiet standoff between siblings, too alike in their anger. 

“I need to talk to her.”

“No,” she snaps, stepping firmly in front of her brother. “You don’t get to hurt her like that and then chase after her two seconds later like a kicked puppy looking for forgiveness.”

Kol clenches his jaw, frustration bubbling up. “You don’t understand—”

“I understand perfectly,” Rebekah cuts in. “I understand that the best thing that’s ever happened to you is in that room, sobbing her heart out, because you couldn’t keep your bloody ego in check.”

Kol flinches, jaw ticking.

“You’re one to talk,” he snaps suddenly, eyes flashing. “You’re the one who brought up Davina in the first place— stirred the pot and walked away. You practically lit the match.”

Rebekah doesn’t even blink.

“Oh, don’t you dare try to put this on me.” Her voice drops low, dangerous. “I mentioned Davina. You turned it into a bloody wrecking ball. Don’t confuse your guilt with my honesty.”

She steps in closer, her presence fierce and unshakable.

“She loves you. Do you get that? Do you have any idea how rare that is? Someone who loves you— not your charm, not your power, not your name. You. She’s stood by you when any sane person would have run. She makes you better, Kol.”

He looks away, guilt twisting his insides.

“You're softer with her. You smile more. Hell, you even think before you kill now— most of the time.”

He lets out a bitter breath.

“She’s not Davina,” Rebekah continues, softer now. “And thank God for that. Because Davina may have matched your darkness, but that girl in there? She made you want to leave it behind.”

Kol’s fingers tighten around the ring, knuckles white.

“She stands by you even when it terrifies her. Even when she feels small and breakable and wrong for you. She worries she’s not enough, that she’ll never be enough for someone like you. And instead of proving her wrong, tonight, you proved her right.”

“I didn’t—” he tries again.

“But you did.” Rebekah cuts in, merciless. “You did, Kol. And you need to fix it. Not with flowers or pretty words or that half-smirk you use to charm your way out of trouble. You apologize. And you mean it. Grovel if you have to.”

Kol is quiet. He looks smaller now— or maybe just exposed. The kind of pain he usually masks with cruelty bleeding through in silence.

Rebekah exhales and softens. Just slightly.

“She’s not a witch. She’s not a warrior. She doesn’t belong to this world like we do. But she’s chosen you anyway. She’s still choosing you. Don’t be such a bloody fool that you make her regret it.”

Kol stares down at the ring.

The weight of it— the weight of everything— presses against his chest.

“Give her time,” Rebekah says, finally stepping aside.Her voice lowers, warning laced with sibling affection. “But when you go to her, Kol… mean it. Or I swear, I’ll dagger you myself.”

-*-

You sit curled on the edge of the bed, knees hugged to your chest, eyes red and swollen. Rebekah steps inside, her heels now silent against the rug. She doesn’t speak right away. She just crosses the room and sits beside you.

The silence between you is gentle. Compassionate.

“I didn’t mean to ruin his birthday,” you whisper.

Rebekah glances over. “You didn’t. He did.”

You let out a small, broken laugh. “I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. All of it. The stories, the way people talk about her. About them. Like they were this perfect match. What do I have to offer compared to that? I’m just…”

“Human?” Rebekah supplies gently.

You nod, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. “I just don’t understand why me. I can’t fight beside him. I can’t protect him. I don’t belong in this world, Rebekah. I’m not strong. I’m not... anything like what he needs.”

“You are,” she says instantly. “And that’s not me being nice. It’s the truth.”

You let your gaze drop. “I just… I saw him tonight. The way he lit up talking about that time in his life. With her, he was… alive. Untouchable. He didn’t have to hold back.”

“He also left a trail of destruction in his wake,” Rebekah replies, her voice dry. “Kol back then was a storm with teeth. Dangerous, reckless, impossible to rein in. You think that’s something to envy?”

Rebekah’s tone softens. “You don’t tame him. You anchor him. You make him want to be still. To be better. And trust me— Kol Mikaelson has never wanted to be better for anyone.”

Your breath catches in your throat.

“And look,” she continues, quieter now, “Kol lives in that same fear. Of being unworthy. Of not being enough. It’s been carved into him since we were children. Which is why what he said tonight…” She pauses. “It was cruel. And he knows it.”

You close your eyes. “It just hurt so much.”

“I know,” she says, placing a steady hand over yours. “But if there’s one thing I know for certain— and that’s saying something— it’s that Kol loves you more than he knows how to handle. That doesn't excuse anything. But it means he’ll fight to make it right.”

You’re quiet for a moment. Then, softly you speak, “I don’t know if I can forgive him tonight.”

“Good,” Rebekah says bluntly. “He doesn’t deserve it yet. Let him sit in it. Make him earn it.”

You manage a soft laugh through your tears.

“Come on,” she says, rising. “Take a breather. Let him wonder if he’s truly ruined it.”

You nod slowly, rubbing at your face. “Okay.”

You stand. Rebekah walks you to the door, arm lightly around your shoulders.

As she opens it, you glance up at her.

“Thank you.”

She squeezes your hand. “Always.”

-*-

You return just after dusk.

The Quarter is quieter now— its usual pulse slowed to a soft hum of distant music and street lamps flickering to life. You walk slowly, trying to breathe in the cool air, hoping it will help wash the hurt away. But your heart is still bruised. Your fingers twist absentmindedly in the absence of your ring.

When you reach the compound, Rebekah is sitting near the door with a glass of wine. She looks up as you enter, eyes scanning your face carefully.

“You okay?” she asks.

You nod once, offering a tired smile. “Is he here?”

She sighs. “Upstairs. Been pacing like a madman. Looks like someone gutted him and left him standing.”

You nod again and make your way up. Each step feels heavier than the last.

You open the bedroom door slowly. And stop.

The entire room is covered in flowers.

Hundreds of them— your favorite shade of pink, full and soft, overflowing from mismatched vases, lining the windowsill, scattered in delicate trails across the bed. The air is thick with the scent of honey and roses.

Kol stands near the bed, shoulders rigid, hands twisted together like he doesn’t trust them not to shake.

When he sees you, his whole body stills. His red-rimmed eyes lock on yours, wide with something raw. Desperate.

“Before you walk away again,” he blurts, voice ragged, “please. Five minutes. You don’t have to say a word. You can hate me. Just… let me speak.”

You hesitate in the doorway.

“I’m not ready to talk,” you murmur.

“I’ll talk,” he says. “You listen.”

You step inside.

He doesn’t move toward you. Just begins.

“I’m sorry.” The words scrape out of him, cracked and unpolished. “Not just for what I said— though that alone was bloody awful— but for even letting you feel that way in the first place.”

You don’t speak.

“I was an idiot,” he continues. “No, worse. I was cruel. I lashed out and I used the most painful thing I could find to hurt you because—” He cuts off, jaw tight. “I got scared.”

You blink. “Scared?”

“That I don’t deserve you.” His voice is quiet now. “Because I don’t. I never have. You’re kind, and human, and good. You let me be soft with you, and that scares the hell out of me.”

You’re still frozen in place, but your heart is beating louder now.

“I’ve never had anything this real,” he confesses. “Not in a thousand years. And I’ve done nothing in this world to earn it. So when you started doubting us tonight, I panicked. Because some part of me still believes that one day, you’ll wake up and realize you deserve better.”

His throat works around the next words.

“I don’t want her,” he says. “I want you. The woman who brings me back when my instincts scream to destroy. The woman who looks at me like I’m worth something. The woman who taught me that peace isn’t boring. It’s just... safe.”

You take a trembling breath. Your chest tightens.

“I’m sorry I made you feel small,” he whispers. “You are not. You are everything.”

The quiet stretches long between you.

Then softly, you say, “You can’t expect everything to be okay with an apology.”

“I don’t,” he says. “But I had to try.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls something out.

Your ring.

He walks to you slowly, then kneels— petals crunching faintly beneath him.

“I’ll wait,” he says. “If that’s what it takes. But I’m asking again. Will you still marry me?”

Your lips part. Tears finally spill over, silent and warm against your cheeks. You don’t speak. You just step forward and drop to your knees in front of him, wrapping your arms around his neck. He clutches you like you’re the last thing anchoring him to the world.

“Yes,” you whisper against his shoulder.

He exhales like he’s been holding his breath for years. Gently, reverently, he slides the ring back onto your finger, then presses a kiss to your hand like it’s sacred.

“I’m still mad,” you murmur.

“I’d be worried if you weren’t.”

“And you still have a lot of making up to do.”

“I plan on it,” he says. “Starting with dinner. Just us. Sushi. The good kind.”

You nod, breath catching on a laugh. “Okay.”

He kisses you then— slow and full of apology. Full of promise. His hands frame your face like you’re the only thing in the world that’s ever made him feel steady.

And in that moment, you believe him.

-*-

The next few days are… different.

Kol is everywhere.

He holds your hand when you walk. Wraps an arm around your waist while you make tea. Follows you from room to room like a cologne-wearing shadow who thinks everything you say is the most brilliant thing he’s ever heard.

And he is absurdly affectionate.

Every kiss is too long. Every compliment is too loud. The flowers multiply daily— fresh blooms on your pillow, tucked into your boots, even braided into a crown he insists you wear around the house until Rebekah snaps a picture (and promises to use it as blackmail).

You should be annoyed.

But you’re not.

Because he means every word. Because every brush of his fingers feels like a promise: I won’t hurt you like that again.

This morning, he’s curled beside you on the couch, your legs draped over his lap. The TV hums softly in the background, but Kol is more interested in playing with your fingers, absently twisting the engagement ring like he’s still marveling that it’s back where it belongs.

You sip your tea and side-eye him. “You do realize the ring’s staying on this time, right?”

He grins. “I’m just making sure it fits. Permanently.”

The door swings open. Rebekah strides into the room holding a half-empty vase, her expression one of theatrical exasperation.

“Kol,” she says flatly. “If I find one more flower in my shampoo, I’m going to make Freya hex your eyebrows off.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “Please. I’d look dashing with no brows.”

“Seriously,” Klaus calls from the hallway, voice full of disdain, “it’s like a bloody florist exploded in here.”

You glance at Kol, who only smirks.

“I’m in love,” he says, utterly unrepentant. “We’re celebrating.”

“With daisies in my coat pockets?” Klaus mutters.

“You’re welcome,” Kol replies. Then he turns to you and drops his voice to a dramatic whisper, “Ignore them, darling. They’ve simply never known love like ours.”

You roll your eyes, but the grin tugs at your lips anyway.

Rebekah sighs. “I actually liked you better when you were brooding.”

“Impossible,” Kol declares, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “I’m radiant now.”

Klaus snorts and disappears upstairs. Rebekah mutters something about needing more wine.

You shake your head, laughing softly. “You know they’re never going to let this go.”

Kol just pulls you closer. “Let them tease. I have you.”

You glance down at your ring again, your heart full.

Peace doesn’t come easy in this world.

But right now, it’s wrapped in a floral-scented Original Vampire who won’t stop looking at you like you hung the stars.

And for the first time in a long time, forever doesn’t seem so scary after all.

If you want to be a part of my tag list, please submit an ask specifying series, fandom, or all and I will happily add you (If you don’t specify, I’ll just assume you want to be on the general list)!

Taglist: @chaoticfanpeach @hazgold @devotedlycrookeddonut @catmikaelson20 @stargirly05 @sc4rrc

secrets and scars

movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 847 words summary: the reader has been scarred for some time now. fiyero discovers them and does something rather... unexpected. a/n: idk what this is. but like... yeah. hope it makes sense. i was gonna queue this and save it for later but i’m gonna go ahead and post it. i have a few queued posts for jonathan bailey characters in the coming weeks so. i’ll try to feed you all for the holidays. ♡ tw: reader has scars? no direct mention of where they are but it could be triggering. slight reference to sexual content, reader is naked for a hot minute but nothing graphic happens. you'll understand when you read.

Scars. They littered your body, an unfortunate reminder of the past you barely escaped. It was as if your body didn't want you to forget.

You wished you could.

You're lost in your thoughts in one of the many archways of Shiz University, staring out at the blue sky above. Your fingers itch to touch your scars—to scratch, to peel them away. You didn't want the reminder of who you once were. You didn't want the reminder of what once happened to you.

In all of Oz, you'd give anything to be able to erase your scars.

Anything.

It's a flurry of a night—confusing all around, and then somehow, Fiyero ends up in your dorm, kissing you, touching you, and by the love of Oz, how is he so quick with your clothing?

But before you can stop him, panic-stricken, he sees them. Your scars.

He's silent, wide eyed as he looked at them, lips parted as his eyes flicker from each mark on your skin.

He licked his lips a bit nervously, glancing up at you.

"You—are—" he stopped himself, seeing the panicked look on your face. "Oh, Y/n," he breathed out, moving to sit beside of you on your bed. He gently pressed a hand to the side of your face. "I'm sorry. I should have asked."

You slowly shook your head. "No. No, it's okay, I just—just didn't expect you to move so quickly. You, uh—"

"Surprised you, hm?" he softly asked. He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before he found his voice once more. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry? For what?"

He doesn't answer. Instead, his eyes fall to your scars, and you can tell he wants to ask you questions—how you got them, what happened, how long ago it happened.

Instead, he says something that takes you by surprise (because of course he did—Fiyero was filled with surprises, was he not?).

"They are beautiful."

"What?"

"Your scars."

You're silent for a moment. "My... my scars? Are beautiful?"

He smiled softly at you, taking ahold of your hand. He looked into your eyes. "Yes. Your scars are beautiful," he softly said. "I won't ask you about them. You can tell me when you decide you are ready, if you ever are."

Your eyes soften as you admire him from your spot on the bed. You feel so exposed—naked to the man not only physically but also emotionally. It was an odd feeling. A... welcomed feeling.

"May I touch them?" Fiyero softly asked.

"My scars?" you questioned for what seemed the hundreth time in the past few minutes.

"Yes. Your scars."

"You want to touch them?"

Fiyero looked at you, an incredulous look on his face. "Yes, Y/n. You can say no, it's quite alright. My feelings will not be hurt if you say no."

You watched him, swallowing nervously. "You... you're so odd," you softly said.

He snorted softly, a smile embracing his features. He leaned forward and kissed your cheek.

"Only for you."

You gave a small nod in return, and watched as he moved down the bed, focusing on the part of your body with your scars. His eyes flicker up to yours and he pressed a soft kiss to the puckered skin.

"Only for you," he repeated.

You feel flustered more than anything, looking away from him and his beautiful brown eyes.

How odd, indeed.

"I... I don't like them," you softly said.

"You do not like your scars?" he softly asked, a finger gently brushing against one of them. "Did something—"

"—I'll tell you. One day. Just..."

"Of course," he said. "I understand. But... Y/n, I meant what I said. They are beautiful."

You pursed your lips.

"They show how much strength you've had to survive, Y/n," he said, leaning forward and letting his lips connect with yours. "They're beautiful because they show me you've had to be brave. To be courageous in the face of such disaster. Your scars may be something you do not like, but do not wish them away."

You don't look at him, but you do not push him away.

"I do not know how you got them," he said, "and I am so sorry if what happened to you was... well, unsavory. But... they show such strength, Y/n."

"Strength is ridiculous and you know it," you muttered. You just want to rebuke his statement, as sweet as it may be.

He pecked your lips again.

"Perhaps that's not the best way to describe what it is, but I can't think of what would be better," he said. "This brain of mine doesn't want to work when the most beautiful person in all of Oz is letting me see their secrets."

Your heart pounded in your chest and you looked up at him, eyes softening.

"You are so odd," you repeated.

He snorted softly. "Yes. We've established this, Y/n. Thank you."

A smile quirked on your lips and you gently grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him in for another kiss.

"You're welcome."

There’s not a place in the infinitely expanding multiverse where you hate me <3

@whothehellismack

@whothehellismack

cackling about all the angst I'm gonna write

@whothehellismack knows

🚨 We Need Your Kindness to Survive 🚨

Hello, My name is Mosab, and I live in Gaza with my family. Life here has become harder than I ever imagined, and I’m writing this with hope in my heart that you might hear our story.

The ongoing war has devastated my family. We’ve lost 25 family members—each one a beloved part of our lives, taken too soon. I miss them deeply—their laughter, their presence, their love. Every day is a reminder of this unimaginable loss.

We are now facing daily challenges to survive—things that most people take for granted, like food, clean water, and a safe place to sleep. The harsh realities of life here have replaced our dreams with the constant fight for survival.

Our Current Situation:

💔 Lost Stability: The war has left us without work or a stable source of income.

📚 Dreams on Hold: Like so many here, my family’s dreams have been replaced by the need to simply survive.

😢 Unimaginable Loss: Losing 25 loved ones has left a void that can never be filled.

How You Can Help:

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Donate to Help Mosab saving who's left of his family

My name is Mosab Elderawi, and I am a survivor of the war in Gaza. Life as I knew it has been completely destroyed. I have lost my home, my

first times a charm | regulus black x gn!reader

contains: light language, brief moments of harassment, tall heights, jokes about jumping from said height, underaged drinking, mentions of alchol consumption, fluff

credit to @enchanthings-a for border

summary: You never imagined yourself acquainted with the forbidden topic that was your best friend’s brother. You weren't even supposed to have been on the Astronomy Tower that night. But you were. And from there this mess unfurled.

In the middle of a crowded room where the music ran loud, the people pushed for dancing space, and the disgusting heat breathed on every inch of your skin, you stood completely still. 

The first half hour or so was fine for you. You celebrated James and his win for the Gryffindor team with a drink or two, surrounded by all of your friends. But as time passed on, more people pooled into the common room. 

You lost your friends to the crowd and you were nearly drained of your social battery. Unfortunately for you, a certain Ravenclaw boy was still determined to cling to whatever energy you had left. 

“So uh, how d’ya know the boys?” 

His arm was slung around your shoulder, absolutely killing your back because he wouldn’t admit that he was just a few inches shorter than you. 

You pursed your lips in a thin line, attempting to shimmy out of his grasp but failing when he tugged you closer. “I guess I’ve been friends with Sirius since–,” 

“You’re so cute,” he interrupted. 

You didn’t even have the energy to be annoyed by him interrupting you. You just wanted out, but everywhere you looked was just a blocked doorway and another immovable crowd of people. 

The Ravenclaw Boy—you couldn’t even be bothered to remember his name—was still going on about something you didn’t care to listen to, but you stayed searching across the room until you finally found your target. 

Unfortunately, your target was a little busy. 

“Whatcha staring at babe?” 

Nothing could’ve held back the sneer that immediately grew from his question. You didn’t care to answer him, only glaring at Sirius, who would have been saving you but was currently completely and disgustingly engrossed into some random Hufflepuff you’ve never seen him talk to before today. You couldn’t see where he ended and his partner-for-the-night began. 

Unfortunately for you, your personal parasite followed your line of sight. 

“Mm,” he hummed, leaning in so his breath was felt very warmly on your cheek. “That’s hot I won’t lie. If you want to get out of here, we could…recreate that.” 

Maybe it was the absolute audacity behind the statement or maybe it was the way this party was frying your brain—realistically it was probably both—but you had finally reached your wits end. 

With an open palm against the boy’s face, you pushed him away and off of you. “Go wank in fucking sock, McCellan, that might help.” 

You wondered why it took you so long to leave the party, but the moment you stepped out of the room and into the open, colder air, was immediate relief. 

In a typical moment, you would’ve stayed behind and possibly found Remus or James, but the pounding in your head pushed you forward. You didn’t know where you were headed, you simply let your feet lead you to your destination. 

You hadn’t even realized you had a destination until you met the cold breeze of outside air; The Astronomy Tower. 

You hadn’t been up here often, just once or twice for a class. Something about its nighttime appearance made it feel more peaceful than you allowed yourself to imagine. 

You allowed yourself to meet the edge, feeling the cold railing under your sweaty palms. In a careful movement, you sat at the very edge, legs dangling over the impossible height while your arms rested on the railing. 

A part of you could’ve fallen asleep on the spot. 

“Please don’t fall.” 

A yelp escaped you at the sudden new presence behind you. 

He was slender and a little lanky but still slightly taller than some boys his age. His hair was inky black, tousled and out of place and framing over his stunning yet gentle grey eyes. 

“Where the hell did you come from,” you blurted out. 

A confused silence shrouded the boy as he looked off to the side before turning back to you. “...London…?”

“I–no, I mean,” you huffed out a breath. “You scared me.” 

“Well I’m not used to random strangers sitting in my usual spot.” 

“Oh!” A small hint of embarrassment burned in you as you stumbled up from where you sat. “I’m sorry I didn’t know…I was just wandering really, I could go.” 

“No wait, I didn’t mean that,” he coughed, taking a small step forward before rocking back on his heels. “That came off rude, I just didn’t expect you to be here…stay.” 

He didn’t smile much, you realized. He didn’t seem annoyed or bothered, just slightly passive. As if he was constantly observing and reading instead of talking. 

Your words came quietly, slowly taking your place back at the railing but now slightly closer to the wall of the tower. “Thank you.” 

He mirrored your movements, taking a quiet seat a few feet away from you. The silence, however, was excruciatingly loud between you two. 

“Why aren’t you at the party?” 

His voice was quiet at first. You had thought you were hearing things until you had turned to see him with his eyes on you. 

“I–um…” you shook your head once before shrugging. “I dunno, it was loud. Too many people, y’know?” 

He nodded slowly. “Do I not count then?” If you looked close you could see the smallest of smiles sneaking onto his lips, but it was subtle. 

“I guess not,” you shrugged, returning his smile. “You’re different, I guess.” 

“A good different, right?”

You looked at the space between the two of you. It wasn’t much, but somewhere the beginning of the conversation and now, you two had scootched in closer. You were still within arms length, but you couldn’t help but wonder if it was you or him who moved in first. 

“I can’t imagine any other kind so…yeah.” 

to be continued?

taglist: @whothehellismack @casp1an-sea

bewitched | aaron hotchner x reader

contains: little angst, lotta fluff; bad date; hints at stalking (barely); idiots in love; laufey inspired fic

credit to @enchanthings-a for border

You sat alone on the cold wet bench outside of the restaurant you were supposed to be eating in and all you could do was pull your thin sweater tighter around you. You could hear chattering from inside, taunting and reminding you of your embarrassment. 

Around you, the city continued on with indifference; cars moving by and momentarily illuminating you before forgetting you ever existed. 

Your phone sat in your lap, the last four messages you sent to your date left read, but unanswered. 

Penelope set you up with him, claiming how he was exactly your type: the rugged, brooding, yet charming bad boy. You didn’t have the heart to tell her that wasn’t your type, but you also weren’t in a place to complain. 

So you got excited. Obsessed over what clothes you’d wear, anticipated the conversation that would come, imagined what it would look like dating this guy and the image of him you crafted in your head. 

A dry laugh escaped you at the thought as you threw your head back to blink away the tears. You could only imagine how you looked to the passerbys. 

But somewhere between the cars passing by and the muted chatting from the restaurant, you thought you were hallucinating the sound of a familiar someone calling your name. 

Maybe he was summoned by a strange twist of fate or even a cruel prank played by the universe to amplify your embarrassment, but seeing Hotch, ever put together in his suit and tie while you looked like a hot mess only made you pray a black hole would swallow you on the spot. 

“Hotch!” Your voice naturally pitched itself up and you attempted to wipe away your tears. “What are you doing here?” 

For a profiler you were a terrible actor. 

“I should ask you the same thing.” In a swift movement, he shrugged his jacket off and placed it on your shoulders, sitting next to you on the cold wet bench.

His touch was warm, the back of his fingers trailing across your arm so gently. It burned an imprint in your skin, but as soon as you got used to the feeling of his touch, he pulled away and adjusted his jacket over your shoulders. 

Your eyes lingered on his hands, watching the way they clenched shut. Only for a second. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” 

You looked up at him, startled for just a moment before you masked teasing smile over it. “Why are you so curious about my whereabouts Aaron.” 

You’ve called him Aaron so many times before. Late hours, long after everyone had gone home, a chair pulled up to his desk so the two of you would be side by side, bumping shoulders, making jokes. But something in the way you called his name this time and the way he didn’t smile, only stared through your facade, made your heart stutter. 

His response came with an air of hesitation, as if he was measuring, picking and choosing his words before he spoke them. “Because I care about you. And I’m allowed to be worried about you. Especially when I’m driving by and see you alone at night.”

Silence struck you, leaving you unsure of what words to muster up. 

“You don’t have to tell me, but at least let me take y–,” 

“He stood me up,” you let out a watery laugh, one attempting to cover up every other emotion that rushed forward with the burning embarrassment in your chest. “I didn’t even wanna go but Penelope insisted. Then I was stupid enough to get excited and god I just feel so dumb.” 

You hated looking and feeling like this in front of him. You wiped each tear as quickly as they came, but they still fell. 

“Here.” He handed you a tissue, his voice only a whisper on the cold night air.  “Did you drive here yourself?” 

You took the tissue from his hands with a sniff, doing your best to wipe your face clear of tears. “Penelope dropped me off. I guess she assumed he’d take me home or whatever.” 

Hotch sat in silence, thinking. You could see the gears turning in his head. Not in the ways he would when solving a case, trying to get into the head of an unsub. His expression was lighter this time, his brows no longer downturned and furrowed. Even his eyes seemed to be painted a lighter shade of brown. 

“Can I drive you home?” 

There were many truths you could state about Aaron Hotchner. How he has the brownest of eyes or how he has such an expressive face when he allows it, or just that he cares so much about each of his team members. But nothing could have prepared you for the way he pleaded with his eyes without even knowing it. He’d never force you to say yes to anything, so all he could do was hope, but the hope in his eyes was enough to make you go weak in the knees. 

“...yeah.” 

You watched as he rose from the bench and extended his hand to you, making you scoff out an amused laugh. 

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he smiled, shaking his hand for you to grab. With a smile and a roll of your eyes, you let your hand slip into his and let him walk you to his car. 

The car ride was quiet at first. Your eyes were closed, listening to the sound of the radio softly humming in the background and the cars passing by. When the car stopped and you felt the red glow of the streetlight glowing over you, you let your glance shift open to Aaron. 

But his eyes were already on you. 

In a moment of instincts he looked away, but like a force drawing him back, his eyes met yours again. 

“For what it's worth, you look beautiful tonight.” 

You felt your heart again, stumbling stupidly in your chest as he looked at you with this emotion in his eyes you weren’t confident enough to pinpoint. 

A small piece of you knew the truth hidden in his eyes, the part of you that could profile a disorganized serial killer with just a background and a few glances. But the bigger part of you, the part that cried on a bench after being stood up on a date, folded it away and shoved it under the rug. In fear and self-preservation. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Aaron.” 

You saw the green of the street light stretch across Aaron’s face before he could find some response to rival yours. With a half smile, he drove on, missing the turn to your apartment. 

“You went the wrong way,” you pointed, looking back to the street you were supposed to be on. 

“I know,” he smiled. “There’s a stop I wanted to make if that’s okay.” 

“Yeah no, that’s fine.” 

It wasn’t too far from your place, but eventually he pulled into the parking lot of a diner you’d never seen before. 

“You like burgers right?” 

Your lips parted as you looked over to him in disbelief. “Hotch–,” 

“Aaron. Don’t get formal with me now.” 

“Aaron, you don’t need to do all this for me.” 

“You were promised dinner.” His voice was light, a gentle smile on his lips. “It’d be rude if I dropped you off hungry.”

You watched as he stepped out of the car and made his way to your side, opening your door. Once more he offered a hand to you and once more, you accepted it with a laugh and a smile. 

“Wait wait wait, you’re telling me that you, Aaron Hotchner, was once a leather jacket wearing, rule breaking bad boy?” 

Aaron could only laugh coyly as you pointed at him with a french fry and a never ending flow of laughter. 

“It was a rebellious phase,” he chuckled, his cheeks tinged with a subtle hue of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Performative if anything.” 

You squinted at him, barely able to hide the amusement on your lips. “Is that what you tell yourself?” 

You watched as his smile grew bigger, tilting his head at you. “You’re really funny.” 

A broad smile, reading smile adorned your lips. “I know.”

The diner was mostly quiet save for the few chattering at their own individual booths including you and Aaron. It was small and cozy, something you hadn’t expected from him, but sitting in front of him now, seeing him with his rare laugh that only few got to see, you felt safe; a warm feeling spreading through your chest, like a cup of tea on a cold evening. 

Just like Aaron’s laugh, the feeling was rare, but wholly welcomed. 

“Here’s your check.” An older woman smiled warmly at the two of you before placing down a milkshake with two straws. “Milkshake’s on the house. For the lovely couple.” 

“Oh we’re not–” But she was already gone. 

The two of you stared at the milkshake in front of you. Vanilla. 

“Well that's just,” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.  

“Yeah.” Hotch was left just as speechless as you. 

“Well…” you sighed deeply and smiled. “Perfectly good milkshake. S’not like it’ll kill us right?” 

The two of you were adults. You could have taken turns on who takes a sip so no space was invaded but somehow, both of your brains short-circuited as the two of you leaned in, taking a sip at the same time. 

It only lasted but a moment, but every inch of you lingered in his touch. 

His knuckles brushed against yours where you both grasped your own straws; a match meeting the striker of a matchbox. 

Your foreheads bumping softly together; the match striking against the box.

Your knees touch, bumping each other in the same way your shoulders would in those late office hours; spark flying between the match and the box. 

Eyes meet, his brows dipping down and yours pinching in as you each get lost in the unspoken. But you look away, you tuck your foot in, and you sit back in your chair. 

A match won’t always light when stricken. 

You missed the disappointment in his eyes when you pulled away

“You never told me,” you coughed, pulling Aaron’s suit coat closer to your chest absentmindedly. “What were you doing in the area anyways? You live on the other side of town.” 

“I–hm…I was–” It was strange seeing the usually stern and sure man, stammering at a single question. “Garcia might have let it slip where you were supposed to be.” 

An amused smile slipped onto your lips once more, the tension of the moment fizzing out as quickly as it came. “So you were looking for me,” you grinned. “You told me you just happened to find me.” 

Aaron looked away, his own coy smile sneaking his way on his expression. “Okay, maybe I overstepped a line…or two. Like I said, I care about you and I was worried. That doesn’t excuse me go–,” 

“Aaron Aaron, slow down.” You watched as he looked up at you with those brown eyes you’ve grown so accustomed to. “I’m grateful you were there. Really. I would probably still be crying on a park bench.” 

Your smile wasn’t broad or teasing as it was before, just one of genuine admiration. 

“Thank you Aaron.” 

“I hope your night didn’t turn out all too terrible.” 

The night was well broken in—hours past since your now-forgotten bad date. The two of you hung outside of your home, leaning on Aaron’s parked car comfortably. 

“With you? Never.” 

You smiled, looking up to him before nudging his shoulder. You still wore his jacket and even with it being many sizes too big, you wore it like it was your own. 

With a shiver and a yawn, you pulled it tighter against you as the wind picked up.

“Should probably turn in.” His hand was already in yours, tangled together somewhere between getting out of the car and now. Neither of you could remember exactly when. 

“No,” you groaned, as he attempted to pull you from the car. “You’re no fun.” 

Aaron grinned as you fell in stride with him, walking along the sidewalk that led to where you lived. “Weren’t you just telling me how a night with me is never bad?” 

“Hmm,” you hummed in thought, stopping in front of a set of stairs that lead to your home. “You said ‘I hope your night didn’t turn out too terrible’,” you mimicked with an exaggeratedly low voice, making him chuckle. “And I said, ‘With you? Never.’ The word ‘bad’ never left my mouth Mr. Hotchner.” 

“That’s the same thing and you know it.” His words were accusing but his smile and playful tone never wavered. 

“Look at the time,” you exclaimed, climbing up the stairs with a newfound speed. “I think it’s about time I turn in, don’t you.” 

Aaron laughed, watching as you backtracked out of the conversation. “I do think so.” 

With a final wave and smile, you grasped the knob of your door before suddenly turning around.

“Aaron!” 

“Yes?” 

His response was quick, his eyes expectant, as if he was waiting for the moment you’d call him back. Your words died on your tongue, lost in the way he stared at you with such intensity. Just like before, he was pleading with just his eyes. They were wide, his brows raised hopefully in your call.

“I, um…I forgot your jacket.” Your movements were slow at first as you shrugged it off, immediately missing the warmth it gave. 

By the time your arm stretched out to hand it back, he was just a step below you, his hand brushing against yours as you handed it to him. Wordlessly, he took the next step up, his full height comparing itself to yours. 

In a moment of pure impulse, he pressed the softest of kisses to your cheek. “Thank you,” he murmured, taking a final step back. “I had fun tonight.” 

You didn’t know where to settle your eyes as he took another step down the stairs. “Me too.” 

You don’t quite remember turning away or putting in the key to get inside. One moment you were there, once more getting lost in all that was unsaid between the two of you, the next your back was pressed against the closed door inside your darkened apartment. 

You couldn’t even tell if you were breathing. All you could feel was the tingling feeling left from where Aaron’s lips touched your cheek. You felt like a teenager all over again, a broad smile spreading over your lips, a burning at your cheeks, and even butterflies in your stomach.

You were by no means an impulsive person. You couldn’t be in your line of work. Nearly everything you did had to be carefully measured in order for everything to work in the way you needed it to. It was rare you led with your heart and followed where your adrenaline guided you. 

It still existed in you though. A very small part that wanted you to follow your immediate impulses. For the first time in a long time you let that small part of you take charge. 

You surged forward and threw open the door, expecting to see him climbing into his car or driving off down the street. 

What you didn’t expect was to see him, standing right at your doorstep, prepared to knock at your door. 

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to say. Maybe some love confession or great reveal to how you truly feel, but it all died when your eyes fell on him. 

But you didn’t need to say a single word. Not to Aaron. Everything you ever wanted to say was spelled clearly in your eyes for him to read. 

Just like you, Aaron was not an impulsive person. But in the rare moment when he’d run into a building without back up or he’d take charge of a case that wasn’t his to investigate, he’d let his gut lead in front of his brain. 

And so he kissed you. 

You could barely process it, it happened so fast. One moment he was standing there, wordlessly. Helplessly. The next moment his hands were on you, both cupping your face carefully as if he was afraid you’d shatter in his hold. 

But you were holding him tightly. One grasping his wrist and the other finding home on his chest. You held him as if you were afraid he’d be ripped out of your hold. 

But he didn’t.

And neither did you. 

It was only you and him and no one else.

taglist!! @whothehellismack @casp1an-sea @gghostwriter

★ ⎯a soldier's solace

Pairings: bucky barnes x reader. Bucky x wife!reader. Bucky x fem!reader.

Tags: husband bucky. Fluff & comfort. Secret marriage. New Avengers!bucky. Thunderbolts spoilers. Short fic until I finish chapter iii of my main series.

Synopsis: Bucky has kept his marriage secret for three years now. He always intended to keep it that way. That was until a mission went sideways, and he found himself having to resort to the one person he swore to protect.

Warnings: possible grammar and spelling mistakes. Not proofread. No use of y/n. Worse than my usual work, something quick & written w my phone.

I do not consent for my work to be uploaded onto other platforms or translated. Reblog to support. Lmk if you want part two.

James Buchanan Barnes had a secret—scratch that, he had many secrets. His past as the Winter Soldier and his time in HYDRA had caused so. However, there was one peculiar secret that nobody could ever imagine the Sergeant held.

Bucky Barnes was married. Had actually been married for three years now. He had never made too much of a fuss about it; given the life he held, it was better to keep it private.

The ceremony had been held on a small garden, not many witnesses; just Sam, Isaiah Bradley, and your brother—who was why you had met Bucky in the first place.

Your brother worked for SHIELD and the Avengers for some time, mostly managing files and taking care of debriefs. He had, somehow, managed to get on Bucky’s not-unfriendly side.

You had so happened to be visiting your brother at work when you stumbled upon the man himself. You had apologized, fixing your hair, and picking up the lunch you had brought for your brother.

Despite being fully aware of whom the Winter Solider had been, you had treated him with a rare amount of normalcy. Not as a weapon, not as someone to pity, and not as someone to be scared of.

Through a combination of your kind smiles, witty jokes, and the rush of the moment, the ex-assassin had found himself utterly charmed.

You baked, and you sold flowers. You smelt of petals and vanilla extract. Despite what anyone may have thought, Bucky had been completely softened. In your presence, at least.

Gone was the brooding super soldier the moment he stepped into the apartment. He would come home, kiss your temple while whispering “Hello sweetheart,” and proceed to sit on the dinner table with his Congress files while you cooked dinner.

Thanks to you, he had found it possible to sleep in a bed. Most nights, he wouldn't wake up in a cold sweat. He got to feel the warm sun in his face, the weight of your head of your head on his chest, and the little white paws at poked at his face and begged to be fed.

The almost comical domesticity of his day-to-day life was something the rest of the team couldn't ever fathom. The 'New Avengers' knew Bucky for his brooding persona and skillful fighting. He was the one with the most years of experience on him.

The doting husband was a sight reserved for you and only you.

His plans of keeping you a secret of his heart shattered the moment he realized exactly how much the mission had gone to utter shit.

Bucky pressed his eyes shut, fists clenched and rested on his hips. The team was bursied and tired. Nothing major, but they were being chased. They all needed to gather their strength.

Yelena held her side, and Alexei was surprisingly running out of jokes. The tension between Ava and John grew by the second—if Bucky didn't intervene now, they would likely jump one another.

This was probably a terrible idea, and Bucky already knew he would hate himself for what he was about to do. But, damn, he cared about that dysfunctional group of criminals.

He sighed, stepping closer to the group, "I know a place," he huffed, catching the team's attentions. "You know a safehouse?" John asked, clearly exhausted. "Hm, yeah, let's say that."

They all followed him through the empty streets of New York—all civilians had left, the team had made sure nobody would be injured.

It didn't take too long until they arrived in the driveway of a small, baby-blue house with a fence and gardenias in handmade flowerpots.

Everyone couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the certainly strange choice for a safehouse, but none of them dared question Bucky.

The moment he rang the doorbell, the door swung open, you jumping into his arms. "You're okay! I saw the news—" your husband lightly cut you off, patting your back. "We're alright, sweetheart, just need somewhere to stay for a bit."

The Thunderbolts started at you, mouths shut, body still. You bit your lip, and glanced at Bucky, who sported an expression of resignation. "Come on in..." you managed to voice, moving to the side, and allowing everyone to step into your beautiful house.

Immediately, a fluffy white cat jumped off the kitchen counter, sniffing the shoes of all these new visitors. "Alpine, darling, careful," you moved to pick the small furrball up.

Bucky cleared his throat, "Cat's out of the bag, I guess. This is, uhm, my wife." Everyone went quiet, taking their time to process the information they had just been given. "You are married?" Ava asked incredulously.

"I am, yes. Have been for three years," the ex Solider's answers were short and dry, not wanting to spend a second longer than necessary indulging in his personal life. "Stop asking questions and get yourselves cleaned up."

Cotton and wraps lied scattered across the coffee table, the team having taken different locations across the couch as they cleaned their wounds.

You were by the kitchen, cleaning the last few bits of flour off the counter, making sure it was all gone before Alpine managed to lick it all away.

The room was quiet, tense, until Alexei decided to break the silence, an attempt to soothe the strain. "Well, isn't this a nice house, Mr Soldier." He mused, elbow rested on his knee.

"Thank you," you smiled, walking towards your husband. "I really tried." You placed a hand on Bucky's shoulder while the other ran through his hair. Unable to fight the comfort, his eyes fluttered shut.

There was something about watching the apparently stoic and unfeeling Bucky Barnes melt under a woman's touch. Perhaps he was even more human than the team thought.

"How about I make some food, hm?" You chimed in, leaning down to place a gentle peck on your beloved's scalp. "She makes amazing food," and then, a smile. Not just for you to see. But for the entire team to admire.

light in the dark [BONUS] | bucky barnes x ex-blackwidow!reader

includes: recovering angst & pure fluff; established relationship; post thunderbolts* (no spoilers)

read the first part!: your void

credit to @bellamuertes for gif

He was your hope personified. The light at the end of a very dark tunnel you’ve managed to evade for years until it forced itself to be seen and felt. 

Some part of Bucky knew you’d been harboring this for quite some time. From the moment he met you, he could see the way your smile spread too wide, compensating for the unmentionables. He knew the life of a past Widow came with its traumas and baggage, that went without saying. He saw the way you flinched at water that was just a bit too cold. He saw the nightmares that kept you up at night and the way you pretended nothing happened when morning came.

Bucky wasn’t stupid, he could see all of it. 

But he wasn’t aware just how far away you were keeping him from it all until that fateful night. 

It was like a building crumbling before your eyes, forcing you to realize the foundation was never as sound as it made you believe.

You had never held Bucky like that. You held him in a hold so tight, gripping onto his shirt, arms, hands, anything within your reach in hopes of grounding yourself before you drowned. 

And you never really let go. 

Once the floodgates were open, every single moment you spent with him was in a sullen silence sealed in understanding. When he cooked dinner, you’d sit at the kitchen island, watching him in silence. When he rested after a long day, you sat with him in your silence. 

You never said a single word, but you never needed to. Bucky knew all the words you couldn’t find it in yourself to say. 

It had been about two weeks since the Void incident and between the media, the press, Congress, and “The New Avengers” mess, these moments were the only time the two of you had to yourself. You cherished it. 

The apartment seemed empty when he got home today. The kitchen was deserted and the living room was untouched, but he heard the faintest sound of you calling his name coming from the bedroom. 

When he found you, you were sitting in the center of the bed, legs crossed with your laptop open in front of you. 

A tired smile found your lips. “Hi baby.” 

“Hi doll.” He took no hesitation in falling onto the bed, letting the laptop barrier the two of you. “What are you watching?” 

Your eyes flickered down to the contents on your screen. “Nothing important.” It was a news article regarding the members of what Valentina dubbed “The New Avengers”.

“Hey.” Bucky’s voice was gentle, just enough to beckon your attention fully onto him. 

‘Don’t lie,’ his expression read. You sighed heavily, unable to resist the brown of his eyes boring into your heart. 

“It’s an article. The New Avengers.” You flipped the device so it faced him, a picture of him and the rest of the team awkwardly posed and photoshopped onto some grand background. 

Bucky groaned and reached for the laptop, closing it before pushing it aside. “None of that. I’ve been with them all day, I don’t need anymore.” 

He lazily grabbed you by your waist, dragging you to lay next to him. He was warm, you noticed, as you melted into his side, hand over his heart and legs instantly moving to tangle into his. 

The silence that followed was nothing but comforting. A kind of domestic bliss you never dreamed of having at a point in your life. His hold was comforting and you being in his arms gave him comfort beyond anything else. 

“Bucky.” It came out hesitantly, as if you were biting your tongue. “I talked to Sam today.” 

The man looked down at you, his curiosity masking his shock. This was the most you’ve spoken in days. “Oh no,” he joked with a tired smile. 

“Nothing bad,” you assured. “Just…he suggested I try therapy. Says it might help me…loosen up I guess.” 

He said nothing at first, measuring out his words carefully. “Do you want to go to therapy?” 

You sighed, pressing your face deeper into the crook of his neck. “No,” you groaned out. “But I think it might help.” 

He held you closer, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His silence was longer this time. It wasn’t the silence you two grew accustomed to sharing, rather the silence of him biting his tongue. 

“When was the last time you talked to Yelena?” 

You didn’t move at first, the question breaking you out of that bliss. In a slow movement, you sat up from where you were laying down, one hand still lingering on his chest. “Belova?” 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, meeting you where you sat. He brought a hand up to your cheek, rubbing a thumb gently over your skin. You couldn’t help but let your eyes fall shut, letting yourself melt into him again. “I dunno…a while. Why?” 

When you opened your eyes again, his were somber, studying every inch of you and your vulnerability. “There’s no world where I could understand everything you’ve ever gone through. Not in the way you deserve.” 

“Bucky–,” 

“Shh, let me finish. I think the only person who could come close to it…is Yelena. I don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want to do but, she will be able to help you so much more than I or any therapist ever would.” 

Your eyes trailed down in thought as Bucky’s hand migrated to your arm, drawing small circles in it like he loved to do. 

“I haven’t talked to her since she freed me...9 years ago.”

You anticipated the disappointment on his face. You could feel your own disappointment swell up within you as you looked away, but when his finger hooked under your chin and forced you to look you in the eye, none of it was there.

“It’s all up to you,” he reassured. “No one is forcing you to do anything.” 

You couldn’t control the soft smile that spread over your cheeks. It was small, but it narrated so much. “I know.” 

@casp1an-sea

your void | bucky barnes x ex-blackwidow!reader

content warning: allusions to su*c*de, allegories to depression, death, blood, malnourishment, child abuse (don't read if this is sensitive material, take care of yourself <3) SPOILERS TO THUNDERBOLTS*

Includes: Heavy angst (I mean HEAVY), hurt/comfort, established relationship, bittersweet ending

words in bold are in russian

+BONUS light in the dark

credit to @saradika-graphics for divider

It snuck up on you, that feeling you shoved deep down for so many years. It was cold, all consuming, and emptying—a feeling you were well accustomed to and learned to shove into the deepest concaves of your mind. 

You felt it before you saw it, and when you did see it, you thought your eyes were playing tricks on you. It was the embodiment of all your nightmares and grievances, slowly reaching out like black ink soaking up the room in a void. Your void. 

Your first instinct was to run, avoid it, hide from it. 

But some part of you knew it was futile. That this darkness you somehow knew so well, would not stop until it ate up every single aspect of you. 

So you grabbed your phone and dialed a number—Bucky’s number. You watched the darkness spread through the apartment you and Bucky shared, inching back into the next room as you listened to the ringing of his absence. 

You hoped at the very least you’d hear his voice through voicemail. But you didn’t. Your phone went black and clattered to the ground as you splashed into nothing more but a shadow on the floor. 

You awoke to your own reflection, but not the one you’ve come to know. It was devoid of the light you worked so hard on getting. 

You remembered these mirrors. They surrounded you at every angle in the shape of a large cold room—a ballet studio. Bright fluorescent lights buzzed incessantly, all but the one hovering above you. You lingered in the dark alone. 

“Hold it! You mustn’t falter even for a second.” 

Instincts surged through your body as you whipped around, seeing two new figures in the room. You were so much younger with so much fear painted in your eyes. Your body shook and tears began to fall down your cheeks, terrified to drop from your position in fear of meeting the sharp edge of your instructor's blade. It was positioned right under your thigh, barely even grazing your skin. 

“Your emotions are pathetic.” 

You were only six. 

“Your body is pathetic.” 

You were malnourished. 

“You are the weakest in your class, you will not survive long.” 

You endured 24 more years in the Red Room. 

A force possessed you, pushing your feet closer to the memory you’ve succeeded in evading for so long. You watched as your instructor lifted the blade at an angle, slashing and grazing your skin. 

Younger-you might not have moved but you did. In a moment of impulse, you pushed between yourself and your instructor, shoving them away wordlessly with tears in your eyes. 

In the seemingly endless numbers of times you’ve relived this dream, it never happened like this. It almost offered you a sense of justice. 

Almost. 

In just a blink, your instructor stood in front of you, charging now at you with their blade. You tried to fight but it was fruitless. Before you realized it, you were being shoved through the glass of the mirror and into cold, wet water. 

You were drowning. 

Some part of you wanted to. 

How easy it would be to just let your body go limp, give into the darkness and just give up. 

But it wasn’t that easy.

It was never that easy. 

A force pushed you out of the water, shoving you into the memory of your surroundings. It was the woods you grew up in. The tiniest ounce of freedom restricted by the threat of death or any worse punishment. 

You were on the shore of a lake whose image you yearned to forget. 

A whistle blew, echoing through the forest and ringing forever in your ears. From the other end, you can see more figures, gathering around the two who just jumped in. The top of their class—you and Anya Petrov, a girl you’ve come to know well. 

You began to run as you watched the two swim in competition to the other, chasing after a flag planted in the center. 

“No!” Your voice was loud and raw, but no one turned to you. Everyone watched as the two neared closer, you clearly in the lead. 

You didn’t know what you’d accomplish by running, but you never stopped until you saw yourself grab that flag and hold it high in the sky. 

You knew what came next. 

So you ran. 

Into the freezing forest, ignoring the cold you’ve become accustomed to. But no matter how far you ran, you couldn’t escape the gun shot that deafened everything. 

When you turned around, you saw younger-you, watching as Anya’s body floated limp in the water, surrounded by the scarlet hues of your success. 

You were frozen to the place you stood, unable to move, barely able to breathe. You could only crumple to the ground as your knees gave in below you. 

Maybe if you stayed still and gave up, it would all go away. You’d be at peace in the pain and learn to grow numb to it again. Maybe if you forgot the world, the world would forget you. 

But it didn’t want to forget you. Not this world at least. The world crafted by your void. 

The darkness of the shadows grew darker, larger. Like talons, it reached out for you, slowly but surely. At first you didn’t fight it, but when it grabbed you so harshly and began to drag you across the snow, you clawed for anything in your reach. 

You should’ve learned by now that fighting the darkness didn’t do anything. Running from the darkness wouldn’t do anything. You were alone. You were never going to win. Maybe you never will. 

No matter how hard you fought it, it still dragged you down into the hole at the trunk of a tree. Dragging you into another forgotten remnant of the past. One shoved down so deep, you barely recognized it at first glance. 

It was a simple room. 

No tests. No lakes. No mirrors. No knives. Just you and a box of files. A very large box of files. 

You remembered this moment, the moment you wanted to forget the most. It was recent, only 2017. You were free now because of Yelena Belova. You could do whatever you want—breathe air, find a home, live a life that is your own. 

But instead you were in your small newly acquired apartment with so many files. Files with your name on them. 

Each one of them held at least a quarter dozen people. Women and men alike, no matter what age, they all had ‘Terminated’ written over their information in big red letters. 

You tried to count how many were in the box. How many lives and how much blood was on your hands. But it was too much. 

You lost count. 

You watched over your own shoulder, numb as the pages flew by. You knew what was coming next, who was coming next. 

The pages stopped on a woman. She was young and beautiful. A scientist and clearly very brilliant in her field. You watched as recognition sparked in your eyes. 

The woman's eyes, her smile, even the crinkle in her nose. It mirrored yours perfectly. Like a reflection that only showed your sins. 

You couldn’t bear to sit and wait for your reaction as the horror sank in. You left your side and found a door. Closing the door so gently, you let yourself slide down the door and onto the ground as the echoes of your sobs rattled the walls. 

“No more,” you begged, plugging your ears. “Make it stop, please make it stop.” 

The darkness never stops. It only fades. 

You don’t know when it happened or how, but when you opened your eyes again, you were on the floor of you and Bucky’s apartment. 

Your phone was ringing. With shaking hands, you reached for it. 

“Hello?” Your voice felt like it should have been sore and raw, but it wasn’t. 

“What the hell is going on?” 

You had never been so thankful to hear the sound of Sam’s voice. 

“I leave you and Bucky alone for one minute and suddenly there’s a black ink spreading across the whole city and something about The New Avengers.”

“...what are you talking about?” 

“It’s all over the news.” 

You hear Sam’s voice continue on through the phone, but it’s all static to you as you flip the TV back on, finding a news channel where Bucky stood next to Yelena and a few others you couldn’t focus enough on to recognize. You hadn’t even realized that Sam was calling your name. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” 

You heard him pause, taking a deep breath. “Are you okay?” His voice lost his aggression and demand, heavy in vulnerable worry. 

You hated it. “I have to go.” 

You don’t know how long you sat there, watching staring at the television. You were lost in your own mind and spiraling thoughts. You only felt afraid and numb and afraid of anything that came to interrupt the numbness. 

Your fear ate at you, driving you to reach for your gun when you heard the jiggle of your door not—your gun that you no longer carried. 

When the door finally burst open, it was like the white light at the end of a neverending, blackened tunnel. Bucky. 

He spoke no words, only engulfing you in an embrace so tight. His left arm wrapped around your waist, the other finding solace in cradling your head so carefully. 

“Thank god,” he uttered into your forehead, as he kissed it, grounding himself into you. “I didn’t know wh–I couldn’t tell.” He let out a final breath. “Thank god you're safe.” 

You wished you could melt into his embrace like you always did. You wanted to as he held you so close, your hand finding his chest and feeling his steady heartbeat. But you couldn’t. Your body tensed uncontrollably. Just as it did so many years before. Something you had to unlearn with him. Something you relearned so easily. 

You wanted to cry. 

But no tears fell. 

You could only let yourself be embraced by him and comfort him. 

“Are you okay,” he asked eventually. 

The two of you were in bed now, side by side on the edge after he explained the surreal events that unfolded in so few hours. 

You smiled softly, your hand finding the turn of his jaw and cupping it. You prayed he couldn’t feel the way your fingers quivered. “As long as you’re here, I’m okay.” 

You brought your lips to his, kissing him tenderly in hopes he didn’t see the lie streaking across your face. 

You awoke, not with a startled gasp, but with silent tears in your eyes and the echoing screams of all the innocents haunting your dreams. 

The feeling snuck up on you again. The cold, dark, hopelessness you faced today. But no dark void reached out of the shadows for you. It was only the void your mind created to punish and isolate you. It was working. 

With a ragged sigh, you slipped past Bucky’s embrace, ashamed that you were selfish enough to leave him on a night he could finally find sleep in a bed instead of the floor. 

You wanted nothing more than to climb into that bed with him, forget all of your worries and let them fade into his embrace. But the darkness didn’t work like that. Not to you. 

It would only infect him. 

You couldn’t do that. Not when he’s come so far. 

So you excused the room and let yourself haunt the halls and stalk into the kitchen. 

Your movements were numbing and monotonous. Like a routine. Open the cabinet. Grab a glass. Close the cabinet. Get water. 

You don’t even remember doing these actions, only the empty taste of water on your lips. 

You were content with staying in the room, letting the silence be just silence around you. But the silence grew loud. It screamed at you, called your name. Layering voices on top of another. The voice of your instructor, the voice of Anya, your mother, glass shattering. 

You didn’t even realize you dropped your cup until the glass came splashing up at your legs. No matter how careful you were with the shards, it was useless. You only kept cutting yourself as you reached for the next and failed. 

“Doll, stop it, stop it.” 

You didn’t even realize you had woken him up. You didn’t want him to see you like this, a never ending flow of tears running down your cheeks as you now cried so openly. You had been vulnerable with Bucky before, but not like this. You let him in a little at a time, never all at once. 

“I was doing so well. I sto-I stopped thinking about it, everything I’ve done. Every they–” 

Your breathing became uncontrollable now, your voice scratched up and raw. 

“I thought I was done James,” you finally released with a sob. “Why can’t I be done?” 

All of the pain, the hurting, the anguish. It all came out in that moment with nowhere else to go. You shoved it down so much that it could only ever explode, taking you with it. 

You expected the worst from Bucky. For him to grab you by the forearms and tell you to suck it up and push it back in. For him to leave you in your own shattered glass and close the door behind him. You didn’t expect him to take you in his arms. 

His hold was different now. Gone was his tight, impossible squeeze. It was replaced with this, a hold so gentle yet firm. It was a hold that said he understood. 

“There’s no such thing as done.” His words were slow, a mere whisper as he pieced them together meticulously. “You have to carry it. Forever. You can’t get rid of it, no matter how hard you try. No matter how deep you bury it. Your mind will always know what you try to hide.” 

You felt the wet tears he shed falling onto you. You felt the dampness of his shirt as you clutched it, afraid he’d disappear. You felt it all as the two of you cried together. 

“But…you don’t have to carry it alone. You never have to carry it alone. It may be your past, but it is not your burden to bear. But you need to open up. Let me in. ” Once more, your hand found his chest, sitting right over his heart as you felt the rhythm of his heart, reminding you not only that he was alive, but that he was here with you. You weren’t alone. Not anymore.

Like, reblog and lmk what you thought! I live for feedback in any form, even incoherent keyboard slams

@casp1an-sea

Bonus piece posted here: light in the dark

how do ppl write fanfiction and have a job? i am just so sleepy all of the time.

anyway, rip to those ppl i said i was gonna write fics for right before i dropped off the face of the earth. hope you're doing well x

“Tell Me You Will Believe Me”

poly!marauders x fem!reader

summary: Your visions as a Seer used to be harmless—until they turned dark. Now, you find yourself caught between protecting the people you love and the terrifying truth only you can see.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: emotional abuse, graphic violence, dark themes, angst, betrayal, emotional withdrawal, mental health struggles (anxiety, depression), trauma, past trauma, death of a loved one, remus being a sweetheart, visions of future tragedy, so much hurt/comfort, LOTS of angst but then happy ending <3

authors note: i should be studying but this idea has been on my mind for weeks so i decided to just write it, enjoy the major angst with comfort. Im trying to test my skills, idk should i do part 2 or leave the ending like this?

part 2 masterlist

It started slowly. Almost imperceptibly.

At first, you skipped breakfast. Said you’d meet them later in class. You didn’t.

Then you stopped holding Sirius’s hand in the hallways. Your fingers used to seek his like a reflex—lacing together as naturally as breath. Until one day, his hand brushed yours and you flinched, pretending not to notice. He didn’t say anything, just shoved his hands into his pockets and looked away.

You stopped waiting for James after class too. Where once you leaned against the wall with a playful grin, teasing him about being late, now you left as soon as the bell rang. “Thought you’d already gone,” you’d lie, when he showed up confused and breathless, eyes searching the corridor for you.

You started skipping Hogsmeade weekends, claiming migraines, unfinished essays, fatigue. “I’ll just stay in and rest,” you’d say, brushing kisses onto their cheeks like goodbyes. “You go. Have fun my love.”

They noticed, of course. The boys weren’t blind.

But you were clever.

You still smiled when spoken to. Still said “love you” back. Still sat beside them at meals—even if you barely touched your food, barely looked up, barely breathed. You learned how to be present without being there. An echo. A ghost in your own skin.

The boys watched you like you were slipping underwater, helpless to stop it.

One evening, James sat beside you on the Gryffindor common room couch, his voice low and joking, “You’ve got this whole ‘mysterious tragic poet’ thing going on lately baby. Should we be worried?”

You forced a laugh. “I just haven’t been sleeping well.”

He smiled at you, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “We miss you.”

“I’m right here, Jamie,” you whispered.

-

The smell of fire, of burning flesh. Someone’s laugh twists into a scream that ends too fast.

-

But you weren’t. Not really.

“Take her and RUN, Sirius!” Remus roars, storming forward and grabbing him by the collar, shoving him back like the fire behind him hasn’t already started swallowing everything whole. “NOW!”

There’s blood in Remus’s mouth when he speaks, on his hands when he clutches Sirius, on his temple where something struck too hard, too fast. His lips are trembling but his eyes are terrifying—brighter than the firelight. They burn with something final.

“Moony—” Sirius chokes, voice hoarse with panic, tears already rising. “I can’t—”

“THERE’S NO TIME!” Remus howls, like it’s killing him to say it. “You don’t look back. You don’t come back. You take her and you fucking run, do you hear me? You keep her safe—Sirius, please—

-

-

“Hey hey hey pretty girl, look at me breathe for me come on.”

Sirius’s voice breaks through your fog. He’s kneeling in front of you now, his dark eyes wide with concern. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Dorca and Peter are there too, hovering close by, their faces twisted in worry. They’re all looking at you, their concern thick in the air.

“Are you alright?” Remus asks, voice soft, but there’s something underlying—something urgent in his tone. He crouches beside you, his eyes searching for an answer you don’t have.

You open your mouth to speak, but no sound comes out. You feel pathetic having a panic attack infront of everyone. The vision’s weight is still on your chest, pressing down on you, suffocating you. It feels like the whole world is closing in.

Sirius looks like he might reach for you, but he hesitates, as if afraid to touch you. The intensity of the moment hangs heavy in the air. “You’re scaring me princess.” he says quietly, eyes softening.

And for the first time in days, you feel something like a tremor in your chest—like the weight of their love, their worry, is finally sinking in.

“please just hold me.” you hiccup through sobs, your voice sounding too small, too fragile. But the words feel hollow in your mouth.

And they do, they hold you until you feel safe enough. 

It was Remus who saw through it first.

He’d catch you staring into the fire too long. Flinching when the wind howled against the castle windows. He noticed your fingers trembling when you thought no one was looking. The way your hands hovered just above the boys’ shoulders when they leaned in—like you wanted to touch them, like you were afraid to.

“Are you alright, dove?” he whispered one night, his hand brushing your arm.

You blinked, startled. You hadn’t even noticed him sit beside you.

“Fine,” you said too quickly, too brightly. “Just tired.”

He didn’t believe you. He never did.

But he let you go.

After that, everything became quieter, not the visions though. They got worse, more clear, and more horrifying. 

You stopped calling Sirius by his stupid nicknames. No more “Padfoot,” no more “Starboy.” Just “Sirius,” plain and clipped.

You forgot James’s birthday. The guilt nearly ate you alive, even as you watched him pretend not to be disappointed.

You stopped reading with Remus at night. Once, you’d fall asleep curled against his chest while he read aloud, voice soft and warm against your temple. Now, you claimed headaches. Stayed in your bed. Doors locked.

They started whispering when they thought you couldn’t hear.

“She doesn’t laugh anymore,” James murmured one night.

“I think she’s scared,” Sirius replied. “Of what, I don’t know.”

“Us?” Remus said quietly.

-

-

They know. They know, James—run!” and then footsteps and a crash and nothing.

A golden ring in a pool of blood. The sound of Sirius sobbing into Remus’s shirt. “They said she was dead. They said—”

Remus’s breath on your neck. “Run.

 Smoke curling under a door you don’t recognize.

The sound of chains dragging across stone. Always the chains.

Blood on parchment.

Your name scrawled across it again and again and again.

-

-

You pretended you were asleep, but your pillow was wet.

Until one night, Sirius finally snapped.

You were halfway through dinner in the Great Hall when he slammed his goblet down and growled, “Alright, what the hell’s going on with you?”

You blinked, startled.

“You don’t look at us anymore,” he hissed. “You don’t touch us. You barely speak. If you want to leave, just say so, but stop pretending everything’s fine.”

“I don’t want to leave,” you said, voice breaking.

“You already have.”

And when you looked at him—really looked—you saw it: the shadow of his future, the one you’d dreamed a hundred times. Screaming behind bars. Eyes hollow.

You turned away. “Please. Just let it go.”

And he did. Because even angry, Sirius would always choose you. Always love you, even when it tore him apart.

Then weeks turned into a month.

Then a month turned into two. 

And you kept fading—slowly, quietly, like death by a thousand unspoken words.

Until Remus couldn’t take it anymore.

Until that night in the library when he found you curled into yourself like a broken star, and you shattered in his arms and told him everything.

You were in the library at nearly midnight—eyes hollow, curled in the farthest back corner like you were trying to vanish into the stone.

You didn’t hear Remus at first.

But suddenly, he was there—standing in front of you, pale and shaking, with something desperate in his eyes.

“You’re done hiding.”

His voice trembled. You looked up, startled.

“I tried to give you space,” he said quietly. “I tried to trust you. Its been two months and 4 days (Y/n). I can’t anymore. You’re fading right in front of me. And I don’t care how much you lie and pretend you’re okay—you’re not.”

You stood too fast, the chair scraping behind you. “Please, just let it go rem.”

“No, dammit!” he snapped. “You shut us out. You stopped letting us love you. You look at James like you’re already mourning him. You look at Sirius like he’s glass. And you haven’t looked at me like anything in weeks.”

Your hands were shaking. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“I don’t want protection, I want you!” he shouted.

The silence that followed was deafening.

His eyes were glistening. “Tell me what’s happening. Even if it hurts. Even if it ruins everything. Please.”

You stared at him, throat tightening, vision blurring. 

Remus’s hands trembled as they gently cupped your face, his eyes searching yours for answers. The weight of everything was pressing down on him now, and he could feel the tension in your body, the way you were holding yourself back.

“Please, just tell me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, pleading. “I need to know, I need to understand what’s happening to you.”

You closed your eyes, tears brimming, throat tight with the truth you couldn’t bear to say. You’d been holding it in for so long, the fear, the guilt. It was all too much.

“Tell me you will believe me,” you whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Please. Tell me you will believe me.”

Remus’s breath hitched at your words, his grip on your face tightening slightly as if to pull you closer to him, as if to anchor himself to you. His heart was racing now, but his voice was steady. “I will,” he promised, his voice raw with desperation. “I believe you. I always will.”

You sank to the floor, legs giving out, and he followed, arms catching you before you could crumble completely. And then, for the first time in weeks, you told someone the truth.

“I’ve been having visions.”

He froze, but didn’t speak.

The words hung in the air between you like a spell. You couldn’t look at him. You couldn’t face his eyes yet. The silence stretched on, thick and suffocating, but then Remus exhaled like he had been holding his breath too, his hands moving to hold yours tightly.

“What do you mean? Visions?” His voice was filled with concern, but there was something else there—something dark, like he already knew this wasn’t just a simple problem. This wasn’t something you could brush off with a shrug and a laugh.

You pulled your hands away, holding them against your chest, as if protecting yourself from the storm you knew was about to break.

“It’s like—I see things. Fragments. Pieces. But they’re never in order, Remus.” Your voice broke, and you cursed yourself for sounding so weak, for not being able to keep it together just a little longer. “Sometimes, I’m in them. Sometimes, I’m not. But it’s always horrible. Always the same. It’s—it’s the end, Remus. The end of all of us.”

Remus’s eyes never left you. He didn’t interrupt. He didn’t say a word, but his face twisted with confusion and concern, his brow furrowed like he was trying to make sense of the puzzle you were handing him.

“The night we’re all going to die,” you continued, your throat raw. “I’ve seen it, over and over again. I—I see James… He’s screaming. I see Sirius… He’s… he’s not himself. And you’re—” You stopped yourself, unable to finish the sentence, the emotion too raw to put into words. “You’re not there. You’re gone, Remus. And it’s my fault.”

Remus’s face went pale as he absorbed what you were saying, his jaw tightening with the weight of your words. He reached out, his fingers grazing your arm, but you jerked back, your heart racing as you continued, desperate to say it all before it consumed you.

“I’m not always there, but when I am… It’s like I’m not even alive. I watch from some place far away. Sometimes, I see myself dead.” You let out a shaky breath, trying to hold it together. “I see James and Sirius, and I—God, I can’t breathe. I just… I can’t fix it, Remus. I can’t stop it. There’s a traitor, someone in our circle, someone close, and they’re going to betray us. James dies, Sirius gets blamed. They throw him in Azkaban… And I—I get taken, or worse.”

Remus’s hand reached out, but you flinched away, guilt and fear flooding your chest. You couldn’t look at him anymore. You couldn’t look at anyone, not with this knowledge hanging over you.

“I’ve been pushing you all away,” you whispered. “I’m scared, Remus. I’m terrified. I’ve been trying to protect you, to protect all of you. But I can’t stop what’s coming. I can’t stop it. And it’s eating me alive. I’m watching all of us die and I can’t do anything about it.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. You were already too weak. Too broken. You couldn’t bear to show him any more of your fragility.

“Please, Remus, you have to promise me—promise me you won’t tell them.” Your voice was barely a whisper now, a plea. “Not yet. Not until we know what to do. I don’t know how to stop it, but I have to try. I have to do something, and I can’t do it alone.”

His hand was trembling as he cupped your face, lifting it so that you had no choice but to meet his eyes. His gaze was filled with so much pain, but also an understanding that shattered you further.

“Don’t ever think you’re alone in this, dove,” he whispered. “I’m with you. Always. We’ll find a way to stop it.”

You collapsed into his arms then, the sobs you’d been holding in finally breaking free. He held you tight, letting you cry it all out, his hand rubbing your back in comforting circles.

When the tears subsided, he whispered into your head, “ I believe you, dove.”

And in that moment, you finally allowed yourself to believe it too—believe that together, you might still have a chance to rewrite the ending.

The days that followed were desperate, and the sense of dread hung thick in the air.

The Marauders—Sirius, James, and Remus—refused to leave your side. Remus spent hours with you, pushing you to strengthen your Occlumency, your focus unwavering as he guided you through each mental block. His presence was a steady reassurance, though the unspoken tension between you both never quite lifted. The weight of what you’d seen in that vision was suffocating, and you had to push yourself to stay strong for them. For him.

Every moment, every glance you exchanged with your boyfriends felt charged with the weight of a looming secret. You knew things were changing, but you couldn’t tell them yet. Not until you knew the truth.

And so, you turned to your studies, hoping that if you immersed yourself in magic, in spells that might give you a fighting chance, the gnawing fear would subside.

It was a normal evening. The fire crackled merrily in the common room, casting a warm, golden glow over the four of you. Sirius sprawled out on the couch, teasing James as he flicked through a Quidditch magazine, his signature grin pulling at the corners of his lips. James was laughing, leaning over to nudge Sirius, while you and Remus sat across from them, trying to hold onto a semblance of normalcy.

For a fleeting moment, everything felt right. Remus caught your eye from across the room, and his lips curved into a small, reassuring smile. You returned it, but deep inside, the unease never fully disappeared.

“So, how’s the study session going baby?” Sirius asked, turning his head lazily toward you.

“It’s… fine siri.” you replied, your voice betraying none of the storm inside you. “Just trying to get through all this Occlumency nonsense.”

Remus laughed softly, his gaze never straying from you. “You’re doing great. You’re stronger than you think.”

James grinned. “You’re both scary smart,” he said with a wink. “I’ve been trying to catch up, but it’s been a slow process.”

Sirius chuckled, his usual mischievous energy making it feel like everything was just as it should be.

But then, in the blink of an eye, the room seemed to shift.

The dizziness hit first, so sudden you barely had time to brace yourself. Your vision blurred, and a rush of cold air washed over you. You pressed a hand to your temple, trying to steady yourself, but it was no use.

It wasn’t just dizziness. It was like the world itself was slipping away, replaced by something darker. A vision.

-

-

The world is suffocating—darkness swallowing everything.

The air is thick with screams—raw, guttural, pleading.

James’s glasses fall, shattered into pools of red.

The earth is drenched, soaked with fear, with blood, with everything you never wanted to know.

“Run!” Sirius’s voice cracks as he yanks you forward

You hear Remus, pleading, begging—

“Please, don’t look back. Just go!”

The air is heavy with the crack of spells, the sickening sound of bones breaking.

Sirius’s grip is all you have left to hold on to. You feel the weight of everything pressing down on you, but his voice is a lifeline.

“We need to go NOW.” You don’t look back, but you hear it. That scream.

James.

It’s not just a scream. It’s the sound of everything breaking. The sound of life ending.

It rips through you, through all of you, tearing something deep inside that you can’t even name.

Remus’s eyes lock with yours for a brief second, and in them, you see everything: fear, love, regret. “Don’t look back,” Remus’s voice is barely a whisper, 

The screams keep coming, one after the other. A storm of death and pain. Then, the worst sound of all.

Remus.

You hear him cry out—no, not cry out—begging. His voice breaking, splintering as if his very soul is being torn apart.

The sound cuts through the air like a knife, a desperate plea for mercy that doesn’t come.

The trees are closing in, but you can’t outrun the screams. You can’t outrun what’s happening.

Sirius stumbles, dragging you with him, but you both know it’s too late.

The ground is shaking now, trembling with the weight of death.

Something moves in the distance. Something that’s always been there, lurking, watching.

It’s him.

You hear the soft whisper of a name in your mind, but you don’t believe it.

The world stops.

The truth crashes through you, breaking you wide open.

The traitor.

The one you trusted.

The one who sold them out.

Everything you thought you knew is shattered.

-

-

Gasping for air, chest heaving, you felt the pressure of hands on your shoulders, holding you steady.

“Hey—hey, stay with me. You’re okay.”

It was Remus. His voice was strained with worry. But it didn’t make sense. None of it did.

The world was still spinning, and the faces around you were all blurry—except for one. The one that you couldn’t pull your eyes away from.

Peter was standing by the door. His eyes were unreadable.

And in that moment, you knew.

“Peter.”

The word was barely a whisper, but it hit the room like thunder.

Remus’s grip tightened, his voice full of panic. “What are you saying? What do you mean?”

But you couldn’t answer. Your mind was reeling from the truth. The betrayal that had been right in front of you all along.

It was Peter.

Dancing Through Life isn’t just a fun, catchy song in the middle of act one. It’s an exploration of Fiyero’s deep seeded depression and apathy. And it shows how isolated and desperate for companionship he really is.

During Fiyeros introductory song Dancing Through Life we get introduced to his character. He’s a playboy, rule breaker, and above all else, superficial. Now Fiyero REALLY wants us to know how superficial he is and he also REALLY wants his fellow students at Shiz to be as superficial as he is, but he never explains why.

Well if you read in-between the lines, it’s a shockingly depressing reason. He wants people to be superficial and empty because it the only way he can relate to and befriend them.

He’s been conditioned his whole life to only be surface levelled and shallow, so much so that when it comes to real, authentic social relationships he has genuinely nothing to offer

He has no interests, no ambitions, and no opinions. So much so that until Elphaba snaps him out of it, he really has no other quality’s other than beings empty. Like genuinely none.

So instead of admitting that he is uninteresting and socially inept, he tires to get everyone around him to be as shallow as he is. If EVERYONE is empty and hollow, then that means he doesn’t have to grow or change. He can stay comfortable and brainless.

Happy birthday to my angel on Earth, my sweetie boy, Gubb! I can't believe you're turning 45—you look like a lil' baby. Thanks for existing; it's an honor to be your fan. I love you so much, babe. You are the best. Enjoy your day! Te amo. 🎂 ❤️ ✨ Keep being you!

WICKED MOVIE SPOILERS

During Popular, Galinda tells Elphaba “pink goes good with green” in which Elphaba responds “pink goes well with green”.

This, to me as a first time Wicked viewer, always had a double meaning, that on one hand, Elphaba is a grammar police but also, that this kind of alludes to the way Elphaba rejects the notion of goodness by the end of the movie.

Throughout the movie, Galinda is constantly defined as “good” but deep down all of her good deeds are shallow (ex. Changing her name to take a stand when she states she doesn’t really care about Dr Dillamond).

Her goodness is performative and done to appease her peers and make her look better. As Elphaba said, “You couldn’t care less about what people think. Through I doubt that’s true.”

Elphaba’s kindness however, has her perceived as an enemy of the people and wicked, but she in the end, doesn’t care. She’d rather be considered wicked and do what she considers morally right rather than be seen as “good” and perform shallow acts of kindness for the approval of the people.

It’s always

“When will fanfic writers update their stories?”

And never

“Does this fanfic writer have adequate enrichment to engage in writing behaviours?”

Fanfiction writers (Scriptor fictus) are intelligent animals who need plenty of enrichment as well as encouragement! If they’re stuck in poor conditions (e.g. have studies, work, have to actually write to have something written) then they require the proper enrichment to engage in more healthy behaviours, like writing. Remember, due to poor breeding and socialisation, over half of all fanfic writers suffer from low self confidence and executive dysfunction so take care of them!

Give your fanfic writers proper care. Fanfiction writers are a life long commitment.

It's Nice To Have A Friend

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Synopsis: Remus' childhood best friend is the only person he is comfortable showing unrestrained affection towards – until he one day gets in his own head about it.

Words: 14.4k

Warnings/tags: there are some suggestive remarks, brief references to "shagging" and implied underage drinking, but i would classify it as safe for minors! fem!reader, use of y/n, childhood best friends to lovers (thus you grew up in wales and use welsh terms, but you aren't said to be welsh), you are in ravenclaw (only for one plot point, not personality), platonic physical affection, romantic physical affection, kissing, "it was revealed to me in a dream" trope, some miscommunication trope, deep yearning, remus' pov (meaning loads of self-loathing and overthinking), panic attack-ish, remus cursing like a sailor and joking about jumping, kind of shy/reserved!remus, some angst, happy ending ofc, background jilypad

Note: phew this was intense but sosososo much fun to write. it is very much a fluffy fic tho, don't be worried<3 i fucking love this story/dynamic so much

It is an ill-kept secret that Remus John Lupin struggles with romantic public displays of affection.

It was something his best friends had teased him relentlessly for since the first time he was given a Valentine Day’s card in year two by a boy that he didn’t even have a crush on mind you, and became a stuttering, spluttering mess. He could still hear James and Sirius’ barks of laughter the second that Hufflepuff was out of view and could still feel the bench shake from when Peter fell off it, clutching his stomach. Remus had been sure his cheeks would be permanently dyed red from the shame.

His one friend who did not betray him in such a manner was his oldest, namely you. Remus’ sweetheart, as Sirius called you, his childhood best friend from back home who he broke the statute of secrecy for when he was too young to realise what that meant, but who thankfully turned out to be a witch too. Something you both wept tears of joy for, as you did not have to be separated when he went off to Hogwarts.

On that horrid day, you only pinched his darkening cheeks and laughed quietly – still teasing, but in a way that felt more like admiring and less like humiliating. He faintly remembers scrunching his nose at you in response, a look you immediately mirrored before you went to hide him in the crook of your neck and gave the others a faux scolding for “embarrassing poor Rem when he is wholly capable of doing so himself”. 

His makeshift pack of friends kept that routine up for the rest of his school years, consisting of James and Sirius poking constant fun, Peter enjoying it all a tad bit too much, and you “protecting” him while laughing all the same. His affliction only worsened throughout his time at Hogwarts, but if one of his afflictions were to be the butt of a joke, he supposed he was grateful it was this one.

In moments like these, it was a tad bit difficult to keep that sentiment up, though.

“You should have seen the look on his face, doll!” Sirius made out through a laugh as the group made their way back from Hogsmeade. 

He was recounting Remus’ dance on the Three Broomsticks dancefloor with one slightly-more-rowdy-than-normal Emmeline Vance who all but dragged him out there despite his quiet sputters. You had been off on some endless errands that Remus had passionately attempted to join you for before Sirius all but bolted him to the bench because “you owe me a round, you mangy wolf”.

“I believe I have seen it many a time, Siri,” you laughed out, yelping slightly when Remus pinched your side from where he had his arm around you. “Hey!” you scolded him half-heartedly, point diminished by your grin.

“Cheeky minx, don’t side with the devil!” Remus conspired with you through a stage-whisper while glaring at Sirius, whose laughter only doubled in intensity.

“You can’t ask me to lie for you, del,” you replied in the same tone of voice, leaning up to kiss his cheek as if to apologise for your treachery. An apology that was wholly accepted as Remus tugged you closer into his side and allowed for the laughter around him to continue with a sigh.

Because therein lies the one exception – Remus Lupin was pathetically incapable of public displays of affection, unless they were with you.

His problem with these displayals was the insinuation behind them and the attention that was brought to him because of it. If Emmeline dances with him, leaving a scandalously little amount of room between them, he knows what she wants from him and everyone else does, too. If his current romantic partner kisses him in the hallway, it is a glimpse into something that otherwise occurs behind closed doors, a reveal of his private life that he does not enjoy. He wants that part hidden, and embarrassment flares through him like a rocket at the thought that others bear witness to it – and then the flames are stoked when they notice that he knows and has enough dignity to be embarrassed, which just fuels an eternal evil cycle.

You, however – your wonderful self he has known all his life, you who refused to ever leave his side despite his lycanthropy and subsequent grumpy, isolationist persona, you who are his absolute better half and light of his life – there was no reason that affection should be hidden. There was nothing secretive nor fragile in your relationship, it was the purest thing he had ever had the pleasure of having.

There was nothing insinuative or blasphemous about it, there was nothing to be held against him. He would hold you, hug you, even kiss your shoulder, cheek and forehead, because he and all else around knew that it meant nothing more. It was nothing out of the norm, nothing for others to point out and bring attention to. There was no glance into something hidden away, there was no line being overstepped. It was just two best friends, aware and proud of how much they meant to one another.

So Remus never had any hesitations about leaning into your touch, about seeking yours out, about lips identifying exposed skin and staying there for a moment or two. It was something he began doing before he truly knew what embarrassment entailed, it was muscle memory as much as instinct these days.

And if others did not understand it fully, that was an issue Remus for once felt no confinement to public opinion on. If people made assumptions or threw glances, it held no importance to him. Even his Marauders, Sirius especially, raised their eyebrows at your proximity when you all first met, but they understood the routine of it all quickly. That these two first years before them were a package deal in every form of the word. It was quickly accepted within your little pack, albeit fondly commented on every now and again. James had Sirius in that same unrestrained way, bodies strewn across each other at any given opportunity, so why couldn’t Remus have you? Why wouldn’t he?

Never mind that Sirius was officially brought into James and Lily's relationship at the end of last term.

“Well, James would hug anything that moved and seemed like it might need it.” Sirius had argued one night many years ago, not needing to add the and I need it.

“And isn’t that lovely for Prongs,” Remus had drawled in return. “But I need a few years to get there, and Y/N happened to be more strategic than you lot.”

“By knowing you first?”

“Precisely. Also, she’s lovelier than you.” 

It had earned him a snort and a pillow to the face, but it was accepted without further questioning. With the exceptions only occurring in a drunken babble here and there from Sirius, alone in their dorm after a party. Remus is quite certain he couldn’t string together a coherent sentence if his life depended on it in those states, and so he never took it to heart.

Remus revelled in having something of his own, someone only he understood on that level, and his heart always warmed when he thought about how lucky he was that that someone was you.

He subconsciously pulled you even closer at that thought, content and comfortable to do so whether that be around his marauders or in front of the whole Great Hall; there was nothing more to it to be embarrassed of. It was just you; just Y/N and Remus. Like always.

“You occluding yourself away from your menace of a dorm mate?” you whispered to him then, and he angled his chin down slightly with a smile to find you looking at him curiously.

“Oh, yeah,” Remus agreed with a solemn nod. “Must prepare for being locked up in a room with him all night. It’s tedious work, you know?”

“Most certainly.” You attempted to match his faux severity, but a giggle escaped you nonetheless – a beautiful one that Remus decided to mentally save for the night, should Sirius become unbearable.

Speaking of; “I take great offence to that,” Sirius proclaimed from the few strides ahead he was, pointing his finger in Remus’ direction without turning around. “Dog-like hearing, Moony, don’t think you can get away with badmouthing me here!”

“Dog-like he says,” Remus whispered to you, earning him an indignant “oi!” as Sirius finally turned around.

“Gorgeous, would you tell your worse half to knock it off?”

“I sure will,” you declared, turning your body more towards Sirius in Remus’ grasp. “Siri, sweetheart, would you knock it off?”

Within the second, Sirius’ offended expression transformed into one of giddiness. “Awe, princess, you think of me as your other half?”

“Worse half, Pads,” James interjected, looking over his shoulder bemusedly.

“Do keep up,” Remus added with a half-hearted glare.

“Irrelevant!” Sirius threw his hands up and spun around in celebration. “I have won the title of her other half, you can get lost Moons.”

Remus used his arm around your shoulders to angle you back away from Sirius. “I think not. I’ve been keeping this friendship for so long, she’ll need a lawyer to get rid of me,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking down at you at the last bit. “Capiche?” He tilted his head at you.

You hummed through a poorly-withheld smile, as if you were considering it. “Sure thing, cariad. Meet with our lawyers tomorrow after lunch?”

Remus gasped as you ripped out of his grasp and stuck your tongue out at him. Flashbacks of your younger days chasing each other down dirt roads came to his mind and widened his grin as he saw you back away from him, eyes trained on his expression. 

“Minx,” he breathed out through a laugh just before you sat off running away from him; Remus hot on your heels, laughter escaping him freely. Sirius began running with you, though he was slowed as he twirled around and hollered, surely waking the entirety of the mountaintops surrounding the castle.

James had been minding his own business for once as he engaged in quiet conversation with Lily and Pandora, but his eyes twinkled as he eyed his three running friends, exchanging a knowing look with the redhead.

“Young love,” Pandora sighed dreamily, though James could never be certain if she was looking at the loud, carefree forms before them or at something entirely different.

Remus saw you stopped running while still some dozens of metres away from the castle, still facing away from him, but arms opening to accommodate for the impending crash of his body against yours. It does something funny to his heart to think about, but he just lets it widen his smile as he did exactly as expected – let his arms loop around your waist and twirl you around as he caught up to you. 

Your out-of-breath giggles permeated into his ears as his face was tucked in between your neck and shoulder as he slowed down, laughter calming in his own chest.

“Caught you,” he whispered through his own breathlessness. “Happy now?”

You turned in his grasp, squeezing at his shoulders both to show affection and seemingly to steady yourself as your chest still heaved; Remus held you tighter to help you in the latter endeavour. “Shook off Sirius for a bit, so yeah, I am. As should you be.”

He dropped his head laughing at that, glancing behind him through his hair to see Sirius bent over, hands on his knees as James had already caught up to him and was patting his back in sympathy. Any other time of the month, Remus would likely have been right there with him, but this was a good week and you always seemed to be able to find some semblance of energy within him, even if he thought he had none.

“I take back my calling you minx, then.” He looked at you with a smile. “That was strategic.”

“Are you saying minxes can’t be strategic, Loopy?” You raised your eyebrows at him teasingly, pulling slightly out of his grasp to breathe better.

“I’m saying– don’t call me Loopy.”

Your smile became almost taunting at that, and Remus knew his comment likely only worsened the likelihood of you using that nickname now. “I just remembered how I used to call you that the other day actually,” you mused, putting on an innocent smile. “I don’t remember why I stopped, I just forgot about it. I think it might be time for a renaissance.” 

“I think I’m too out of breath for you to say things like that. I can’t chase you any further, but that deserves to be chased.”

You shoved lightly at his shoulder at that. “You’re getting too old, you’re no fun.”

“I’m super fun. Textbook definition,” Remus harrumphed, gleaning when you rolled your eyes through a burst of laughter.

“No one who references textbook definitions is fun, Moons!” James called from where the group was catching up to you two, finally within earshot. 

Sirius was practically draped across James’ shoulder, breath still coming heavy. He pointed yet another accusatory finger, this time at you. “You’ll be the death of me, dollface. Merlin’s tits.”

“Don’t blame me for your own inadequacy, gorgeous,” you quipped back. It made Remus rather proud, especially when Sirius groaned dramatically in response.

“Time to get some beauty sleep then, yeah?” James coaxed, giving Sirius’ cheek a peck as he continued effortlessly dragging him in through the entrance of the castle.

Lily hummed in agreement, poking one of her boyfriends in the side. “Yeah, Sirius seems to need it.”

“You think I’m so sexy, Red, don’t lie to yourself,” Sirius mumbled, petulantly remaining worn out over James’ shoulders.

Remus smiled at his friends, hand reaching out behind him blindly, knowing you’d find it. Surely enough, your fingers intertwined with his own and gave him a little tug to hasten his gait down the hallways.

Moving up the staircases with surprisingly little trouble, the group finally found themselves outside the portrait of the Fat Lady, ready to split up with you and Pandora heading to Ravenclaw and the rest clambering inside. 

You made your goodbyes, quick hugs and kisses on cheeks with Lily and James and a kiss to the hand from Sirius who had decided to lay down dramatically on the floor. When you turned to Remus at last, just a tad bit away from the others, he enveloped you in a warm hug, breathing you in as he settled his chin on your shoulder.

“Let me walk you?” he asked, already knowing you would say no.

“Nice try Loopy, but I’d rather you go inside to the warmth and head to bed,” you murmured into his neck. “Thank you, though.”

You always said no. He always asked, anyway. Sometimes, if he was feeling particularly protective or otherwise missed you too much, he’d go with you anyway. Today he decided to respect your wishes.

“Tell me again why you had to be an independent person and get sorted into your own house?” he grumbled against you, smiling when he felt your chest rumbling beneath him. That same smile softened when your grip on him grew just the slightest bit tighter.

“Something tells me you’ll survive.” 

He tightened his hold on you in turn, one arm around your waist and the other stabilising your neck, before he spun your body around twice, twirling along the hallway. He relished in the laughter that escaped you and ensured to stamp a proper kiss to your hair before he released you back down to the floor.

“Sleep well, dove.”

“Goodnight, cariad,” you said through a soft smile, giving him and the others a small wave before turning around to where Pandora was waiting, grabbing her hand as you two all but skipped down the hallway together.

With his eyes still glued on your disappearing form, Remus nearly yelped as James’ hands came up to settle roughly on his shoulders – albeit somewhat careful of his joints – steering him through the now-opened portrait, who was rambling on with complaints about students taking up the space in front of her for too long.

“Funny that,” James started. 

Remus gave him a puzzled look. “What, Prongs?”

“Just that you danced with one Ravenclaw at the Three Broomsticks for two minutes and gained the colour and conversational skills of a tomato; but when you twirl and kiss this Ravenclaw, all you’re left with is that goofy grin of yours.” James’ comment seemed off-handed, said over his shoulder as they walked through the empty common room.

“First of all, it’s Y/N we’re talking about and not some Ravenclaw,” he started, confusion laced in his voice. In the meantime, James and Sirius kissed Lily goodbye, the latter giving her bum a light tap as she moved up the stairs to the girls’ dorms. “Secondly, it’s Y/N. She’s my best friend, and one of yours, mind you. What’s there to go all tomato for?”

“Some would argue, there is never any reason to go all tomato,” Sirius taunted, ducking the smack Remus aimed towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” James laughed, literally waving it off. “Just pointing out the parallel. Ironic, innit?”

“Don’t see why it would be,” Remus grumbled petulantly in return. Sirius reached up to ruffle his hair somewhat roughly before entering their dorm, where Peter was already waiting for them, tucked into bed.

“What’re we laughing about tonight, fellas?” he questioned without looking up from the magazine he was reading through. Remus was fairly certain he had seen Mary reading through that very same magazine last week.

“Oh just at Remus’ peculiarities with birds.” Sirius felt emboldened with his comment from where he was crouched behind his bed – ample distance to protect him from Remus, he surely gathered.

“So, nothing new? Nice.” Peter returned his attention to the magazine it never really left.

“Yeah, don’t worry Pete – your friends are just as big arseholes as on any other day.” Remus bent down to pat the boy on the shoulder before moving over to his own bed, between Peter and Sirius’. 

“Hey, I don’t mean to be an arsehole,” James complained with almost a full pout across his lips within a second of Remus’ comment. “We’re just having a bit of fun psychoanalysing you, s’all.”

“Which, of course, is a generally accepted polite thing to do.” Remus nodded as if he was gravely understanding, only flipping James off when the other boy didn’t catch his sarcasm.

“No, Remmy, what would be rude is to point out how you are desperately–” Sirius began with taunting mirth plastered all over his face, but he was cut off as James all but jumped on him to cover his mouth. 

The black haired boy looked up at his boyfriend first with some offence and then a look Remus didn’t want to witness.

“How about we leave poor Moony alone for the night, huh baby?” James questioned, moving his hand away from Sirius’ mouth as the other boy nodded almost dumbly, still staring up at him.

“Who’s turning red now?” Remus whispered to himself as he looked through his trunk for his pyjamas. He barely had the reflexes to catch the pillow Sirius hurled at him, tossing it back with a loud laugh that was quickly reciprocated by his best mates.

As if a miracle had been awarded them by some forgiving gods, the boys’ dorm room quieted down fairly quickly after that. Sirius and James settled in Sirius’ bed for the night, barely fitting themselves onto the mattress that was almost too small for one boy, let alone two. Once in each other’s arms, however, it was an easy thing to drift off. Peter was asleep before the other three had even brushed their teeth.

Remus was the only one tossing. Not unusual, but he couldn’t really understand why that was tonight. 

His sleep cycle often closely followed the moon’s, and he was almost two weeks away from the full moon, a perfectly decent time for falling and staying asleep. Tonight, though, his body was once more fighting him. He kept replaying the night, the conversations, the interactions, trying to pin his unrest on something. He supposed that dance with Vance had been unexpected and the adrenaline spike of all the attention following it might still linger and make sleep evade him. 

Despite what his dismay for public romantic displays might indicate, Remus was no prude. As a matter of fact, just as Sirius had before he was locked down, Remus was no stranger to making his rounds at the occasional common room party. Rarer was it that he shagged anyone back home, as he spent most of his time with you, but it had happened here and there too. Vance and him had even spent a night together once at a quidditch afterparty, but he had no significant interest in her apart from a mutually understood night of fun. He never really did, even when his partners were great in all capacities. It just didn’t seem that romance was an object for Remus – and good riddance, if the struggles of dealing with it so far was any sign.

Perhaps that was it then, dancing with Vance had rehashed something for him. Though the idea didn’t settle well in his bones, Remus also knew that he would never settle if he didn’t give his mind an excuse for his sudden restlessness.

After checking the time with a hefty sigh, he decided to throw in the towel and took a small sip of a sleeping draught potion he had at the ready in his bedside table at all times. If sleep would not come to him, he would hunt it down damn it. His friends’ playful mockery and a dance he didn’t even want to partake in would not cause him any more torment.

As Remus slipped into the land of dreams, he may come to regret that sentiment, if but a bit.

There are warm bodies pressed uncomfortably close to him – the warmest of which has her arms around his neck, one hand scraping through his hair. It should feel good, Remus enjoys when his hair is played with, but this feels sharp enough to draw blood. Emmeline’s laugh is all he can make out over the chatter and stomping around him, but it feels wrong, scratchy like a record player. Her fingers on him are cold, unlike anything else in the room.

It is spinning. The room, that is. Remus is unfocused, as if he had been shooting vodka and not butterbeer earlier. He can’t quite make out any of his friends, or anyone really, Emmeline’s features bleeding out into the background.

For some reason his heart is pounding the way it does before his transformation. Everything feels painfully wrong and he is aware of every inch of his body where Emmeline is touching him.

She is still laughing and Remus is sure it would make his ears bleed, which only confuses him further because Emmeline is truly a nice girl. Just not one he wants to feel flush against himself at the moment.

He reaches a hand up to touch his ear – realising only now that his arms are hanging limply by his sides, the only static thing in the otherwise spinning room – and when he retracts his hand to look at it, his fingers are coated with blood.

His breathing grows ragged as he feels the blood running down the side of his neck. He has half a mind to tell Emmeline, to shout for help. He doesn’t. Nothing comes out when he tries to open his mouth, all control of his body ripped from his grasp.

With no warning he realises the wetness on his neck is not blood, but someone’s open mouth smearing kisses down it with reckless abandon. His stomach ties in knots and he wants to push Emmeline off of him, still to no avail.

Her grip on him tightens painfully, and Remus swears he feels a bone break. He would know.

The flurry behind her has just become a swirl of colours and sounds to him and Remus feels himself drowning in a moment he desperately wants away from. He shuts his eyes hard, taking deep breaths, trying to calm himself.

He feels a warmth in his chest, starkly different from the heat around him, that slowly, like thawing ice, begins to spread throughout him. He hums the melody you sang to him during his first ever panic attack, the sweet one that always lulls him to sleep, and the warmth spreads faster.

With his eyes still screwed shut, Remus begins to regain the feeling in his legs first, noticing them swaying back and forth to some calmer, unknown rhythm.

The feeling in his hand returns too, and it’s clasped around someone else's. Theirs is also warm, light and fits much better in his, though he’s not quite sure what he’s comparing it to.

The front of his body is warmer than the back as he’s pressed up against someone, swaying with them in a slow dance that would never have worked in the middle of Three Broomsticks. It flows with his soul.

At last, Remus can hear again, as if coming up from water. He hears that it was not him humming, but rather a soft figure tucked under his chin, humming the vibrations of the melody against the side of his neck.

When he tightens his arms instinctively, he does not need to open his eyes to know it is you.

He does anyway, looking down at you, standing in his arms, swaying together in an empty Gryffindor common room. There is a lazy smile on your lips as you look up at him, cheek against his chest, eyes twinkling like the starlight.

Remus feels right. Remus feels good. His thoughts are honey, sweet but slow, coating over any coherent reactions he might have to standing here with you like this. He escaped and he is with you and all is right once more.

Have you danced like this before? Did it feel like this then?

You seem unpuzzled, relaxed. The warmth settles in Remus for good.

“Hey handsome,” you whispered, as if you were sharing a secret with him before angling your face more up towards his.

Remus is not in charge of his body when his neck dips down and lets his lips meet yours halfway, casual and expectantly, a habit as much as a wish. You taste like yourself. You smell like yourself. Remus is surrounded by you, cornered by your smile against his lips.

You pull back all too quickly, furrowing your brows at him. Dream-Remus has no hesitation of removing the hand from around your back to thumb at the furrow, brushing away any negative thoughts from you. He kisses the spot between your eyebrows.

Everything is right.

When his eyes meet yours again, the concerned look in them has not changed. You reach a tentative hand up to his cheek, thumb swiping over his cheekbone as you hold him with what he irrevocably knows to be love. 

“It’s time to wake up, cariad,” you said with a small sad smile.

The last thing Remus remembers is the feeling of the floor disappearing beneath him.

Remus sat up with a gasp, and for a rare moment in time he was speechless.

He was not a stranger to invasive, questionable or downright spiritual dreams, a side effect of both his connection with the moon and the tons of potions he has taken over the years. Usually, he is present in his dreams and acts as his own little commentator during and after them, narrating what happens and what he thinks of it.

It was not uncommon for him to think “I think I will remember this one” as the final thought in a dream. Or when he wakes up in tears, his first thought was often “that was a bit dramatic of you, calm down”.

Now, he had nothing. Now, he was speechless.

Worse yet, usually when he wakes up with a jolt, it is in the middle of the night – but now, as his senses began to trickle back in, he could hear the commotion around him that only could mean the boys are at various stages in the process of getting ready.

Remus Lupin had just had a life-altering, earth-shattering dream, and James Fleamont Potter was repeatedly knocking his knee into his nightstand as he jumped around while tying his shoes on, instead of sitting down to do it like a normal person would.

He thought James was saying something, and maybe even to Remus specifically, but he could still hear the blood rushing through his head. Beneath that again, he could hear your humming. 

With a groan, Remus let himself topple over from his sitting position to land face-first into his duvet.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck?

“Oi!” Remus finally heard, as what felt like a rolled up pair of socks hit his head. “What in Godrick’s name has gotten into you, mate? You good?” It was Sirius voice calling, seemingly from across the room.

Remus just groaned in reply. His eyes were wide open as he stared directly into his sheets, feeling both freezing cold and like his brain was slowed by a fever.

“You okay, Moons?” Peter’s voice came gentler from beside him. Remus thought his hand might be hovering near him, as if he was considering consolingly patting him but was unsure if he should.

Another groan.

“Okay, what about this: groan once if this is Moony mooning over something and twice if you’re in actual crisis,” James suggested, not unkindly.

A singular groan, though it sure did feel like two.

“Groan once if you’re a prick and twice if you’re insufferable,” Sirius felt the need to comment.

Instead of making any further sounds, Remus wrangled his arm from beneath the blanket to show Sirius how he felt about him in the moment with a gesture.

“Fantastic!” James exclaimed. “You have class in 35 minutes, Moons, and breakfast now, so best get a move on.” Remus heard the telltale sound of James leaving – as in, James’ heavy footsteps moving across the floor and Sirius scrambling like a dog to follow after him. At the complete lack of sounds in the rooms after that, he assumed Peter moused after them as well.

At last Remus sat up with a sigh and stared emptily in front of him, mind moving too fast for him to catch a thought but too slow for him to properly process anything.

What does this mean? 

Except Remus could no longer deny that he knew what it meant. That the instant your humming caressed his ears, he knew what it meant. That his subconsciousness wanted to replace a girl who saw him as a romantic prospect in a place Remus felt queasy in with you in a place he considered home. That is no coincidence.

And that when you kissed him–

Except you did not kiss him. Remus shook his head at that, as if the thoughts could just tumble out of his ears. You did not kiss him and he did not kiss you. Because this was a dream, it was not real and Remus must just be really, really unwell.

He felt unwell, but not in the way he was trying to convince himself.

Taking one deep breath, Remus looked to the awning of their little dormitory and shot out a silent prayer for any higher power to listen.

Put me back together, I cannot fall apart like this.

Bury this back down deep, I cannot feel like this.

It was going to be a long day.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

By the time Remus had made it to the entryway to the Great Hall, feeling frazzled and less put together than he had an excuse to, he saw his group of friends making their way out.

“Rem!” It was you who caught sight of him first, and immediately beelined towards him, the others following closely behind, wearing varying degrees of concern and confusion as they looked him up and down.

Your face was by far the most concerned, as you immediately brought your left hand up to cup his cheek. “Are you alright, cariad?”

For the first time in your almost two decades of friendship, Remus was painfully aware of your physical proximity.

He always knew, of course, but it never really registered with him – it was completely natural. Right now, nothing about him felt natural. You stood flush with him and he felt you against him like a fire, skin singeing beneath his clothes. Your eyes seemed so big looking into his that he could get lost in them, his only internal monologue being a dreamy sigh and a long string of curse words at the absolute madhouse chaos that his mind was becoming. As he looked at you, it was like he could see his version of you from his dream as well, how you looked at him with so much love and admiration, how your lips inched closer to his.

“Mate?” Remus realised then, that he had been staring at you for far too long, not answering your question, to the point where James had to try to catch his attention.

“I– uh,” Remus sputtered, eyes flickering wildly all over your face, panic rising in his chest as he realised he could not think clearly with you so close.

He took a step back without thinking, just barely out of your grasp but still close, and shook his head. “Sorry, yeah, no, yes, I just feel a bit… off today.”

The furrow between your brows deepend, and once more his mind flashed back to his dream. His hand twitched. It seemed like you weren’t even aware of it when you took a step closer, to be back by his side, reaching your wrist up to place it on his forehead to feel his temperature. “You’re feeling poorly?” you whispered so quietly and so lovingly Remus thought he might faint.

Was it always like this? It was always like this. Why was he freaking out about it then? He was freaking out. What the fuck was wrong with him?

With horror, Remus realised that a slight blush was creeping up his neck, and he fought hell to keep it down as he cleared his throat. “Just a little, uh, dove, it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Do you want to go lay down?” You began what he knew would be a string of suggestions for things to do to make him feel better, and he could not stand watching you be so concerned when he was lying to you.

Almost like a flinch, he pulled back out of your arms – properly this time, taking several strides backwards away from the group. It barely registered with him that James and Sirius were looking at him with some confused amusement while Lily looked sympathetic.

“I, erm, will be fine, yeah? Nothing to worry about.” Without properly looking, he reached an arm out to grab Peter by the shoulder and all but manhandled him to his side. “Peter and I have Herbology now, but uh, I’ll catch you later?”

Remus hated how everything he said sounded like a question, like he was running a lie by you for you to confirm if it was believable. Remus hated that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from your face for more than a few seconds and most of all he hated that he was spiraling under the weight of your gaze in turn. A horrible combination.

“Take care, Rem,” you whispered as he all but ran away from you, hauling Peter along.

You stood looking after him for a moment, only turning your head when you felt Lily’s reassuring hand on your shoulder to find a small smile on her face.

“What in the buggering hell was that?” Sirius questioned, looking mostly at you for an answer.

“I don’t know,” you said, honestly. Had you known, you might still not have told him, though, if you thought Remus wouldn’t want you to. “I usually always know about his moods before they come, but this has me stumped,” you murmured, mostly to yourself.

“He woke up weirdly,” James mused, rubbing his hand across his chin. “I guess we’ll just see where the day goes, yeah?”

The four of you nodded at each other, but you still gnawed on your lip in concern, glancing over your shoulder to where he disappeared. 

Whatever it was, you hoped he would come talk with you about it when he was ready.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus only had one hour to compose himself during Herbology before he had Charms with you. Sharing most of his classes with you was something he had always considered a blessing, and while that sentiment would likely never fade, it was also causing him some distress as he almost toppled the work desk with his jittering.

Peter didn’t question him, but Remus’ obvious nerves were apparently contagious for the anxious boy who jittered right along with him, casting him the occasional glance.

Letting his elbows fall heavily on the desk, Remus put his head in his hands and ignored the instructions Professor Sprout was walking them through – he would let Peter pick up the slack for once and then subsequently accept the lower marks. Right now, Remus had to think and get his shit together.

He breathed his way through some panic exercises and pictured you in his mind. It almost brought a smile to his lips in an instant and for the first time, he let the realisation of how irrevocably wrecked for you he was.

Has it always been like this? Why have I never put this into words before? How can I revert back?

In that moment, Remus decided two things. Firstly, there was no possibility of you returning his feelings nor would he ever expect you to. It was true that you accepted and loved him in a way he never could quite believe himself deserving of, but that in itself is testament that it couldn’t be any more. What you gave him was already too much, it would be unthinkable for you to harbour even deeper feelings for him.

Second, and most importantly, he could not lose you. Remus has made many mistakes in his time, but he could not live with himself if he lost you. It would be too much. Because regardless of the fact that he now knew he was– that he now knew what he knew, the friendship between you was the most important thing. It was Remus and Y/N, right?

He could not be weird and sputtering, he could not make you uncomfortable. Meaning, he could not withdraw from you despite his instinct to run and hide. Shame burned within him at the thought that even if he could withdraw he didn’t know if he could fight his want not to. You were muscle memory.

Remus opened his eyes and slowly dragged his palms down his face in resolution. He would have to act as if nothing was wrong, and he would have to lie through his bloody teeth to explain away whatever bodily reactions he has.

If he starts stammering, he will have to shut up and lie that he is tired. If he becomes an embarrassing shade of auburn, he will have to cough and lie that he might be coming down with a fever. If he shakes, it is because of lack of sleep. If he, Merlin forbids, cries, he will have to claim he must be coming down with some odd moonsickness. You will surely follow him to Madam Pomfrey and maybe it will be easier when you’re alone.

Or maybe it will be worse.

No matter which it was, Remus would have to soldier it, for your sake. You did not deserve his imposing infatuation, but you also did not deserve to lose what you thought to be a loyal friend.

When him and Peter packed up the barely-used desk and mumbled a goodbye to a disapproving Sprout in the door, Remus made it his mission to focus on his breathing again as he almost ran down the hallways to where your friend group always met up outside the Charms classroom.

Be normal, be normal, be normal.

Your eyes found him the second he rounded the final corner, almost as if you had been watching it, waiting for him. A beautiful smile lit up on your face as soon as you saw him, albeit a bit dampened by the worry in your eyes – he simultaneously wanted desperately to soothe you while also berating himself for it being there. His fault.

“Hey dovey.” He forced his words to be casual, his smile to be measured as he strode up beside you. 

This is where he is supposed to drag you into a sideways hug, squeezing your hips while dropping a kiss on the top of your head, causing Sirius to make some quip about “you were literally just gone an hour. He stood beside you perhaps a beat too long before he began to do so with shaking hands, and he felt your burning look as you studied him. Remus made it all the way up to where he would kiss your head before he chickened out due to the tornado screaming in his stomach.

“Hi, Rem,” you all but whispered, your words just for him. You opened your mouth to say more, but he was afraid of what it would be.

“Waited long?” he asked to distract you from it.

“Nah,” you said and leaned further into his side. “But I’m glad you’re here now. How’re you feeling?”

At that, he saw Peter, Sirius, James and Lily – who had been stuck in their own little world – look up and try to hear what he has to say. Remus crumbled under their watchful gazes, knowing they knew him well enough to pick apart his every little reaction. He cleared his throat.

“I don’t really know,” he settled for. “My head’s murky, didn’t sleep well.”

You made a soft cooing sound and started rubbing circles on the side of his hip from where your arms were circled around him. It knocked a wave of dizziness into him that made him want to take a step back to lean against the cold stone wall behind you. In replacement he settled for holding onto you tighter; it only made it worse.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go lay down? Merlin knows we won’t be missing out on anything with the way Flitwick rambles away any sense he might have.”

This is where Remus would laugh heartily at your obvious disdain for the professor that he never truly understood. Instead, his mind zeroed in on one word you said.

We. We, we, we, we.

Circe’s tits, did he want to take you up on that.

He swallowed, acutely aware that you must have heard the sound when stood so close to him, though you didn’t give away any reaction. To buy himself a moment to collect his thoughts, Remus finally dared tilt his chin downwards to kiss the top of your head. It might have been too slow, too tentative, but his heart was beating so fast the rest of his body felt too slowed down in comparison. He hoped you thought the kiss was a thank you for caring and not the nervous stall it was. He hoped he wouldn’t be eternally damned for breathing in the scent of you.

“I’m quite alright, dove,” he murmured instead, furiously avoiding the surely questioning gazes of his other friends. “Thank you, though.”

You grumbled some but didn’t push him on it. He silently thanked you for that, too.

His throat was too parched to partake in the silent banter amongst his friends as you walked into Charms, too focused on where your bodies brushed as you walked, too deafened by the sound of your laughter.

You sat down in your regular spots, you and Remus side by side in the front, with Sirius and James behind you and Lily and Mary to your right. This was normal, this was alright. Flitwick droned on about the theoretics and debates around the charms you learned last lesson, it went in one ear and out the other.

Absentmindedly, you had grabbed Remus’ hand lightly between yours and were tracing soothing circles along his wrist and palm. You meant so well, and this would have cured likely any other ailment Remus struggled with, but right now there were fireworks going off in his head.

Taking advantage of the notice Dumbledore had given all of his professors to not call Remus out on sleeping in class, he folded his arms and laid his head down on them, carefully not to take his hand away from you. If he could shield his face, he could probably talk himself down before class ended.

In the solitude of his arms, he could picture it was just the two of you, sitting in the treehouse you built between your houses as children. If he focused enough, he could smell the apples that grew around him and feel the rough wood beneath his stomach. There, your hand would still be in his, maybe even your cheek on his chest, and it would be alright. It would all be alright because it was just you, and Remus could play dumb and he would never have to realise his feelings and fuck himself over.

It almost worked. Until he was interrupted.

“Psst! L/N?” The whisper was laced with a laughter Remus knew too well and did not care for.

You clearly ignored it – Remus could practically see the eye roll you surely threw his way – but that wasn’t enough to stop his theatrics.

“L/N!” Barty called once more from a couple seats behind you to your right, voice threatening to alert Flitwick to your inattention. “What’s wrong with your dog?”

“What?” you whispered back in equal parts confusion and irritation.

“Your puppy, Lupin,” Barty said, as if it was obvious. Unfortunately, Remus could picture his eye roll too, though his stomach was turning for a wholly different reason. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Remus is quite alright, Junior,” you hissed back, hand tightening on Remus’ at the same time as he loosened it. “And don’t call him a dog.”

Remus slowly lifted his head from his arms and took back his hands to wipe harshly at his face, still not looking towards Junior who barked a low laugh.

“Follows you around like one. Wouldn’t surprise me if you had some invisible leash going on–” Barty quipped, cutting himself off before you could respond and turning to Evan Rosier sitting beside him. “Oooooh, an invisible leash is a marvellous idea, Rosie.”

It was clear you had lost his attention, but Remus’ face still burned painfully as he shifted in his seat. With a harrumphing sound, you turned to look at him. He didn’t meet your eye, couldn’t.

“Ignore him.” Remus always marvelled at how you manage to convey your frustration and care at the same time.

He just hummed in the affirmative, still wiping a bit harshly at his face. If he treated it harshly enough, could he blame his violent flush on it?

“Cariad,” you mumbled, gently taking his hands away from his face, clearly spotting his efforts.

He saw your furrowed eyebrows looking at him, and that was the end of what he could take for the lesson. As you opened your mouth, surely to inquire about how he is, like the beautifully kind person he knows you to be, he pushed his chair backwards.

“I think I should probably listen to you and go lay down, dove,” he murmured, avoiding your gaze. Before you could shoot in and say you would come with him, he continued. “Can you please take notes for me in Transfiguration after this?” 

An indirect rejection, a plea for isolation. He didn’t look at your face as he gathered his things, waiting for you to respond instead.

“Sure, if that’s what you want,” you said carefully.

What I want is you.

“Yes, please.” Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and pressed a parting goodbye kiss to your cheek, tradition. “Thank you, love.”

Then he was sneaking his way out around the desks, barely catching a murmured voice he knew to be Sirius’, likely leaning forward to ask you about him. His lips singed.

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Remus hid away in his room for two hours, actually being truthful and trying to get a nap in. The dorm room felt serendipitous, being swept up in rare silence and a grace of darkness as he trickled in and out of consciousness. If he dreamed more of you, he would not admit it.

Any semblance of reprieve he might have chased down was ripped away from him by the creaking of the door and the wall of sound that followed his three favourite boys who always got on his last three nerves.

“Oi, Moons!” Sirius exclaimed, far too cheerily. “You know the rules!”

Remus propped his head up on his elbow from where he was sprawled on his stomach, looking blearily at the three figures as they situated themselves within the dorm. “The rule to not wake a sleeping sod? Yes, I’m the only one who knows that rule it seems.”

Sirius took off his sweater as he discarded his uniform and used it to swat at Remus. “Nope! No wallowing on your own. Sharing is caring.”

“‘M not wallowing,” Remus grumbled as he let his head fall back into his pillow.

Letting his guard down was undoubtedly a mistake because the second Sirius was out of sight, he had the audacity to jump into Remus’ bed, nearly flinging him off from the impact. Both Sirius and James were laughing boisterously as Sirius collapsed on top of Remus and ruffled his hair when he tried to shove him off. “Not anymore, no, we won’t let you.” 

Remus hated that he loved them.

“Precisely,” James added as he pointed at Remus from where he was changing into his non-uniform clothes as well. “So either speak your mind or perk up, buttercup.”

Remus groaned but let Sirius drag him up into a sitting position. “Can a poor lycanthrope not have one off day without you lot getting your knickers in a twist?” Despite his best efforts, there was no ire in his voice.

“Nope!” James said, popping the p. “Not on our watch.”

“Life is simply miserable without our Moony,” Sirius said, clutching his chest as if he was ailing. “And do you have any idea how weird it is to see your sweetheart without you by her side? It’s like watching a cut up picture.”

All humour that had been creeping into Remus’ expression was washed away in and instant as he swallowed harshly, suddenly averting his gaze from Sirius. Instead, James caught it, who looked at him with big eyes behind his glasses, cocking his head to the side. He looked far too much like the stag he is, before his mouth opened in a small gasp. “Oh,” he whispered softly.

Remus’ heart was beating painfully hard at the look of realisation that crossed his face, turning back to Sirius who had a similar knowing, almost pitying look in his eyes. No, no, no, no.

“I’ll be fine, you, erm, won’t have to live without me much longer,” Remus tried to volley back, just a few seconds too late, tongue feeling heavy at being found out.

If his best mates could see through him that quickly, then you probably already had. He had half a mind to take you up to the Astronomy Tower like old times, so he could apologise and then jump off as an act of redemption.

Sirius gave his shoulder a rough squeeze, shaking him a little as if he knew what was going through his mind. “Fantastic. Then you’ll join us for our free periods, yeah? And the party later tonight?”

Still somewhat sputtering, Remus’ eyes widened to an extent he was sure was comedic. “The pa– the party?”

James smiled at him. “Yeah, Moons. Gryffindor half-term party? That we have talked about all week?”

“Merlin, maybe Pomfrey needs to go easy on the potions she gives you,” Sirius teased, getting up to finish changing.

“Or she could give me more,” Remus whispered hopefully, earning him a round of chuckles. 

“You’ll be fine, Rem,” James said, with an undertone Remus did not care for. “If you’re still feeling… off throughout the day and night, you can always snuggle up with a book and ignore us hooligans.” Then, almost as if he was testing the waters. “I’m sure Y/N would love to join you.”

Remus didn’t deign any of that with a response, but he suddenly thought he should get out of his bed so his face didn’t seem so red in contrast with the white sheets.

“I have some essays to knock out, so yeah, I’ll join you to study,” Remus relented. He opened his own trunk to get changed, but decided to half-ass it and just take off his tie and replace his uniform wool with one of his own patterned jumpers.

“And for the party later!” Sirius corrected, ensuring Remus didn’t think he could back out.

“Sure, sure.” He ruffled his own hair so it was Remus-messy and not Sirius-messed-up-my-hair-messy. “Let’s just go.”

─── ⋆⋅ ☾⋅⋆ ───

Considering the extent to which he could fuck this up for himself, Remus reckoned he had been doing fairly good keeping his shit together throughout the day.

If he mentally cursed more than normal, contemplated the murder of each one of his friends including himself and generally couldn’t breathe, well, that was merely part of it.

The whole lot had shacked up in the library for the triple free periods you had back to back on Fridays. While you doted concernedly over him for the first thirty minutes, you eased up once you seemed to decide that this wasn’t Remus shoving down some lycanthropy-struggles and avoiding support and help. 

As always, the two of you sat in the love seat, your legs sprawled over his lap as you read through your textbooks in the oddest positions. This was usually something he might chide you for – “your neck will hurt if you hang over the edge like that, love” – but today he buried his face into his textbooks with all his might to not seem like he was aware of your body. He was, of course, you burned over his skin and lit up his heart, and Circe’s tits was he the stupidest sod in the whole castle.

Nonetheless, he made it through all three hours, engaging in comforting banter and low laughs with his best mates. When you teamed up with him to mess with Sirius, he at least knew that you weren’t upset with him in any way, even though he was being a lunatic today, even though he most definitely would have deserved it.

What Remus knew would be his breaking point was the Gryffindor party.

It was a laid back event, a party thrown for all of Gryffindor, though it was mostly the upper years who were encouraged to attend. They arranged it halfway through every term to celebrate making it through and engaging with each other. Meaning, most people didn’t get shitfaced but there was some good bubbling energy maintained throughout the whole night.

You and Remus had a tradition for how you dealt with parties – just as you had a tradition for pretty much everything, he had come to notice. Gods, he lov– Stop it.

Neither one of you were necessarily fond of large crowds, but you both were incredibly loyal and fond of your friends and wanted to spend time with them. Thus, you attended the parties, but you always did so together. The more uncomfortable you got, the closer you would get to each other, and if one ever needed a break, they would tap the other three times and they would make up an excuse to usher them out of there.

It had never felt so unnerving to be so known.

Throughout the whole party he had been jittery, head rushing with thoughts. He desperately tried not to take in your outfit and then he desperately tried not to read into it when you seemed disappointed he didn’t compliment you for it like he usually did. Why did he have to be such a sweet best friend normally? Remus can’t keep up with himself.

It did not help him in the slightest that others around the party seemed to focus on your outfit much more openly than he could dare. It made him gravitate even closer to you, tighten his hand on his hip, momentarily rest his chin on the top of your head – and then his actions made him want to kick himself. Possessiveness was the last thing he could be engaging with when he was already betraying you in such a manner. 

Leave it to Remus to fuck up something beautiful.

To say you didn’t seem to notice that he was troubled would be taking it too far, but at least you didn’t seem to notice why. You kept him close to your side and would at random points stroke his back soothingly. He wondered if you just thought he was uncomfortable with the party.

You were chatting with Pandora by the drinks table when Barty and Evan strolled up to you both with cheshire cat grins.

“There he is, back on his leash,” Junior said through a menacing laugh, ignoring Evan’s slight elbow to his side. “Feeling better, darling?”

“What brings you to the lions' den, Junior?” Remus asked carefully to divert the topic.

“Well. Y/N’s going so Pandora’s going so Evan’s going, and thus–” he did a small flourishing spin “– I’m going.”

“You’re impossible,” Evan murmured, while Pandora just smiled happily. 

“Is he feeling better, then?” Barty asked once more, this time looking at you.

“No, actually,” you said with a small smile Remus knew not to be genuine. “He is absolutely devastated you’re not in the Slytherin common room right now. He had big plans for you there, you know.”

Remus tried to choke down his laugh as Barty looked torn between glee and irritation. Somehow he made both work. “Sorry to soil your plans then, Lupin. Better luck next time.”

Then he stalked off in almost a hurry and Remus couldn’t help but hope he was going to Slytherin to check if you were telling the truth. 

He looked down at where you were standing beside him and squeezed your shoulder lightly. “You really are a minx,” he whispered conspiratorially.

That turned out to be his undoing. You turned your head to the side to look up at him with mirth playing around in your enamouring eyes, a soft tilt to the corner of your mouth. And your face was oh so painfully close to his.

Remus became acutely aware that he could easily lean in and catch your smile with his. That the air he was breathing had been close to you in some of the only ways he had not yet. That he must look like your boyfriend when you’re standing essentially pressed up against each other like this.

That he most certainly has been looking at your lips for far too long.

When he flicks his gaze back up, he sees a slight furrow between your brows again as you seem to take in his reaction, and suddenly he goes from having butterflies in his stomach to needing to throw them all up. He took a sudden staggering step backwards, almost crashing into James who was engaging in some animated discussion with Marlene.

“I, uh,” Remus said and dear Godrick he was stammering. “I’ll get us some drinks and we can sit down, yeah?” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead spinning his back to you and hoping you pick up conversation with Pandora again.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Don’t be a bloody arse.

He hoped he had steadied himself enough by the time he plopped down in his favourite grandfather chair near the fire. He placed both of your drinks on the table in front of him, vowing to touch his as minimally as possible to make sure he keeps whatever wits he has left with him.

A dumb smile takes over his face as his breathing quickens when he sees you make your way over to the seating area, after having listened to his desperate silent plea and finished your conversation with Pandora. Pushing his luck, he shoots another silent prayer that it will be smooth sailing from here, which is apparently promptly ignored as you happily sit down in his lap.

Fuck.

This, he reminds himself, is also normal for the two of you. Especially at parties, especially if you have reason to believe he is unsteady in any sense of the word, which he most certainly has given you plenty of reason to believe. 

You give him some form of greeting he can’t quite catch and isn’t sure if he reciprocated as you settle down, putting majority of your weight on his right thigh as you lean your body sideways against his. One of your arms snuck around his shoulders, fingers winding up playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, while the other is stabilising yourself on his knee. Majority of your close friends had followed your lead by sitting down in the small gathering, chattering amongst themselves. He was half-aware that you were rambling on about something to him, something he probably really wanted to listen to, but it felt like his head was underwater.

Unsure of what else to do, he lowered his face into your shoulder and took deep breaths there.

You seemed wholly unbothered, fingers continuing in his hair as your soothing voice carried him through what he feared might become a panic attack. He was almost there, when the cocoon you two had in your chair was burst by the presence of your other friends.

“You alright there, Moons? You’re not going to go all vampire on poor Y/N?” Sirius’ tone was lighthearted and teasing, but Remus felt as if he might actually die.

“Oh, he’s quite alright,” you answered for him with a smile before he could embarrass himself, immediately switching over to engage in conversation with the friends sitting closest to you. Your hand on his knee squeezed reassuringly.

Fuck, how could he not love you?

He loved you.

Remus almost had to fight crying as he hid in the crook of his neck, overwhelmed by his own emotions and the surely watchful gazes of those around him – the latter of which was why he couldn’t. 

With a deep breath he let his desire win for just one second and pressed a soft kiss to your shoulder before emerging from his hiding place. He shifted you carefully to be more comfortable, so that your back was against him and he could rest his head on the shoulder he just kissed.

He did fairly good, partaking in conversation, engaging with the others, albeit more quietly and less than usual. He laughed and he smiled and you were so soft against him, as if you had melted. Remus was in heaven while being tortured.

Marlene wolf whistled quietly from where she was sat on the floor, eyeing Remus with mirth. Though he still did not know why, he was already turning red, the tips of his ears burning.

“Hi, Remmy.” He heard the soft voice say beside him and he turned his head to see Emmeline giving him a somewhat sly smile. “The dance floor’s picking up. Want to go for another round?”

Remus’ stomach churned. Emmeline was such a sweet girl and he never could say no to her, the only thing that felt worse than the embarrassment from his friends’ teasing was the thought of embarrassing her – though Remus was sure even thinking like that made him into an even bigger arse.

Sirius and James had told him multiple times that he could say no. As had you, reminding him how important it was to have boundaries, even while you were sitting practically on top of him at the time. He just could never bring himself to.

Yet his mouth seemed to move on its own accord before he could think, arms tightening around you. “No, not tonight Emmeline, sorry. Knock yourself out, though.” He tried to give her a warm smile, but his movements seemed to be outside of his control at the moment, breath sucked from his lungs.

He realised with a sting that he should have given her more credit all along when she beams back at him. “No worries, enjoy your night!” she cheered before twirling towards the dance floor herself.

Remus let out a shaky breath and turned to his friends who were almost staring him down. James’ mouth was even open in shock, which he thought was a bit dramatic.

“Hold on, what just happened?” Sirius guffawed. “Has our little Moony learned to say no?”

Remus flushed even further. “Shut up, Pads.”

“Don’t think I will,” his mate replied with a wolfish grin turning to look to the others for support. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

“What’s inspired this change in you?” Mary asked thoughtfully, propping her head into her hands as if she was settling in for a lengthy response.

All eyes were back on Remus and he felt like the mask he had been clinging to all day was crumbling. The nerves that shot through him like lightning now was not his usual humiliation from being in a charged spotlight – no, this was fear. Genuine fear that if he didn’t get his head screwed back on within two seconds, he might say something too revealing, or his face would do it without him having to open his mouth. That his fiery ears would somehow spell out I am in love with my very best friend and I realised it too late and am making it everybody else’s problem. He had no idea what to do.

In his time of despair, with Mary’s big eyes staring up at him, Marlene and Lily already snickering between them and Sirius raising an expecting brow, his instincts knew of only one way out.

His finger on your hip lifted. Tap, tap, tap.

Almost as if a switch had gone off, you made a soft gasp and turned to look at him in his lap. “Gods, Rem, speaking of Emmeline, I totally forgot our gift for Sirius in my dorm room in Ravenclaw!” you exclaimed, putting your all into the act. Your excuse seemed to be a good one as Sirius’ head immediately picked up, not unlike that of a dog’s if you said the word ‘treat’ around them. “We have to go get it before the party’s over.”

You elegantly hopped up and out of his lap, dragging him behind him with a grip on his elbow. Remus stumbled and scrambled behind you, tossing a sorry don’t know what that’s about look to the others over his shoulder. He barely caught sight of what he could only classify as a knowing exchange of smiles between James and Lily.

Before he could truly process your rescue mission, he was standing outside in the cool hallway breathing heavily, portrait closed behind him. 

Before him, you stood with your hands on your hips, scanning his face thoroughly, making him almost cower beneath your gaze. You seemed to make up your mind about something as you took his hand once more and walked with him down the hall in silence, rounding the corners until you reached one of the deep windowsills, the kind the two of you would always sit in and read. 

You jumped to lift yourself into it and once you were sat with one hand on each side of your body, you levelled him with a look.

“Okay, spill,” you said, directly but not unkindly. “What is going on with you?”

Remus did not think this through. He needed help and so he called upon you for it like he always does, not thinking to consider that that might very well make this worse for him.

“It’s…” he began, picking at straws in his mind for an excuse. “It’s nothing, dove. Really.” 

“When’s my birthday?” you asked then, to his surprise. He furrowed his brows at you and told you the date. You smiled a bit smugly. “Exactly. So you know I wasn’t born yesterday.”

He genuinely laughed at that, even if it was at his expense. He let his body do as it wished and took a small step closer to you. Not enough for your bodies to touch, but enough to feel like he was in your space. Safe, even in his panic.

“Remus,” you said softly, painfully gently. You rarely used his first name, and now when you did, it was laced with an undertone he couldn’t stomach. It was beginning to sound a bit like hurt. “What is going on with you? Why… why are you acting this way towards me?”

Because you are the one thing I have never had to question and now I’m questioning everything. Because I’m a bloody prick who has one dream and ruins his life over it. Because my mind is running a mile a minute and your lips feel like magnets and I swear I am losing control in a way I only do during full moons.

“I don’t know what to do,” he ended up whimpering quietly, cowardly.

You looked around the hallway as if the answer would be written on any of the walls and moved your arms slightly to gesture around you. “About what? I can’t help you unless I know what it is, cariad.”

He scrunched his face for a moment, looking away from you. “Can we not do this? It’s nothing you can fix, dove.”

You seemed to grow even more confused at that, almost frustrated. “Why not?” He realised then that the two of you had always helped each other through everything. Being locked out must hurt. He wanted to kick himself, but he didn't know what else to do. “What’s wrong, Remus, please I just–”

Remus is besieged by the power of someone much more reckless, driven by desire to alleviate you of your confusion and him of his pain.

He cut you off with a kiss.

He took a large stride forward to slot himself in between your thighs, eliminating the space between you within a second, bringing both hands up to cup the sides of your face and bring it towards him. His eyes were shut tightly, furrow in his brows as his lips all but smashed against yours in a kiss that felt sacrificially sacred. Your lips are just as soft as in his dream, as is the small gasp that escapes you as you tense in his grasp.

Remus has never felt better and he has never felt worse.

The kiss lasts for about 10 seconds before he pulls away in even more of a flurry. His hands lost their grip on you first, hovering over your cheeks briefly, as if considering going back in before thinking better of it. He still had you captured in the kiss, hanging on to it for as long as he could deign himself, knowing it was his last opportunity to do so, all the while kicking himself over it.

Backing away, he put double the distance between you. He felt drunk, stumbling slightly as he all but scrambled away, a stinging sensation behind his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I don't know why I did that. I didn’t mean to,” he breathed out, reeling at his own impulsivity. “That,” he said through a shaking voice as he looked anywhere but your face, “is my problem, and Y/N, I am so, so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

For the shortest second, he lets his eyes flicker quickly over your face before rushing back to stare at a statue on the wall beside you. Your face was blank, eyes wide. Your fingers were barely touching the lips he had just enclosed in his own.

You must be disgusted. You must be horrified. You must feel violated and Remus wanted nothing more than to disappear from the face of the earth and rid you of this undying problem.

He was every bit the beast you had tried to convince him he wasn’t.

“Why…” you began, voice but a whisper, before you trailed off.

Remus had to shut his eyes at that, tilting his head slightly to the side. If he breathed through his nose, he might not cry. He was sitting before the highest court he knew, and you were about to ask him to explain himself.

“Why are you sorry?”

The words floored him a little, enough to make his eyes snap open and land back on your face. You looked deeply concerned, brows tilted upwards as you seemed to take his face in. “Remus,” you whispered now that you finally had his eyes on you. “Why are you sorry?”

He shook his head in confusion, feeling every bit like the boy he was. “I shouldn’t have done that.” It was all he could get out through his hoarse voice. He also had no idea how to answer that question in a satisfactory way.

You took in a short sharp breath and then lowered yourself onto the ground to stand before him. With your hands held out in front of you, almost as if you were ready to lunge out and catch him if he was to run – an idea that was becoming increasingly enticing to him – you took a small step towards him. “Why?” There was a growing spark in your eye, dimmed only by your worried frown.

“Y/N.” He didn’t know what else to say, eyes trained on you.

“Cariad,” you replied in the same tone, and a tear slipped down his left cheek. You took another measured step towards him, enough to reach out for him if you wanted to – but of course, you wouldn’t want to, not anymore. “It’s alright.”

He felt dizzy at the lack of the scolding or disgust he had braced himself for, realising how stupid he was for even fearing that from you. No, you would reject him sweetly and kindly, and his heart would never be mended from it. That felt worse, somehow.

“It’s not,” he whispered. “Please don’t say it is.”

You smiled ruefully and took another small step towards him. He could feel the warmth eminating from you. Tentatively, you reached up a hand to wipe at the tear still sitting on his left cheek. He held his breath and fought the urge to lean into your touch, but when you pressed your palm more firmly against his cheek, he couldn’t anymore. A soft sigh escaped him and he let his eyes fall shut as your touch supported him. “It is, my sweet boy,” you whispered with an urgency that almost convinced him. “Remus, can you answer me honestly?”

His body tensed once more as his eyes fluttered open to find yours, reverent. Most parts of him were still screaming at him to run away, to shut up, to do anything but this. His heart seemed to be in charge for the moment, though, and he nodded slowly. Trusting you with his world even as he felt like a traitor in yours.

“All this, today… has it been because you have realised you’re… in love with me?” You seemed to be piecing it together as you said the words out loud, eyes carefully searching his face for his reaction.

Another tear slipped down his cheek, and you quickly caught it with your other thumb, both hands now cradling his face. “I’m so sorry,” he said once more.

“You’re not allowed to be,” you whispered, giving him a half-smile, almost as if you were indulging him in a secret of yours. “Please answer the question?”

It was now or never. “Yes.”

To his utter surprise and deep-seated confusion, the smile on your face grew genuine, settling into the one he always searched for. He almost opened his mouth to question it before he was cut off.

No words can describe the sensations that bloomed in his chest, the butterflies that flitted in his stomach, when you used your hands on his face as leverage to pull him towards you for another kiss.

You kissed him. You kissed him. You were kissing.

His mind was threatening to take off like a rocket and captiulate, but his hands had never been more steady as they circled around your waist, splaying out over the small of your back as he dragged you closer. You sighed against him, smile still evident over your lips, and Remus dared – like the bastard he was – to mirror it. 

You were warm against him, but wholly different than you had been in his dream. This felt distinctly real. And just as right.

When you pulled away, your hands had migrated to the back of his neck and you kept your forehead leaned against his. “Good,” you murmured with your eyes still closed. “Because the feeling is mutual.”

He almost reared his head away from you, but managed to only pull back a few centimetres to stare at you in awe. Remus opened his mouth, but no words came out; he could find none intelligent enough to verbalise how utterly gobsmacked he felt.

You seemed to understand him just as well, going by your breathy laugh. There was still that spark in your eye, now shining brightly in the absence of your worry. Had the worry been for him?

“I know I don’t say this enough, but you really are quite an idiot, aren’t you?” you laughed and he slowly felt his heart start beating again.

“Spent too much time with Sirius and James, clearly,” he muttered, half expecting the joke to land flat and you to remember how disgusting he was. Instead, your laugh intensified and you leaned your body further against his. It emboldened him to ask, “What do you mean the feeling is mutual, dove?”

You let your arms glide further up, crossing behind his neck and over his shoulder, bringing him impossibly closer. “Remus John Lupin,” you whispered sincerely. “I am madly in love with you. Romantically. Genuinely. Any thoughts you have that explain that away are false and you mustn't listen to them. I thought you knew by now that I’m always right.”

Even as the grin involuntarily established itself on his face, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. He looked at your face, truly studied it, and he could feel his mind ever so slowly calm down. “You are.”

“What am I?” You were testing him, and he allowed it wholeheartedly.

“Right,” he confirmed. Albeit a bit more hesitantly, he knew better than not to add, “and… in love with me?”

“Two points to Gryffindor.” You reached up to give his lips a soft peck. It felt so natural, like it was already habit for you. He desperately wanted it to be.

“I’m sorry, I’m still reeling from this, dovey,” he confessed, trying to process everything.

There had never been any judgement to be found in your face. “Which parts are you struggling with the most?” 

Your eyes were full of understanding, your face scrunched up in concentration. Remus indulged himself in an old habit by reaching up with one hand to thumb the furrows away. It made you smile just like he wanted it to, and gave him a minute to think. “I don’t understand how I didn’t get it before now. I don’t understand how or why you put up with me. I don’t understand how to keep all these feelings inside such a small heart.”

Your hands were stroking his back carefully as you considered his words. “Well, firstly I would argue your heart isn’t small at all, though I get what you mean. You’re not meant to keep all the feelings inside, you know? That’s when you get all sputtery and jittery and start avoiding your best friends.” You gave him a pointed look and he almost shied under your glance. “Sharing them before you bubble over is always a good thing. We’ll work on it together. As for why I put up with you; I don’t. There’s nothing to put up with, I just enjoy you like we always have.”

Your eyes had trailed off into the distance as you thought, but you brought them back to him with a small smile as you added the final part. “I don’t know what did make you realise, so I can’t help you much there. All I can say is, sometimes we don’t see what is right in front of us.”

Remus nodded along to your words, feeling peace spreading within in that manner only you could inspire in him. He truly was an idiot, wasn’t he? “How long have you known?” he asked then, curiously.

“About you or me?”

“Both?” His smile was becoming closer to his standard sheepish one, and you seemed to preen at the sight.

You bobbed your head side to side as you considered. “It’s hard to pinpoint an exact date – it wasn’t an overnight discovery you know?” Remus did in fact not know nor relate. “But I realised we were in love, not either one’s feelings. It just sat calmly within me.”

“You mean you didn’t freak out to the extent where all students and professors alike were worried about you?”

He grinned at the small giggle that drew from you as you decidedly said, “No. Definitely not.” You studied him for a minute more. “I think I realised about five months ago, but I didn’t feel any real need to rush anything. It felt less like being given a to-do list and more like being revealed the plot twist in a movie before it happens, if you understand? The two best friends get together in the end, don’t tell anyone.”

He ducked his head at that. While he could not relate, your explanation and experience was so wholeheartedly you that it endeared him to no end. “Does that mean we should just ignore it for five more months or…?” His grin turned cheeky as you lightly swatted his shoulder.

“Nah,” you chuckled. “I reckon we’ve waited long enough, yeah?”

He sighed with a smile. “Yeah.”

You both leaned forward at the same time, as if to seal the deal with a kiss. Remus could feel it like electricity in the tips of his fingers, and he understood what you meant about knowing. Now that he was no longer in a constant state of panic, he felt incredibly calm about the whole ordeal.

Or maybe that’s just how he feels around you.

“Should I ask you formally to be my girlfriend, or are we just skipping straight to marriage?” he whispered against your lips.

Remus felt almost wolfish when you barked a loud laugh, throwing your head back and tightening your hold on him instinctively. “I think girlfriend’s enough for now, yeah cariad?”

“If you insist.” He kissed you through his grin, realising that this was all he wanted to do now.

Like he had so many times before, he tightened his arms around your waist and twirled you around in a few circles, legs flying out behind you. Except this time, your giggles were not hidden in his neck but pressed against his lips, and he tried to capture as many kisses as possible while he spun you.

When you landed with a breathless giggle, he kept one arm firmly around your waist as the two of you slowly made your way back to the Gryffindor common room. He wondered if maybe he could grab some blankets and bring you up to the Astronomy Tower so you could be alone without his friends’ meddling. Yet, he wanted to see them as well, ready to volley back any quips about “took you long enough” and “I fucking called it”. Plus, you argued that you should prove that he was in fact alive and sane.

When he walked the halls back to the Gryffindor common room with your body against his, everything felt right. When you entered together, and everyone read what had happened written clearly across your faces, resorting to their usual hoots and hollers, arguably louder than ever before, it never stopped feeling right. 

Remus being Remus, flushed deeply and averted his gaze, as he would continue doing under any uncalled for attention – but your arms squeezing him around the middle brought him right back down and your kiss to his shoulder soothed the burn of their gazes.

“What’s my gift then?” Sirius later asked salaciously as he eyed you two up and down where you cuddled together right back in the same chair, as if nothing changed. Maybe nothing really did.

You grinned widely and cleared your throat. “I honourably present to you,” you said and opened your arms towards Remus with a flourish. “A Moony who is no longer mooning.”

The little group erupted in even more cheers, celebrating the massive feat of taming their brooding boy. Remus couldn’t help but laugh along, even at his own expense. His cheeks were red but it was equally due to the exertion of laughing as it was a tinge of embarrassment. When he hid his face into the crook of your neck again, he didn’t feel nearly as guilty when he pressed a few kisses to the bare skin he found there – even less so when you melted against him with a sigh.

It felt as if a permanent smile had been sown onto his face where he sat, more content than he believed he had been while inside this castle.

Despite Remus Lupin’s disdain for public displays of affection, he had held you publicly many times before this. They all paled in comparison to the feeling of you in his arms now. 

It had always been significant to him in its casualty, just as you have always been significant to him long before he had the mind to put the feeling into words. He will always treasure every moment of your existence in his orbit. Yet the way you melted into his skin now, growing roots in each one of his aching bones – no, nothing could compare to it.

Yes, Remus Lupin ailed from public displays of affection. But you were his cure.

Even If - Steve Harrington x ace!Reader

A/N: no context. Only soft angst with comfort. Reader is gender neutral and asexual

CW: angst, the kids being slight assholes on accident, Robin being a background hero, Reader is ace with v slight aro vibes, set during a new year’s party, kissing, teasing, implied future polyamory between Eddie and Steve and Reader, soft!Steve

719 words

You sit in the back of Eddie’s van with your legs tucked to your chest. It smells like weed and sweat and smoke. But it’s quiet and dark and you know the kids won’t bother you here.

The van door opens and someone enters. You don’t look up. Footsteps approach and someone settles next to you.

“Hey.”

You flinch. It’s Steve.

Slowly, you lift your head. Not looking at him, but enough so you can see him out of the corner of your eye.

He’s fiddling with the hole in his jeans again, picking at the frayed edges. You feel a lot like the hole, being picked at by the universe.

“The kids say they’re sorry.” You can see him turn his head a little to look at you. “They took it too far.”

You twist your fingers together tight enough that it hurts. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He reaches out and gently tugs your hands apart. Not holding your hand, but tracing your fingers all the same. “Robin chewed them out. Said it was your life, not theirs and that they had no business prying like that.”

You don’t say anything for a long moment, but you’re quietly touched. Robin hadn’t ever particularly seemed to like you, but maybe you’d been wrong.

Eventually, though, you mumble, “I just… don’t. Have sex, I mean. It’s just… not me.”

Steve’s quiet, but you can tell he’s listening.

“I haven’t ever even kissed anyone. I’ve wanted to. But everyone always wants more than that, and I just…”

His hand squeezes yours. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

There’s a really long silence. Then, softly, “So when you said you wanted to kiss me earlier…?”

You make a face, then sigh. “Just kiss. You’re really cute, but it’s just not in me to see you… like that.”

He nods and continues playing with your fingers. “I get it.”

Somehow, you think he actually means it.

You finally glance at him. He seems thoughtful, brown eyes fixed on a spot across from you. He really is so cute.

“You wanna try our new year’s kiss again?”

You blink and fully face him. “What?”

He quirks an eyebrow, a slight smirk to his lips. “It was pretty awkward with everyone watching. Just a kiss, nothing more.”

You hesitate. There’s so much that could go wrong. But something… something tells you it’s different this time.

So you nod. Slowly.

Steve nods back and reaches out to cup your cheek. Rubbing a thumb against your skin for a moment before gently leaning in. You close your eyes. His lips press to yours.

There are no sparks. No fireworks. No heart stops or swooning. His lips are soft and slightly wet. They taste like the feeling of warmth and very faintly of chapstick.

He doesn’t part his lips or lick at your mouth or anything. It’s just a press of lips and then nothing. And it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever experienced.

You open your eyes and he smiles at you. Gives you that perfectly charming grin of his. “Much better.”

It pulls a grin of your own to your lips and you lean back, gently pushing at his shoulder. “Whatever. Bet it’s nothing compared to your kiss with Eddie.”

Steve flushes and laughs. He runs a hand through his hair, looking a little embarrassed and very pleased. “That’s different. He’s all bite and no bark, you know?”

You smile. “Yeah. It’s cute though. You two look good together.”

He falls quiet, glancing at you. Then, softly, “Bet I look better with you there too.”

You blink. Tilt your head a little. It takes you a long moment to process his words. But then your cheeks warm. “You sure you want me there?”

Steve nods and gently nudges you. “He wants you there too.”

You look down at your lap. “Even if…”

“Yeah.” His voice is steady, not a hint of doubt. “Even if.”

A smile creeps across your lips. “Alright.”

He grins again. “Alright. You ready to go back?”

You nod and he gets up. You take his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. He doesn’t let go, sliding his hand around yours as he leads you out of the van.

It feels like a promise, and you think you’ve finally found someone willing to keep it.

waterfalls and emerald flowers | benedict bridgerton

prologue

ch. one; ch. two

content warning: harsh father

Boredom consumed the young Florentine girl. Aurelia sat alone in her bedroom, home empty in regards to family. All left were the maids that busied themselves with work rather than the likes of a girl three-and-ten years of age.

Sitting up from her bed, she let out a rather amplified sigh. From the opposite side of her bedroom sat a balcony door where the sheer curtains flowed freely by the wind that snuck in through the crack of the door. However, it was not only the wind that crept into her bedroom.

Taunting at her restless heart, the soft flowing of music reached her ears.

The Bridgertons—her very own neighbors—hosted the first ball of the season. Over the past few days, she watched in awe as she saw marvelous decorations, numerous bouquets of flowers, and more all while she found her company with Benedict Bridgerton.

But of course, she was not allowed to attend.

"You have yet to be introduced into society," her father had tutted at her when she begged. "It would be unladylike to attend."

"But how will I learn to dance? If I am to wait that long, I shall be stepping on the toes of whomever I dance with."

"No worries dear," her mother had smiled. "I can teach you. Benedict's toes will be safe from harm in his future."

"Who is to say I am to dance with Ben," she snorted. "Sounds absurd."

Sitting on her bed then, she fiddled with the lace of her dress. Energy jumped through her veins, sending an unreleasable urge to do something through her body, therefore forcing herself off the bed and to her glass door.

Shoving the door open, she made her way to her balcony. The cold air bit at her skin, causing goosebumps to prickle. From her sight, she could see over the wall that divided the Bridgerton backyard from her own.

Over that wall, she saw only the most gorgeous dresses, lavish diamonds, and heard the chattering of the newest ladies acquainting themselves with their husbands to be.

Aurelia watched for a moment, her eyes trained on the older people before an idea sprung alive in her mind. A small smirk snuck on her face and her eyes flicked over to a pile of fabrics at the corner of the balcony.

Pulling it free from its hiding, it revealed itself to be her own bed sheets she had claimed to 'spoil' before they mysteriously went missing. They were all tied up together, creating one large makeshift rope.

She tied it to the stone pillar of the balcony, double checking its stability before climbing over her barrier.

She supposed she would have been scared, terrified even had that been her first time. However, the task that had been repeated so many times has now marked itself as normalized in her mind.

Mischief sparked in her heart once her feet finally hit the ground. Aurelia immediately broke out into a run, across her yard, through the gardens and to the wall where she found a simple door.

Passing through it, she found herself at the Bridgerton backyard, in the middle of a ball in nothing more than her leisure gown and slippers.

'How scandalous,' she mocked internally. 

The hardest part, however, was yet to be over. It was not the escaping of her tower of solitude that was the difficult part, but rather the fact that she must evade the eyes of hundreds of guests. She supposed it was a good thing that she knew the home as if it were her own; as if it was the back of her hand.

She knew every crevice, every nook and cranny, every single crawl space that would aid her in finding one singular person.

Everything seemed the same as usual. Everything, that is, except for the rather large wishing fountain planted in the middle of the yard.

It was glamorous and overzealous, much to the approval of The Ton.

Despite the instant draw of attention the statue drew, she moved past it, moving along the perimeter of the home until she found a single window with a dim light brightening the room.

Searching around her, she found a nice suitable pile of rocks: not too small that they'd do nothing, but likewise, not too big that any large damage would occur.

She threw the first one. "Benedict," she called.

Nothing.

Aurelia huffed. "Benedict," she hissed.

Once more, nothing.

"If I have to call your name once more, Benedict Bridgerton," Aurelia muttered, abandoning the stones in her hand and picking up a slightly bigger one.

Impatiently she threw it, this time with a little bit more force. However, much to her dismay, the window opened and smacked the forehead of its opener.

"Ow!"

A gasp escaped the young girl. "Sorry!"

"I–," Benedict sputtered out as he rubbed his forehead. "Aurelia?! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for fun," she grinned. "You are my accomplice for the evening.

"But I am–," he stopped himself as the girl below him began to pout. The boy sighed, a small smiling settling on his face. "Just give me a moment. I will be fast."

He disappeared from his window, leaving Aurelia teetering back and forth on her feet, waiting for his re-arrival.

Finally, from the dark hue of the night, Aurelia spotted a warm light opening from around the corner, a smile falling on her lips when seeing Benedict poke his head out the door and approaching her.

"So," he announced when he finally found herself at her side. "What's the plan?"

Aurelia looked at him oddly. "What plan?"

Benedict's jaw slacked open as he sputtered out some semblance of a response.  "PLease tell me you did not walk out of your home without a plan!?"

"Of course not," she shrugged. "Who do you think I am?"

The boy let out a breath of release. "You scared me fo–,"

"I climbed from my bedroom without a plan." With that, she grabbed the boy by his hand and dashed off into the night.

Benedict struggled to keep up as the girl dragged him through, straight towards the ball being held. His eyes widened when he laid eyes on his mother, arm in arm with his father.

"Aurelia!" He wished to shout with his full voice to tell the girl to slow down, but his volume was reduced to a whisper.

However before he could process what was to happen next, he came tumbling down to a bush next to Aurelia as she tugged him down with her.

"Aurelia," he sputtered out once more. So many words came to the forefront of his mind, scolding the girl for doing something so risky without even an idea of what to do after.

"Yes Ben?"

Her question was innocence masking mischief. Her eyes glimmered in joy  at the adrenaline and with that, all of Benedict's words dissipated into laughter.

It was soft at first, nothing more than quiet chuckling, but as Aurelia joined in, it all snowballed into a laughing fit between the two.

"You are unbelievable," Benedict laughed, wiping his eyes clear of tears.

"I know," Aurelia grinned. "Come on," she ushered, now standing on her feet. "I don't believe anyone's in the gardens tonight."

Despite the rather destructive beginning to the night, Benedict and Aurelia found a sort of peace as they strolled through the gardens, laughing about anything they could think of.

"Did you see Lady Vivishire with her dog tonight," Aurelia asked as she hopscotched over the cracks in the stone path.

"She did not bring her dog with her tonight...did she?"

"She did so," Aurelia laughed. "The poor lord was red in the face when little Maximillian began sniffing at the other lord's feet."

Another laugh escaped Benedict. "Have you noticed the dog doesn't seem to age. She's had the thing for years now."

She obviously replaces it every time he gets old."

Benedict wrinkled his nose at the girl as she hopped over a few more stones. "Now that is a lie."

"Is not," she insisted. "Mama said that the thing has not changed in nearly 20 years."

"Fascinating," Benedict mused.

More silence passed through the two as Benedict amused himself with the stars above him and Aurelia with the cobblestone below her. Everything was at peace.

At least until it wasn't.

"You there! What are you doing here?!"

Startled from their peace, the two whipped their heads around only to see Lord and Lady Vivishire.

Aurelia's eyes widened, frozen for just a moment as she calculated her next step, but Benedict was one step ahead of her.

"Run!"

This time, it was Benedict dragging Aurelia as they attempted to outrun consequence. However, it was not the adults that seemed to be chasing them, but the medium sized Spaniel nipping at their ankles.

Despite all they had managed to avoid before, the only other way they could run was through the entrance of the garden maze: the outside of the ball itse;f.

What once everyone's attention was on the water fountain, was now on the two children ducking and dodging a yapping dog.

Gasps and shrieks ensued at the presence of the children, but worst of all came the anger of four parents.

"Benedict?" "Aurelia!"

It was their shouting that rendered them frozen in front of that fountain, however it did not change the fact that the dog was still charging for the children.

Water splashed everywhere and the night had finally ended with a guilty Benedict and Aurelia in the water fountain, soaked as a loose dog sat happily in their laps.

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Aurelia's parents were oddly calm that night. They whisked her away quickly, biding their deepest apologies to Violet and Edmund.

She was immediately taken into the hands of a maid who scolded her for sneaking out as she prepared her dry clothes.

It wasn't until Aurelia was back into her room did she see the consequences of her actions unfolding from behind peeking doors.

"Her behavior is to never change if we do not act on this now!"

Her father had always been a well reserved man, so to see him this angry only struck fear in her heart.

"Then I will talk to her." Her mother attempted to ease it, that is what she always did. She always sought the cleaner route before resulting in conflict.

"Talking will do nothing!"

Aurelia heard footsteps of her father, walking from one side of the room to the other then back to her mother. She heard paper rustling and finally, the disappointed sight from her mother.

"This is...this is absurd!"

"Her behavior is absurd.What she needs is a true teacher to show her how to be a proper lady. No man will take to her attitude."

His voice evened out towards the end of his rant as he studied his wife's expression.

"But..." she paused. "All the way to France? Don't you fear that is too far?"

"It would all be worth it. I swear."

──•~❉᯽❉~•──

Tears streamed down the cheeks of Aurelia as she stood at the stairs of her home. In front of her was a carriage that was to ride with her father all the way to shore.

"Do I have to go," she asked her mother.

The woman smiled sadly in an attempt to reassure her. "You will be okay. You are brave and you are smart. You will persevere."

Aurelia nodded, wiping her face clear of tears before rushing to give her mother a hug. "You will write me often, right?"

"Of course I will."

"Virginia," her father finally called to his wife from the inside of the carriage. "We must be off if we are to catch the ship in time."

Aurelia immediately hated the carriage she had known her whole life. Every inch of it became detestable as she stepped foot in it. But she still did.

Just as the doors were closing, she heard her name. "Aurelia, wait!"

The girl's head perked up at the sound of that voice. His voice.

He was out of breath and tears hinted in his eyes but he did not let them fall.

"This is for you." The boy handed her a small box and smiled. "Do not forget me."

Aurelia smiled, accepting the box graciously. "Never. I will come back to you Ben," she paused, her brows furrowing together. "I swear by it."

The two's eyes never broke. Not as the footman closed the door, not as everyone waved her goodbye and not when the carriage began to depart. It wasn't until she turned down and around the corner and her eyes could no longer meet his, did she look away.

Her heart was drenched in ache as she settled into her seat. She looked into her hands, holding the box so gently as if it might just break. Opening it then, she gasped at what it was : a simple necklace with a gentle flower shaped from deep emerald.

Dearest Gentle Readers

In this new season, it seems we have more to look forward to than just the introduction of our newest debutants. It comes to my attention that we have an old friend gracing us with their presence once more.

Once an unruly child, willingly ignorant of the laws of society, Aurelia Florentine—daughter of Lord Richard Florentine— was sent off to better herself across the waters in Toulouse.

Now a widow and hopefully better aquatinted to manners, Miss Florentine hopes to reintroduce herself into London society; as a friend or a menace we yet to know.

Exist For Love—Benedict Bridgerton x oc

Lord knows my OC’s would beat my ass if they met me irl

I was at this holiday light garden and bumped into this girl with a green coat and a matching beret and ofc I complimented her and called her gorgeous but me being me I forgot to ask for her name, number, AND Instagram like an idiot…WHAT DO I DO 😭

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◦˚~ ANIMATED MOON & STARS DIVIDERS ~˚◦

Requested by: @inkyprince Info: these were all drawn/made & animated by me. please reblog/like if use!

Genuinely the best study method is to imagine Spencer Reid rambling to you about the subject.

It’s finals season and this helps me study but also feed my criminal minds hyperfixation. Double whammy 💥

I’ve watched HTTYD2 thrice in 48 hours and have cried thrice…dunno what that says about me but should I go 4 for 4?

me telling my four followers that i’m still alive and working on fics: