#sorry if its shit

[swirling-romantics]

Remus woke up cold and alone. 

Those fucking pricks.

He stirs in the empty bed before ultimately getting up and taking Evan’s midnight blue blanket with him.

Smelling pancakes mid-char, Remus begins to trudge to the kitchen. 

Once he finds the kitchen— getting lost along the way— he sees them; Barty is thoroughly burning the pancakes and Evan is perched happily on the island.

“You left me!” Remus groans, quickly filling the space between Evan's legs and resting his head on his stomach.

All Remus gets in response is a hum and a kiss on the top of his head.

“Oi! I want a kiss from Remus too!” Barty gasps, earning a laugh— and a kiss–- from Remus.

[velsims]

Having a Crush on Classmate Ellie 🐟

This is less of a fic and more of a drabble i dunno lols. But ive been inspired because shout out cute girl in my gov’n’econ class <3

okay so you’re in class right? and maybe its the first day, and you look across the room and see this BEAUTY? completely freckled, the natural light from the windows making her green eyes glow, and youre like, stunned.

maybe you decide to “go sharpen your pencil”, so you walk over and you look over her shoulder and see her sketchbook! oh shes an artist! oh wow! and now youre blushing because artists are hot

and she’s not oblivious, she knows you’ve been over by her wayyy too long to be ”sharpening your pencil” so she’ll turn around and you’ll have to pretend not to be looking directly at her, even though you both can feel the heat in your cheeks a mile away

she’s totally smug about it too, the next day she’ll stare at you the entire time while you’re sitting there like 😳, and maybe the next day she’ll get even more bold and sit next to you. she wont say anything though, just wants to see you squirm a bit (like a little shit)

and she’ll do shit she knows drives you up the rails! playing with her pen, staring at you when you answer the prof., she’ll even bump her leg against yours just to fuck with you

then maybe, just maybe, you’ll gather up the courage to ask for her socials, and she’ll be like “took you long enough...” with that sly ass smirk on her face.

she’s mean but its okay because it means she likes you :)

[jaskierek]

Sometimes Ciri worried about Geralt, especially if he had taken on an especially dangerous job. He always came back though, and Yennefer reminded her that that’s what she should focus on. Still, she worried and when she worried she couldn’t sleep so she’d talk to Yennefer, the two of them normally sharing a room in an inn, Jaskier and Geralt sharing another. When Yennefer was already asleep, she’d seek out Jaskier who’d sometimes be confined to his room when Geralt absolutely refused anyone join him. And so, sometimes Jaskier worried as well and when he worried he couldn’t sleep either and so they’d talk or play cards or come up with strange songs to giggle over.

“This isn’t fair.” Jaskier uttered petulantly, frowning at his cards. They were playing some game Jaskier had come up with because he’d said that if he had to play gwent one more time he would feed the deck to Roach. It was a strange game, as to be expected with Jaskier, but somehow Ciri found herself winning. She hid her grin behind her cards, green eyes shining above her hand. “Honestly, have you played this before?” He continued.

“How could I have played this before, Jaskier? You invented it!” She argued, voice full of mirth. Jaskier continued to glare at his hand and huffed. The shirt he was wearing slipped further down his shoulder at the movement, revealing more of his generous chest hair than Ciri would like. She could tell it was Geralt’s. The two men were of similar height but the sheer bulk of the Witcher meant that the bard was nearly enveloped in his shirt.

She didn’t know if Jaskier was aware that he was still wearing it. Whatever the relationship between him and Geralt was, they hadn’t deigned to share it, even attempting to hide it at times. It was useless, honestly. Anyone who looked at them could tell that there was something there, the way that Geralt’s eyes always shifted to the bard, as if making sure that he was still there, his gaze softening slightly when it landed on him. And Jaskier, Jaskier had gone around the continent singing Geralt’s praises for years, and if that hadn’t sent a clear enough message then the soft-spoken words that he would sometimes whisper to the Witcher were. Ciri couldn’t always make them out but when she did, she could tell why the Witcher would blush or squeeze Jaskier’s hand or give him that look that was reserved solely for him.

And, yes, sometimes when Ciri worried and couldn’t sleep and she’d seek Jaskier out, who was also worried and couldn’t sleep, she’d find him curled up by a fire in Geralt’s shirt. Sometimes he would remember and quickly chuck it off before pulling on one of his frilly undershirts, other times he’d forget and she’d notice that when he’d take a deep breath in, he’d smell Geralt and his shoulders would relax.

“Yes, well, you must be using some spell. It’s probably Yennefer’s fault, has she taught you how to hex a deck of cards yet?”

“No, but she’s taught me how to hex bards who are sore losers.”

“Really?” He asked, wide eyes glancing at her over his cards. Ciri laughed and Jaskier levelled her an unamused glare. “Ah, I see, threatening poor, old Jaskier has become a favourite pastime for my travel companions. Frankly, I’m offended.” He announced, slamming his cards down on the table and narrowing his eyes at her. “I ought to walk out of here right this second!” He jumped out of his seat and placed his hands on his hips, his dramatics making Ciri giggle.

“You’re not going anywhere! You’re just trying to get out of losing! Pick up your hand, you rogue!”

Jaskier opened his mouth to retort before they both heard shuffling outside the door. Jaskier shot Ciri a look. It was the middle of the night and Geralt was normally light on his feet. He stood in front of Ciri, keeping himself between her and the door, his hand drifting to the knife that Geralt had bought him on the table. She held her breath and a moment later gasped as the door swung open and a bloody Geralt stumbled in, yellow eyes searching. Her heart hammered at the sight of him, sluggish and drenched in red and black.

“Geralt.” Jaskier cried, rushing to the Witcher.

“Jaskier.” Geralt rasped, stepping forward and practically collapsing onto the bard. Jaskier gave a muted “oomph” under the weight of him.

“Geralt, what - are you -“ Ciri scrambled.

“He’s okay, he’s okay, sweetheart.” Jaskier reassured over his shoulder, how he knew that Geralt was okay Ciri didn’t know but she felt her chest unfurl slightly. She couldn’t help but be slightly impressed that he could hold him up. Geralt’s head was buried in Jaskier’s shoulder, a bloodied hand resting on his hip and he was muttering something into the bard’s exposed skin. Jaskier’s hands stroked gently down Geralt’s dirt and ichor stained hair, his other arm under Geralt’s armpit, holding him up.

Ciri was rooted to the spot, never having seen Geralt so open to affection. Sure, he would hug her when she asked and he’d hold her hand when he wanted to keep her close and sure, she’d seen him not-so-subtly brush his knuckles along Jaskier’s cheek and she wasn’t a child, she knew about sex. Well, okay, she was a child but she wasn’t completely naive. But seeing Geralt so willingly seek out physical comfort in Jaskier was startling. She’d seen Geralt actively avoid contact, but rarely pursue so much of it.

Jaskier placed a soft kiss to the armour of Geralt’s shoulder. He probably reeked, but the normally fussy bard didn’t seem to care.

“Want me to call a bath?” Jaskier murmured. Geralt replied with something Ciri couldn’t quite make out. “I can be persuasive.” Geralt simply exhaled and buried his face further into the crook of Jaskier’s neck. “Okay come on, you brute, let’s set you down before I break my back.” Geralt muttered something again which had Jaskier smiling and commenting “rude”.

Jaskier manoeuvred him to the bed, Geralt’s hands reaching out to grab at the bard as he was set down, his fingers finding Jaskier’s shirt - well, his shirt - to clutch. Jaskier paused and stroked a thumb across Geralt’s cheek which had him closing his eyes and humming lightly. “I’ll be right back, handsome.” He promised and the Witcher released the bard reluctantly.

Finally Jaskier turned back, as if remembering about Ciri who was still standing by the table and watching. She suddenly felt very out of place, intruding on a private scene.

“Ciri, sweetheart, you must be exhausted from losing to me yet again, let’s get you to bed.” Ciri couldn’t help but smile and roll her eyes, grateful to Jaskier for his ability to lighten the mood. She let him guide her back to her room, pulling on the sleeve of Geralt’s shirt when they stopped in front of the door.

“Is he okay?” She whispered, feeling the need to be quiet in the silent halls.

“He’ll be fine,” Jaskier said, tucking her hair behind her ear, “a bit bloodied up, but fine. He’s just tired, trekking there and back without Roach, fighting fast and tricky monsters for hours, it’ll wipe even a Witcher out. He just needs a bath and he’ll be smelling like normal in no time.” Ciri giggled, looking at the sleeve she was still grasping in her hand.

A moment passed. “Okay.” She looked up at Jaskier and smiled.

“Okay. Now, get to bed, I have a Witcher to take care of.”

They really were an odd pair, weren’t they?

[dont-reed-into-it]

A female Android Walked up to Gavin being followed by nab “hey bitch” (nab) the female Android waved “hello” (bliss... aka the blog ima reblog to)

Gavin raises a brow at Nab but greets the female Android trailing behind him. "Hi there. What's your name?" He raises a brow and offers a hand.

[fanglessghoul]

I Don’t Even Wanna Die Anymore

"Pain don't hurt the same, I know

The lane I travel feels alone

But I'm moving til my legs give out

And I see my tears melt in the snow

But I don't wanna cry

I don't wanna cry anymore

I wanna feel alive,

I don't even wanna die anymore."

It was around 1 in the morning at Jason's apartment. He was flinching and whimpering in his sleep—another nightmare. Nightmares were common with Jason ever since his death. It happened more often than not, and in most cases, he couldn't wake himself. And like most nights, he wakes on the impact of the clown firing a bullet into his head. He sits up in his bed abruptly, his face soaked in tears as he looks around his room to find it was just a dream. He begins to break down. Crying silently, pushing books off of shelves and acting out of frustration and hurt.

Jason could feel the pain in his chest as he dropped to his knees. He couldn't get the thoughts out of his head. He didn't want to do this anymore. He kept wishing that he would've just stayed dead. He hated having horrible nights like these almost every single night. He was tired of the flashes and the lonely darkness that surrounded him. He hated remembering how lost he was while everyone else continued on.

Such thoughts kept racing around his head, lap after lap, and the voices were becoming too loud. He stepped outside onto his balcony, clenching the railing with his fists, crying, him still straining as not to be loud enough to be heard, even over the loud noise of the city below him. He lifted both legs over the railing and stood on the edge, looking down at the city lights and the cars that sped over the highway below. He continued to think "I can't do this. I can't do this. This isn't worth it." The voice in his head repeating it over and over as he blinked, more tears rushing down his cheeks.

Roy was nearby as he jumped down from the roof silently, careful not to have Jay hear him. Roy always did nightly patrols but he would always come back and sit above Jason's window to make sure he was safe. Roy snuck up behind Jason and wrapped his arms around his chest before speaking, "Jason!" As he pulled him back over the railing.

They both came over and fell to the ground, Roy holding jay close to his chest, "Oh, Jason..." Jay never cried in front of anyone. Nobody but Roy. And even though Roy was the only one he'd trust, he always hesitated. But tonight, he couldn't portray the tough and emotionless man he was supposed to be, Gotham's savior. He wrapped his arms tightly around Roy as he cried into his chest. Roy only patted his back, rubbing it softly, knowing not to speak for now.

Jason continued to cry and whimper out as he calmed down slightly after a while, tears still running down his face. Roy pried him from his chest to cup his face in his hands, wiping his tears away with his thumbs, looking into his eyes. "Jason, baby, it's going to be okay. We'll be okay. You've got me. I couldn't go on without you." Jason controlled his hitching breath and his stuttered whimpers as the red head continued. "If you had left this world because you were in so much pain, I'd lose myself." He strokes his cheek. "I'd go back to shooting up to get over you, and even that wouldn't help....But I'd still try." He pets at the brunette's hair, softly. "I need you here. You're the reason I'm still here."

Jay presses his forehead to Roy's, tears still soaking his face. Roy only cups his neck and jaw with his hand before he buries his head back into his shoulder. They stayed like that for a long while before Roy carried Jason back in and putting him to bed. Once Jason had fallen asleep, Roy cleaned up Jason's room, putting back the fallen books and cleaning up broken glass. Once he was done, he pulled up a chair beside Jason's bed before falling asleep on it, his weapons next to him just in case.

[askdamasky]

8-rules

The small town street was barren and silent save for a few sets of feet hitting the cold pavement. It was easily nearing 4 in the morning and most everyone and everything were still nestled down and asleep.

"Get up here Tobias," A gravely male voice growled at the younger male. A hand had roughly grabbed at the boy's hood and jerked him in front of the masked male. It was clear by Toby's shakes and erradict ticks that he was rather upset. Blood was spattered across his once clean jacket and both of his hatchets were missing from their slings at his hips.

"G-guys! No p-pl-ease d-d-dont!" His voice squeaked slightly as he pleaded with the men who were now on either side of him.

"Shut it," Hoodie growled, towering over the teen in an intimidating manner. The tall man was furious; if Toby had just done his job then they wouldnt be here. He let out a low growl as he thought of what was to come.

The rest of the walk to the small two story house was silent. No lights were on though the front door stood wide open. Toby stumbled a bit as Masky shoved him towards the portal. The boy looked over his shoulder at the furious pair before making his heavy feet shuffle forward.

The masked duo followed him into the silent house. The entryway was rather clean with quite a few sets of shoes neatly piled near the door. This was barely seen as the group moved on with a goal in mind.

This goal was found in the tear and snot stained face of a 7 year old boy. The shrieking runt had been pulled from under his bed, having hid there after witnessing the death of both parents. He was yelling and screaming incoherently as Masky held him by the back of his night shirt.

Toby was forced to stand there and stare into the boy's fearful eyes as Hoodie drew his gun and pointed it at the kids head. The teen flinched when the trigger was pulled and, in a spray of blood, the boy went limp.

Masky dropped the child unceremoniously to the carpeted floor before locking eyes with Toby.

"If you had done your job this wouldnt have happened." His voice sounded strained and his fists were clenched. Toby had not been able to complete his mission with no witnesses. The older pair had been sent to clean up the mess....and teach the teen a lesson.

It was this night that Toby finally grasped the weight of what his new life and job were. They were weighed in blood, this was clear now.

"Don't break the rules..." Hoodie's hauntingly soft voice drifted across the room as his head dipped forward as if mourning.

[kinkminn]

boyfriend material

[myheros-academia-blog]

Oh hi, I haven’t posted a coloring in 5 years ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Manga cap by @heroacacaps

[definegirlfriends]

H.S. // Live On Tour // UK

[beepbeepliv]

Bichie + fists

(yikes I didn’t think anyone would do this and I’m on mobile so can’t edit//tag shit 🙃🙃) - me at 5am last night flhdsjh

Richie and Bill are functional boyfriends.

Well, they thought so, even thought their friends (mostly Stan, through a series of sarcastic comments) may say otherwise. They do normal stuff, go on dates, hold hands, kiss way too intimately in public and plan their futures together 

e.g. 

”Richie... there is no way we can have 4 cats, 6 dogs and 3 kids..”

“Fine, if you don’t think you can handle it--

*Bill on phone* “Yes, hello, how many animals can i adopt at one time?”. 

But one thing they tend to do that others don’t, is communicate through fists.

for example, a light shove on the shoulder form Bill to Richie was playful banter. Richie being his usual annoying self and Bill pretending to hate it but feeling his heart swell at Richie’s wierdness. But a light punch was a completely different thing. That meant Bill was on edge, unfocused or that Richie had hit a nerve. In those moments he’d always know to either stop and give him space or just hold the other boy until the reasons for his nerves came tumbling out of his mouth.

similarly Bill knew Richie’s manerisms just as well. he knew what Richie was feeling when he waved his arms around too much as he spoke (anxious) and why he could talk and talk and talk for ages (he was worried if he ran out of things to say people would stop bothering with him) and what it meant when he was quiet with clenched fists.

even the jokesters have their off days. Bill knew to prise apart his fist and intertwine their hands before Richie could draw blood. he knew to press soft kisses all over his boyfriend’s head wishing he could will away the bad thoughts even though they both knew it didn’t work that way.

Then there were signals they both used; Fists clenching around clothing meaning hold me close and don’t let go, grabbing their own hair by the fistful to signal stress or worry and resting their head atop clenching fists with a soft smile and a gaze that screamed love - though that was less of a signal and more of a broadcast considering the inevitable retching noises Stan would always make and the comments to ‘keep the heart eyes in the bedroom’ from Eddie

regardless Bill and Richie were functional boyfriends and they were perfect for each other.

send me a word (or phrase) and an IT ship and I’ll write u a drabble//headcanon for it :) 

[mcclangst]

Shell

[Told in Lance’s POV]

I suppose it was just an accident.

A weird turn of events.

Keith’s son playing around with mine on the floor of my house. Just kid stuff. Keith had said something to me... I can’t remember. But I know that his son stole a rubber band from his father’s wrist.

“Careful.” Keith warned, looking at the boys for a moment before turning back to me. He smiled and continued. “I really think this business is going to take off, Lance. For once I’m actually... doing something with my life— uh not to say that my boy isn’t my life-“

I chuckled. “I get it man. Good for you! I’m really glad you’re getting out there and taking what’s yours.”

My son said something like, “Pow!” And not even a second later, something hit the back of my neck. It was sharp and powerful, came with a fast WHACK sound.

And then I was on the floor.

My neck stung a bit, and Keith yelled at me, screaming my name. I tried to get up, tell him that I was fine but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t even look around. My vision fixated on the distant love-seat couch in front of me and anything that crossed my vision. My son kept screaming at me, shaking me. It was the most awful sound I’d ever heard. His distress was deafening, and I didn’t want him to be scared.

I still couldn’t move. I couldn’t hold my boy, it was agony. I tried talking, moving anything I could but then I heard Keith calling 9-1-1.

“Yes- my friend he- oh god our sons were playing around and a rubber band hit him and he- he’s on the floor and he’s not moving! I don’t know if he’s breathing-“ Keith was in a panic.

I couldn’t see, but I think my wife came from the office to take the boys to another room.

I think they talked him through taking my vitals. He rolled me over and I couldn’t really feel it. I felt the pressure but I didn’t feel the heat of his hands or the scruffiness if the carpet below. He put his ear to my chest and came up with a look of dispair and said “I don’t hear anything... oh god, is he dead?”

He called my wife into the room and I heard her wail. I tried to talk to her, ‘no I’m okay. I’m right here why can’t you hear me?’

She collapsed onto my body and started crying, while Keith sat against the couch with his head in his hands. ‘Why are you crying? I’m right here!’

A few minutes later, the police came in, took away my wife and took my vitals again. Keith looked at me with tears in his eyes and shook his head when they asked him if I had any medical history.

I could vaguely feel them putting me in a body bag and then watched in horror as they zipped me up. ‘No! I’m still here! I’m still alive!’

My eyes... I think they hurt. I can’t tell. There’s definitely some sort of weird feeling, probably because I can’t even blink. It’s dark for a long time and all I have are my thoughts. My vicious thoughts.

I read somewhere that your brain activity can keep going for a while after you die. Even if you’re decapitated. This must be what’s happening to me. But why I am I still here then?

When I finally was introduced to the light again, it was a place I’d never been before. Suddenly a loud burst of music started playing and I couldn’t flinch but I wanted to. It feels so.... uncomfortable not being in control.

‘Hello?’

Of course nobody answered. Nobody can hear me.

Someone’s head cane into view. They wore a mask and goggles. Strange. I must be in a hospital. They bobbed their head to the music and took out a marker. Again I could feel pressure on my chest but no sensation of being drawn on.

It was faint coupled with the music, but I definitely heard a high pitched whir coming from my right. I was terrified. The head came back into view and raised an arm with a saw in hand. ‘STOP! DONT CUT ME OPEN! IM NOT DEAD!’ I cried.

The person only lowered the saw down on me. ‘PLEASE! IM NOT DEAD! DONT DO THIS IM-‘

Then heavy pressure.

The pitch changed and I felt so much agony I couldn’t express—

Darkness.

[the-official-matt-holt]

Anyone Interested In  A Sneak Peek Of The Katte Fic I’m Writing? Well, Here You Go.

Forgotten Letters.

Matthew Holt always loved his games. Whether it was that old, beaten up game boy that he’d always play in his dorm at obscene hours of the night, or the cryptic puzzles he’d always leave in Keith’s backpack or tape into his notebooks to find and solve, Matt sure loved to make Keith think. Or at least, to piss him off with these minor annoyances.

Matt had made it his personal mission to pester Keith with these puzzles, and, it wasn’t until the three months and the hundreth hidden puzzle later that Keith had made it his own personal mission to put Matt in his damn place, and solve every single one of them. That oughta show that weeb. Every time Keith found a puzzle, or another one of Matt’s little games, instead of throwing them away like he usually did, he’d delve hours of his day delving into different codes and plugging in algorithms to solve those puzzles out of pure spite. He hoped that every time he solved one of those puzzles, every single stupid scavenger hunt and proudly held up every single deciphered code that he’d pour many sleepless nights into solving, that he knocked Matt down a few pegs; showing him that he wasn’t as a smart as he thought he was.

[beetleblonde-blog]

Rita felt awful. She’d woken up that morning with a head full of cold and the potion to rid it from her had been nowhere to be seen. She’d stumbled out of the house, wrapped up inside every warm accessory going, heading for the potioneer on Diagon Alley to get rid of the blasted thing, only to break her heel on the cobbles. Foul curses spilled from her mouth and she stumbled forward, lucky not to hit the ground face first. Out came her wand, and the issue was fixed, but the worsened mood remained. She was missing the perfect winter lighting to top it all off, this would have been perfect weather for an instagram shoot. “Why is it always me?” She spat at nothing in particular, brow furrowed.

[septicstacheedits]

Congratulations on 16 Million Subscribers!

I made a Sam out of fireworks for @therealjacksepticeye

(Psst its transparent)

[moondancediner]

A scarf, a poorly wrapped present, a kiss

A scarf, wrapped around my neck so many times the bottom half of my face disappears. Arms full of gifts all wrapped to perfection and tied with little red string. Snow danced around my feet and the ones walking next to me. "Do you think she'll like it?" A Mickey Mouse shirt and a home made coupon for a date of her choice. One chosen by him and one chosen by me. "She'll love anything from you two" muffled by my scarf I'm half surprised he understood me. It was true though, the boy could give her nothing but a flower and she would act like it was the most thoughtful generous gift on the planet. We approached the Curtis house, where everyone was spending Christmas. Our own little family. "You get anything for Steve?" "Of course, got him a couple parts for his car so he can stop whining about it" We both smiled and two-bit let out a little chuckle. "I'm gonna give them to him tomorrow though I'm still waiting on one part to be shipped to the store." We walked through the front door into the chaos that was always the Curtis house. Everyone shouted greetings from their spot in the house. Darry and Pony in the kitchen, Soda and Steve wrestling on the floor, a couple of the girls on the couch gossiping, and the ever missing presence of two boys we would never get back. I unraveled myself from layers of warm and kicked some of the fallen snow back outside where it belonged. Left in just jeans and my favorite sweater I was a sight that would have made my mother faint on the spot. How she expected me to wear a skirt out in this weather is beyond me. Before I could turn back around I was swept off my feet and twirled around. "STEVEN" I heard his familiar laugh in my ear which immediately made me smile. "Hi sweetheart." He whispered. Can't damage his tough guy image. I turned to hug him back but was smothered by Sodapop. "Which ones for me!?" "You have to wait until after dinner like everybody else mister Pepsi cola." He let out a huff and stomped off like a child. I rolled my eyes and turned back to face my love. "Hi" "I have something for you." He said. He grabbed my hand and dragged me over to Soda and Pony's room. A poorly wrapped present, laid on the bed with a single white rose laid on top. My heart swelled. A kiss, I turned and placed one on his lips, my favorite thing to do. "Thank you." I said into his lips. "You didn't even open it yet." He laughed. "I don't have to I already know I'm gonna love it just as much as I love you." "I love you too baby girl. Merry Christmas."

[was-it-the-nargles-again]

Feelings

Description: character struggles with depression and remus admits he likes her and fluff.

Prompt: “how could you say that about yourself?” “ Because I’m afraid of feeling okay!”

He looked over at my table, but our eyes never met. Instead, they bore past me, and into the eyes of another. He doesn’t love me. He never did. You grabbed your bag and left the great hall quickly, determined not to cry. Your eyes stung as you paced your way down the corridor. You weren’t paying any attention to your surroundings, listening to the soft pit pat of your feet on the stone floor, until you collided with another body. You mumbled a muffled ‘sorry’ as you kept on your way. “Y/n! Wait!” It was your friend lily. “What’s wrong? Where are you going?” “Away.” You muttered. “What are you talking about y/n?” “ I’m talking about Remus Lily! He doesn’t love me. I’m not good enough. I never was, and I never will be! I’m not good enough for anyone!” You choked on your sob as tears ran freely down your face. “How could you say that about yourself?” Lily demanded. “Because I’m afraid of feeling okay!” You admitted. Lily paused. “Y/n, you said you got help.” “Yeah well I lied. I just don’t have the time to bother someone about my petty problems.” “Depression is not petty. You can’t walk around like everything is fine while you crumble inside.” “ I’ve been doing a pretty damn good job so far!” You shouted at her. Just then James and Remus show up. “ What’s going on? We heard shouting.” Exclaimed James. “Nothing. Everything is fine.” You stated. “No, everything is not fine!” Lily yelled. People that walked by stared. “What’s happening?” Questioned Remus, an eyebrow raised. You hated how much you liked him. No, loved him. “Maybe we should let you two talk it out.” Said Lily, as she dragged away James by the elbow. “ see ya later mate.” Said James as he was dragged away by the redhead.“ You want to talk about it?” Remus suggested softly. “ No, but it would be best if we did.” You guys walked to the window and sat on the edge, right next to one another.“ Last year.” You started. “Last year, I was diagnosed with clinical depression.It was pretty bad. With each passing week it got worse. I thought that I would be fine. That it would just blow over but it never did. Then my foolish feelings got in the mix. I don’t even know how I ever thought I had a chance with you-” “ you like me?” He broke in. “ yeah, but it doesn’t matter since you clearly fancy Marlene.” “ no I don’t.” He quickly stated. “ Then why were you looking at her all breakfast?” You countered. “ I wasn’t. I was looking at the candles floating around you. At how the light left a soft glow in your hair. I certainly don’t fancy Marlene.” He finished. “Oh.” “Yeah.” “ wait. So you like me back?” You asked. “ Uhh..yeah.” he sheepishly admitted. Then he wrapped you in his warm embrace. And you felt happiness in your heart for the first time in a long time.