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incognit0slut · 2 months ago

Text

Angel

PART 5 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Single Dad!Spencer x Nanny!Reader Spencer likes having you around to look after his daughter, in fact, he likes you a bit too much.

content: (18+) 5.4k, breeding kink, fingering, fem oral, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, overstimulation, d/s dynamic but he still tries to be a gentleman although reader doesn’t want him to, mutual pining, body worship with slight religious metaphors bc he’s down so bad, and of course sweet aftercare a/n: 1) i know the gif isn’t spencer but i just had to; 2) i changed the title from the original plan bc i was listening to angel baby while writing this; 3) if i have the chance to describe his happy trail and tummy i will in a heartbeat; 4) this fic is basically the epitome of D-I-L-F!

“I want you to understand,” he mutters against your skin, kissing the sensitive spot just below your ear, “that I’m not trying to take advantage of you.”

A hand creeps up the back of his neck. “What if I want you to?”

“I’m serious.”

“I am serious. I’m not the one hesitating.”

His hand glides slowly up your side, fingertips barely ghosting over your skin, and a soft, shaky breath escapes his lips. “I’m trying to be responsible."

“I think we’re past being responsible,” you counter as his fingers trace your waist. “What are you so worried about, anyway? You’re not forcing me into anything.”

“I want to make sure you don’t feel like—” his fingers twitch, lingering over your bare skin, “—like I’m taking advantage of the situation.”

“I’m literally naked under you,” you remind him. “If anyone’s taking advantage here, it’s me.”

His forehead drops to your shoulder, and you feel the slow rise and fall of his chest as he exhales. “You’re making this really hard, you know that?”

“That’s kind of the point.”

And it’s true, Spencer realizes with a rush of heat, because he’s incredibly hard, the heavy length of his cock pressed against your stomach while he braces his weight above you. His lungs tighten, squeezing around breaths that feel too thick to swallow as his teeth graze his lower lip. It takes everything in him to keep from losing himself when his mind is already slipping.

How could he have ever imagined it would go this far?

Spencer can’t quite make sense of how this quiet, unassuming crush that crept in the first time he saw you with his daughter has led to this. It wasn’t anything grand or sudden, just this slow bloom that unfurled every time he caught you reading to Violet or laughing with her over some little joke in the living room. There was just something about the way you slipped so easily into his life, fitting into the spaces he hadn’t realized were empty until you filled them.

He’d never let himself imagine it would go beyond that. He’d convinced himself those feelings for you were just something he’d have to live with quietly, a small ache that would fade with time. But somehow, despite his best efforts to keep it hidden, you’d found your way to him. And against all his expectations, you liked him back. You like him enough that you’re now wearing nothing but a smile.

Flushed skin kissed by the moonlight spilling through the window.

Innocent eyes touched with a hint temptation.

It all feels like some sort of surreal dream.

The moment that led to this replays in his mind, clear as daylight even if it happened well past midnight. He’d gotten home somewhere between too late and way too late, running on nothing but caffeine and sugar, and there you were, leaning casually against the kitchen counter like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You started talking about your day with Violet, recounting how you’d taken her to the park, read her favorite book before bed, and how she’d peppered you with endless questions about why the sky changes colors when the day changes into night. But something was different in your voice, a softness to the way you said his name, and your gaze lingered on him just a beat longer than usual. It wasn’t anything obvious, nothing he could point to and say that’s it, but he felt it. An almost imperceptible shift in the air.

Before he knew it, he had crossed the room and kissed you. He should’ve thought it through or paused to consider the consequences, but the way you responded made it clear you’d been waiting just as long for his attention.

His shoulders fall with a quiet exhale.

“This could get complicated,” he continues, as if reminding you (and maybe himself) that there’s a line between employee and employer that he’s about to cross. A line that could change everything between you both once it’s blurred. “We should think about what this means.”

“We’ve had plenty of time to think. If you wanted to stop, you would’ve done it already.”

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say.”

“Then please enlighten me.”

Instead of answering right away, he leans in, his lips finding the curve of your neck. His breath is warm against your skin, and then he’s gently pulling the tender flesh between his lips that draws a sudden moan from your throat. The sound seems to fuel him, and before you can even register what’s happening, his fingers are already slipping lower, exploring the soft space between your thighs.

“What if I want more than this?” His fingers inch closer, teasingly brushing against your heat with a slowness that borders on torment. “What if I want everything?”

Your hips buck against his hand. “Everything?”

“Everything,” he confirms. “Not just tonight.”

The words send a ripple of electricity that blooms deep in your core. When his fingers finally slip between your folds, a sharp gasp escapes your lips before you can hold it back.

“You… you mean you want… more than this? More than just us… here?”

“Yes,” he replies, his voice catching like gravel in his throat as his fingers trace over the slickness he’s found. “Does that scare you?”

For a moment, words fail you. The slow, coaxing rhythm of his fingers pulls you deeper into a haze where coherent thoughts are hard to grasp. There’s a pause, a heartbeat where he stops. Waiting.

“No,” you confess, the truth slipping out more easily than you expected. “It doesn’t.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “It doesn’t?”

Your lungs expand, filling with a rush of oxygen and a nervous flutter that lands somewhere in the pit of your stomach. “I think this is the right time to tell you I’ve had a crush on you for a while.”

Spencer stays motionless for a beat. Then something shifts—his gaze softens, and a small, almost incredulous smile curves his lips. “You have a crush on me?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… you have feelings for me?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“So you’re not just… turned on right now?”

“Well, that too,” you admit with a grin, your fingers brushing the back of his neck. “But it’s more than that. I really like you.”

His smile widens, and his fingers begin to move again, circling your clit with just the right pressure to pull a sharp intake of breath from you. It’s as though your confession is a final green light he’d been waiting for. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your teeth catch your lip, struggling to hold back fragments of breath. “I thought it was obvious,” you manage between heavy exhales. “Why do you think I always stay late?"

"To avoid traffic?"

You huff. "I tried to be around you as much as possible, Spencer."

His fingers toy at the edge of your entrance, tracing the slick, warm wetness that clings to his skin as a quiet hum rumbles in his chest. “You know I’m not always the best at picking up social cues.”

“You’re a profiler.” Your breath catches halfway between a gasp and a sigh when he slides a finger in. “You're supposed to notice everything."

He lets your words settle, eyes narrowing slightly as he turns them over in his mind.

“I guess I was too focused on trying not to cross any lines to see the ones you were trying to draw."

A soft moan escapes your lips as another finger slides in.

“I'm… glad you finally caught on."

"I'm catching on now.”

His eyes drop to the way your body greedily takes his fingers. The sight alone sends a rush of heat straight to his gut like a line of fire winding up through his chest and spreading into his limbs. You’re dripping, the slick sound of your arousal nearly derails him as he continues to watch the wetness coat his fingers with every slow thrust.

“Since when have you had this crush?” He asks curiously.

There’s a beat of silence, only punctuated by the soft, breathy noises escaping you. When he finally looks up, he catches the way your face scrunches in pleasure, brows furrowed and eyes barely open, and he can’t help but find it almost unbearably adorable. The corners of his lips twitch with a quiet laugh before he leans in, pressing the softest it’s okay, you can tell me kiss against your lips.

“Since when?”

You blink your eyes open at his question, and there’s a flush of embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Since—” you start, but your voice catches when he curls his fingers slightly, and you bite down on your lip to keep from moaning. He raises an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a barely-contained grin.

“Since?” he prompts again.

You swallow the lump tightening in your throat. “Since you interviewed me for the job."

He absorbs your words. "That’s… more than a while."

"It was innocent at the time," you confess, trying to regain some control over your thoughts. "Just a silly little crush."

His pace quickens, fingers plunging deeper, and whatever sense of composure you had left is slipping away piece by piece. “What changed?”

Desperation claws at you with every passing second, your hips moving against his hand as you scramble to gather your thoughts. But the way his fingers are mapping every sensitive spot makes it nearly impossible to articulate anything coherent. He doesn’t miss the way your breath stutters, or how your words break apart into fragmented attempts to answer.

“I-I—” you stammer, wincing as the words catch in your throat before you finally manage to continue, “I probably shouldn’t say…”

“Why not?”

“It’s embarrassing."

He lets out a soft laugh. “Tell me anyway,” he urges. “I want to hear it.”

You fall quiet again, and the only sounds that fill the space between you is the ragged pull of your breaths and the slick rhythm of his fingers pumping lazily inside you. The words sit heavy on your tongue, threatening to disappear if you don’t say them quickly enough.

"Remember when… you taught Violet how to… ride her bike?”

He tilts his head slightly. There’s a furrow in his brow as he searches your face. “You’re going to have to be more specific, there were a lot of lessons.”

“The very first time.”

“Ah,” he muses. “Around June, then.”

You nod. “When I… saw you with her that day, I-I… I got curious.”

His fingers falter, just slightly, the subtle pause enough to show that you’ve grabbed his attention. “Curious?”

“Yeah,” you whisper. “You were so adorable with her… and I started thinking about what it would be like… to have your kids.”

If there was ever a moment to leave him utterly speechless, this was it. His brain seems to stall, the gears grinding to a halt as the reality of what you’ve said settles in. He’s spent so much time trying to be the one holding it all together, but now? Now all he could picture was you holding a baby—his baby—and the thought sent his mind reeling, knocking him off balance in a way he didn’t expect.

“You… thought about that?”

Your fingers trails his shoulder before slipping up into his hair, curling gently at the nape of his neck. “It crossed my mind more than once.”

“That’s—” wow. He leans his forehead against yours. “Not embarrassing. At all.”

“Really?”

“That’s probably the hottest thing I've ever heard in my life.”

You let out a soft chuckle, gently pulling on his curls before drawing his bottom lip into a gentle suck. “It’s never been innocent since then.”

Goosebumps rises along his skin, and the heat pooling low in his stomach tightens as he grows impossibly harder. “Yeah?”

“I’ve wanted you to fuck me for a long time.”

His jaw clenches.

He’s so close to completely losing it.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” he mutters, pressing his fingers deeper inside you.

“Why.. why not?”

“Because I might give you exactly what you want.” When he feels you clench around him, he huffs in amusement. “Oh, you like that, don’t you?”

There’s a tender spot he finds deep inside, one that feels achingly sensitive, and your mouth falls open, a soundless gasp escaping before you can catch it.

“You really mean it,” he says, more a realization than a question, as he watches your body go pliant beneath his touch.

“I do,” you manage to say.

“You want me that way?”

You nod frantically. “Want your cum in me.”

The second those words leave your lips, his groan rumbles through his chest, and you swallow it down as his mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is messy, teeth clashing and tongues tangling in a chaotic rhythm that’s both desperate and needy. When he finally pulls away, you’re left panting, your lips swollen, his forehead resting against yours.

“Never would’ve guessed you had such a dirty mouth."

"There's a lot of thing you don't know about me."

His breath brushes against your lips as he whispers, “I’m starting to figure that out.”

When he slowly withdraws his fingers, you can’t help the soft whimper that escapes your throat. Your eyes follow his every move as he sits up and settles between your thighs. You’ve always thought Spencer was an attractive man, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t admired the way his shirts fit just snug enough to hint at what was underneath. But seeing him naked like this? That was a whole new level of breathtaking.

Your gaze trails down his frame, landing on the soft curve of his stomach, something you'd secretly adored every time it pressed against his dress shirts. It was even more captivating without anything hiding it now, especially with the trail of dark hair leading down. Soft, scattered strands, drawing your eyes right to the place where you can’t help but stare.

He gives himself a slow pump. Once. Twice. And then, finally, you feel the firm pressure of his tip pressing between your folds.

“Are you sure?” he asks, the head of his cock sliding over your sensitive skin. “There's a condom in my drawer."

Your body tenses at the thought of him pulling back, and without thinking, your hand reaches between the two of you, wrapping around his cock before he can pull away. “When was the last time you got tested?”

He exhales sharply. “A few months ago,” he mutters, hips twitching against your grip despite himself. “If there was any risk, I wouldn’t even consider this without telling you.”

“I got tested last month,” you assure him quickly. “We’re both safe.”

He nods absentmindedly. “We can… still grab the condom if you want…”

“Spencer,” you interrupt, gently brushing the bead of precum that had formed at his tip. “I thought I made it clear I want you to cum inside me.”

He can only stare as your delicate finger trails along the thick vein. It feels like all the oxygen he’s desperately clinging to has been sucked from his lungs.

“I know you said you don’t want to take advantage of me…” you continue, guiding him right to your entrance. “But I really want you to.”

He finally lets out a low, gruff sound, something between a growl and a sigh as he slowly pushes himself in. His eyes are locked on the sight of your walls stretching to accommodate his size, watching as your body struggles to take him.

"You should stop talking like that," he rasps through gritted teeth. "I’m barely holding it together."

"Here's another thing you should know about me.”

He ruts gently into you. A push. A pull.

A heartbeat in between.

“I really like it rough."

That’s all it takes.

He slams his hips into yours.

Intense doesn’t even begin to describe what he feels. It’s more like a surge, a rush of heat and desperation that floods every inch of him the same time you cry out. His throat tightens, constricting around breaths he can’t seem to catch as he resorts to inhaling sharply through his nose.

“Jesus… you feel so—” His words falter, his voice rough and breathless as his fingers figs into your skin. His chest rises and falls with each labored breaths, and his eyes squeezes shut for a moment.

Tight. Warm. Wet. That’s exactly how you feel.

"Perfect." His large hands grips your waist. “You’re perfect.”

You mewl at his words, the sound spilling from your lips before you can stop it, and the soft, needy noise is enough to make his eyes flicker open. He begins to pull back, just enough to make you whimper from the sudden loss of contact, but before you can catch your breath, he snaps his hips forward with a rough, powerful thrust.

Your hands fly to his arms, holding onto him tightly. "Spencer… Please…”

He lets out a sigh.

No man is immune to that tone of desperation, least of all Spencer. Not when you’re offering yourself to him like something out of a dream. Not when your eyes lock onto his with a look that belongs more to an angel—if angels could be so helpless and desperate. Because what angel pleads with every breath for more?

What angel cries out as he holds your hips firmly in place and thrusts with a force that drives you to the brink of sanity?

He’s mesmerized. His eyes track the way your breasts bounce with each snap of his hips. There’s something almost greedy in the way his gaze roams over you, but it’s when he locks onto where your bodies meet that he really loses himself. A glossy ring coats his cock each time he pulls out, and when he pushes back in, the friction between your bodies creates a lewd, wet sound that fills the room.

He laughs. Not out of mockery, but out of sheer delight.

You’re an angel wrapped in sin.

“I can’t—oh god, right there—” Your nails leave little crescents moon on his skin. “You’re so… so deep.”

You’re really testing his limits, and Spencer knows he’s very far from a violent man, but right now, the temptation to cover your mouth with his hand is becoming dangerously real. Although with the way you’re writhing beneath him, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts, he’s sure you’d probably enjoy it.

“Spencer…”

His balls slaps your ass as he slams into you.

“O-Oh—fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

He squeezes your waist tightly. “Already?”

“Ngh.”

Your grip loosens on his arm, and before he can fully process what’s happening, your fingers dance along your clit. It takes all his willpower not to spill into you right then and there when he feels you tighten around him in response. But he holds on, because he needs you to cum first. He needs to feel your velvety walls flutter along the rigid veins of his cock, needs to watch the way your body tenses with pleasure.

He needs to feel it more than once.

He lets you have your first orgasm. Although letting seems like the wrong word. There’s nothing passive about it. He’s making you cum, driving you to it with each calculated thrust. You’re toying with your clit, rubbing in frantic circles just like you do whenever you touch yourself with the thought of him, but this time, it’s even more intense. This time, he’s inside you. And this time, it takes only a few moments for the tension to snap.

You clamp down on him. Hard. So hard that his movement falters for a second, but he quickly recovers, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm. Just as you start to catch your breath, he pulls out, and you’re left in that delicious, dizzy haze, but your mind is even more disoriented when his face suddenly lowers between your thighs.

“Oh, you’re gonna—” you moan as his shoulders nudge your legs apart, opening you wider for him. “Spencer, you don’t have to—”

Before you can finish, before you even take another breath, the tip of his tongue flicks out.

“I want to.”

And he means it. He dives in with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt. His tongue starts firm and flat, pressing against you before dragging slowly upward, gathering your slickness in one deliberate sweep. Then he changes rhythm, the broad strokes shifting into something more focused, alternating between gentle flicks and deep, hungry pulls, and it’s doing things to you that no amount of late-night fantasies could have prepared you for.

Your head is all over the place that you reach out blindly, trying to find something solid, but the air merely glides over your skin. You stretch for the edge of the bed, fingertips just skimming the surface before your arms flail helplessly in the empty space. He notices your struggle almost immediately, and without missing a beat, he pulls back, lifting your legs to rest on his shoulders.

“Here,” he says, reaching out his arms toward you. “Give me your hands.”

Gladly. The second your fingers lock with his, a sense of grounding floods you, though it does nothing to ease the intensity of what he’s doing. If anything, it sharpens. You can feel the muscles in his shoulders flex under your thighs as he positions himself. And sure, your legs somehow feel weightless, like they’re floating in the air, but the rest of you?

You’re a mess of nerve endings on fire.

It’s impossible to think clearly when every cell in your body is buzzing. Your thoughts scatter the second his mouth moves in that devastating way, driving you out of your mind. You try to hold on to some semblance of control, but who are you kidding? He has officially turned you into a puddle of desperate, needy nerves, and you don’t even care.

It doesn’t take long before that coil snaps, and when it does, your entire body trembles. It’s always the second orgasm. The first is a tease, a little warm-up. The second one is the worst—or the best, depending on how you look at it. It doesn’t just tug at your edges, it tears right through, leaving you gasping and shaking and completely undone like every part of you has been pulled apart and put back together very wrong.

His mouth is glazed with your slick when he finally pulls away. “Good?”

You can barely feel your legs.

“Speechless,” is your answer.

His nose twitches in amusement as his hand leaves yours only for them to slide down your body, gently coaxing your legs to wrap around his waist. “Continue?”

“Please.”

A palm slips down your thigh. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

You swipe your tongue across your bottom lip as he hovers above you. “About what?”

“About taking advantage of you.”

You huff out a sigh. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“Say it again,” he urges, guiding his cock smoothly along your folds before your whines travel into his ears. Ah, there it is. This is the sound that would greet him in heaven, if such a place existed for someone like him. Men who’ve taken lives to save others. Men who carry too many regrets to count. Spencer knows he’s not the kind of person heaven was built for, but if it were, he’s certain it would sound exactly like the breathy moan that escapes your lips.

And he’s tasted the afterlife, once, when he was younger—drifting somewhere between consciousness and oblivion with a ghost of a needle stuck in his arm. But nothing about that brush with death was like this. This feels like he’s been pulled back into something he didn’t believe he deserved.

“Say it again.”

He’s pleading now. It sounds awfully like a prayer.

“I want you to take advantage of me,” you say, the words spilling from your lips like a soft, sinful confession, music to his ears. An angel. “I want all of it.”

He takes your hands again. “So you won’t be mad if I get a little rough?”

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

That’s all he needs. He gently pushes your hands above your head, pinning them to the mattress, his fingers lacing through yours as his weight presses you into the bed. There’s a sudden rush—like a switch has flipped that it knocks the breath out of you. Your heart skips a beat, but not from nerves. No, this is anticipation, excitement.

You test his hold on you, just to see what happens, but his grip stays firm, almost daring you to resist.

“You asked for this,” he warns as he shifts his hips, aligning himself right to your entrance.

You shake your head. “I begged for this.”

He laughs, a flash of teeth in the dim light. “Yeah,” he breathes, his grip tightening as he presses deeper, “you did.”

A breathless whine escapes your lips as he fills you.

Angel, angel, angel.

He looks at you with a kind of reverence that borders on worship, though his movements are anything but saintly. There’s nothing gentle or innocent about the way he’s taking you, and there’s a quiet madness in the way you respond. Making love would be too tame, too soft for what this is. But fucking seems too crude, too disconnected for the way your eyes meet his, for the way you say his name like a prayer and a demand all at once.

The moment your voice breaks, breathless and needy, something inside him snaps. He feels the tightness coiling in his gut, and once it starts, there’s no stopping it. The pressure is mounting, and with every hard thrust it becomes harder to hold back. He knows he should slow down, give you a moment to catch your breath, but he can’t—his body won’t let him.

His fingers tighten around yours. He’s moving with a single-minded intensity now, pushing you flat against the mattress, your body pliant beneath him. The bed creaks every time he moves and your legs wrap tighter around his hips as you squeeze your eyes shut.

Spencer leans down, brushing his lips against yours, so close but never quite closing the distance, like even the simplest kiss would shatter him too soon. Instead, he rests his forehead on top of yours and whispers, “l’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over, like he’s stuck on some endless loop. It’s not a real apology, not for anything he’s done, but for how much he needs you and how he’s afraid of breaking you with how much he can’t hold back.

He’s so close and he knows he’s not going to last much longer.

“I’m—” He groans as he feels the tension in his body snap, the wave building up in his spine and crashing down with brutal intensity. “I—fuck—I can’t hold it—”

You’re barely coherent yourself, but your voice comes out strong. A little breathless.

“Inside,” you gasp, your legs tightening around his waist. “I want it inside.”

Your words push him over the edge. He shudders, hips stuttering as he buries himself as deep as he can the moment the last thread of his restraint snaps. He can feel it, the way he pulses inside you, filling you completely. Every thrust is accompanied by a harsh groan as his release paints your walls, and the sound of your soft, desperate whines only pushes him deeper into the overwhelming pleasure.

When it finally becomes too much, he carefully pulls out. But the intensity is still coursing through his veins, and he’s too addicted to the sound of your sound, too drawn to the way your body trembles beneath him.

His hand drifts from your wrist almost on instinct, tracing its way down between your legs. He doesn’t need to see the mess he’s made—he can feel it. There’s a fleeting moment where he pauses, almost in awe, before his fingers brush over your clit, and your hips jerk in response. He’s not even sure if he’s teasing you or himself at this point, but he’s too far gone to care.

He slides two fingers inside you.

Your back arches instantly, your nipples brushing against his chest, and you gasp, fully aware of what he’s trying to do. “Oh… I—I can’t…”

He shakes his head. “You can,” he reassures you, watching in fascination as he pushes the white liquid of his release deeper into you. His gaze snaps back to yours. “I think you can give me one more.”

Your body trembles, and you can’t hold back the soft, broken cry that escapes your lips.

“Spencer…”

He loosens his grip on your hand, guiding it gently to rest around his neck. “Please,” he begs, his lips brushing your skin, “for me?”

The way he says it makes it impossible for you to deny him. And he knows it. He feels it in the way your nails dig into the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the tension inside you builds again. His fingers work faster, more desperate now, curling inside you just the way you like.

He’s watching, waiting, and when you finally cum again, it’s like witnessing something so divine. Your body shakes beneath him, a violent, beautiful quake that feels like it’s pulling him into its orbit. He’s unable to tear his eyes away as your head tilts back, lips parting with a choked moan that’s as delicate as it is devastating like an angel’s breath caught on the edge of rapture.

If angels looked this breathtaking in heaven, no wonder people were willing to risk damnation.

Spencer smiles wryly to himself.

Since when did he become so religious?

Another strangled moan escapes your lips. When your orgasm finally subsides, your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath, and with what little strength you have left, you reach up and yank weakly at his mop of brown curls.

“…no more.”

He smiles softly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your temple. “No more,” he agrees, pulling his fingers from you carefully.

Without saying a word, he slips off the bed and disappears from the room, only to come back with a damp towel in his hand. You expect him to hand it over to you, but you’re surprised when he kneels at the edge of the bed, gently spreading your legs apart.

Your skin tingles under his gaze as he stares at the mess between your thighs.

“That was…” he starts as he begins to wipe the towel over you. “…very reckless of us.”

With a small, tired smile, you mutter, “You don’t seem too bothered by it.”

He glances up at you. “I’m not,” he admits, finishing his cleanup and setting the towel aside. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t at least pretend to be responsible.”

You reach for him as he climbs back into bed. “Would it make you feel better if I told you I’m on birth control?”

He exhales a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding, his body visibly relaxing as he lets out a quiet laugh. “It definitely helps,” he says, tucking you under his chin, “but I’m still going to try to be more careful next time.”

Your grin is as wide as the warmth spreading through your chest. “Next time?”

He smiles softly. “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Which part? You said a lot of things.”

“You know what I mean,” he insists.

“I know. But I want to hear it again.”

The tip of his nose brushes yours. “I want everything.”

“Everything?”

“Every single part of you.”

You take a deep breath. A whiff of his sweat and the faintest trace of soap clings around your senses until you release a happy sigh. “Do you think Violet will be okay with this? With us?”

His hand slips to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head to look at you. “She already loves you,” he reassures you. “She’s more adaptable than you think. And she trusts you.”

“But... what if it changes things for her?”

“It will change things,” he admits. “But all the changes will be good ones."

You mull over his words. “You think so?”

“I know so, because you make her happy. You make both of us happy, an—”

He stops, his lips just barely parted as he catches himself.

He almost said it. He almost called you angel.

“What?”

He shakes his head slightly, a faint embarrassed smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"I’m just really happy,” he explains, his fingers absentmindedly brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face. There’s a curious look in your eyes, but instead of pressing him, you bury yourself into his neck, which he’s quietly grateful for because he’s not sure he could have explained himself without sounding like a total sap.

And maybe he is a sap, but even he’s aware that words like that shouldn’t be thrown around too soon, especially after just one night. Not before things settle in, before everything feels a little less like a dream and more like reality.

But he thinks about it. Oh, he thinks about it. The word stubbornly lingers at the edge of his mind he’s keeping for another time. He imagines letting it slip on some quiet morning, when you’re half-asleep and bundled in his shirt, golden sunlight filtering through the window to cast a warm glow across your skin. Or maybe when you meet him at the door after a long day, and Violet runs up, chattering away while you smile at him with that look that feels like coming home.

He can picture it falling easily from his lips someday, maybe even in a future where you’re holding the baby you had wondered about having with him and he’s standing there, watching you like someone who can’t quite believe his luck.

He’ll say it with a kind of certainty then. Not as a prayer, not as some lofty declaration of divine grace.

And when that moment comes, without hesitation, he’ll finally call you his angel.

#kinktober 2024 #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction

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winxanity-ii · 3 months ago

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SACRILEGIOUS DEVOTION [1/3]

ship: father charlie x fem!nun!reader warnings: nsfw 🔞 (oral sex/f. receiving; overstimulation; coercion/dub-con?; sacrilege, heavy religious imagery) word count: 3.6k a/n: So, Father Charlie is out here losing all his morals and sanity on Grotesquerie and my mind couldn't help but match it, so what's a better idea other than channeling all the religious trauma/journey into a spicy one-shot? i for one feel like it's a mini-therapy, but enough rambling, enjoy 😩🫶🏾 i'm in love with a holy man, mother 😔…. second part: 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 and final part: 𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

★·.·´ɢʀᴏᴛᴇsǫᴜᴇʀɪᴇ 🇲‌🇦‌🇸‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌🇱‌🇮‌🇸‌🇹‌`·.·★

Father Charlie Mayhew was a sick man.

Not in the manner of flesh, but of spirit. He could feel the sickness festering in the quiet corners of his heart, a sinful yearning that had taken root there, twisting itself around his thoughts like creeping ivy.

It was a sickness that, he believed, made him a grotesque parody of the holy man he was meant to be. For how could he call himself righteous, devoted, when every whisper of prayer felt stained by the way his eyes followed you, Sister ____?

You were a vision of purity, an embodiment of the kind of gentle devotion that Father Charlie envied and craved all at once.

He watched you from a distance, always careful not to draw your gaze, afraid of what you might see if you looked too deeply. How dutiful you were, sweeping the church aisle with a focus that made him forget the dust and see only the graceful motion of your hands.

The sun, filtered through stained glass, seemed to seek you out, casting colors on your habit as if to mark you as someone far beyond his grasp, almost holy in your mundane tasks.

It was in the mornings, when he heard the soft chime of your laughter in the courtyard as you fed the pigeons, that he felt the deepest sting of his wretchedness.

The world seemed simpler in those moments, your laughter echoing off the stone walls, the warmth of early sun painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. He wondered if you knew how your kindness drew even the animals to you, their heads dipping into your palms as if receiving communion.

There was a stillness to you, a gentleness in every gesture.

The worst of it was during your services. Father Charlie had seen you on your knees before, hands folded in earnest prayer, your lips moving softly as you whispered your devotion to God.

He would stand at the back of the chapel, watching with a mixture of awe and something far darker. He told himself it was admiration, but the truth festered beneath that facade.

It was longing, a hunger that ached at the edges of his soul.

A storm raged outside the convent one evening, winds battering the church walls with a fury that mirrored the tempest building in his chest. The clouds were bloated, dark as his thoughts, and thunder rolled across the sky with a violence that shook even the faith he held so dear.

You had come to his chambers in the dead of night, your knock barely audible over the howling wind. He had been preparing for bed, freshly out of the shower, wearing only his boxers when he heard you at the door.

The creak of the old wood seemed to echo forever as he opened it, and there you stood, eyes wide, looking so impossibly fragile in the dim candlelight of the corridor. Your modest night slip clung to your form, the thin fabric shifting in the draft that sneaked in from the hallway.

Charlie's breath had caught in his throat at the sight of you, innocence incarnate, seeking refuge with him.

He hesitated for only a moment before allowing you in, quickly wrapping himself in a silk robe that hung loosely on his shoulders, barely tied. He knew he should not let you enter, but there was something in the way you looked at him—so trusting, so devoted—that made him abandon every rational thought.

You had come asking to pray with him, your soft voice trembling as you spoke. The storm outside seemed like a reflection of the turmoil within him as he let you step past the threshold, closing the door behind you.

Now, you were here, kneeling before him, your eyes upturned and wide, waiting for his command, for his instruction like the obedient servant of God that you were.

Your soft voice brought him out of his thoughts, a gentle, "Father...?"

Charlie could only lament to himself how sinfully pure you looked. He hummed softly, his eyes dark as they trailed over you, lingering on the curve of your shoulders, the delicate line of your neck.

The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows across your skin, highlighting the innocence that made his hunger all the more unbearable.

"Yes, forgive me, Sister. Let us now pray," he finally said, his voice low and rough, the words nearly swallowed by the sound of the wind outside. He reached out, his fingers brushing against your forehead, and you leaned into the touch without hesitation, your eyes closing as if his hand was a blessing.

He swallowed hard, his thoughts spiraling deeper into the forbidden desires he had tried so desperately to keep buried.

He began to pray, his voice low, raspy, each word a struggle against the chaos inside him. "Heavenly Father, we come before you tonight..." But the words felt hollow, their meaning slipping away as he watched you, kneeling so obediently at his feet.

His eyes darkened, wandering further down, tracing the lines of your form. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the soft rise and fall of your chest with each breath—it all seemed to pull him further from the sanctity of the moment.

He should have been thinking of God, of salvation, of the purity of the prayer—but instead, he was thinking of you, of the way the thin fabric clung to your skin, the soft curve of your breasts visible through the modest slip.

He licked his lips, his gaze fixed on the delicate line of your collarbone, the way it rose and fell with each breath you took.

The more he spoke, the less the words mattered. He could feel the heat rising in his chest, spreading through his body, his thoughts growing more erratic, each word of the prayer slipping further from its sacred meaning, twisting into something profane, something filthy. "Protect us from all evil..." he whispered as he traced the line of your jaw with his thumb, the words a bitter irony as he felt himself drawn further into the darkness of his desires.

His hand moved lower, fingers trailing down your neck, lingering at the hollow of your throat. His touch was gentle, but there was a weight behind it, a hunger that he could no longer deny.

He could almost see the curve of your bare skin beneath the thin fabric, the outline of your body that he should not be imagining. He tried to focus on the prayer, but every word felt like a lie. He let out a shaky breath, the prayer faltering on his lips. "Guide us... guide us in your light," he managed, his voice thick with the weight of his longing.

The storm outside raged on, the wind howling as if to warn him, but Father Charlie could no longer hear it. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears as he looked down at you, so trusting, so willing.

As the final words of the prayer fell from his lips—"Amen"—you echoed him, your voice soft and unwavering. You blinked open your eyes, looking up at him with such innocence and Charlie felt himself slip past the point of no return.

He knew that no amount of prayer could ever cleanse him of what he wanted, that he could no longer pretend, no longer fight against the pull that drew him to you—the sweet, precious nun who had unknowingly captured his very soul.

Father Charlie stood, his robe slipping slightly from his shoulders, exposing the toned muscle beneath. The wind howled outside, and thunder bellowed again, followed by a flash of lightning that lit the room in a brief, startling blaze of white.

You were still kneeling before him, your wide eyes following his every movement, the flickering light casting you in both shadow and radiance.

Charlie bent at the waist, his fingers reaching out to cup your jaw, thumb caressing your bottom lip as his half-lidded eyes trailed over your face. "Sister ____," he murmured, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection, his name for you almost reverent, as though you were something sacred, something he could worship in his own unholy way.

You blinked, shifting slightly beneath his touch, a soft stutter escaping your lips. "F-Father...?"

He grasped one of your hands, his fingers wrapping around yours, and as he stood, he gently urged you to rise with him. His gaze never left your face, his eyes dark and full of something raw. He began to speak, his voice barely more than a murmur, the words heavy with confession. "As a man of God, there are expectations placed upon me," he started, his tone wavering between remorse and something darker, something that made his grip on your hand tighten. "I am meant to guide, to protect, to remain steadfast in my faith."

His other hand moved, slowly pulling your trembling hand against his bare stomach, pressing your palm against the hard planes of his abdomen.

You gasped, your eyes wide as you looked up at him, your hand trembling beneath his. The heat of his skin burned into your palm, the muscles flexing beneath your touch.

Charlie continued, his voice lowering, growing more intense as he spoke. "But these days... these days, Sister, I find myself at war. At war with desires that threaten to consume me..." His words trailed off, and he let out a low hum as he rubbed your hand across his stomach, the movement slow, deliberate.

Your hand hesitated for a moment, the warmth of his skin making you tremble as you instinctively pulled back. But his grip was firm, guiding you back, and slowly, tentatively, your fingers splayed across his stomach, your touch feather-light.

You swallowed hard, your eyes flickering down before you took a timid step closer, as if drawn by some invisible force. Your gaze shifted to the side, your cheeks warming with embarrassment at the proximity, at the way you could feel his heart beating beneath your palm.

Father Charlie's eyes never left you, and he could see every ounce of hesitation, every flicker of uncertainty that danced across your face. He leaned in slightly, his breath brushing against your forehead as he spoke, his voice a low murmur, "There's no need to be afraid, Sister. You are safe here... with me."

You blinked, your lashes fluttering as you dared to look up at him, your eyes meeting his through the veil of uncertainty.

There was something in his gaze, something dark and magnetic that pulled at you, made your pulse race. His thumb brushed the edge of your jaw; the touch almost comforting, but there was an intensity behind it that made you shiver.

"Do you trust me?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his eyes searching yours.

You nodded slowly, not trusting your voice to speak, your fingers trembling slightly against his skin. He smiled, a slow, almost predatory curve of his lips, and he hummed again, satisfied with your silent answer.

His other hand moved to rest against the small of your back, pulling you just a little bit closer, his robe parting further, exposing more of his chest.

Your breath hitched as you felt the distance between you closing, the way his body seemed to envelop yours. You could barely think, your mind clouded with the storm of emotions and the strange, electric pull you felt toward him.

His thumb traced along your bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he watched you. You felt your pulse quicken, your knees weakening under the intensity of his gaze.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice a mix of praise and something darker, something that made your heart pound even harder. His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt your body react, leaning in just slightly, as if craving more of his warmth, his touch.

His fingers trailed lower, coaxing your hand along his body, and you felt the tension, the desire in every muscle. He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a husky whisper, "Let me show you, Sister ____... let me show you what devotion truly means."

He kissed you then, his lips crashing against yours like a man starved. His mouth moved hungrily, tasting, devouring, and you felt his tongue lick into your mouth, coaxing a soft, surprised whimper from your throat. His groan vibrated against your lips, the sound raw and desperate.

Your head spun, your senses overwhelmed by the taste of him, the sheer need in his kiss.

You pulled back, gasping for air, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss. He didn't give you a moment to recover; his lips moved to your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin.

He nipped at your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to make you gasp, to make your knees weaken beneath you. The heat of his mouth trailed down, his tongue flicking out to soothe each small bite, and you felt your body trembling, a warmth pooling low in your belly.

Charlie's hands were relentless, holding you steady as your body threatened to give out, your knees buckling as his mouth worked against your skin. He pulled back only long enough to whisper your name, his voice thick with something between reverence and hunger.

Before you knew it, he had scooped you up, his arms strong and sure as he carried you towards his bed. Your breath hitched, your fingers clinging to his robe as he moved, each step filled with purpose.

He set you down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping beneath your weight. His eyes roamed over you, dark and filled with desire, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

Father Charlie moved quickly, his hands deft as he pushed your slip off your shoulders, the fabric sliding down your skin and pooling around your waist. His lips followed the path of the falling slip, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your shoulders, his warm breath fanning across your skin.

You shivered beneath his touch, the cool air of the room prickling at your exposed skin, your nipples pebbling in response.

His eyes darkened at the sight of you, and he let out a low groan, his hands running along your bare arms, feeling the way you trembled beneath him. "You're like a goddess," he murmured, his voice thick with reverence and lust. "Perfect. Untouched. A temptation I can't resist." His lips found your collarbone, kissing, nipping, his words vibrating against your skin.

You felt heat rise in your cheeks, your heart pounding as his lips moved lower, trailing down the center of your chest, his hands spreading across your back, urging you to arch into him. His kisses were relentless, each one making your breath catch, making your body react in ways that felt both unfamiliar and thrilling.

You couldn't stop the soft whimper that escaped your lips, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you, unsure of what to do, where to touch.

Charlie pulled back for a moment, his eyes locking onto yours, his gaze filled with hunger. He pushed you back against the bed, guiding you to lie down, his hands never leaving your body, his touch possessive, as if he couldn't bear to be without contact. He looked down at you, splayed out before him, your slip barely covering you, and he licked his lips, his eyes raking over every inch of your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he whispered, his voice dripping with a mix of adoration and hunger. "So innocent, so pure... and all mine." He leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a heated kiss, his hands working the slip further down your body, baring you completely to him.

The cool air made you shiver, your body exposed, vulnerable, and you couldn't help the way your legs shifted, instinctively trying to close.

Charlie's hands moved to your knees, gently but firmly pushing them apart, his eyes never leaving your face as he watched your reaction. His lips moved from your mouth, trailing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin as he groaned against you.

He pulled the slip away entirely, tossing it aside, his hands roaming over your bare skin, mapping every inch as though he were committing you to memory. "You are... perfection," he muttered, his voice strained, filled with a hunger that made your breath hitch.

His lips moved lower, trailing down your body, leaving a heated path across your chest, your stomach, and further down. His hands were strong, keeping your legs pinned open to the bed, his fingers pressing into your thighs with a possessive hold. He kissed along your inner thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin, making you shiver, anticipation coiling in your belly.

You instinctively tried to scoot back, to move away as you felt his breath getting closer to your core, but Charlie's grip tightened, his hands holding you firmly in place. He looked up at you, his eyes dark, almost predatory, as he whispered, "Stay still, Sister... let me worship you."

He breathed you in, a deep, satisfied groan rumbling from his chest. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment, as if savoring the scent of you, and then he leaned in, his tongue licking a slow, deliberate stripe from your entrance to your clit.

A squeal, half surprise and half pleasure, escaped your lips, your back arching slightly off the bed.

Father Charlie's tongue moved with a purpose, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking gently before flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. His hands kept your legs spread, his grip firm and unyielding as he worked his mouth against you, his groans vibrating against your core.

He was relentless, his mouth moving with a hunger that made your head spin, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as waves of pleasure washed over you.

You could feel his smooth skin against your inner thighs, the sensation only adding to the overwhelming pleasure that built inside you. His tongue moved in slow, teasing circles, his lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against you, his eyes flicking up to watch your every reaction.

The sight of you—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, the way your chest heaved with every ragged breath—only seemed to spur him on, his groans growing louder as he tasted you.

Your body reacted before your mind could catch up, your hips bucking against his mouth, a whimper slipping from your lips. Charlie's hands moved to hold your hips down, pinning you to the bed as he continued, his tongue delving into you, his nose brushing against your clit as he worked, utterly consumed by the taste of you.

He was lost in it, in you, his tongue moving faster, his mouth desperate as he devoured you.

You gasped, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, your body trembling beneath him. The heat built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter, until you felt like you might break apart. His name fell from your lips, a breathless plea, and he groaned in response, the vibrations sending a shockwave of pleasure through you.

Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you felt yourself teetering on the edge, your body ready to fall apart under his touch.

Your first orgasm washed over you without warning, a blinding wave of pleasure that left you feeling weightless, your entire body trembling as you came undone beneath him. You melted into the bed like butter, your limbs going limp as the intensity of it left you breathless.

Charlie's mouth moved against you with a fervent hunger, drinking in every bit of your release as if it were the most sacred offering.

A small whimper escaped your lips as the sensation grew overwhelming, your body growing sensitive to his touch. He didn't stop, his tongue moving lazily, drawing out every last bit of pleasure from you, his mouth still savoring you.

Your grip on his head shifted, your fingers now pushing at him, trying to get him to stop, but his hands only gripped your thighs tighter, keeping you in place. "W-Wait..." The heat in your stomach was already starting to build again, the slow, deliberate movements of his tongue igniting another fire deep within you.

Charlie groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his face buried even further between your legs, his tongue relentless.

Your breath came in quick, shallow gasps, your body trembling once more as the pleasure built. You could feel another orgasm approaching, your mind spinning as you tried to form words, but all that left your throat were broken, incoherent sounds—static that filled the room as you babbled.

You tried to scoot back, to move away from the overwhelming sensation, but Charlie's strong arms wrapped around your hips, yanking you back down, his grip unyielding. His own hips pressed into the bedding below, his desperation evident as he devoured you.

You teetered on the edge once more, the pleasure too much, too intense, until it finally broke over you again, your body arching, your mind going completely blank as you came undone a second time.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the sensation of his mouth on you, the heat, the pressure, the overwhelming ecstasy that left you gasping for air.

As you came down from your high, your body trembling, Father Charlie finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening. He stared up at you with dark, lidded eyes, his expression filled with hunger, with desire that seemed insatiable.

There was no hesitation, no regret—only a raw need that made it clear he no longer cared about going against his vows, no longer cared about the priesthood or what was right.

All that mattered to him was you.

A/N: i'm sorry, i just watched Grotesquerie last night and i've become obssessed.... ugh, the tension between father charlie and sister megan is just *chefs kiss* it's clear that megan is obviously meant to be y/n and the screenplay was written in the intent of it being catered to the female gaze because wheeeeww 😩...

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moonstruckme · 4 months ago

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hi my love i’m obsessed with all your works and this is my first request!

poly! marauders and cuteness aggression. like maybe reader coming home a bit tipsy from girls night and just seeing her boys and losing it. grabbing remus’ face and just kissing all over his cheeks, gnawing on james’ biceps and playing with sirius’ hair or tracing his tattoos.

Hi lovely, thank you for requesting!

cw: alcohol

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You leave a trail of things down the hallway that you swear you’ll pick up in the morning. Your bag, both shoes, your jacket. There’s no time to put any of it in its proper place, not when you know your boyfriends are all cozy and waiting for you in your bed. Everything else is secondary.

The moment you get your eyes on them, it’s already too much. Remus is reading while Sirius chats to a nearly-asleep James, and you don’t know whether to scream or hug them or burst into tears. One feels more socially acceptable than the rest.

A grin spreads over Sirius’ face as you crawl clumsily up the bed, so you go to him first.

“Hi, baby.” You smear a kiss over his lips, burrowing your hands in his lovely, silken hair. It smells like his conditioner, smokey and heady and just slightly sweet. You wish you could snort it up into your nose like a drug.

“Hi, baby,” Sirius says back at you, amused. “Did you have a good night?”

“No,” you lament, though you think you might have enjoyed it at the time.

Impulsively, you move to Remus, clambering across James to get on your quietest boyfriend’s lap. He’s already set down his book, so there are no barriers to your whims as you take his face between both hands, squishing his cheeks up and kissing them all over. You think you can hear the other boys laughing somewhere beyond your lovesick haze. Remus’ skin grows warmer with each ardent press of your lips.

“None of you were there,” you go on. It’s impossible to articulate the full extent of this injustice. “You were here, being so lovely and perfect and lovely without me.”

“That’s lovely twice.” Remus seems to recover somewhat from your surprise attack. His hand comes to rest in the middle of your back, a touch just for touch’s sake. “How much have you had, dove?”

You make a petulant, whiny sound, burying your face in his neck. There will never be enough of them, your lovely boyfriends. Or maybe it’s that they’re enough, but you just can’t get enough. Regardless. You’re doomed to remain just on the brink of satisfaction.

“Enough to know that I missed you a lot,” you say pitifully.

“Awe, babydoll.” James’ laughter is at odds with his compassionate tone. “Come here, m’love.”

This sounds like a grand idea to you. You wish they’d simply all squish together so you could lay your affections on them one by one, in rounds.

James puckers his lips as you approach, readying for a kiss, and so is taken entirely aback when you forgo his face entirely.

“Oh, well,” he says as you suck a hickey on his bicep. “I feel properly objectified.”

You’re too pleased with yourself to be sorry. He flexes playfully, eliciting a string of giggles from you as you latch on tighter.

“Do you think she’s been drugged?” you hear Remus ask.

“Dunno.” James’ tone is fond. His big hand lands on the back of your head.

“No, I sort of get it,” says Sirius. The mattress dips slightly, and then you feel him plant a wet kiss on your shoulder. “You just need to get it out of your system, yeah, sweetness?”

You hum in affirmation. You wrap your arms around James’ middle, squeezing tight.

“I love you so much,” you mumble into his skin. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Your boyfriend’s frame rumbles with laughter. “Okay, lovie,” he says indulgently. “You go right ahead.”

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sugucidal · 6 months ago

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# HOW TO SEDUCE YOUR NEIGHBOR 101 !!

CHAPTER ii. [9.1k words]

୨୧‬┊pairing: toji fushiguro x fem! reader

୨୧‬┊synopsis: the shopping trip you were forced to go on with Toji doesn't go exactly as planned.

୨୧‬┊warnings: taboo cw! + semi-smut + age difference (reader is 19 and toji is 34 ) + slow burn + one-sided pining + attempt at humor + slice of life + reader takes multiple L's + megumi is mentioned + reader gets objectified (not by toji) + toji is a serial hoe

୨୧‬┊a/n: make sure to check out my main post! ive included a pinterest board for everything described + a playlist ♡

MAIN POST | part i. > part ii. > part ii.

You didn't know if it was a blessing in disguise, or a curse. Perhaps a cruel joke the world was playing on you like it always did. Yet here you were again, your knee high fluffy socks skidding across the oakwood flooring of your room, scouring through your closet like a deranged cat looking for something to wear on today's decor run.

"Shoes, shoes…I'm missing shoes," digging through the furthest corner in the enclosed space of your closet, you spotted an unopened box on one of the shelves. It was a simple pair of heeled, white mary janes with a heart buckle. You got it 2 birthdays ago but never saw an opportunity to wear them, until now.

Your mother told you that Toji was picking you up at 10:30 am despite you telling her that you would go after lunch.

'He's a busy man. He said this is the only time he's free today.'

"Yeah, of course he is. Always busy doing God knows what." Sighing, you decided on your ensemble for this morning. It was rushed and unplanned, but it would have to do.

Looking at the time on your phone, you saw that it was 10:15. You've still got 15 more minutes left till Toji arrives to pick you up. Letting out a breath, you sat on your bed, shoe cladded toes tapping the floor as your knee bounced, restlessly waiting.

Going over to your floor length mirror, you checked over your choice of outfit once more. It wasn't too cold of a day, so you opted for a knitted long sleeved, off-the-shoulder, cream toned sweater dress that hugged your curves. With its hem stopping just right underneath your ass.

You were debating between thigh highs or leg warmers, but decided leg warmers looked better scrunched down on your ankles with the shoes you opted to wear. You didn’t do much with your hair last night since you were only at home, but since you were going out in public today, you felt like doing something with it. Something cute specifically, as you opened your vanity drawer deciding which accessory to wear today. Picking some silk ribbon you saw laying about, you braided it into your hair, sealing it with a rubber band and tying an extra ribbon into a bow to conceal it. And finally, you had your bag. Well, more like bear. The teddy bear backpack you had on matched well with the neutral color scheme. So, you went for it. Honestly, you reminded yourself of a doll. A doll with a pretty face, and a whole lot of problems.

Taking a deep breath, you puffed out your chest. Your confident expression stared back at you, but on the other side of that mirror you felt nothing but anxiety simmering the longer you stood there in silence.

"I might as well wait for Toji outside then." It was no use standing around in your room. The bed looked way too inviting as it only made you think of excuses not to go. You wouldn't let your bed get the best of you this time.

Walking down the stairs, you headed towards the entrance, petting your cat's furry head along the way. Upon opening the door, you were met with the sight of freshly layered snow. It was thin, barely half an inch thick, but it already had you feeling a little better with the anticipation of making a snowman with it once the days got colder. You remember there was a time when you used to do that with Toji.

God, you can't even reminisce about the past without Toji having some part in it.

You desperately needed to figure out how you were going to do this.

Last night was a bust. Not much progress was made besides the fact that Toji actually spoke to you for the first time in years. Not that he had much chance to do so sooner even if he wanted to, with you a couple hours away from home and all. But it was the bare minimum. Right now you needed a plan, and you needed to think of one fast.

Standing against the railing of your porch, you sorted through your thoughts. You're going to get picked up by Toji in less than 10 minutes. You'll ride in his car, pretend that everything's okay because it is, you'll buy whatever this party needs, and if it goes well you'll confront him on the ride back home. And that'll be the end of that.

Easy.

But when is anything ever easy when it comes to that man. Nothing. The answer has always been nothing.

This line of thought has you so deep into your own frustration that you don't even realize you've been ranting to your teddy bear backpack. Murmuring to it harshly, and rolling your eyes like you're gossiping with a friend about the latest dumb thing that happened on Twitter today.

And it's only when you see a black pickup truck from your peripheral vision pulling up, that you stare back at the bear in horror. Mind being snapped back to the present, and feeling embarrassed that you were seen like this. A man was causing you this much turmoil, that you've been complaining to a damn backpack about it.

Quickly putting your bag back on, you smoothed out your sweater dress. You really fucking hope he didn't see that.

Facing towards the driveway you paused. Your eyes widened, already in awe at the vehicle as you saw it more clearly up close.

The last car you saw Toji with was an old, red Toyota truck. It did it’s job, but definitely not without a couple repairs here and there every so often (that you may or may not have checked him out while he was doing so.) So seeing this new, shiny, black Chevy parked right outside the driveway was definitely an exciting upgrade. The wheels were lifted, making the body higher than its original design, and the windows were tinted midnight black, making it nearly impossible to see who was inside unless you stuck a cheek to the glass.

Overall it was big, and intimidating.

Just like him.

'Guess those freelancing jobs paid off then.’

*BEEP BEEP*

Jesus. You didn't even notice Toji had already parked. How long were you just staring at it for? If he started to honk at you, it must’ve been more than what society deemed normal.

Running up to the passenger side of the truck, albeit meekly, you stopped right in front of the door just as the tinted windows were being pulled down giving you a better view of the inside. There sat Toji on the other side, upper body turned and facing towards you with one hand still on the wheel.

Toji’s eyes almost popped out of his sockets at your appearance but it was quickly masked by a look of amusement.

"You busy daydreaming or what?"

Ignoring his remark, you placed your hands on the edge of the cold glass, peering up at him and around the interior.

“So, new truck huh?”

"Oh this? Yeah, got it not too long ago after receiving my payment for….from work."

You squinted your eyes in suspicion, noticing that he caught his words, but you weren't going to question it. No, you were going to let it go. You knew he wouldn’t tell you anything anyway, most likely just brushing it off as suddenly being hit with a stutter. He never spoke about his “overseas” jobs that he apparently racked up stacks of cash from, and despite him saying it was only freelancing work, you had a hunch it was something a lot shadier than that. You weren’t that dumb. Which is exactly why you weren’t going to ask.

Choosing to stay oblivious, you gave a compliment instead. "It's nice, Toji. Really."

You were about to open the door to get in and cut the small talk short (and because you’d rather bask in the in-system heating than out in the cold) but it wouldn’t budge. It was still locked. Why isn’t he unlocking the door?

Instead of unlocking the door for you like normal people do when picking up a person with their car, Toji isn't exactly someone you'd consider normal. Instead, Toji looked you up and down slowly as an awkward silence took over. You stood there rigid, allowing him to unashamedly undress you with his eyes. At least you think that's what he was doing. He’s being really bold today…does he seriously not plan to open this door?!

Your mind was running a mile per minute. You felt exposed, vulnerable, but you kind of liked the attention he was giving you right now. Especially since he hadn’t bothered to give you any last night. Not that you blame him. Looks like the effort you had put in, despite being rushed, was working, leaving him dumbstruck. You felt proud that you managed to have him speechless.

Unfortunately, your sudden boost in ego was quickly shut down.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Oh. Talk about anticlimactic.

"Huh? W-what do you mean?"

"I mean," He stood there, a single eyebrow raised, and vaguely gesturing to your form with his hand, "This."

Looking around to see if anyone else was witnessing this, you quirked your head in question. "What about it?"

"I know ya didn't just decide to go out looking like that when it's freezing out here. Go back upstairs and put some real clothes on." He looked at you sternly with a scowl etching onto the scarred side of his lip, arms crossing in front of his chest.

Was Toji actually scolding you right now? The nerve of this guy!

You hadn’t seen it right away, but after staring back at him in disbelief at what you were hearing, you noticed his own personal ensemble.

There’s no damn way…

Looking up and down at him as he had done to you just moments prior, you saw that he was wearing an unzipped puffer jacket with a hoodie underneath which was fine, you had no issues regarding that. The problem was what he was wearing below.

This man, who was condemning you on your sweater dress because it was apparently unfit for “freezing” temperatures, was wearing shorts and slides. At least he wore socks with it, if he hadn’t you think you may have actually gone back home and let him do the shopping himself.

You couldn’t help but let out a short laugh, but quickly shut up after seeing Toji wasn’t finding this as amusing as you were.

This was crazy.

Tilting your head to the side, you scrunch your nose in disbelief. “You’re telling me to put warmer clothes on, when you’ve got shorts and slides on?”

Toji was quick to counter. “It’s not the same, don’t compare it.”

“Yeah it is!”

“Look kid, I’m not gonna argue with ya. Either change your clothes, or stay home.”

That’s exactly what you want to do. But you know deep down you can’t, you already told yourself you had to sort things out with him. And the first step to that, is sorting this out.

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After a couple pleading looks and adamant convincing of, 'I'm not cold!' 'I swear I'm fine. It doesn't even feel like winter out here!'

Toji relented. Letting out a sigh, shaking his head as he told you, 'Fine, whatever. But don’t come cryin’ at my feet when your stubborn ass gets sick and your mom gets mad at you.'

Now here you were, seated on the heated, brand new black leather seats of his Chevy after he finally gave in and unlocked the door, letting you in. You spent the trip with your head resting against the palm of your hand somberly, as you watched the scenery of snowy trees and other cars pass by.

The awkwardness throughout the entire car ride was at an all-time high. Higher than what it'd started out with earlier. You were both quiet; your brain a little less. Toji's disappointment regarding your attire was a total blow to your ego. You were just trying to look cute.

Not like it was meant for him anyway.

Is what you wanted to try convincing yourself in order to feel better, but really, you knew it was a lie.

As for Toji, that thought you had earlier about him ogling you? It was right on the money.

But he had to quickly save face by instead acting like a concerned adult worrying about the wellbeing of his innocent, young neighbor. If he was being honest, he didn’t give two shits about what you chose to wear. As long as it was for his eyes only.

Yes, he knew he’d hurt your feelings for telling you to go change. He understood that he was being overbearing and unreasonable especially after you brought up his own attire, but you had to understand. He physically couldn’t accept seeing you wearing an outfit that barely covered your ass like that in public when he should be the only one to see you looking like that. Yes, he was sick for looking at you that way and he knew that which is exactly why he needed you to cover up. Both so that no other creepy assholes (except himself) could see you that way, and because he doesn’t think he could control his thoughts about you for the next couple hours you have alone together. It’s why he had to shift in his seat a couple times. Though, you didn’t notice that.

This game you were playing with him? This seducing thing? With little skirts and shit, yeah it was doing something to him.

Maybe you haven’t changed as much as he thought. As they say, old habits die hard.

After about 15 more minutes of unspoken thoughts, you finally arrived at the store.

Why did you agree to do this again? Oh yeah, you didn't.

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you took a deep breath to try and regain your composure. Just focus on the task. Opening the door, you hopped down and out onto the recently snow-shoveled pavement with Toji following suit as he turned off the truck, taking the keys from the ignition and shutting the door behind him.

You could feel Toji’s burning gaze boring into your back as he walked behind you, keeping a slight distance between you and him but still enough that people could tell that you two came together. Entering into the store, you whipped out your phone, unlocking it and clicking on the notes app filled with a list of things you needed to get that your mom instructed you two to buy. You crossed your fingers hoping you could get all this done quickly and smoothly.

Obviously, life loves to humor you because things did not go smoothly.

Everything was going well at first, you scoured the aisles looking for streamers, fairy lights, pretty napkins, silver and white balloons, and whatever else was needed; putting it all into the basket that Toji was holding, still following you like a sort of puppy—or more like a guard dog with the menacing aura he carried around himself with every step he took.

Walking around you’d occasionally find something that caught your eye, tinkering around with the item for a couple seconds before putting it back down and walking over to the next intriguing thing—like a snow globe you found of a character you recognized filled with pink and white sparkly snow. You bet your ass you added that one to the basket. That hello kitty snow globe was a need, not a want. How something like that even found its way to a store like this was beyond you, but hey, you weren’t complaining.

You even found cute little hats while looking around and managed to get Toji to wear a pair of elf ears while you wore a Santa hat, telling him a silly joke about how he was Santa’s jolliest helper. That only earned you a huff, and roll of his eyes as he took off the ears and pulled the hat you wore down over your face, chuckling as he watched you make dramatics about how you were being suffocated despite being able to breathe perfectly fine.

Interacting like this with him gave you butterflies. You’d let him ruin your perfectly styled hair if it meant things were going back to the way they used to be between you both.

Everything was going fine.

You were actually having…fun. Which you hadn’t anticipated. You were so caught up about feeling like you were on thin ice with Toji, and though you still sort of felt that way, you felt ecstatic that things were beginning to feel normal. Like nothing even happened.

“Hmm, looks like the last thing on this list are more scented candles. Thought we already had some? Oh well.” You shrugged your shoulders. You think your own obsession with candles might have stemmed from your mom now that you think about it.

Toji leaned his body over your shoulder, looking down over your list himself at the check marked boxes except for one. You immediately stiffened up, not expecting him to get so close to you, and especially not for him to make body contact with you. You wish you didn’t have all these layers in the way. You internally shook the thought off before it could escalate. Now was not the time to be having these touched starved thoughts!

Pulling away from you, but still keeping close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, he put the basket down next to your feet. “Yeah, I saw a couple of those on the other aisle we passed by.”

“Oh good! One of us can get it. Stay here and I’ll quickly-“ Your suggestion didn’t even have a chance to reach the other end of Tojis ears before it got shut down.

“Nah, you stay here, and stay put while I grab it. And don’t go straying off you understand, kid?” Toji looked down at you, waiting for your answer. He’d rather not leave your side, especially since he didn’t trust that you wouldn’t get distracted by something and walk off like a lost mouse-but he tried to reason out in his head that it was only one item. He’d quickly get it and come back, and you’d still be there.

You weren’t going anywhere.

So why did he find it so hard to walk away from you? Must be some type of trauma he thinks.

Nodding your head, with a ‘Mhm! Promise. Not going anywhere. Nope, staying put.’ Toji searched your face to see if you were lying but decided you weren’t, and began jogging off towards another aisle in a different section of the store.

He couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about this as he looked over at all the scented candles, picking up the most expensive looking ones.

“S’not my money anyway..”

Maybe he should’ve just taken you along with him. It’s not like it would’ve caused the both of you any more hassle than going alone would. Shit. Something was gnawing at Toji to hurry the hell up and get back to you. As he briskly walked to the aisle where he had left you, he was met with something far worse than overpriced décor, and it had him seething.

There you were, face scrunched up, and looking highly uncomfortable as some random guy, around your age it seemed, was trying to flirt with you.

Keyword: Trying.

Toji didn’t know who this guy was but he knew damn well what was happening, and he wasn't going to let it slide. Not on his watch. That he wasn't even wearing.

You hadn't noticed Toji's arrival yet. Still preoccupied with keeping calm and trying to ignore this random man that thought it would be chivalrous of himself to make comments about your body. Saying things about how he doesn't know why your man let you out like that, and if you were his bitch he wouldn't let you out his sight.

It's a good thing Toji wasn't there to hear any of that.

What Toji did hear as he was silently coming up behind the both of you, that almost made him run up and deck the guy in the nuts was when he leaned his body down exaggeratedly to look at your ass and said, "DAMN. That's more ass than…. I've seen….in a while!"

This prick didn't even know where the hell he was going with that line, but Toji sure knew where that guy was gonna end up if he tried it again.

At this point, you were more than ready to kick this guy in the balls, but you didn't want to anger him. Who knows what this guy has got going on in his head? He's harassing you at a decor store for fucks sake!

Before you were thinking about making a run for it to the direction of where Toji had gone, deeming your situation helpless without him; it seemed like someone finally answered your prayers because the moment you looked back, there he was standing right behind the both of you.

'How did I not notice him?? He's wearing slides for god sake! I should've heard the 'plip' 'plaps'!'

"The fuck are you doing?"

The guy was still leaning down when Toji spoke up. He was about to cuss out whoever this other guy was for interrupting his daily "I objectify women for fun" hobby, until he looked up. There Toji stood, 6'2, built like he was made for war, in his shorts and slides, holding candles, and a look so threatening etched onto his face, you think this guy may have almost shit his pants. If the audible gulp meant anything.

"O-oh fuck. Look sir, I was just admiring your hard work, very beautiful daughter you have here. Didn't realize…Sorry." The way he ran away was almost pitiful. Almost. But none of you had any pity for trash.

'Well that was quick', Toji thought. He assumed he might've had to light up this candle he was holding and choke him with it but it seems that wouldn't be happening today.

That's one less crime the authorities could pinpoint on him.

Turning his attention towards you, he asked if you were alright.

"Sort of…not really. Being objectified isn't exactly the greatest feeling…" Toji noticed the way you hugged your hands around yourself, most likely trying to cover up. Suddenly feeling too exposed for comfort despite attempting to brush the interaction off.

Maybe you should've listened to Toji earlier and changed your clothes to something more fitting for winter weather. Screw looking cute.

Though, the regret didn't have a chance to get very far because suddenly you were being brought back to the present.

"Lift your arms up."

Huh? "Wh- why?" The next thing he did nearly had your heart leaping out of your chest. Taking off his puffer jacket, he nudged your arms to lift up so he could help put it through the holes of the sleeves. After checking to make sure it was on properly, he zipped it up a bit more than halfway and patted you down in an effort to make you look a little bit less like the emo version of the Michelin Man.

"You gonna be okay?" You were still a little surprised at the gesture, especially since it was coming from him of all people, but you answered, "..Yeah. Yeah, I'll be okay."

"Good. Lemme finish paying for all this crap and I'll drop you off at your place."

Leading the way towards the cashier, he placed his large palm over your lower back and kept it there until your goods were paid for, and you were out the door.

Situating yourself on the seats of Toji's car, you couldn't help but feel a smile creep up on you, desperately trying to bite it back. You're wearing his coat.

He put his coat on you.

You think you could die of happiness right now. But, you'll save that for later. That whole fiasco that happened at the store still had your mood all sour. You really didn't want to go home yet. And as Toji began to pull out of the parking lot, you spoke up.

"Toji? I don't really feel like going home yet.."

"Yeah? Aight. We'll stop somewhere, I know a place."

Nodding your head, you mumbled a 'thanks', grateful that he took the hint and didn't try to argue with you or ask any questions. Toji can be empathetic when he wants to be sometimes.

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Apparently, when Toji said he 'knew a place', you didn't expect it to be…this.

"Cinnabon? Really?"

"What? You don't like their cinnamon buns? We can go someplace else if you don't want em.”

You paused. Well, now that you were thinking about it…"Okay. Yeah. Yeah, I do like those."

“Besides,” Walking over to the counter to order, Toji got into line, “I remember ya telling me one time that you liked this place."

He still remembers something like that?

You didn’t answer. Instead you followed the nod of Toji’s head telling you to leave the ordering to him and to go find a table to sit at. Looking around, you saw that all the tables were already preoccupied. Damn. Walking back to Toji, you suggested ordering it to go and just finding some place else to sit at like that wooden bench you saw just outside the establishment, which he seemed to favor far more.

Leaving him to his vices, you exited the shop and went to sit outside on the storefront bench, patiently waiting for Toji to get back with your food. Looking around there was still a thin sheet of snow covering some areas of the pavement, most having melted throughout the day or driven over by now. Yet it seemed as though the temperature had no plans of rising as you breathed out a puff of steam, remaining at its crisp, nearly frosty condition. It felt peaceful.

The few minutes of alone time you had to yourself was the most silence your brain has allowed itself to be in within the 24 hours of Tojis reintroduction into your life.

The oversized puffer jacket you still had on made those hours feel shorter by reminding you of just how much "excitement" had managed to happen—you bet you looked silly as hell with it engulfing your frame, but you couldn't find it in you to care about that at this moment. Especially since it was serving its purpose of protecting you against the cold that you found yourself surrounded by as you sat there waiting.

Leaning back against the wood, you felt something hindering you from going all the way. Your teddy bear backpack. You forgot you even had it on as it was hidden underneath the coat Toji had quickly put on you. Yeah, you must've looked really stupid. Fighting back a grimace and ignoring the fact for your own peace of mind, you went to remove the coat. Leaving it piled behind you on the bench as you took off your bag, placing it onto your lap.

Reaching into your bag, you took out your trusty emergency makeup kit. Wouldn't hurt to do a quick touch up… Looking over in the direction of the sudden sound of a bell being rung, you peered over to your left to see that it was just someone stepping foot out the shop with a cup of what looked to be hot chocolate.

'Hopefully Toji get's back soon.'

Focusing back on the task at hand, you clicked open a compact inspecting the state of the way you looked with the mirror. The sight that greeted you brought out a breath of relief. Not a single thing out of place. But just in case, you patted on a little bit of powder for good measure, and reapplied your clear lipgloss so the cold air could struggle to nip at your lips.

After assessing what needed to be assessed, you put your pouch back into your bag and immediately piped up at the sound of the door chiming again. You couldn't help but do a small cheer as you saw that it was finally Toji approaching you, carrying a bag containing your icing drenched cinnamon bun, a hot drink of some sort, and a bottle of water.

Handing you your food and drink, you thanked him and immediately dug in once it was within your grasp. Taking a bite, a bit of steam emitted from the warm and gooey bun melting on your tongue, flooding your taste buds with a mix of sweet and nutty spice. Damn, you were a lot hungrier than you thought. But you suppose that's due to having skipped breakfast in the morning. Stuffing more into your mouth, your eyes met Toji's to see him already sitting beside you and looking down at you, snickering.

"Hwat?" The question came out muffled from your cheeks being stuffed like a squirrel.

He looked off to the side for a second, still snickering before he answered, "Nothin."

Swallowing your food down harshly, you pouted with your brows scrunched together and took notice that you were the only one eating.

"How come you didn't get yourself one?"

He deadpanned. "I don't want diabetes."

"Right…of course not…" Such a Toji answer, you thought.

It felt a little weird to be the only one eating, but he kept refusing everytime you asked if he was absolutely sure he didn’t at least want a bite. It was silent between you two except for the occasional slurp of your drink, and you think Toji noticed it too because suddenly he started conversing with you, catching up a little bit on how the both of you have been.

"So kid, how's the university life been treatin' ya?"

"Hm? Oh uhm, it's been alright I guess." You shrugged, fork still in hand.

"Just alright? Sounds pretty lackluster to me."

"It is." You sighed.

"You tellin' me you don't, what- party? Or done those weird cultist initiations you kids do at sororities."

"Yeah…no. I'm too busy actually studying most of the time. I've been to like 2-ish? parties, but that's about it. And sororities? You couldn't possibly pay me to join one of those.” You’ve heard one too many stories of premature deaths being caused by sororities. You didn’t particularly feel like gambling your chances. Plus, you weren’t really into the whole sisterhood-brotherhood thing, too weird.

As the conversation progressed between your frankly unexciting school life, Toji recalled some neighborhood fiasco that happened while you were away.

"...Then this kid's boyfriend starts beating up the guy that tried to take her purse."

"No way! This really happened in our neighborhood? Where like.. nothing ever happens?" To think that a crime had actually happened in the most safest, suburban of neighborhoods that you lived in for your whole life and you weren't there to witness it.

"I'm tellin' ya it was set up to make himself look good. A robbery in broad daylight? In this neighborhood? Bullshit."

"Why does all the exciting shit always happen when I'm not around?" You whined, sighing out your disappointment.

Closing the box to your nearly finished cinnamon bun and placing it beside you on the bench, you suddenly remembered something.

"By the way! My mom told me you have a son? How come you never mentioned him to me before?"

And just like that, Tojis brows immediately furrowed as if the question was one he hadn't expected to be asked, especially not coming from you. Leaning forward with a grunt, he rested an elbow on his knee, propping a palm under his chin as he proceeded to look at you with the most dramatically bored expression you’ve ever seen on someone's face- one that rivaled even yours.

It screamed, ‘let's get this shit over with.’

"You never asked. Besides, why you askin' about him now?"

You noticed the way his mood instantly changed after mentioning him but...it was probably nothing right?

Regardless, he didn't seem to be exactly… excited at the mention of his son, so you treated lightly with your next words. “Well, my mom is telling me that I should start looking for a good boy to date and she mentioned your son.”

He laughed out in disbelief. “Gumi? That boy? Ha, good luck with that. He wouldn’t know the first thing on how to treat a girl.”

He couldn’t treat you the way I could. Is what he wanted to say.

Awkwardly you answered, “Well… anyway, I don't think he even goes to my Uni…I think. So it wouldn't really be an option.”

Toji stayed silent.

The sudden uncomfortable silence that took over had you overthinking all over again.

What's wrong? Does he have a bad relationship with his son? Is that why he looks irritated? Should I ask? No. He might get more irritated. Shit. Okay, subject change.

Slamming your hands onto your thighs a little too hard in an attempt to calm your nerves, the sound seemed to catch Tojis attention. Snapping him out of whatever trance he was in, and back to his usual demeanor.

You rubbed your arms out of awkwardness. “Sooo, yeah. Sucks, I wasn't there to witness a fraudulent act of chivalry right in my own neighborhood."

Toji was thankful you moved on from the topic of his son, he didn’t want to think of that little squirt right now.

But then it got him wondering…

"You ever had a boyfriend before?"

The question surprised you a little. Okay maybe a lot. You didn't think he'd be even remotely interested in your love life.

"No… I've never had one." While there was no shame in not having had a significant other at your age, still you couldn't help but feel embarrassed admitting it to Toji.

Toji raised a brow in suspicion. "You sure you're staying clear of boys?"

This behavior he was exhibiting was starting to confuse the hell out of you. First he scolds you on your attire this morning, and now he's interrogating you on your love life? He was being way overprotective, almost acting as a parent, and it was seriously beginning to make you feel hopeless.

You nodded. "Yes, Toji. I'm not interested in college guys. They don't know what they're doing,"

That answer seemed to be good enough for Toji, but to both his and your utter surprise you continued, "But I've done other things."

Straightening his back up against the wooden bench in interest, Toji beckoned you to continue on. Truth be told, he didn't want to hear you talking about boys. Just the thought of you with some dumbass little boy made him irrationally bothered. But there was one thing itching at him to ask.

One thing he simply had to know.

"Oh yeah?"

"Just casual stuff. Nothing serious.."

Toji hummed. It was cute how you were beating around the bush about whatever 'things' you've done. He'll humor you this time around.

"We talkin' the 'clothes on' type of stuff?"

"Well…not exactly.."

Your lack of elaboration following your answer made Toji egg you on further.

"Don't start gettin' all shy on me now. Let me take a guess, this has somethin' to do with how you mentioned that college boy's don't know what they're doing, yeah?

And like clockwork, the words proceeded to flow past the tip of your tongue without a second thought.

"Remember how I also mentioned earlier that I've gone to only a few parties? Well at one of those parties, I got left alone by my friends in favor of hooking up with some guys they thought were hot."

"Sounds like some shitty friends."

You grunted. "Tell me about it. Anyways, here I am, sitting alone on this couch that's thankfully only mildly sticky from whatever wasted student had spilled their drink on top of it, and this guy sits right next to me. We talk, things happen, and we find an empty room."

Toji hums, signaling to you that he's still listening.

Immediately, irritation is apparent on your face by the way your eyes narrow as you recall the memory. "He puts his hands in my pants and this dumbass can't for the life of him find where my clit is and is just rubbing around. Then he has the nerve to ask if I came yet!? Bitch I'm not even moaning!"

Toji nods, intently listening to your rant. Biting back his amusement at your outburst.

"And the same fuckin thing happens again except with a different guy I had been seeing for less than a week. Except—get this, he asks me what a clit is. Like are you for real!?"

Taking a deep breath, you tried channeling your nerves. "So that's that. College boy's don't know where the clit is—hell, they don't even know of its existence."

Slumping your shoulders, you kicked at the tiny stones on the cement with your shoe.

"It's why I've never gone further than that."

If you were being honest, even if those guys did know their way around a woman's body, you don't think you could find it within yourself to stick around for it. You already knew what your mind was banging against your skull to say. Deep down, somewhere in the backrooms of your brain, you know it's because of Toji. It's always been him; the man you're still holding out for. Hoping he'd be the one to take your virginity.

Whatever. It was a pipe dream anyway. And you definitely weren't going to tell him that.

Speaking of telling him…

‘Why did you tell him all that!? Why did you have to run your mouth!!’

You stammered out an apology. The gravity of what you just up and confessed dawned on you, leaving you a cringing mess from within.

"I-I'm sorry…I don't even know why im telling you all this-"

Toji is quick to dismiss the apology. Truth be told, he was delighted to hear that you were still a virgin.

“Don't worry bout it’. It's nothing to be embarrassed of.

“I mean yeah…but still…”

Turning to face you, Toji placed his hand gingerly upon your thigh, giving it a light squeeze in what you assumed to be an attempt at reassurance or maybe it was comfort? You couldn't really tell, you just knew that the warmth of it felt nice.

“Listen, if I’m tellin’ you that being a virgin is nothin’ to be ashamed of, then its not. Look at it this way, you ain’t a teen mom, something not many can say nowadays.” He shrugged.

He kind of had a point. Though his comforting skills were kind of ass.

“Yeah..okay. Thanks for listening then.”

“No problem.”

You thought after your little rant the atmosphere would return to its awkward state as it seems that's how it had been every time you spoke with Toji—yet oddly enough, it felt like you had somehow managed to get closer to him by opening up about your struggles.

Suddenly feeling a spout of hunger befall you once more, you took the last remaining bite of your cinnamon bun, slowly licking off the icing that had gotten smeared onto your lips.

Toji eyed the action intently, internally shaking a head at himself.

‘This little minx..’ but before you could make eye contact he abruptly withdrew his hand, fishing a phone out his pocket and checking the time. Huh, you hadn't even noticed his hand had still been on you.

“It's already almost 4, think it's time to call it a day.”

With a sound of surprise, you rose up from your seat, closing the box once more as you watched Toji stand up from his own spot, already patting on his pockets for the car keys.

You hadn't even noticed that much time had gone by.

“Thanks again for the cinnamon buns and of course, for listening.”

Toji only hummed in acknowledgement.

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The ride home was spent surrounded by the sounds of muffled radio chatter, ever so slightly noticeable with the engine of the truck at a constant thrum. The sun surprisingly hadn't gone down yet as it typically would have on any other winter day and you made sure to thank your lucky stars for those few more minutes of sunlight.

On the other hand, you couldn't help but feel sad. You didn't want the day to end yet, especially not when progress had been made between the two of you. Then it hit you, progress had been made. While you didn't actually confront him about what had transpired on that faithless day, it was still worth celebrating.

Baby steps are still steps after all.

And the more you thought about it, it began to occur to you that today…today kinda felt like a date. In a messed up sense. To others this would've been a failure of a day, but to you? You were elated.

‘Maybe now's my chance to talk to him about what happened back then.’

Sitting up just a little bit straighter in your seat, you turned your head to face Toji, contemplating on the right words to say to him. Just when you were on the verge of starting your sentence, Toji’s phone suddenly began to ring, vibrating atop the center console.

Without bothering to check who was calling him, Toji answered the phone, putting it on speaker. Nothing to be worried about anyway, probably some scammer giving Toji his routine call.

“Yo, what’s up?”

Without a second to waste, a feminine voice practically cried from the other end.

“Tojiiii, baby it’s been so long, when are you coming over?? You know I miss you-”

Before this unknown lady could hope to finish her sentence, she was abruptly hung up on–courtesy of Tojis hand flying to take the call off speaker, fumbling for a good second only to ultimately end the call for good measure.

Clearing his throat, Toji continued to keep his eyes focused on the road ahead. Can't be having you both end up in a car crash right?

“Sorry about that, that was… just one of my old close friends.”

“Uh huh. Ya’ll must've been real close.”

Toji ignored the snark.

“Anyways, go ahead, what were you saying?”

“I…wasn’t saying anything.”

Thankfully the call was received just minutes short of arriving at your home. Pulling into the driveway, the truck on neutral, you waited a few seconds to see if Toji would say anything more. He didn’t.

Holding back a shaky sigh, you unbuckle your seatbelt and exited the vehicle, opening the passenger side to pick up the bags of decor that you went to buy in the first place.

“Wait, let me help ya out-” Toji last minutely interjected as he turned his body over in his seat to face you.

“No need. I already got it.” Picking up the last bag (thankfully they weren’t very heavy), you slammed the passenger door shut. You contemplated giving Toji a proper farewell bidding but with the way you were feeling right now? You didn’t want him to see the ache painted in your eyes. Instead, you continued walking down the shoveled path and up the steps to your house, fishing the keys out from your keychain and unlocking the door, closing it behind you.

Kicking your shoes off and slipping some slippers onto your feet, you laid the bags over the kitchen counter letting whoever discovered them first deal with the contents inside as you made your way up the stairs to your room, plopping onto your bed face first.

You nearly teared up at your own naivety.

Holy shit. ‘I’m so stupid.’ Was all you could think of as the booty call Toji had received replayed in your mind. This wasn’t any new information on Toji that you hadn’t already known about yet it hurt so bad.

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On the other hand, Toji couldn’t help but feel the same way. When he saw you safely get back into your home, he shifted gears to reverse, pulling out the driveway and driving back to his own place.

Closing his eyes for a moment, he pulled out his phone from the cup holder it fell into amidst his struggle to end the call earlier and proceeded to call them back.

One ring was all it took for them to answer, and one second was all it took for Toji to cut them off before they could say anything more.

“Don’t fuckin’ call me again, understand? Good. Now, fuck off.” Hanging up before she could respond or attempt to call back like an idiot, he blocked her.

Letting out a rather loud groan of irritation, he gripped the steering wheel with both hands in indignation, letting his head fall as he could feel a headache coming on.

“Fuck.”

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Laying on your bed disappointed, you curled up thinking about the events that transpired earlier. The whole trip felt like an actual date—up until that call anyway. It was probably the worst way the day could have ended. Your bad luck was unimaginable.

“I need to find myself a four leaf clover or something at this point…”

Honestly, you didn't want to get out of bed. You wanted to lay down and wilt like a flower that never gets any sunlight. Stuffing your face into your arm, it occured to you that you were still wearing Toji’s jacket.

“Maybe I should stop trying to go after someone who’ll never like me back…” You mumbled to yourself, sitting up and throwing the coat towards the nearest chair it could land on.

Were you really this delusional? You saw the way he was looking at you—you shook your head, trying not to overthink it.

‘I guess I had the wrong idea.’

Feeling defeated, you knew if you wanted to continue moping about this, you’d have to do it after a shower; lest you end up skipping your skincare routine leaving you with another thing to sulk about.

‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎- - - - - - - - - - ୨♡୧ - - - - - - - - - -

You couldn’t sleep.

Restless, you tossed and turned trying to find that sweet spot that would have you suddenly waking up to the birds singing. Come the fuck on..! I just want to sleep, dammit!

Grunting, it seemed no matter where you tried to place yourself within the comfort of your sheets and plethora of pillows engulfing you, you just couldn’t seem to knock yourself out.

Only one option left.

Slipping a hand underneath the blanket, you let your fingers wander across your skin. Giving each of your tits a soft squeeze under your shirt as you slowly began to relax, sighing in content at a teasing roll of your bud, slowly hardening at your touch.

Growing tired of the teasing and beginning to feel heavy with need, you ran a finger down your panties, keeping it firmly pressed against your slit as you slowly raised your hips up and down in tandem with your middle finger, rubbing yourself over the cotton material. You could feel yourself getting hotter, wetter. A small, sticky patch of your own arousal seeping through the garment as you finally had enough, moving your panties to the side and making contact with your sickened clit. You wasted no time in parting your lips with your pinky and index, and letting both your middle and ring finger draw tight circles over your bundle of nerves. Immediately settling into a steady rhythm that was sure to have you quickly coming undone.

As your breathing picked up, so did the small whimpers escaping through your lips. You tried your best to stay as quiet as possible, but fuck was it hard when all you wanted to do was mewl out a certain someones name, imagining it was him playing with your pussy like this.

Toji.

Even just sounding his name out in your head had you bucking your hips against the friction you were creating. His large, warm hand stuffed down your panties, and cupping your pussy from behind while rubbing at the entire expanse of your puffy cunt messily. Fast. Drenching his palm in your juices. Wondering what it'd feel like to have his long, fat fingers plunge into you as your own currently probes at your clenching hole, dipping in slightly only to take it back out. It didn't feel—wouldn't feel nearly as good unless it were his.

You felt so close. Your fingers were starting to ache as you exerted them, moving it against your swollen clit quicker than before. It started to hurt, but the feeling of adrenaline rushing through you to finish made your brain block it out, replacing it with the endorphins of white hot pleasure that you anticipated to burst at any minute now.

You clamped your legs around your hand, curling into your side like a ball. You wanted to stop, it was too much. But you were so fucking close. Your shaky whines were no longer being held back, eyes squeezed shut and the side of your face pressed against your pillow muffling it as best you could to prevent it from being heard outside.

Just a little more…

Come on come on come on..! Your hand wouldn't stop unless your body reached its peak, only increasing in its pace. Holding your breath, the sound of your palpating heart was deafening as you continued letting out harsh pants.

You felt the familiar feeling of your lower abdomen tightening, coiling up and finally bursting like a dam. Your toes curled up as you threw your head back further into the pillow, unable to stop the sudden cry of Toji’s name that accidentally slipped out from your parched mouth at the pressure of your orgasm rushing over you like a tidal wave.

Before you could bask in your post orgasmic bliss, Toji bursts through your door. The fucking man himself. In the flesh..?

In a panic, you pull your stiff hand away from between your legs as if it were scalding hot oil, grasping the blanket up towards your chin to cover what you’d just been essentially caught doing.

“Heard you screamin’ my name out, sweetheart.”

You’d think any normal reaction to being intruded on by the person you were just fantasizing about would be to first ask some questions—yet there you laid calm as a cucumber, watching as he inched closer to you.

Toji smirked. “Don’t start gettin’ all shy on me now. Let me hear you scream my name again for me.”

You don’t know how he got to you so quickly but Toji was already slipping his hand under the covers towards your pussy, finding it slick and sticky from your high, smearing it all over as he ran his fingers up and down your sensitive slit.

Retracting his hand back from underneath, he relished in the way your arousal stuck to his fingers like a spider's web as he spread them out, glistening against the soft lighting of your suddenly oddly hazy looking room.

Fueled with newfound urgency, Toji threw the covers off of you, yanking your body up to stand on the floor as you both made your way towards your vanity, back hitting the edge of it as you steadied yourself against Toji's chest. It was all moving too quickly. Too fast. Before you could stop to process your surroundings properly, Toji’s large hand hastily groped your tits as his other fingers that were touching on your pussy earlier prodded at your mouth to open. Without a word, you wrapped your lips around them like a good girl, sucking—tasting yourself before he removed them in order to turn you around.

Just then, you realized you both were naked as Toji lifted one of your legs up onto the vanity, dragging his wet fingers over his cock as he moved to align it with your dripping hole. You couldn't form a thought. As if on autopilot. Only the unbridled, desperate need to have Toji in you remained.

No. Scratch that. You felt your own thoughts before you could form them, as if it weren’t your own. It definitely was though. You don’t think anyone could too how fucking badly you wanted this man. Now he was finally about to fuck you? You may as well have been the luckiest woman on planet earth.

And as you begin to feel the sensation of Toji's cock about to enter you—confirming that notion, the door to your room bursts open again.

Wait.

“Wake up.”

What?

“Wake up!”

Is that my fucking cat talking!?

“WAKE UP!”

Groggily opening your eyes, you're met with early winter sun seeping through your thin curtains, casting a hazy glow into your room. You hear birds singing.

“What the hell was that…” Stretching the sleep out of your limbs, you noticed your hand was still situated inside your panties.

You closed your eyes, trying to recall your dream. “So half of that was real?” Well, up until Toji bursted into your room, you suppose. And when your cat spoke up telling you to wake the fuck up.

Ugh.

Sitting up, you rubbed your eyes, leaning over the bedside to pull your diary sitting on your nightstand towards your lap. You had to write this shit down.

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After jotting down as much as you could recall from the dream without mixing it up with what you were actually getting up to in real life, you left the diary on the same vanity dream version Toji almost dicked you down on.

Throughout the day, you couldn’t stop thinking about Toji. Hell, your feelings for him increased tenfold just from that measly dream alone. You don't know if it's solely your dreams doing that made you feel like you suddenly had a genuine chance with him but fuck it.

You thought about the events of yesterday and recalled when he grasped your thigh. That couldn’t have just been nothing right? The way he eyed your lips too as you licked icing off them. He didn't think you noticed, but you did. Of course you did. It was on purpose after all.

And the icing on the cake? When you brought up his son, Megumi. You didn't want to assume anything but you could've sworn you sensed jealousy swimming in those green eyes of his. How ironic.

Shit, maybe you do have a chance with Toji after all. All he needs is a little push.

With all the evidence stacked up in your favor, you knew you had to devise a plan.

A plan on how to seduce your neighbor.

You giggled to yourself.

“Mama chose a thought daughter.”

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briefkittenearthquake · 5 months ago

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I like my men smart

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hanasnx · 9 days ago

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P-LINKS! — clark kent.

MINORS DNI 18+ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ NOTES: must be logged in to twitter on browser/app to view these. otherwise it’ll say link not found | important note: mostly white people in these links i think. i’m still new to this & don’t follow a lot of accs, if you could rec me your fave poc main accs i’d be very grateful. WARNINGS: twitter porn nsfw links ノ hetero porn ノ fem reader ノ unprotected sex ノ size kink ノ objectification ノ vaginal fingering ノ gagging ノ oral ノ titty sucking ノ one vid of body worship that features feet ノ impact play ノ handjob ノ exhibitionism.

◈ making you feel safe and holding you down when he plays with that pretty pussy

◈ red kryptonite!clark tells you to keep still and then makes you gag on purpose

◈ minutes after you both agree you have to be quieter this time

◈ making a toy out of you

◈ sucking on your tits til you can’t take it anymore

◈ red kryptonite!clark making sure you remember not to run away from his apartment

◈ catching him in a rare mood when you can take dirty pics together

◈ sub!clark struggling to stay still

◈ red kryptonite!clark fucks your little mouth like a pussy because he wants to see how messy you’re willing to get for him

◈ you don’t know how to shut up when you’re close to cumming on just his cock

◈ how he fucks after you taught him you like it rough

◈ one of your fave pics on your camera roll, took him forever to agree to it

◈ slow saturday morning turns into keeping each other close—real close

◈ doesn’t matter if you chewed him out an hour ago for some argument you don’t even remember, you end up like this anyway

◈ he tells you he doesn’t wanna hurt you but still fucks you into the shape of his dick

◈ fuckboy!clark makes you fall in love just by holding your eye contact balls deep

◈ riding sub!clark like you mean it

◈ lifting you from your waist or ass, it doesn’t matter, you’re weightless to him

◈ what he sounds like kissing your whole body making you feel like royalty

◈ you wanna be the one to put in all the work this time, but he just can’t keep his hands to himself

◈ teasing poor sub!clark with a single finger

◈ the first time he’s gotta go down to the corner store for a plan b

◈ if there’s no privacy in the house, his truck works just fine

◈ ripping your panties clean in half to get at that pussy

@HANASNX 2024 | do not copy, plagiarize, or steal.

#1k #indy: p links #:twitter #ch: clark #clark kent p links #p links #clark kent smut #clark kent x fem reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent x you #clark kent x y/n #clark kent imagine #clark kent fic #clark kent fanfiction #superman smut #superman x reader #ch: fuckboy!clark #ch: red!clark #reader insert

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bunnis-monsters · 8 months ago

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NSFW

Taking your werebunny’s aching cock into your hand, stroking it until he’s crying out for your pussy.

“P-please, please… wanna breed, wanna be inside!”

He’s so desperate, his warm, red cock bobbing and begging to be inside of you. It’s been so long since he’s had a mate, his last one had never let him sink his cock into her…

As soon as he was in your pussy, he rutted agaisnt you like a wild animal, whining as he babbled out ‘thank you’s and pleas for you to keep going…

“D-don’t stop, g-gotta fill you up… gonna have my litter…”

Your bunny mate had an incredibly high libido, having way more stamina than you. At the end of the mating session, you were left a drooling mess, you cunt clenching around nothing when he pulled out to snuggle you.

Soft purrs filled the air as he quickly shielded you with his body, nibbling softly on your cheek.

“Mmph… my pretty little mate, I can’t wait until you’re heavy with our young…”

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crescenthistory · 2 months ago

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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.

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