#though at one point in time i did believe that

[sleepyhoon]

TWO MOONS - L.HS

pairing. plug!heeseung x reader

genre. smut, 18+ content, one shot, drabble. MDNI!

word count. 4k+

warnings. drug & alcohol consumption, partying, swearing, sex while intoxicated, short smut [ dry humping, multiple orgasms, oral (f. receiving), fingering ]

synopsis. based off of this hard thought! plug!heeseung who likes you so much that he's convinced himself that you're kinda evil.

a/n. sorry this took so long lol hope u enjoy regardless :) no part 2 so plss dont request it but maybe some drabbles!! also not fully proofread so pls disregard any typos or grammatical errors hehe

Never in his life did Heeseung predict he’d be getting bitched around by a girl arguably much shorter, physically weaker, and far less intimidating than him. And yet here he was, shirtless in his kitchen at two in the morning on his third attempt of baking edibles all because you were too scared to smoke a little weed. 

Fucking ridiculous.

It’s his own fault, really, he should’ve known that innocent, good girl persona you put on was all an act you use to control people – specifically men. Stirring the dessert batter in the mixing bowl, Heeseung shakes his head at the memory of you tilting your head and batting your eyelashes at him as you spoke, your perfectly manicured nails – that you probably got some desperate bitchboy to pay for – tracing and lightly scratching his bicep.

“So,” you started, dragging out the ‘o’, “how much do you charge for edibles?”

Heeseung shakes his head, tracing the rim of his half-empty red solo cup as he responds, “Edibles aren’t my forte. You don’t smoke?”

“Not my forte,” you say in a mocking tone, making Heeseung chuckle. “It’s just too much, you know? The smell, how quick it kicks in…not for me. But, uh, if you don’t make them I’ll stop wasting your time, then.” You give Heeseung a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning on your heels, fully prepared to disappear back into the party and find someone who actually meets your needs.

“Wait!” Heeseung stops you, tugging on your arm until you’re back to facing him. He can’t fucking believe this bullshit manipulation tactic you’re using on him is actually working, he’s literally pulling on your arm like a child so you won’t leave him.

You raise a brow at him as you wait for Heeseung to continue, taking note of his sudden nervousness, “Yeah?”

“Uh…are you into, like, brownies? Or…”

The smirk you gave in response said enough, you’ve got him exactly where you want him.

He’d spent the next few hours browsing the aisles of Target, checking his phone every so often and checking off each ingredient as he tossed them into the bright red shopping cart. To make matters worse, you hadn’t even requested normal brownies, you wanted some shit he’d hardly ever heard of before: blondies. 

It was bad enough that Heeseung already couldn’t bake for shit, and here you were demanding he’d make something he’d never even tasted before; you really are a master manipulator.

His third and final attempt at baking the blondies were a success, his three roommates taste-testing the fresh batch as a final confirmation.

“I can’t even taste it,” Jake says, his brows shooting up in delight, “you sure you’re not forgetting the main ingredient?”

“That’s the whole point,” Heeseung explains, cutting the remaining batch into neat squares, “YN doesn’t want the taste to be too strong, she likes when it’s more subtle and takes awhile to kick in.”

“Are you her wife or her plug?” Sunghoon jokes from his spot on the couch, taking a small bite of his own blondie.

“Neither,” Jay inserts himself into the conversation, taking a seat next to Sunghoon, “I’m sure he wants to be both, though.”

“Fuck off,” Heeseung snaps, momentarily narrowing his eyes at his roommates. “We just met, I’m just trying to get to know her.” He sets the knife down, reaching into the wooden cabinet to retrieve ziplock bags.

“You’re already her bitch, what else is there to know?” Sunghoon half-jokes, resting his feet on the ottoman.

“I am not her bitch.”

He totally is, if the way he’s hurrying to send you a picture of the freshly made blondies is anything to go by.

Heeseung * 2:47 AM

[Attachment: 1 Image] Yooo

YN * 9:06 AM

omggggg  ur the fucking best how much??

You didn’t respond until the following morning, causing Heeseung to nearly jump out of his skin once he woke up to your texts. He turns on his side, elbow propped up against the mattress as he formulates a response.

Heeseung * 10:31 AM

1 for 10 or 2 for 15. venmo or cashapp But lmk if you want more 

YN * 10:40 AM

no cash? :(

Heeseung’s about to go on a long winded explanation about how money transferring apps are quicker and more convenient than accepting cash when you interrupt him by sending a photo.

YN * 10:41 AM 

[Attachment: 1 Image] plsssss i don’t trust cashapp and ive been having issues w my venmo acc :(

It’s a photo of the bottom half of your face, lips formed into a cute pout with your camera angled low enough to show off your cleavage. You weren’t even trying to be discreet, setting your forearm underneath your chest to make your boobs sit higher, the cheetah print material of your bra peeking out from under your too-small tank top.

Heeseung swallows hard, staring down at the photo with his pupils blown wide as his trembling fingers type out a response.

Heeseung * 10:50 AM

Actually you know what don’t even worry about it lmao Consider it a gift When r u free for pickup Or i can bring to u Either or is fine lol

YN * 10:59 AM

omg :o are u sure?  don’t want u to lose out on money >.<

Heeseung * 11:11 AM

It’s fine dw about me baby U picking up? Or want me to drop off On campus is too risky

YN * 11:12 AM

thank u hee!!!!!!! im done with classes around 4:30 i’ll pick up around then if that works also u responded at 11:11…angel number u must be my angel :o

There you go again with your subtle manipulation tactics that Heeseung swears won’t work on him. If there really is angel out of the two of you, it definitely wouldn’t be you, but Heeseung’s not too sure he’d be considered one either. After all, in the twelve minutes it took him to respond to your message, he spent ten of them fucking into his fist as he stared at the photo you sent.

His mind conjured up countless scenarios; leaving hickeys and bite marks across your chest, slipping his dick between your tits as you held them together for him, cumming all over them, fucking anything. Desperate wasn’t even the word.

Heeseung * 11:13 AM

Must be :)

After a month and a half of being your personal baker slash bitchboy, Heeseung really is convinced that you’re using him, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. If anything he’s grateful, fully aware that if it weren’t for him being your plug, the two of you likely never would’ve crossed paths despite attending the same universities.

There wasn’t an ounce of school spirit in his body, so he had little to no urgency to attend any of the sporting events you cheered at or one of the many school-sponsored events you were required to attend. Meeting you at that party not too long ago had been his first encounter with you ever, and you clearly left him with a great first impression on him.

Since that night, he’s found himself conjuring up a new batch of edibles for you every week; brownies, cupcakes, cereal bars, whatever the fuck you wanted, and half the time he’d do it for free if it meant he got to give it to you in person.

He still hasn’t convinced you to actually smoke, though, but maybe it’s for the best. The mere thought of getting high with you and how you’d stare him down with half-lidded eyes was enough to make his dick hard — in fact, it already has. Several times.

Enough time has passed to the point where it’s obvious to everyone, yourself included, that Heeseung has genuine feelings for you that go beyond a physical and sexual attraction. Sure, he’s still convinced that you’re a little bit evil and definitely manipulative, but he considers it part of the fun. He’s also deluded himself into having the “I can fix her” mindset that he’s been using to justify his actions of ignoring your red flags.

However, even if he can’t “fix” you, it wouldn’t be a huge loss. Red is his favorite color, after all.

“You sound…crazy, and she sounds crazier,” Jake leans against the kitchen counter, raising a concerned brow at Heeseung as he takes a sip of his drink.

“I’m not crazy,” Heeseung corrects, “and YN is…I don’t know, honestly. Leave her alone, dipshit.”

Jake throws a hand up in defense, glaring when a fellow partygoer accidentally bumps into him, nearly causing him to spill his drink. “Rather be a dipshit than a bitchboy.” He mutters loud enough for Heeseung to hear before groaning, “Wow, speak of the devil.”

Heeseung turns, following Jake’s line of sight until he spots you walking through the front door. Stunning as always, your khaki mini skirt and black halter top fitting as if they were custom designed for you and only you.

Despite extending you an invitation to Sunghoon’s birthday party, Heeseung was fairly certain you wouldn’t show up tonight, assuming you’d be consumed with cheer practice or one of your many extracurricular activities to attend. Yet, here you were, a wicked grin on your face as you made eye contact with Heeseung.

He gulps in return, eyes wide as he watches you walk over to him and Jake.

You stand beside Heeseung, shooting him a quick smile before directing your attention to Jake, “Sunghoon! Happy birthday, king!”

Jake side-eyes you, briefly glancing at Heeseung before responding, “I’m not…you know what? Nevermind, thanks.” He takes this as an opportunity to exit the conversation, giving Heeseung a light pat on the shoulder as he leaves.

“Didn’t think you’d be here.” Heeseung comments, leaning against the kitchen countertop.

You shrug, “Wasn’t doing anything else, figured it wouldn’t hurt to stop by for a little. Besides, I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah?” Heeseung asks, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

“Yeah,” you respond, taking a step closer and resting your hand on his bicep, “got anything for me?”

Fuck, Heeseung knew he should’ve made another batch of brownies or some shit. He seriously hadn’t been expecting you to show up tonight, otherwise he would’ve been prepared.

He shakes his head, “Not this time, you should’ve told me you were coming; I would’ve made something.”

You groan, momentarily tilting your head back, “I just wanted to surprise you.”

“Consider me surprised,” his hand lands on your waist, pulling your body until your flush against him, “why won’t you just smoke with me?”

You grimace, shaking your head in response.

Heeseung rolls his eyes, “Just once? I know your first time wasn’t that great, but, I really think you’d like it if you tried again.”

“I don’t know, Hee…”

“Tell you what,” Heeseung starts, clearing his throat, “smoke with me just this once, and your next few purchases are on me.”

It isn’t much of an offer considering most of the shit he gave you was either free or already extremely discounted, but your eyes light up regardless. “Really?”

Heeseung nods, “I swear.”

You think it over for a moment, the pros instantly outweigh the cons and lead you to accept Heeseung’s desperate offer. 

A few minutes later, you find yourself in a comfortable lounge chair with Heeseung in his backyard, grateful that the remaining partygoers opted to stay indoors, giving you privacy and alone time with him.

You’re sitting sideways on his lap, trying your best to ignore the feeling of his dick pressing right against your ass, neatly rolled blunt in one hand as he uses the other to fish a lighter from his pocket. “You’re nervous,” he comments.

You shake your head, “I’m not.”

“You are, I feel you shaking.”

“I’m fine, just kinda cold. Go on.”

Heeseung studies you for a moment, eye contact strong and intimidating as ever as he brings the blunt to his parted lips. You watch carefully as he brings the lighter towards the tip, focusing entirely too much on the concentrated look on his face as he lights it. Slowly, he begins to rotate it as the end continues to burn, taking a few small puffs here and there.

Satisfied with his creation, Heeseung takes a long, slow drag, inhaling the smoke into his lungs before titling his head away to exhale.

“Your turn,” he says, offering you the blunt.

You hesitantly stare down at it before accepting; it was intimidating to say the least, the scent alone strong enough to make your head hurt. Heeseung watches you patiently, eyes darting between your lips and the blunt in silence.

Deciding you need a little bit of encouragement, he brings his thumb to your lips, parting them slightly as his free-hand wraps around your wrist, “You’ll be fine, trust me.” 

Under the guidance of his calloused hand, you finally bring the blunt up to your lips and briefly inhale before immediately exhaling.

Heeseung chuckles, shaking his head, “How’d that feel?”

You ponder for a moment, passing the blunt back to Heeseung, “I don’t feel anything. Literally nothing.”

“I mean, yeah, you didn’t even inhale it.”

You roll your eyes, “Why are there so many steps? This is why I prefer edibles.”

“I’m just showing you that you have other options, babe.”

“Yeah, well I’m sticking to my baked goods. You can have the rest of that, I don’t want anymore.”

Heeseung’s well aware that you’re a woman of your word, and the chances of you ever smoking again were a definite zero, so trying to get you to change your mind was pointless. However, there is one thing that may just work on you.

“Mind if I try something?”

You perk up, “Try what?”

“I do all the work but you still get high.”

You raise a brow, “That’s possible?”

He nods, “All you’d have to do is take deep breaths.”

Taking a deep breath, you accept Heeseung’s offer with a sigh, resting a hand on his shoulder as you adjust yourself on his lap. “Fine.”

Here goes nothing.

He guides the blunt back to his lips, taking a long drag as he holds the smoke in his mouth. He tilts his head upward towards you, taking your chin in his hand, signaling for you to part your lips. You follow his command and part your lips open, just enough for Heeseung to close the distance and allow the smoke into your mouth, his lips barely brushing against yours in the process.

You take in a deep breath, eyes closed shut and inhale the smoke, careful not to exhale too quickly and have a repeat of your previous attempt.

“How was that?” Heeseung asks, taking note of your sudden silence.

Truthfully, it wasn’t bad. The smell is still too strong for your liking and requires much more effort than biting off a piece of dessert and calling it a day, but it wasn’t bad. You’re certain that Heeseung shotgunning it into your mouth only added to the experience.

“Not bad,” you admit, “probably because you did all the work.”

He chuckles at that, “I’ll always take care of you, remember that.”

Heeseung is having the time of his life, thoroughly convinced that he finally has some power over you. Here you were sitting on his lap in his backyard letting him blow smoke into your mouth. Sure, it may have taken a lot of convincing and begging on his end to get to this point, but none of that matters; baby steps are still movement.

As if the night couldn’t have gotten any better, you’re asking Heeseung to shotgun more smoke into your mouth over and over. He’s careful to maintain a calm and nonchalant demeanor as he does so, not wanting to come off as too eager out of fear of scaring you away. Or even worse, giving you back that power you have over him.

On the fifth time, you swipe your tongue across Heeseung’s bottom lip when he passes the smoke into your mouth, a low groan escaping from him in the process. He’s fully hard in his jeans by now, and there’s no way you can’t feel his dick pressing right into you. Despite the cold weather, your entire body feels warm all over, Heeseung only adding to the pleasure.

You should’ve taken Heeseung a bit more seriously when he said you’d still get high from this; after a few minutes, your limbs were already starting to feel lighter and weaker. A delicate, cloud-like haze fills your head; your vision blurs slightly and it takes a few minutes for you to fully relax.

Heeseung, attentive as ever, remains silent and still has he watches you; primarily due to the fact that you squirming around on his lap is only adding to the uncomfortable tightness in his jeans. One wrong move, and he’d surely be cumming in his boxers.

You rest your forehead against Heeseung, pressing a firm hand against his chest when he moves to blow more smoke into your mouth. He hums, staring up at with a concerned look on his face.

You close your eyes, mumbling, “Heeseung…”

He hums again in response, still holding the smoke in his mouth.

You open your eyes briefly before closing them again, balling up the collar of his shirt in your fist as you lean down to press your lips against his. He opens his mouth on instinct, as if it were a second nature, parting his lips slightly and exhaling the smoke into your mouth once again.

Heeseung absentmindedly sets the blunt down, his hands moving to your waist to pull you closer to him until your tits are pressed right up against his chest. He groans into your mouth at the feelings, tilting his head to allow himself further into your mouth. 

You cup his face in your hands, hips moving forward as you slowly begin to grind yourself against him. “Fuck,” he moans in a low voice, “keep doing that.”

You grind down harsher this time, capturing his moan in your mouth in the process. With each movement of your hips, a shiver descends down your spine at the friction; Heeseung is painfully hard, and from what you could feel, he was definitely packing. Bigger than what you would’ve expected.

It all feels too good; you grinding against him, the state of his high, your tongue in his mouth. It’s all so overwhelmingly euphoric that Heeseung hardly realizes how close he is to literally cumming in his boxers.

His body was always overly sensitive whenever he got high, and often avoided any sort of intimacy that involved another person due to how embarrassingly quick he would finish, and tonight doesn't seem to be any different. What makes matters worse is the fact that Heeseung was already desperately attracted to you and had been dreaming of this moment since he’d first met you.

He pulls away quickly, cursing under his breath, “YN, h-hold on,” he stutters, “slow down, please.”

You don’t listen; in fact, you can barely even hear him with how caught up you were in your own head. “Hmm? Say that again?”

“S-slow – ah, fuck – slow down for a sec, baby.”

His grip on your waist tightens, and despite the urgency in his tone of wanting you to slow down, he makes no effort to still your hips move you off of him. Fuck it, it is what it is.

“Why?” You question, tilting your head, but you’re a few seconds too late.

Heeseung’s entire body shivers, hips jolting upwards as he comes on himself, making a mess of his boxers. While that alone was definitely embarrassing, Heeseung is more annoyed over the fact that you’ve regained your power over him. His priorities were definitely fucked, but he didn’t even care; he could clean himself up later, but the damage to his ego would take longer to repair.

Your hands fly to your mouth in shock, eyes widening as you process what’s just happened, “Oh, Heeseung…” you mumble into the palm of your hands.

He throws his head back, eyes squeezed shut as he runs a hand down his face, “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding.”

“It’s okay! It happens! No big deal!” You try to reassure him, but it goes in one ear and out the other.

Sure it happens and maybe it isn’t a big deal, but it is for Heeseung. He’s not the type to bust a nut over someone squirming around in his lap for ten minutes, this shit was fucking insanity.

“I’m seriously not like this, I’m just overly-sensitive when I’m high. I swear, I-”

“It’s fine, Heeseung,” you interrupt, standing from his lap, “if anything, I’m flattered! Why don’t you, uh, get cleaned up and I’ll see you later?”

“YN, come on, don’t do this.” He pleads, following you and you make your way towards the sliding door. 

“I told you, it’s fine! I’m not like,” you pause, opening the door with a loud grunt, “mad or weirded out or anything.”

You slip back into the living room, Heeseung hot on your tail with every step. “Let me make it up to you!”

You sigh, “Honestly, I don’t think you have it in you to do that right now.”

“I do! Just let me, please.”

“Heeseung, please drop it. I said it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine, at least let me eat you out or something!”

“Heeseung!” Your eyes widen at his lewd, shameless offer, “Lower your voice! We’re in a fucking party surrounded by people!”

He smacks his teeth, “I don’t care. Please, YN.”

“You don’t have to make it up to me, you do not owe me anything.”

A beat of silence passes, then he says, “Then do it for me. Please.”

Even though Heeseung was the one literally begging to go down for you, there is a possibility of him having some sort of power over you; or maybe you just have a soft spot for him. Either way, you end up lying in his bed twenty minutes later, skirt bunched up around your waist as Heeseung’s wet tongue circles your clit, desperate attempt at coaxing a second orgasm from you.

He hadn’t even realized he’d grown hard again just from eating you out, and would likely end up cuuming in his boxers again just from doing this.

“Fuck,” he moans into your folds, pulling away slightly to pepper kisses on your inner thighs, “been waiting so fucking long for this.”

“Yeah?” You question, your grip on Heeseung’s hair tightening.

This earns a low groan from him as he nods against your skin, “You have no idea.”

Deciding he’s spent enough time away from your cunt, his lips make their way back onto you; his tongue falls flat against you, dragging your wetness upwards towards your swollen clit before wrapping his lips around the sensitive bud.

Your body shivers, a beam of sweat dripping down your forehead as your second orgasm approaches. You’ve been eaten out before, countless times, but never like this. It was almost as if Heeseung was doing it for his own pleasure rather than your.

He teases your entrance with his finger before sliding two of them in with ease, curling them upwards and immediately hitting the spot you needed him the most.

“H-Heeseung…hold on…”

He hums, but he’s not really listening, too occupied with kitten-licking your clit and pumping his fingers in and out of you. The knot in your stomach finally snaps and you’re gushing against his hands and mouth, Heeseung only takes this as a sign to continue lapping at your cunt. You have to literally grab him by the hair and drag him away from you.

He stares up at you, pupils blown wide and his chin coated in your juices, but he definitely looks happy. “What?” he asks.

You struggle to catch your breath, “You’re hard again?”

He looks down at his crotch momentarily before shrugging, “I guess.”

“You…don’t you wanna do something about that?”

His eyes flash down to your cunt for a split second, “It can wait.”

You scoff, “Well, I need a minute.”

Heeseung nods in agreement, impatiently drumming his fingers on his bed as you flop against his mattress. “Ready?” He asks once a minute has passed.

“No.”

He sighs, then sighs again, and again and again until you let out a frustrated groan. “Go get me a glass of fucking water.”

“Okay!” He shouts while standing, exiting the bedroom in a hurry. Maybe you really do treat him like a bitchboy, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

[pboogerswbb]

TOO LOST IN YOU - part IV

Paige Bueckers x bartender!oc

playlist, part I, part II, part III

Warnings: smut and i mean FILTHY OK, toxic!paige, kinda cheating, language, etc.

Wordcount: 7.4k (sorry but there's smut ok)

A/N: TY for being so patient with me, i've been feeling sick but slowly getting better and finally got this done. finally some fluff for y'all. also please leave feedback/live reactions I LOVE THAT SHIT! ok enjoy guys mwah <3

-

“You’re joking, right Paige?” A frustrated voice comes through the speaker as I lean back on the couch, spreading my legs to find a more comfortable position. The game of fortnite me, Aubrey and Ice had been planning on for like a week was turned down, not wanting the phone’s mic picking up the sounds.

“‘M afraid not,” I mumble into the phone, biting my lower lip in concentration. I was so close to getting a kill if I could just finally hang up, but here I still was, fifteen minutes of going back and forth on some topic that didn’t need all this drama with a girl whose last name I’d forgotten.

“But it’s my birthday,” Clara whines into my ear. Watching my character get killed, I groan and tilt my head back, throwing the controller onto my grey sweats.

“I know, baby. Look we can do a lil something next week, lemme make it up to you,” I say into the phone, needing to get this girl to get off my ass. “I promise.” I didn’t mean that though, it was just empty words.

Truth was I just needed some time, after what happened the other night with Valerie I had felt my thoughts chipping away at me. The things running through my head had made sleeping impossible and practice even worse. The lack of control I felt when she was around me was terrifying. I needed a night just with my girls, badly.

I felt tense, distracted.

“Clara, whatchu want me to do? it's an emergency.”

To get away from Clara’s plans for the night Aubrey and Ice had helped me to come up with an elaborate lie about me “pulling a muscle in my wrist and it needed resting”. I hadn’t found it as believable but for Clara it worked.

The girl’s soft sigh comes through the phone. “Fine, ok. But you gotta make it up to me.”

“I will I will,” I mumble, unaware of what I’m really saying, stuffing my mouth with a fistful of popcorn from a bowl on the couch. Sitting cross legged on the floor, Ice lets out a loud laugh, quickly covering her mouth as I give her a scolding look, pointing to the phone. Thankfully Clara doesn’t hear a thing.

As the new game begins I quickly grab the controller from my grey sweats, I needed to wrap up this call quick.

“I wish you’d let me come take ca-”

“Gotta go Clara, happy birthday,” I yell hurriedly into the phone before Clara could even finish, hanging up the phone and throwing it onto the couch which makes Aubrey and Ice snicker.

-

“Bro you suck at this game!” I yell at Aubrey who looks at me offended.

“Nah, that wasn’t my fault!! It was Ice!!” she scoffs.

The ringing of my phone interrupts the conversation. Before I can pick it up, or even complain about Clara getting clingy, the sound stops. Not to sound too cocky or like a piece of shit but if it was one of the girls on my roster, that ringing wouldn’t have stopped for a minute. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love the power I had over some of these chicks, how they stayed up till 4am just to see if I called them up. They didn’t need to let me know it’s what they did, I knew all too well.

I grab my phone and quickly unlock it. With wide eyes and heart fluttering, I dial back.

“Paige I thought we were gonna have a girls’ night,” Aubrey groans but my finger comes up to shush her when I hear a soft voice come through the phone.

“Hey?” 

“Valerie?” I ask, I can barely hear her from the loud traffic nearly burying the sound of her voice.

“Wh- why are you callin’ me?” she asks, her words are slurred enough to let me know she’s drunk. Even so, hearing her sweet voice might as well have been a choir of angels singing. 

“You called me, mama,” I chuckle softly, walking away from the girls to hear better.

There’s a moment of silence between us as I slide into my own dorm room, closing the door behind me, leaning against it. 

“Oh… uh I was trying to call Paige,” she murmurs and loudly gasps. I can hear her slapping her own mouth and a cocky smirk grows on my face. “JAY, JAY I WAS. I was trying to call Jay.”

The bite on my lower lip stuffles the laugh I let out. Honestly, it made me feel a little smug knowing she said my name instead of hers. I wonder if I was really on her mind that much. It had been quite a long time since I had wondered anything like that.

“Ohh right… Justine,” I joke, the name making me giggle each time. This time, Valerie giggles too. 

“Don’t make fun P.”

“Alright alright,” I chuckle walking over to my bed and sitting down on it, pulling down my sweats a little so my boxers peak out. Faint screaming in the background of the call reminds me of why Val called in the first place - she’s drunk. “Woah, where you at Val?”

A deep sigh comes through the phone. “I dunno where my friends went, they were my rideee,” she whines, the sound of the cars making it hard to hear her. I lean forward resting my elbow on the knees.

“Did you call ‘em?” I ask, concerned over how drunk she was. How could her friends just dip? I’m gonna need to have a word with them.

“I’m nodding,” she slurs out and groans frustratedly. “Such a long way to walk,” Valerie whines again.

I’m already reaching for my keys when the words come out of my mouth. “Drop your location Val.”

She groans. “I’m walking by the highway.”

“You’re WHAT?” I yell into the phone, throwing on a puffer vest over my grey sweatshirt, struggling to get my shoes on. This girl was gonna get herself killed I swear.

“Relaaxxx.”

“Sit down and drop your location, I’m comin to get you ma.”

“Paige you’re so dr-”

“Sit your ass down. I’m so forreal now Valerie.” I command, without even waving a careless bye to the girls as I rush out, the plans for a girl’s night quickly forgotten. After a whine and a sigh from the drunk girl on the line I hear her set herself onto the ground.

“Fine,” her voice murmurs and I sigh in relief.

All of the fury I felt at her for being so careless goes away when I see her, in boots and a leather jacket thrown carelessly over her skimpy dress, sitting on the ground playing with the ends of her golden brown hair. I pull the car over, quickly rushing to her. How could her friends leave her in a state like that? From now on I should watch over her all the time, just to make sure she doesn’t get in trouble.

Nevermind her friends, how could Jay let this happen? If Valerie was my girl she would not be alone like this, yet alone going out without me at all. She needs someone who takes care of her, who truly cherishes every single thing about her. 

“Paigeyyy,” she smiles as I reach down and pick her up, her hair was a mess and eyes bloodshot and tired. There’s a strong smell of alcohol as Valerie wraps her arms around me, but I don’t mind. I wanted to be mad at her for being so irresponsible, for making me come get her. But I couldn’t be.

I grin as I help steady her. Anyone could notice she’s gleaming looking up at me. Usually that would make my chest tighten, make me feel sick and claustrophobic. Now, for some reason, I felt like gleaming too.

“C’mon silly girl, before you get in more trouble,” I murmur, opening the door and making sure she gets in the car, helping her with the seatbelt.

“I got it Paige,” she laughs as I reach over her lap, grabbing the belt but I slap her hand away gently, biting the inside of my cheek to stifle the way I wanted to smile, the butterflies growing inside me.

“Lemme do it ma,” I tell her hoarsely. She’s grinning at me stupidly as I buckle her in, my fingers running along her neck to fix the belt. When our eyes meet just for a moment, it takes every bit of my self discipline not to kiss her, the way her tongue slides over her lips enticingly.

The drive back is quiet, soft R&B the only sound filling the car. I hum along to the songs, tapping the steering wheel to the beat. Valerie watches as she rests her head against the seat. An involuntary smirk takes over my face, my eyes flicking from her to the road to my speed. I was driving much more carefully than usual, I had something precious to take home.

“You admirin’ the view?” I tease earning a lighthearted scoff from Valerie.

“No I’m… thinking,” she explains slowly, moving her eyes to the road too. Suddenly she wasn’t so giggly, but seemed to be sobering up.

“I got some water in the back if you need,” I tell her, already reaching for it, other hand on the wheel as I lean back on the driver’s seat.

She reaches for it with me, our fingertips brushing against each other as I hand it over. “Thanks,” she murmurs and takes a few big gulps.

Valerie’s shoulders slump as she takes a deep sigh, I know her well enough that something was clearly on her mind. 

“I lied P,” she says, her voice small. For a moment a wave of confusion washes over me, and I look at her expectantly. My first assumption is she’s talking about what happened between us in the bathroom, about how she hadn’t told Jay about it.

“‘S okay Justine don’t have to know,” I quickly console but Valerie is shaking her head.

“No I meant… Fuck, I mean I did mean to call you,” she let’s out, frustrated. “It wasn’t an accident.”

I swallow, feeling a heat rise to my cheeks. Was I… blushing? I must be more whipped than I realised.

“Oh yeah?” I ask, my tone a little too needy for my liking - I didn’t want her to think, no, to know I cared. That it mattered to me. Valerie could never know how I felt. I would just end up fucking everything up, at least now I had basketball. That’s enough.

“I just… I dunno I don’t wanna go to my dorm,” Valerie sighs, fidgeting with her fingers on her lap.

“Why’s that?”

“Jay’s waiting for me,” Valerie says with a slight shake in her voice.

Oh. 

At first I’d been more jealous than I’d like to admit, the idea of Valerie, my Valerie, with someone else made me sick. But running into them at that party I knew Justine could never do what I could. But most importantly, Valerie didn’t shine the way she did with me with Justine. I had an inkling there was nothing to be jealous of, and got my confirmation in the bathroom. But now, I only felt more validated. She didn’t even want to be around her. She drunk called me, not her.

“‘S that why you got so fucked up? Because of Jay?” I try to sound nonchalant, like I didn’t care. But I needed to know for sure. I needed to know I wasn’t delusional in thinking she couldn’t just move on from me, from us.

“Something like that,” she chuckles and shifts in the seat, sipping her water still. Without thinking it through, what it might mean, what it says about my feelings, the words slip out.

“I can take you to mine,” I suggest, knowing full well my biggest rule was not letting girls sleep over. I guess my rules had gone way out the window with Valerie.

She scoffs and shakes her head, my heart aching at her disapproval. “No P, it can’t happen anymore, I mean it this time.”

A scoff leaves my mouth as I pull up to the campus parking lot.

“I didn’t mean that dumbass, I mean just to sleep,” I groan, parking my jeep. “I’ll even sleep on the floor.”

Valerie looks at me wide eyed and dumbfounded. Guess I wasn’t coming off as nonchalant as I’d have liked. I felt a strange feeling grow inside me that I could only call nervousness. It had been a while since a girl had made me feel anything even close to it.

“Okay,” Val nods and a wave of relief takes over me - I didn’t want her to go yet. Being with her felt good.

“Okay,” I repeat watching her start getting out of the car. I do the same and we head towards my dorm. Without thinking about it much, my hand wraps around her waist, whether to hold her up or to touch her I’m not sure.

Jana and Allie are in the kitchen talking, their heads peeking out when we come in the door. Meeting their gazes I realise I have never introduced a girl to my teammates.

“Yo, uh, this is Valerie,” I say a little awkwardly, the new situation making me unsure of how to act. Allie and Jana share a look that I pray the drunk brunette clinging to my arm didn’t notice. Looking down I see she’s too busy struggling getting her shoes off. Without thinking about it, I kneel down and my fingers unbuckle the strappy heeled sandals she was wearing, my touch on her skin tender and careful.

“Hey girl,” Jana says intrigued, waving her hand at us. As Valerie nearly trips, she lets out a loud giggle, my hand gripping her thigh, steadying her.

“Whoa there,” I chuckle, standing up from the ground as the brunette slaps her face with her hand, bashfully.

“I’m sorry I make a much better first impression when I’m not drunk,” her sweet voice lets out and somewhere deep down I feel my heart flutter at the idea of her wanting to make a good impression on my friends. Jana and Allie both let out friendly laughs as I guide Valerie towards my room.

“She’s gonna sleep here tonight, that cool?” I ask as we pass my roomies, who are both nodding but clearly shocked at the prospect of me letting a girl sleep over.

I bring the brunette to my room by her hips, closing the door behind us as she throws herself face first onto my purple sheets. She looked good like that, in my room, on my bed, burying her nose into my blanket. For a fleeting moment I let myself dream of an alternate universe where she could be here waiting for me, all the time. Only for a moment though.

“C’mon ma let’s get you ready for bed,” I suggest softly, walking to the bed. She groans and flips onto her back, my eyes flickering to her upper thighs where her dress had hiked up. A sudden need to touch her comes over me, but I push it away. It wouldn’t be right like this.

“But your bed’s so comfyyy,” Valerie lets out a whine as she stretches, her pretty eyes fluttering shut. I can’t help the smile that forms on my face, my heart aching at how cute she looked like this - drunk and tired, mascara flaking underneath her eyes and a small pout on her lips.

Throwing her a navy blue Uconn shirt to sleep in is finally enough to get her to sit back up, her eyelids half closed as her hands start pulling her dress down.

With wide eyes I quickly turn my back to her, staring at the wall. As much as I wanted to, it didn't feel right to watch her change. Valerie only giggles, and I hear her stand up and shimmy out of her clothes, my mouth growing dry from the filthy thoughts in my head right now, the way she was completely bare behind me.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before P,” she says teasingly and I almost groan, my mind jumping through memories of the way she looked in just a pair of panties, the curve of her ass, the way her tits sat pretty on her body, that long golden brown hair trailing down her back. Fuck. I felt myself getting wet. I rub my jaw frustratedly, trying to shake my dirty thoughts.

“Just get dressed Val,” I murmur, my voice hoarse with need. Finally, she obliges, throwing on the t-shirt I gave her. It’s not enough to stop my filthy thoughts, seeing her in my shirt and a pair of white lacy panties, thick thighs all on display, nipples hard and visible through the shirt. No. This wasn’t the time.

Valerie is about to crash back into the bed right when I grab her waist to keep her upright.

“Wanna sleep,” she whines as I guide her towards the bathroom.

“I know ma, in a little bit I promise,” I nearly whisper. It was the first time in my life I had promised anything to a girl and meant it.

Closing the bathroom door, I sit Valerie on the counter, her feet dangling off the edge which makes me smile. Grabbing a brand new toothbrush I try to hand it to Valerie, but her head is almost nodding, eyes completely shut now. This girl would be the death of me.

I wet the toothbrush, and gently holding her face, I brush her teeth. My face is only inches from hers as I watch her start to smile, realising what I was doing. For a moment her eyes flicker open and meet mine, and I feel something I have never felt before. I can’t name it, or quite place it, but the warmth in my chest, the blush on my cheeks and the way my breath hitched made itself known.

“Thank you,” Valerie murmurs, her mouth full of foam. She spits it into the sink, rinsing her mouth as I hold her hair, so incredibly softly, as to not hurt or disturb her.

“Let’s get this makeup off mama,” I say mostly to myself, wiping it all off with some micellar water, trying to be as gentle as I could. Her brown eyes roam my face, making me feel flustered.

“What about my skincare routine?” Valerie asks with a furrow of her brows and I chuckle, shaking my head, going over her face with a cotton pad.

“You don’t want me doin’ that, trust,” I murmur as I’m finally done. Watching her, the way her long dark lashes fluttered, her plump lips and soft skin made a shiver run down my spine. She must’ve been the most beautiful thing I had ever seen, even more so like this.

I suddenly notice that my hands are rubbing on the skin of her bare thighs as she watches up at me. I can’t help myself when I lean down and press my lips against her forehead, the tenderness of it making my eyes close. Valerie hums and wraps her arms around my neck, her legs doing the same as I pick her up like that, holding her up by her thighs. Her skin was soft and warm underneath my fingertips, sending sparks all over me. 

I carry her to my bed as she clings to me, gently laying her down on my bed and tucking the blanket over her, brushing a strand of hair off her face.

“I’mma get you some water and go sleep on the couch ok?” I murmur, my fingers brushing against her cheek. Her hands urgently grab my wrist and pull me closer.

“Don’t go,” she whispers and my heart nearly breaks at the way her voice sounds, pleading. 

“You sure Val?” I ask carefully.

“Please.”

It doesn’t take more than that to have me throwing off my clothes, leaving me in black boxers and a Nike sports bra and climbing into bed next to her. I carefully lay my head down onto the pillow, studying her features. The curve of her nose, the way her eyebrows arched, the hint of red on her cheeks from the alcohol. Her eyes flicker open, meeting mine as we stare at each other in the dim room. I could feel the heat of her breath on my face, and she inches her head closer, our noses brushing against each other. I nearly whimper at how good it felt, being this close to her.

My blue eyes travel to her lips, the way they glistened as her tongue brushed over them, the way her lower lip was that much more plump than the upper one. In the haze of the night, it’s like I’m outside of my body, unable to control myself when I lean in and kiss her. Immediately Valerie hums, and I think I’m in heaven when her mouth opens to move against mine.

We had kissed plenty of times. But it was never without fucking afterwards. This was completely new, kissing just because. I didn’t know kissing with no end goal could feel this good. I breathe heavy and loud through my nose as our lips move against each other, Valerie’s hand pulling me closer from the back of my neck. My hand on her waist slides underneath the t-shirt and I press my body flush against hers. I feel all of her, the bare skin of her legs wrapping into mine, her breasts against me. But it’s enough for me. Just to have her like this. 

“P?” Valerie whispers, as I nuzzle my nose against her, breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah?” I murmur softly, the overwhelming warmth in my chest feeling dizzying.

“I-” she hesitates. “I know you don’t… like when girls spend the night-”

I stop her with a kiss, more for my own sake than hers. It might drive me insane if I have to think about it for longer than ten seconds. The way I was bending all my own rules, the feelings deep inside me. I felt terrified. I didn’t wanna think about it right now.

“You needed me Val,” I whisper against her lips, knowing it wouldn’t be a solution but that explanation would do. It’s not like I was in love, but I did care about her to an extent I guess. And I would never let her be in danger. Ever. I helped because I wanted her safe and because deep down I was a good person. But it has nothing to do with love.

I wrap my arms around the girl next to me, pulling her face into the crook of my neck, her leg swinging over my waist and nuzzling into me. I gently run my hand up and down her back until I feel her go limp in my arms and just for a second I let myself inhale the scent of her, my nose buried into her hair. Maybe, just maybe, if I wasn’t Paige Bueckers, if I wasn’t me, this might have had something to do with love.

-

As the morning sun shines in through the window I feel myself stir awake, immediately met with a pounding in my head as my eyes flutter open. I feel a tight grip around my waist, holding me tight. For a moment I get the uneasy feeling that it’s Jay, but then I hear the light snore of Paige in my ear. Warmth spreads all over my body when I feel her pull me closer in her sleep, her nose pressed against the back of my neck.

A soft smile spreads on my face as I remember last night, Paige picking me up, driving me back, taking care of me, letting me stay over. My stomach fills with butterflies knowing this isn’t what Paige did for any girl. The only thing that mattered to her was ball and that’s it. Girls were just a distraction, something fun to do. But she didn’t care, right? Then why did it feel like she did, when she took care of me last night?

An incredible thirst from my hungover takes over, and I carefully peel Paige’s hand from my waist. Thinking I was sneaky enough to make my escape, I start to climb out of the bed when the strong arm quickly pulls me back down, pressing my back into her front once more.

“Where you going?” Paige’s voice is deep and hoarse from sleep, words muffled against my neck as she holds me down, nuzzling her face into my skin.

“Need some water,” I murmur trying to flatten my hair and push the hand away but Paige doesn’t fold. All she does is shake her head. 

“No,” she murmurs and holds me even tighter. It’s almost overwhelming, the way I was getting affection from her. For a moment I try and figure out why she would act like this, but then she kisses my shoulder through the navy shirt and I forget all about it.

“Paigeee,” I giggle but she only keeps shaking her head, her hands tightening around me.

“A lil longer,” she hums, her voice tickling against my ear.

“But I’m thirsty.”

“Fine.”

With a groan, Paige gives my cheek a kiss and climbs out of bed, putting on her basketball shorts and going out to fetch the water. I scooch up on the bed, quickly fixing my hair and trying to make myself look presentable when Paige walks in, carrying two bottles.

“There you go princess,” she grins. Her hair is matted and blue eyes tired as she gets back into bed next to me but I’m quite sure she’s never looked better. However, a sliver of fear in the back of my mind is nibbling away at me. I didn’t understand why she was acting this way, usually Paige’s motives were clear to me. Not this time.

Before I can spiral Paige leans towards me and presses a gentle kiss on my lips, her hand holding my cheek as she does. I kiss her back softly, my stomach twisting. Could she really be this good to me?

Paige pulls back and smiles. “Good morning Val,” she hums with another peck to my lips. I let myself smile back, deciding to worry about this later.

“Morning P,” I whisper and pull back to sip on my water, it soothing the pounding in my head. 

“Hungover?” the blonde chuckles but I shake my head, though maybe I did feel the shakes a little bit. 

Paige bites her lower lip not believing a word I said with a knowing smirk. She grabs her glasses, putting them on herself to see me better in the morning light. I can’t lie, she looks fucking amazing in her glasses and it makes it hard to ignore the ache between my legs when she looks like that - silver chain with a cross on her neck, sports bra, shorts and those fucking glasses.

I snuggle back underneath the blanket, pulling it all the way over my head, like that could somehow hide my filthy thoughts.

“Yo, where you going,” Paige laughs hoarsely, pulling the blanket away. I quickly bury my face in the pillow to hide.

“I don’t look good in the mornings,” I murmur, a blush rising to my cheeks from the way she was staring, let alone the dirty thoughts in my head.

Paige snorts and brushes my hair away from my face. “Oh so you care that much what I think huh?” her voice is smug and it makes me slap her arm, making her hiss.

She slides underneath the blanket too, her head resting next to my pillow. I can feel her watchful eyes roaming my face.

“Get outta here with that shit Val, you know you’re fucking gorgeous,” she murmurs, her words lighthearted but to me they mean more. My stomach filling with butterflies, I finally turn to face her, eyes meeting hers.

“You really think so?” I ask in a moment of vulnerability. I was a confident woman, someone who took care of herself, didn’t need anyone’s approval. But with Paige I found myself craving it. I hated it

With a roll of her eyes, Paige smirks and pulls me on top of her. “C’mere ma,” she murmurs and her hand drags me down for a kiss by the back of my head. I sigh into her lips, my body against hers and legs straddling her as Paige’s big hands explored my body, slipping underneath the t-shirt and brushing against my side. All the need accumulated since last night, no, since that night in the bathroom finally tips over.

I break the kiss to sit back up and pull off the t-shirt, Paige’s mouth agape as she looks up at me, wetting her lips as her eyes wander around my body, letting out a heavy breath as her gaze lands onto my breasts.

“Perfect girl,” she coos, bringing her hand to cup my breast. Goosebumps cover my skin as I lower myself back to kiss her jaw. I had completely forgotten about Jay at this point, all I saw was Paige.

My hands are quick to find her shorts, pulling them down with urgency while my lips suck on her neck. Usually she reminded me not to leave marks but this time all I hear from her is heavy breathing and quiet groans, bucking her hips up at me. I grin against her neck, testing the waters and sucking a little, enough to leave a little mark. Paige only hums and helps me by throwing her shorts onto the floor.

My fingertips sneak underneath her sports bra, my other hand pushing Paige’s rising hips down, seeking to find contact somewhere. 

“Take it off,” I whimper and watch her lust filled gaze never break eye contact as she pulls the bra off, leaving her only in the black boxers. I found my mouth salivating for her, wanting to bury myself between her legs. But I must take my time, I needed to. I needed to drag it out as long as I could.

I watch her hiss and throw her head back as my tongue swirls around her nipple, feeling it turn hard underneath my tongue. Biting on it gently, I grind my clothed core down on her thigh, my wetness growing unbearable. 

“Val, you’re killing me,” Paige nearly whines and I giggle, leaving red marks on her breasts, my hands gripping her thighs tight.

“Good,” is all I say as I continue my descent, placing sloppy kisses all over her abs, my mind wandering to the dirty thoughts of what they’d feel like flexing under my pussy, grinding my clit against them. I needed to keep that in mind for the future. But not now, I needed to taste her.

Paige groans frustratedly, and I feel her hands coming to my head to push me down. I slap her hands away, pinning them by her side, lifting my head to look at her. She could easily push my grip away and take me, but Paige was letting me have my fun, my fingers digging into her wrists.

“Baby, c’mon,” she whines, looking down at me with her teeth biting down on her lip, brows furrowed and hips bucking. 

“Keep those hands to yourself Bueckers,” I murmur, my lips kissing along the band of her boxers. I hear her groan, arching to my touch. I lift my gaze to her, my eyes wide. “Oh, you want these off?” I ask, acting dumb, slowly beginning to pull down the boxers.

“You’re such a bitch,” Paige says, trying to sound serious but a small whine comes through in her voice, making me grin. 

“I think you like it,” I tease, finally pulling the boxers off her. “I think it makes you wet,” I grin seeing the way she’s glistening for me as I spread her legs apart, making room for myself.

“Fuck it does ma,” Paige moans, watching me descend inbetween her legs, her hand finding my brown hair and pulling it off my face. I maintain eye contact, my own core leaking through my panties at this point as I kiss her inner thighs, feeling the way they tremble underneath my lips.

“That’s fucked up, you should go to therapy,” I grin, my mouth slowly inching closer to where she needed me most. “That’s gotta be some kinda- mmph,” suddenly Paige’s hands both pull me to her core, my mouth buried in her cunt as she lets out a guttural moan.

“Ohhhh shit Val that’s it,” she groans as I take the hint, my tongue swirling all around her folds, softly lapping against her clit just the way she likes. Her taste on my tongue feels like heaven and I feel my own eyes roll back from how good it felt to have her like this. My arms wrap around her thighs, pulling her impossibly closer as my lips suck on her clit, earning desperate whines from her.

“Mmmh, that’s it, just like that ma,” she moans and I hear her hiss as my tongue slips inside her, nose rubbing against her clit. Paige is making a mess of my face, and the sheets but neither of us bother to care at this point. She leans up against her elbows to see my ass in the mirrored closet opposite to her bed, letting out a groan as she sees the reflection of me bent over, eating her, a wet spot visible on my panties.

She leans over and I feel a loud smack on my ass as I continue to make a mess of her with my tongue, alternating between sucking her clit and licking sloppily. “Mmph,” I moan against her, it sending vibrations all over her body. That was enough for me to feel the muscles on her thighs start to tighten.

“Taste so good baby, fuck,” I whimper on her pussy, making Paige let out a guttural groan, her grip in my hair tightening further, guiding my mouth just right.

“Such a fucking good girl,” she hisses, watching me in the mirror, her eyes heavy as she found herself getting closer just from the way my tongue is lapping her up. “So fucking- ahh shit, sexy,” 

“Yeah you think I’m sexy?” I whimper against her dripping cunt, shaking my head with my tongue buried in her folds. Paige’s eyes flutter shut and she nods, jaw going slack.

“Perfect, so good for me,” she mumbles, barely able to hold herself together. “Gonna make me– shit, gonna make me cum.”

I keep lapping her, listening for her reactions and holding her still as her body started to squirm underneath me, building to her orgasm. “Baby I need you to cum,” I murmur, my jaw hurting but the sounds coming out of Paige’s mouth making it all worth it.

“Please, Paige,” I whine and that does it. I feel her gasp, her hand gripping my hair and burying my face into her. I could barely breathe but I don’t mind as my mouth works tirelessly to get her over the edge.

“Valerie, oh fuck,” she groans, her head tilting back and back arching as she reaches her orgasm, grinding herself against my face. It’s so hot I nearly come too. I guide her through it, licking her until her moans turn high pitched and her hands in my hair ease up.

Panting, she brushes her hair off her face as I wipe my face onto her thigh, watching her from between her legs.

“Goddamn baby,” she says hoarsely, trying to catch her breath. Giggling, I climb back up on top of her, Paige’s hand slapping my ass hard enough to make me let out a squeal. 

“Stop, you’ll leave a bruise,” I complain, but Paige grins arrogantly, pulling me into a sloppy kiss. I moan hard, feeling the dampness in my panties growing unbearable.

“That’s the point ma,” she chuckles against my lips, suddenly flipping me over and spreading my legs wide as she sits between them, biting her lips and gazing down at me. “Fuck,” she groans looking from my damp panties to my dark eyes. For a moment she looks almost a little flustered, trying to find the words.

“I uh, I got something new,” she says, her cheeks turning even redder. Curious, I lean up against the pillows behind me. “For us, I mean.” 

Wait, she knew I was seeing someone, and she was seeing someone too, but she got something just for us two? What game was she trying to play? It felt impossible to figure her out.

Before my mind begins to race further, Paige has dug out a blue vibrator wand and is kissing me more tenderly than before. She pulls away a little, clearly hesitating for a moment.

“I don’t want you using the same toy on me and your other bitches,” I tell her a little offended but Paige quickly shakes her head.

“No no no, Valerie ‘s not like that,” she urgently stops me, kissing me softly. “It’s just for us, for you. No one else.”

Her words sound soft, almost tender against my lips which only makes me grow wetter between my legs. I didn’t know what parts were an act and what were genuine. All I knew is I needed her badly.

The moment I nod, Paige’s hands slide underneath the band of my panties, sliding them down to my ankles tenderly, her kisses soft and sloppy against my lips, moving to my neck. The breathy whimper I let out makes Paige let out a heavy breath as her hands spread my legs wide apart, wetness dripping out of me already.

“So pretty,” she murmurs hoarsely, licking her lips as she grabs the vibrator, the quiet, steady buzzing signalling it was turned on. I watch her wide eyes as she brings it to my thighs.

“Paige please,” I whine out squirming as she kneels between my legs and places her knees on my thighs to hold them wide open and steady. She watches me writhe underneath her, nearly gasping for air from how bad she loves seeing me like this.

“Nuh-uh,” she shakes her head, the vibrator ghosting my cunt to find my opposite thigh, vibrating against it. “You know what to call me.”

Fuck. She had gotten like this once before, made me call her something that drove both her and me wild. She knew I would remember what it was.

“Fuck. Daddy, please,”

With that Paige presses the toy against my swollen, sensitive clit, immediately forcing wetness to drip out of me as I gasp and grab onto the sheets around us. She gasps with me, like she’s feeling it too as my legs immediately start to shake, wanting to close around the toy, but Paige’s legs are pinning me down. It was way too much, overstimulating in every sense.

“Too much P,” I cry out but Paige shakes her head, shushing me as she towers over me. 

“Just a lil more ma, you can take it,” she coos, leaning down to press kisses on my open mouth, turning the vibrator on a higher setting. “‘S gonna feel so good I promise.”

I feel my eyes grow teary as the toy vibrates against my soaking cunt ruthlessly, when suddenly all of the overstimulation turns into nothing but pleasure. My eyes roll back and I let out a loud moan.

“Daddy, shit,” I whine, my back arching and my nails digging into Paige’s back as she holds the toy steady on me, slowly starting to circle my clit with it making a quick mess of me.

“You’re so wet baby,” Paige gasps shocked as she glances down at the way her hand and the sheets were glistening. But I barely notice, already feeling that coil in my abdomen start to tighten. I’m gasping desperately now, hands grabbing anything they could, moaning loudly as Paige kissed my jaw and neck groaning against my skin.

“Daddy I’m gonna come-” I cry out, tears spilling from my eyes, Paige moving the vibrator against me sloppily, driving me to the edge.

“Fuck, already?” Paige asks, surprised but impressed, her nose pressing against mine. My legs tremble desperately as her free hand slides up to hold my jaw.

I nod, my eyes squeezing shut as I’m just about to roll over the edge. Suddenly Paige pulls the toy away from me, making my eyes snap open and leaving my core throbbing, no, aching for relief.

“What the fuck?” I ask but Paige just grins down at me. 

“You didn’t say please,” she smirks, making me roll my eyes.

“I don’t have to say please,”

“Yes the fuck you do.”

“No I don’t,”

“Fine if you don’t wanna come ma.” 

Frustrated, I groan. I simultaneously hated and loved when Paige made me beg for it. I hated giving her the satisfaction. But lying underneath her with my cunt throbbing and tears rolling down my cheeks I would’ve done anything to come for her.

“Please,” I say, my cheeks blushing as I look up into her blue eyes. She was enjoying this a little too much.

“Please what?” Paige teases, pushing the vibrator against my inner thigh again. It makes me moan softly, wanting to buck my hips closer, but it was useless.

“Please daddy,” I finally whine, earning a smile from Paige.

“Good girl.”

The vibrator is pushed against my clit again, now turned up all the way, forcing a moan to spill from my lips as I feel my orgasm quickly start to build once more.

“Open your mouth,” Paige commands and I don’t even think about it when I push my tongue out and feel her spit into my mouth before kissing my lips fiercely, moving the toy in a circular motion against my swollen clit.

“Daddy, fuck, please, please, please,” I plead, not even completely sure what for as my mind turns hazy and my body trembles uncontrollably.

“Such a good girl for daddy,” she praises with a hoarse voice, nose pressed tight against mine as she kisses my open mouth, bringing me to the edge.

“C’mon pretty girl come for me.”

I feel my body ride over the edge, all the muscles in my body tightening, back arching and a high pitched moan leaving my lips as the pleasure finally releases, waves of ecstasy rushing over me.

“Aww shit, look at that ma,” Paige mumbles, looking between our bodies watching the way my cunt was squirting all over her arm, legs and bed. My mind turns completely blank, eyes shut tight as my nails nearly draw blood from her back, the pleasure overwhelming me. 

I swear I black out for a moment, only returning to consciousness from how suddenly overstimulating and almost painful the toy felt against my clit.

“Stopp, stop stop stop,” I whine pushing Paige’s hand away as she chuckles but obliges. The quiet buzzing of the toy ends as it’s thrown onto the mattress and the blonde crashes on top of me, nuzzling her nose into my neck.

I take a moment to try and catch my breath before I realise what just happened, and what a mess I had made. Looking down at us and the wet spot we were lying in I sigh, feeling a little embarrassed.

“Fuck I’m sorry P,” I murmur but she pulls away, looking at me shocked.

“For?”

“For, well…” I mumble and point to the mess but she only smugly smiles and shakes her head.

“You’re kidding, ma that’s so sexy,” she arrogantly says.

My eyes widen in surprise. “Really?”

Paige licks her lips and nods. “Ye, really. Never made you squirt before.”

I blush a little as Paige presses a soft, tender kiss on my lips - almost loving.

“C’mon let’s go shower,” she murmurs.

I giggle a little, shaking my head. “I cannot stand yet.”

“Oh,” Paige laughs and looks down at my legs that are visibly still trembling.

“I’ll carry you then,” she says and easily scoops me up, walking us both towards the shower. 

I rest my head on her shoulder, watching the way her nose turns up at the end, the way her lower lip pouts and how her jawline sharpens as she tilts her head. Something about her had changed. Lately she had been more caring, kind, tender. I didn’t understand it. All I knew is the way my heart fluttered and my mind eased up around her, I was in big trouble with Paige Bueckers.

-

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[dresshistorynerd]

The Morrisian case against fast fashion

Today I discovered that H&M made a William Morris collection some years ago. The heath death of the universe can't come quickly enough. We can stop now. Satire is dead and we killed her.

It's not just the whole concept of H&M using William Morris' designs for their fast fashion which is insanity inducing, but also the critical response it garnered. Like sure, people did realize this is insane and there was a lot of think pieces about it at the time, but I read several of them and they all seem to still miss the point in spectacular way.

The basic premise of these think pieces go along the lines of: "Would William Morris spin in his grave with a speed of light because of the H&M collection of his designs? A difficult question indeed. William Morris was a complicated man. He wanted art to be affordable to everyone. Isn't H&M affordable? That kinda fits. Though probably he would have some concerns about H&M's practices."

On the surface - yes - but like in reality - fuck no. There's no nuance in this particular issue. He talked about many times what he though of the H&Ms of his time, the retailers selling poor quality industrially produced "fashionable" bullshit. We know exactly what he would have thought of H&M. Here's couple of quotes from his 1884 lecture "Art and Socialism", which makes it very clear.

"It would be an instructive day's work for any one of us who is strong enough to walk through two or three of the principal streets of London on a week-day, and take accurate note of everything in the shop windows which is embarrassing or superfluous to the daily life of a serious man. Nay, the most of these things no one, serious or unserious, wants at all; only a foolish habit makes even the lightest-minded of us suppose that he wants them, and to many people even of those who buy them they are obvious encumbrances to real work, thought and pleasure. But I beg you to think of the enormous mass of men who are occupied with this miserable trumpery, from the engineers who have had to make the machines for making them, down to the hapless clerks who sit day-long year after year in the horrible dens wherein the wholesale exchange of them is transacted, and the shopmen, who not daring to call their souls their own, retail them amidst numberless insults which they must not resent, to the idle public which doesn't want them but buys them to be bored by them and sick to death of them."

He is describing the birth of consumerism, which was taking form during his lifetime in the late Victorian Era, which fast fashion is the extreme logical conclusion of, and he fucking hated it. He specifically railed against endless consumerist products, which H&M is the perfect representation of. It was definitely not the art and beauty he believed everyone required and deserved. He makes the distinction often.

"Now if we are to have popular Art, or indeed Art of any kind, we must at once and for all be done with this luxury; it is the supplanter, the changeling of Art; so much so that by those who know of nothing better it has even been taken for Art, the divine solace of human labour, the romance of each day's hard practice of the difficult art of living."

"And here furthermore is at least a little sign whereby to distinguish between a rag of fashion and a work of Art: whereas the toys of fashion when the first gloss is worn off them do become obviously worthless even to the frivolous—a work of Art, be it ever so humble, is long lived; we never tire of it; as long as a scrap hangs together it is valuable and instructive to each new generation. All works of Art in short have the property of becoming venerable amidst decay: and reason good, for from the first there was a soul in them, the thought of man, which will be visible in them so long as the body exists in which they were implanted."

When he thought of popular Art he thought of the craftsmanship of the common people. The art people have made from useful everyday objects with skillful handicrafts. This is what he means by "divine solace of human labour". It's not reverence of Puritanical work ethic, on the contrary, it's the reverence of creation, of the earnest joy people feel when they get to express themselves through their creative pursuits. He certainly didn't believe in work for work's sake, work needed to be worthwhile and enjoyable. He summarized his own position on what labour should be thusly:

"It is right and necessary that all men should have work to do which shall be worth doing, and be of itself pleasant to do; and which should he done under such conditions as would make it neither over-wearisome nor over-anxious."

He urged his middle class audience to reject consumerism (the lecture was for a very much middle class atheist society):

"For I say again that in buying these things: 'Tis the lives of men you buy! Will you from mere folly and thoughtlessness make yourselves partakers of the guilt of those who compel their fellow men to labour uselessly?"

I think it's glaringly obvious H&M and fast fashion in general is what he would consider luxury. Rags of fashion that are just churned out and discarded without thought and produced by compelling people to labour uselessly. It's not popular art that's made by workers and craftsmen, who are able to express themselves through it. There's no agency for the abused workers in H&M's sweatshops, they are not expressing their joy of creation, they are simply labouring uselessly.

Morris didn't shame workers for buying affortable things even if they weren't Art with big A, because that's the problem he despised the whole economic system for, for taking away the popular Art from people, making it inaccessible, and selling back mass produced products with very little practical or aesthetic value. So I don't think he would have problem with people who can only afford fast fashion today. They are the victims of capitalism too, because Art has been taken away from them. But the idea that some of these think pieces had that perhaps the H&M's Morris collection can be good actually if you squint, that H&M has the capacity to bring the art and beauty Morris advocated for for the people, is level of stupidity that's hard to express in words.

Morris didn't believe anything made with exploited labour could be truly beautiful, truly art. In his 1879 lecture "The Art of the People" he put it like this:

"That thing which I understand by real art is the expression by man of his pleasure in labour."

The way I understand this, is that art is communication. Through it we communicate feelings, ideas and thoughts, that is it's purpose. So for that communication to work, for it to be imbued with message, the person making it needs to feel passion and love for it's creation. How can there be love and passion if the hands making the garment belong to a tired exploited worker who has no agency what so ever in their work and can only think about survival to the next day?

Beyond the fundamental exploitativeness of H&M and fast fashion, this collection would still get zero points on aesthetic values from Morris even with his own designs. Because the work itself was such an important part of art for Morris, good design was nothing without good craftsmanship. Good design in his mind was always relative and dependent on it's purpose.

"For everything made by man’s hands has a form, which must be either beautiful or ugly; beautiful if it is in accord with Nature, and helps her; ugly if it is discordant with Nature, and thwarts her; it cannot be indifferent." (The Lesser Arts, 1877)

Here when he says nature, he means the nature of the thing that is made - basically it's purpose and function - and the nature of the materials it's made from. Basically, the design must always be made to bring out the function of the art and the qualities of the material it's made from, not fight against them. This is because he believed handicrafts were uniquely suitable for expressing the love of creation, therefore superior labour, and to really bring out the qualities of the craftsmanship and enjoy the creative process, the design should be suitable for that craft. The other side, which was the joy of using and experiencing art, required the craft to be selected for the suitable purpose. Using poorly functioning furniture for example is not very enjoyable, nor is using clothing that's made from materials that are not suitable for the climactic conditions it's supposed to be used in.

H&M of course utterly fails in this. They use Morris' designs in fully unsuitable ways. They print patterns made for example for wall papers on poor quality fabrics with synthetics dyes they weren't made for. This line from one blog post I came across really got me: "Therefore, without cheapening the artistic value of Morris’ designs, H&M’s collection offers an unparalleled potential for accessibility to them." No. Fuck no. They do in fact cheapen Morris' designs in every single way possible. Literally this is atrocious.

Despite the popular depiction, Morris wasn't in fact against industrial machinery or industrial art even, or at least he wasn't once his views on art and politics matured. He did think technology was useful, but he thought the people should use industrial methods for the benefit of all, not be enslaved by the industrial machine.

"I have spoken of machinery being used freely for releasing people from the more mechanical and repulsive part of necessary labour; and I know that to some cultivated people, people of the artistic turn of mind, machinery is particularly distasteful, and they will be apt to say you will never get your surroundings pleasant so long as you are surrounded by machinery. I don't quite admit that; it is the allowing machines to be our masters and not our servants that so injures the beauty of life nowadays. In other words, it is the token of the terrible crime we have fallen into of using our control of the powers of Nature for the purpose of enslaving people, we care less meantime of how much happiness we rob their lives of." ("How we live and how we might live", 1887)

However, he thought that the designer should approach it the way they approached any craft, by designing for the strengths of the machine work.

"But if you have to design for machine-work, at least let your design show clearly what it is. Make it mechanical with a vengeance, at the same time as simple at possible. Don't try, for instance, to make a printed plate look like a hand-painted one: make it something which no one would try to do if he were painting by hand..." ("Art and the Beauty of the Earth", 1881)

He did use some machinery for fabric and wall paper printing, but he was very intentional about their use. Still his designs weren't made for the type of methods these modern H&M machinery uses and he did for example use natural dyes. Particularly insulting is that some of the H&M clothes are made from viscose, rayon made with viscose method. Viscose method is extremely toxic and is known to cause long term health consequences for the workers and the people in surrounding areas. This has been well proven knowledge for ages. William Morris' wall paper factory in the beginning used the typical method used at the time which involved arsenic, but once he learned this could pose risks for the workers, he changed the method. Many of the new synthetic dyes were toxic at the time, which is the major reason he so favoured natural dyes, known to not cause health issues for workers or pollute the environment.

The question many of these think pieces about the H&M Morris collection posed was, would Morris disapprove and should we care? The first part of that is very easy to answer. Yes. Of course Morris would disapprove. He is currently powering the whole of British Isles with purely the kinetic energy his grave-spinning produces. Should we care though? If you care about Morris' art, if you want to see more of that kind of art in this world, you should care. Morris' art is not about the superficial qualities. Copying his designs and aesthetics and styles, will only lead to hollow imitations, that are exactly what he described the rags of fashion to be; as the shininess of novelty wears off they will reveal themselves to be soulless, useless and utterly empty. This collection is just that. To see more of the kind of art that makes you feel like his art makes you feel, not just something that reminds you of that feeling, you should focus more on the way the art is made and less on the specific aesthetics. If his vision of labour and art was realised, all art produced of course wouldn't be loved by every person, but all of it would be loved by someone, even if that someone was just the maker. And that would be more worthwhile than every single rag of fast fashion.

I will stop William-Morris-posting now and return to my thesis.

The full texts I quoted here:

Art and Socialism The Art of the People The Lesser Arts How We Live and How We Might Live Art and the Beauty of the Earth

[crescenthistory]

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 lilyprongsfoot

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.

[essektheylyss]

I love that Caleb does not ever seem to take opportunities to take any kind of "this might be the last moment I have" actions. No matter what, when everyone else is going around and making their desperate moves, Caleb doesn't. Even after he recommends otherwise to others, it is notable that he among the group doesn't do so, and this is consistent with his previous behavior.

I like to think that stems from the moment he opted against trying to work with Trent—which I think, at its core, was an attempt at such an action. If Caleb had died fighting the Somnovem, he had every reason to believe that Trent would continue in his actions. Though Astrid and Eadwulf were willing to subtly undermine him, they had made it clear that they were not willing to challenge him outright. Caleb tells the Nein, when they are discussing their last wishes at the Blooming Grove before returning to Eiselcross, that he would appreciate Trent being eliminated in the event of his death. I have to believe that there was a fear or regret that his dearest motivations would not come to fruition which spurred his interest in using an alliance with him in Aeor to trap and kill him.

I've mentioned elsewhere that I believe Essek's willingness to disagree with him was one of the factors in Caleb being able to trust him and his judgment, but I would also argue it was a wake-up call for Caleb—about letting himself be distracted; about not focusing in on the mission at hand; about, potentially, expecting failure in this goal, especially after he has watched his friends say their goodbyes as if they too expect to die. "Stay on task, Widogast," is a mantra he uses in Vergessen, but he does get caught up, to an extent, in enacting as much damage as he can to the place in the process, and regardless of whether this ruthless assault slowed or sped their discovery, Trent did catch up to them, and very nearly caught Veth and Jester as well as himself. Given Caleb's fears throughout the campaign that he will draw the danger that dogs him onto his newfound friends, and his later apology to Essek in the same conversation for drawing Trent's attention to him, it is not a stretch to argue that this is yet another guilt he shoulders.

It isn't lost on me that Caleb almost died before the Nein even met, he was perpetually aware of his fragility among the group, and he was the last member of the Nein to go down and need to be revived. So I just think it's very fun if he, who so often seemed to be on the verge of death, who in fact planned to step back in history and in the process erase the person he had become, found himself at some point determined to live, and firmly confident in his ability to do so.

He does not wrap up his affairs, he does not say goodbyes, and while he may acknowledge the stakes for the group, he does not entertain the idea that he personally will not make it out alive—because, as Dorian notes, he has a lot to live for. He has to get back home to his partner and his well-maintained garden; he has to make sure the Cerberus Assembly's nefarious schemes do not continue in Ludinus's absence, perhaps even in the absence of the Assembly itself, depending on what its members do in its wake; he probably has to go egg on his godson's shenanigans as payback for Veth threatening to shoot him out of the sky.

Caleb Widogast is an absolute cockroach of a wizard, and, in true Mighty Nein form, he is at all times thriving on unfinished business.

[thatdisasterauthor]

I do indeed have much I can say on all of this! I don’t have time for a full breakdown, but let’s hit some key points.

🌪The Milton evacuation and changing the direction highways.

This is called “contraflow” and it is indeed a thing that is frequently used in evacuations. However, from what I understand, Florida might have laws against this? At least that’s what I’ve heard, or maybe just laws that do indeed make it very difficult. I haven’t had a chance to look into it too closely. And it is a tricky thing to do safely just off the cuff without a known procedure in place, which you wouldn’t have if it’s against the law in your area. You’ve gotta shut down all the exits/entrances accordingly so you don’t have issues with head-on traffic, you’ve gotta make sure you have effective alternate routes for emergency traffic, you’ve gotta have a space to reintegrate traffic into the proper lanes once the contraflow segment has ended, etc. etc.

You’re right that this isn’t a police problem, it’s a LAW problem. Maybe also a police problem in the sense of what trainings are available to them, what procedures they have in these situations, etc., but not an ACAB style police problem. Plenty of places DO use it, like I said. (Also, sometimes you’ll get spontaneous contraflow, where people just start doing on their own, but that’s a whole different can of worms.)

🚗 Over dependence on cars.

America is indeed super car dependent, but that’s not exactly the issue here, at least not in the way you’d think. First off, evacuations are just HARD. That’s a lot of people to move. Even if you took every large transport vehicle in a given area (so all the buses of any sort, any trains, any planes), you’re not going to get the entire population moved out in a timely manner, even if every seat is taken. It just isn’t feasible for so many reasons. People DO need to be able to evacuate via car. It’s also very dependent on the disaster in question. An evacuation for a hurricane is very different than most other evacuations due to the amount of time you, usually, have.

Now, one thing that happens and causes problems during evacuations is that people take ALL their cars instead of just one. Mom takes one car with the kids and as much stuff as possible stuffed in the back, and Dad takes his truck with the dogs and the bed piled high. A lot of evacuation planning doesn’t account for this. They see a four person family and think, “ah yes, the family sedan has six seats, they’ll just take that and go, we don’t need to plan for them to put both their cars on the road and at all the gas stations along the way.” But then they do take both cars, and so does every other family on the road, and suddenly you’ve got a shit ton more cars doing something that you expected a lot less cars to be doing. I have a lot more thoughts on this I can share later, if people are interested, but for now we shall move on.

(There’s also definitely an element of poor city planning and infrastructure in some places, but that’s very much a case by case thing.)

👩🏻‍🚒 We need a better emergency management system.

Yes! Though, actually, we already have a pretty good one as compared to other countries. Not great, by any means, but something like FEMA is pretty rare. Most countries just kind of ad hoc disaster response on a case by case basis, which is also what we did until we created FEMA in the 70s.

I have A LOT of thoughts about how we could improve the system as it currently stands, which is a big part of why I want to do a PhD in emergency management.

🔥 When to evacuate.

You mentioned this in relation to the Camp Fire, and that one is…yeah, that one was so bad. There’s a lot that goes into making evacuation decisions, and unfortunately studies have shown that a lot of emergency officials still believe the myth that people will panic if you give them too much information about a disaster. This leads to delays in evacuations, among other things. Also, evacuations are expensive, and that makes officials hold back. Plus, there’s the “cried wolf” effect where if it turns out the evacuation WASN’T needed, the next time it IS needed, people will be less likely to go, which again makes officials hold back.

With the Camp Fire, though, I don’t know if any of that specifically was what was at play. That thing just moved FAST. Also, this was a small mountain town. There were not a lot of ways out, just thin mountain roads. I guarantee those officials who made the evacuation call hesitated because they knew people WOULD get stuck on the few potential roads to safety. They weren’t making a choice about evacuation, they were making a choice on where they wanted people to be when the fire DID hit. Because it was going to hit. So do they concentrate people all in one spot, on a road that itself won’t burn but will be completely surrounded, or do they keep people spaced out all over town hoping that pockets of it might be safe? And they had to make that decision at the drop of a hat, knowing people were likely to die either way.

Fires are, in my opinion, the most terrifying thing to have to manage an evacuation for. They are both incredibly quick, but also potentially long lasting. They can shift direction at a moment’s notice. They can do things you never knew they could do. They can consume absolutely massive areas. They can die down and pop back up when you least expect it. And to be the person making the decision on how to handle that must be a very, very heavy weight.

👋🏻 People in positions of power just waving their hands.

Some do, some don’t. There are so, so many amazing people out there who care about this stuff and are doing their best to address these issues. But they need support. Taking over the department of transportation isn’t the answer, your local emergency management department is. Check out what their emergency plans look like, they should be on your county and state websites. Read through them, find the holes, go to meetings, contact your representatives. Be a nuisance to Congress RIGHT NOW.

🎓 Disaster education

Lastly, to @kyraneko’s point about needing better disaster education, yes! Yes we do! I think one of FEMA’s weakest points is its lack of addressing and helping individuals directly prior to a disaster, rather than in large groups. I’m working on it. Got a big project in the works that will, hopefully, start addressing this issue. And that’s not including the PhD.

Sooooooo….yeah! :D That ended up a lot longer than I thought, lol. Hope some of it was interesting to those of you who have made it to the end.

So I have a friend from high school who is a cop. (Yes, I KNOW.) I shared a photo on Facebook of a packed highway of people attempting to evacuate from Hurricane Milton, all while the lanes going in the opposite direction were open and empty. And my Facebook post was basically me screaming, “Open the other side of the highway and reverse it so that people can GET OUT.”

His response was essentially, “Yeah, that is *really* difficult for us to do.” Not in a condescending way, because he genuinely isn’t a huge asshole. (Yes, I KNOW.)

And then I may have vented in my response, in which I tried not to imply that the police were a problem. Because to be honest, I don’t see this as a police problem. I see this as how we have fucked ourselves as a nation by making ourselves so dependent on cars.

There is that poll on this site – or multiple polls, at this point – asking how long people can tolerate being in their cars. And the thing is, Americans (and Canadians as well, I am imagining) have almost no other options. We have to be used to spending a good 12 hours in a car without breaking a sweat. Everything in this country is built around being in a car. There’s a reason when you ask us how far away a place is from somewhere else, we normally give that distance in hours and not miles.

Air travel sucks. It sucks for a multitude of reasons – cost, the hassle of dealing with security, the time suck, etc. – and in an emergency, only a select few are going to be able to use it to get away from a hurricane. And that’s one of the few disasters where air travel is an optional escape.

Train travel sucks. Amtrak is not something you’re gonna be complaining about if you’re trying to get away from whatever disaster you need to evacuate from. But next to so many other countries, Amtrak looks like we’ve been receiving other countries’s leftover railway systems from the 70s. It also doesn’t go everywhere. I live in northeastern Pennsylvania near Scranton, which prides itself on its history in the train industry. We have a museum and everything. We have multiple things named after that museum, including the Steamtown marathon which is happening tomorrow.

Can you get on a passenger train in Scranton? Nope.

(The main argument against this always seems to be that people will come here from New York City and commit crimes, which is hilarious considering if somebody wanted to come here from New York City and commit crimes it’s only a 2.5-hour drive.)

Anyway, disasters.

If the only option you’re gonna give most people to get out of areas of Florida that are being targeted by hurricanes or areas of California that suffer from wildfires or places in the Midwest that face flooding are cars, then we need a better fucking emergency management system regarding transportation in this country. You can’t just sit there and mock people for not evacuating because they can’t or won’t when getting away from Milton meant sitting on highway for hours with absolutely no gas stations whatsoever nearby having any gas at all. (It just makes me think of those photos of people stranded on the highway in their cars in blizzards where people are like, “Now imagine imagine how bad it would be if all of those cars were electric!“ Well, all of those cars in that photo in that blizzard run on gas and they’re fucking stranded, sooooooo.)

Look, we can change the transportation system in this country. we did it before and we can do it again. We used to have more train options, fewer highways. My small hometown had a fucking trolley in the 40s. Now, if you don’t have a car here, you’re stuck. You can’t even get Uber here. if a wildfire started here and surrounded the town, it would be a clusterfuck.

Regardless of how you feel about the police, if police and fire departments in this country cannot organize an evacuation on a highway in a way that will reduce the backup so that tens of thousands of people aren’t sitting in their cars when a hurricane hits, that’s a problem – not just for those people, but for the police, and the fire department, and emergency management in general.

The people in charge of emergency management are just people, just human. I’m researching the Camp Fire in 2018 right now, and you had a bunch of people calling 911 saying, “I can see a huge fire off to the east. Are we safe? Should we evacuate?” The 911 operators could only work off the information they had. They could have told people to evacuate earlier, but Cal Fire didn’t anticipate the strength of the fire. Which is understandable. Nobody could anticipate the strength of that fire. But the 911 operators were sitting in an office with no windows, and they had no idea what was going on the east. They couldn’t look out and see exactly what was happening. If they could have, they probably would have told people to leave as soon as possible much sooner than they were told to. Instead, they waited for official confirmation, and when they did start telling people to evacuate, traffic managed to back up in a small town of 25,000 people until many of them were trapped in an unimaginable hellscape.

When people need to evacuate from a disaster, and they stay instead, far too many people - including those in positions of power – just kind of wave their hands and say, “Well, we tried.” No, we didn’t. This country made not trying its watchword, and now we’re at a point where unless you own a car, which is a luxury a lot of people cannot afford in this economy, escaping from disaster is impossible. So you can get in your car or somebody else’s car and go sit on a highway and hope your gas doesn’t run out, since none of the gas stations for 100 miles have any gas to give you, or you can stay in your house and hope you don’t die.

Sometimes, I really wish somebody would make me the head of the department of transportation. I would demand an absurd amount of money to build a better train system, to provide better transportation options for smaller towns, to provide extensive training for rescue personnel in managing evacuations like the clusterfuck in Florida this week. I would become an absolute fucking nuisance to Congress. I would be asking for money left and right to make it so that our only options as Americans weren’t to get into cars we can barely afford these days and attempt to organize our own evacuations from the growing number of natural disasters in this country.

Y’all keep posting these polls about how long you can tolerate being in a car at the same time that tens of thousands of Floridians were sitting on highways trying to get away from Tampa so they wouldn’t die in a hurricane.

We can tolerate being in a car all goddamn day. It’s because we don’t have a fucking choice, even when it’s life or death.

[quintessenceofdust88]

Hello everyone! Here's the sequel for Oreos and Orange Juice (a.k.a the fluff piece with pregnant!Buck and Jee-Yun). Brought to you with extra doses of fluffiness (almot 2,000 words!) and uncle Tommy being the literal best!

It’s almost nine when Tommy finally drags himself through the door, throwing his keys in the bowl and being instantly met by the bright laughter of Jee-Yun coming from the kitchen, followed by Evan’s excited voice as he tells her a kid-friendly version of a funny rescue they performed the other day. 

Even though he’s exhausted from his shift, Tommy smiles. Jee-Yun is always a joy to have around, and the sweet child’s laughter echoing through the house gives him a wonderful glimpse of their future which is coming sooner and sooner. 

“Morning, you two” He says softly, entering the kitchen, and both of them look at him with the same excited eager Buckley signature smile. 

“Uncle Tommy!” Jee says, throwing herself against his legs, and Tommy easily lifts her into his hip. 

“Hi, princess Jee” Tommy greets her while crossing the kitchen to place a quick peck on Evan’s lips, and it’s deliciously domestic. He can’t wait for the day he’ll do it with their own kids, one twin in each arm. “How was your night? Did your uncle Evan let you up past your bedtime again?” He teases, and Jee’s giggle is all the confirmation he needs.

“Only a tiny bit, right, Jee?” Evan tells her with a wink as he slides a plate of pancakes in his direction, and Tommy could just about kiss him. He places Jee back in her chair and sits beside her. 

Evan joins them on the table with a bottle of syrup and, for some reason, a slice of cheese over his own chocolate chip pancakes. At this point, Tommy has learned better than to comment on his cravings, so he just presses a kiss to his cheek, earning a blinding smile in return.

“So how was your shift?” He asks Tommy, and he swallows the bite of pancake (delicious, as always; Tommy is absolutely spoiled by his husband's cooking) in his mouth before answering.

“It was okay, nothing major; two med-evacs. What about you guys, did you have fun?” He asks, and then tenderly nudges Jee's cheek, wanting to bring her into the conversation. “Did you take care of your uncle and the babies for me?” He asks her, expecting a small giggle. 

What he doesn’t expect is the excited gasp she lets out, swallowing her bite practically unchewed. 

“Uncle Tommy, you’re never gonna believe what the babies did last night!” She says excitedly, and Tommy can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. 

“What was that, princess?” He asks curiously, and she and Evan exchange a conspiratorial glance.

“They kicked my hand!” She answers, bouncing in her seat, unable to contain her joy. “It was just like when Kevin kicked Mama but there were two of them this time, it was so cool!”

“Wait, really?! That’s so special, Jee!” Tommy tells her, his heart fluttering warmly in his chest as he looks at Evan for confirmation. 

The babies hadn’t kicked before; they had started moving about two weeks prior, and the doctor said kicks would probably start any time now. He knows Evan has been impatient about it, almost as if he was expecting it to be a confirmation the babies were okay.

“It was just as we were falling asleep” Evan tells him, his smile wide as he caresses his bump and proudly speaks of the kicks. “They’d been pretty quiet during the day, but I guess Jee inspired them, didn’t you, Jee-bug?” 

“Yeah! Uncle Buck said they were telling me good night!” She recalls, her smile never leaving her face until she looks at Tommy, and then it falters slightly. “Oh, but! I'm sorry you weren't there, uncle Tommy! They're your babies too, I bet you wanted them to say good night to you first!”

And, well; even if Tommy is slightly disappointed to have missed it, he can't have Jee apologizing for it. He kneels down to her level, a kind smile on his face.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, darlin’” He reassures her. “The babies will kick plenty of times, I'm sure. I'm glad they did it for the first time with you; it means they know they have the best big cousin in the world, don't they? Pretty smart babies if you ask me” He says with a wink, and Jee's smile can light up a whole firehouse.

“You're the best, uncle Tommy!” She throws her arms around his neck, and Tommy hugs her close to his chest for a few seconds before letting her happily return to her breakfast.

As he gets up and goes back to his own plate, Tommy glances at Evan, only to find him drying tears from his cheek. Tommy smiles teasingly at him, offering him a napkin; Evan takes it with a glare that loses all its effect because of the love in his eyes.

“I blame your children; they're making me hormonal” He says with a wet chuckle, and Tommy chuckles, pressing a kiss to his temple before sitting down.

“I blame the crying Buckley gene” Tommy teases. “I'll bet you anything that Maddie will cry when you tell her about the babies kicking for Jee”

“Oh, Mama will cry!” Jee pipes up, her face covered in syrup, and the two of them laugh at her certainty as Tommy bends over with a napkin to clean her face.

“See? And she's not pregnant anymore. It's the crying Buckley gene” Tommy reaffirms, and Evan shoves his shoulder playfully.

He chuckles and pays attention to his plate again, at least until he feels Evan's hand squeezing his. Tommy looks up to see him looking so earnestly at him that his heart skips a beat.

“I am sorry, though. That you missed it” He says, almost pouting, and Tommy finds it so adorable that he kisses it right away (Jee coos at them, and Tommy slightly blushes).

“Me too, a little. But you had the best company for it, sweetheart. And I'm sure they'll kick plenty of times before they're out here” He reassures him, and then tenderly places his hand on Evan's bump. “Hear that, little blobs? You kicked for Daddy and Jee-Yun, so no pressure, but if you wanna kick for Papa too…”

He keeps his hand on Evan’s bump for a while, and the three of them are silent, staring in expectation. Tommy’s about to lift his hand, making a joke about trying again at nighttime to clear the disappointment in Jee’s eyes, when he feels it. It’s a soft thing, almost like a tap against his hand, but it’s there. It’s one of their babies, moving around and pressing their tiny foot against Evan’s belly, and Tommy’s feeling it. Evan gasps in delight, clearly feeling it as well (duh, Kinard, he tells himself. If he can feel it, Evan has to be feeling it at least twice as strong), and his hand joins Tommy’s over his bump. 

“You guys really love your Papa’s attention, huh?” He teases, softly caressing his belly. “Hi, little blobs, Daddy’s glad to see you’re awake” He coos at his bump, and before either of them can say anything else, they’re joined by the little force of nature that is Jee-Yun Buckley-Han, her hand looking even tinier than it is when she puts it over her uncles’ massive ones.

“The babies are kicking again?! They’re saying hi to you, uncle Tommy!” She says excitedly, and Tommy feels the kick again, two this time, one beside the other, almost as if one twin is nudging the other to also say hi to their expectant family. 

“And to you, Jee. I keep telling you, they already love their big cousin” He tells her, and Jee presses a soft kiss to Evan’s belly. 

“I love you too, babies. When you’re out here, I’ll teach you lots of fun things, I promise!” She says excitedly, and Tommy doesn’t doubt it for a second. Apparently, neither does Evan. 

“They’ll be so lucky to have you, Jee” He whispers to her. “Just like I was lucky to have your Mama when I was a kid”

As if on cue, the doorbell rings, and Tommy reluctantly excuses himself to open it, but smiles when he sees Maddie on the other side. She pulls him into a hug, her usual way of greeting him by now, and Tommy can’t deny that he loves how she basically adopted him as her brother too. He grew up an only child, desperately wishing for a sister like Maddie; it feels good to have one now. 

“Hey! I was just going home from work and thought I’d pick up my little nuisance. She wasn’t too much trouble, was she?” Maddie asks, and Tommy closes the door behind them as she comes in. 

“None at all; in fact, she’s been a great help. Come see for yourself” He invites, and Maddie raises an eyebrow, but follows him into the kitchen. “Jee, look who’s here for you, princess” He announces, and both Jee and Evan look up, but this once, the little girl makes no move to run to her mother. 

“Mama! Come here! The babies are kicking! They’re saying hi!” She tells Maddie excitedly, and Tommy chuckles at how eagerly Maddie kneels down by Evan’s chair, her hands resting against her brother’s bump. “Uncle Tommy says they’re smart and know I’m the best big cousin, so they have to know you’re the best auntie too!” Her logic is sound, and Maddie sends Tommy a grateful look that has him blushing and rubbing his neck awkwardly.

“Hi, blobs” She says affectionately, and Tommy’s pretty proud of himself that the nickname stuck (he’s sure Evan isn’t). “It’s your auntie Maddie! Can you say hi? No pressure, though, I just thought-”

Tommy can tell the exact moment the babies respond to her voice, because both her and Evan gasp. They look at each other in that infuriating way of theirs, where it seems they hold an entire conversation through their gaze. Tommy may not know what they’re saying to each other, but he knows it’s only a matter of time before they get emotional. And… yeah, sure thing, before long both of them have tears running down their faces. 

And damn, he’s starting to think Buckley genes are contagious, because he has to dry his own eyes at the sight in front of him. This is bigger than him, Evan and their twins: it's family, like the ones from commercials or Hallmark movies, and Tommy never dreamt he could find himself in one of those.

He’s ridiculously happy that his children will be born surrounded by this much love. They have two doting parents, an honorary grandpa (Bobby's own words, and yes, Evan cried when he said it), a horde of very lovingly aunts and uncles, , and the most special big cousin in the world in Jee-Yun (not to mention Kevin and their other bunch of cousins, like Christopher, who texts Tommy at least twice a week to make sure he’s ‘taking care of Buck right’ and hangs out at their place at least twice more, wanting to make sure his Buck is okay). It's love, and caring, and what else could he wish for his little blobs?

Yeah, Tommy thinks; if there’s anything in the world worth shedding some tears for, this is certainly it.

[Also on AO3!]

[More from Little Blobs Verse]

Tag list: (let me know if you'd like to be removed or if I missed anyone! Also if anyone else wants to be tagged, either on my fics in general or just the Little Blobs' Verse, let me know! ♥)

@bidisasterevankinard @unhingedangstaddict @silversky9 @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @asmugfirefighter @rubydaiquiri  @racerchix21 @actuallyitsellie 🩷🩷🩷

[q8qwertyuiop8p]

Many of them did dislike Vander, the people who saw him as weak and left him for Silco, such as Sevika, were not at all powerful at the time. "Everyone else" is the people of the Lanes, which is just a small area in Zaun.

All Vander did to keep the enforcers out of the Lanes was try make a deal that he would keep his people away from topside. He was perfectly fine with his kids stealing, but when they stole from Piltover rather than their own people, that's when he suddenly drew the line.

Silco didn't submit to Piltover to keep out enforcers- he drove them out, using Marcus and his goons, to the point even the council knew the enforcers didn't want to venture there anymore.

I'm not sure what you mean younger zaunites we're more motivated, we see more younger Zaunites in act one because our characters are younger. In season two we see that the Zaunites are still very motivated despite what Silco did.

Vander spent around the same time as leader as Silco did, his mark isn't apparent because he did practically nothing to change the status quo.

Silco was not as much an exploitive tyrant as Piltover. Piltover did what they did for greed. Silco did what he did for independence. He was more than willing to give up shimmer, what he got his wealth and power from, as part of Jayce's deal.

I don't see how young kids stealing and nearly getting shot and killed by enforcers is so much better than young kids working in a factory. Considering a wealthy chembaron who loves her son very much had her kid work there I don't think the conditions were as bad as you are imagining.

The meeting hall is a disgusting display, and it isn't Silco's, but the chembarons who care only about money and power. Silco hated the chembaron's greed, hence the speech and reminding them where they came from.

I know what the mural depicts, all I said was that I believe it is a firelight mural. Though it's pretty ironic because Jinx is not bringing peace to Zaun at all, she is literally the one who started the war.

At the end of the day neither Silco nor Vander were totally great or totally bad leaders, they were too blinded by their traumas to make the best decisions. Either way, its not likely either of them are going to be so quickly forgotten.

"Wow Silco's not on that mural!" " Zaun really hated him!"

It's literally a firelight mural... of course they are going to paint Jinx with her "real" father because the firelights hated Silco and loved Vander.

But you know who the zaunites didn't like? Vander. Vander did absolutely nothing for them, he was enabling oppression, turning a blind eye to the enforcers and the suffering of Zaun, and they were absolutely sick of it. That's why Zaun turned its back on him and embraced Silco.

Silco was by no means a perfect leader either, he brought horrible suffering to the Zaunites himself, especially those who were most impoverished. But Silco also did a lot of good for the undercity. If it weren't for him, Zaun would not have shimmer to treat all sorts of ailments, to keep people alive long enough to recieve care and prosthetics. If it weren't for him, they would not have the shimmer they need to fuel devices like Sevika and Smeech's prosthetics. It is because of Silco that little Zaun has an army of shimmer beasts and weapons to fight for freedom and defend itself from the cat. Shimmer gave Zaun a new product that wasn't under Piltover's control with which it could strengthen its economy, and we see the industries of Zaun florish under Silco. As we see illustrated in the ending of episode one, it is only through shimmer and the sacrifice that comes with it that Zaun can turn the tables on its oppressor, and I don't think the Zaunites, especially Jinx, Sevika, an the others leading this fight, will forget so soon.

In the game Convergence, which takes place after Zaun's independence, we still see Silco's symbol plastered in the undercity. His symbol remains on the assembly building in the season two trailer. Silco even seems to have a cult-like following; the eye has a strange significance in Zaun, we see Zaunites making offerings of eyeballs to a turtle-like diety that is covered in jars of eyes and has Silco's symbol inscribed on its praying hands. The Zaunites know Sevika and Jinx were loyal to Silco. It would be in their best interest to paint Silco as a hero and his death a tragedy executed by Piltover.

Bonus: I don't understand why people make such a big deal over Silco employing children in the shimmer factory like he invented child labor or something. Child labor has been a thing in Zaun at least since Piltover has been oppressing it. Silco and Vander worked in dangerous conditions in the mines as children. Ekko worked for Benzo as a child. Vander's kids steal from people to make a living, they aren't doing much better. Silco didn't get rid of child labor but he did ensure the profit from it went towards the Undercity rather than the greedy hands of Piltover.

[moonstruckme]

mae, congratulations on 8k and happy holidays ahhh!!! if you have the time, i could totally see something fun with tasm! peter and the prompt office christmas party. like coworkers to friends to pining and confessions? basically it’s giving jim and pam teapot, BUT i would love to see where your brain takes it

Thank you for requesting! Happy holidays :)

cw: jokes are made about Peter's appearance, but they're very, very sarcastic

coworker!(tasm)Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 639 words

You never usually wear red. It’s not like it’s one of Peter’s favorite colors anyway—he only really wears it for one thing, even if that’s pretty much every day—but he feels suddenly robbed having never seen it on you before. As if you’re not eye-catching enough already, your holiday sweater makes you the brightest thing in the room. 

Peter goes to it like a moth to a flame. Though, in fairness, that’s your usual effect on him, sweater or no. 

“Oh, wow, you lucked out,” he says, raising his eyebrows at your white elephant gift. 

You look up from your desk, grinning when you see Peter. “I know, right?” You hold your prize up enthusiastically, like they’re the keys to your new car and not slippers designed to look like giant man feet with a bow slapped on top of them. “Can you believe I started with a bluetooth shower speaker and worked my way up to these? I mean, Christmas is over at this point. Everyone else can go home.” 

“Those will probably be the best give you’ll ever get,” Peter agrees. He leans against your desk, careful not to disturb the pens lined up neatly by your laptop. “You really managed to land on a personalized one, too. Did you already know they made slippers that match your feet, or did you just find out today?” 

Your shoulders hitch with a laugh, pretty eyes sparkling. Peter feels a warm tug in his gut. Any day he can make you smile is a good one. 

“What did you get?” you ask him. 

“Oh, mine came from the boss man himself.” Peter reaches into his small gift bag, pulling out his prize. “Check this baby out.” 

Your smile stays in place, but you look genuinely perplexed. “A toothbrush?” 

“Not just any toothbrush.” He presses a button on the side, watching your face as a song begins to play from a small speaker. Baby, baby, baby, ohhhh…

Your mouth actually drops open before you cover it with a hand, giggles muffled into your palm. “Okay, wait, wait. I actually want that one now.” 

Peter hisses through his teeth, shrugging remorsefully. “Sorry, but I don’t think I can part with it. It’s too important to me. Anyway, you’ve got your slippers, and they suit you so well…” 

“Right, but” —You school your expression into solemnity. Peter has to work hard to suppress his own grin, thinking to himself that you look like a contestant on that Shark Tank show— “have you considered the potential of these slippers in your love life? I mean, I’ve already basically got it covered with my feet, but Peter…” You hold the slippers up, letting them dangle from a single finger. “These could be a real babe magnet.” 

Peter lets out a long exhale, pretending to consider it. “That’s true. I could use a little help on the dating front…” 

“You could,” you say sympathetically. 

“I mean, my looks on their own are hardly doing the job.” 

“It’s not your fault we weren’t all born naturally attractive.” 

“I am pretty plain…” 

“Homely, even. But that’s alright.” You hold the slippers out again. “That’s where these come in.” 

“Okay.” Peter feigns reluctance, handing over the toothbrush. “You’ve got a deal.” 

“Yes!” Every hair on his leg stands at attention when you put your hand on his knee, squeezing. You’re smiling beatifically. “Thank you, Peter. This means the world.” 

“Yeah, well, you’re doing me a favor too.” He sets his hand on top of yours, squeezing also. “Pleasure doing business with you.” 

Your eyes drop to your hand as if realizing where it is for the first time, and Peter pretends not to notice when your eyes flicker up to his, the teasing in them giving way momentarily to bashfulness. He got the best gift today, for sure. 

[retroaria]

★ unlikely trio

⟡ ݁₊ what it was like working with osamu dazai and chuuya nakahara as port mafia operatives ₊ .⟡

platonic!dazai + chuuya x gn!reader | this is definitely based on 15-18 y/o dazai and chuuya! they are both executives and you’re under them but still high ranking. use of y/n btw. this is short i just wanted to do some silly hc's for my favorite boys :)

• | BSD M.LIST | reblogs are apprectiated! | •

⋆˙⟡ chuuya hates to make you the mediator, but dazai insists. when these two are locked in on one upping each others level of arrogant asshole, dazai seeks you out to be the final voice of reason just so he can see which of them will be scolded the most - he knows they’re both being stupid. because of his vulgarity, chuuya usually gets the shorter end of the stick in these competitions (competitions that exist only in dazai’s head btw)

D: “Did you see that!? Chuuya just bit me!”

C: “I did not bite you, i’m not some kind of wild animal.”

D: “No, I think you’re a creature far more sinister actually…”

C: “If you don’t shut the hell up I’ll actually bite your head off.”

D: “You see! Y/n! Someone has to reprimand this feral beast.”

Y/N: “Chuu~ you can’t just say you’re gonna bite his head off…”

C: “HE STARTED IT AND HE LIED!”

D: “My accusation doesn’t seem too far off for someone who just threatened to orally behead me, read the room Nakahara.”

⋆˙⟡ pushing and shoving each other to get through the doorway first. you or chuuya usually assume the role of line leader but when it comes to making an entrance dazai can’t help but weasel his way in there with an annoying amount of force. this doesn’t necessarily pertain to you, as dazai does this when it’s just him and chuuya as well…or anyone really - he’s gotta make a grand entrance.

⋆˙⟡ letting you win at arcade games just so chuuya feels like the only one who couldn’t beat him.

⋆˙⟡ you being the only thing that could get those two to sit down and have a normal meal together. they know you mean business when you invite them out to eat so they put their big boy pants on.

⋆˙⟡ you and dazai coming up with dangerous but efficient plans that chuuya spends the entirety of the mission refuting. alternatively: you and chuuya coming up with safe and well thought out plans that dazai spends the entirety of the mission ruining.

⋆˙⟡ they both go to you to talk about their troubles id think, although dazai does it in a much more sly manner; not really telling you anything but just wanting to have someone to talk to. chuuya really lets it all out on you, he’s a a bit of a trauma dumper when he feels he can be. sometimes one of them will walk in on you when you’re with the other and they both look at you feeling so betrayed.

D: “I can’t believe you double booked…today is MY DAY.”

C: “Shut it freak, I had plans with them first you’re such a little brat.”

D: “So cold…I’ll have you know I was invited.”

⋆˙⟡ dazai spends a lot of time trying to get you to understand the way he thinks. he’s totally emotionally and mentally stunted though, so he ends up speaking in riddles and not getting his point across as smooth as he’d like to sometimes. chuuya doesn’t explain his thought process to you at all and then gets mad when both dazai and you aren’t getting what he’s putting down.

⋆˙⟡ they both feel the need to get your opinion on big decisions they might be making concerning operations. dazai will dance around his proposals and take in your reactions based on the little info he gives you. chuuya tells you the situation straight up and asks what you would do if you were him.

⋆˙⟡ dazai feels that you need very little protection and can handle things on your own, his logic is that you couldn’t have gotten as far as you did if you weren’t capable. chuuya sees you as one of his valued subordinates and will go out of his way to ensure your safety (though he doesn’t do that for anyone else but if you died who else would protect him from dazai’s emotional abuse?)

[bones4thecats]

┗ A Star's Shield; Starscream × F! S/O ┛

Characters: Starscream (Transformers One) A/N: This was a lot of fun to write, though I do believe it could have been better, I do think it turned out pretty good. Anyways, sorry for the long wait for this. Enjoy <3 Trigger Warnings for: Kidnapping, corrupt government, assault, unwanted advances. Sentinel is just his own trigger warning at this point. ⇘ Summary: After being captured by Airachnid and the Cybertronian Government, you were thrown into a room with the rest of your captured High Guard members and two miner bots. As you were handed over to Sentinel Prime by his right-hand, you notice your sparkmate, Starscream, watching you in an attempt to keep you and himself calm. But, when Sentinel begins to speak, not even B-127 could keep himself calm. Italic words = past memories

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┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

💫 A cozy set of rays from the sun began to cover Cybertron. Another day, another restless amount of hours trying to sabotage Sentinel Prime beyond what his reputation could save.

💫 The steps of a seeker made you look up from the surface floor of your base's exteriors. There, walking up to you, was Starscream. He had been leading your guard, the High Guard, for so long that you could hardly keep count, and that says a lot.

💫 Starscream looked at you and nodded. You responded the same as you looked back outside. It was hard to see without expert optics, but, far out in the distance, was Iacon City. Your optics narrowed as memories you once made there popped up. Anyone who understood your real self knew why that bothered you so much.

"I heard from Wreckwave that the Iacon 5000 is happening tomorrow." Starscream said.

"I did too. Why does it matter? Are we planning something big during it or something?" You questioned back.

"No. Though, it would be of expert insight that at least some-bot goes there to check on how the city is holding together after all this time."

💫 His optics slightly shut as he chuckled. He then lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he laid his helm on top of your own. As seekers, you were both fairly tall, though, you were just about a head shorter than the masculine one next to you. Fortunate for him, unfortunate for your short self.

"Let me guess, Scream'. You want me to go down there with you?"

"I knew your processor would lock in sooner rather than later!" He smiled.

"And, what happens if, I don't know- a member of the guard sees us snooping around? You know that Sentinel and the High Guard aren't exactly friends, and most definitely not close to frenemies."

"That's the thing. I have spoken with Shockwave, and he has a device that shall last for, around a third of a cycle. Are you in or out, my dearest Y/N?"

"Is that even a question?"

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

💫 Your optics went online as you groaned, pain covering the back of your helm as you looked around. You reached up and felt the back of your helmet, and once you felt the liquid, you froze in fear. You remembered what happened now.

💫 It was when those four bots were brought to your base. A blue and red one, a grey one with a Megatronus Prime sticker on his shoulder, another with a yellow-colored frame, and the only feminine one, whom was colored pink with some white here and there.

💫 They, well, the red and blue one at least, proposed that they were on the same side as you. They wanted to reveal Sentinel Prime as the traitor to Cybertron that he was. And honestly? You thought it was a pretty good deal. Starscream on the other hand? His own beliefs clouded his judgement of the four.

💫 When the grey one, whom the blue and red one called D, tried to walk out of the base to locate Cybertron's leader to punish himself, Starscream obviously was taking a hit to his own ego. Shocker.

💫 As he was chocked to the point that his voice-box was beginning to be crushed, making what was once a smooth and slightly-raspy voice begin to go from pitch to pitch with a highly artificial tang being added on top of it all. You had been able to slightly alter it, bringing the pitches down slightly, but fixing it fully was beyond anyone's abilities.

💫 While your memories came back, a dark figure stepped inside with golden-Cybertronians following suite. You looked up towards the helms of these people and scoffed. You recognized the tallest one. It was Airachnid. The heap of scrap that was somehow still alive well without any scratches. How disappointing.

"Get her up. I'm sure he's going to be very pleased to see his favorite old friend here." She said, grazing underneath your chin with one of her elongated insect-legs.

"Good to see you as well, Airachnid." You said.

💫 Airachnid rolled her optics and began walking away, a guard at both sides of you as you followed. Unwilling was one word to describe the entire journey through the tower's halls. Until you found Starscream and got the others out to safety, you needed to keep these fearful thoughts of yours out of sight and out of mind.

💫 Sentinel looked at a statue and glared, those Primes that tried holding the planet back from compromise. He did the right thing. Of course he did, how could his judgement be bad?

💫 The Prime looked over his shoulder and cocked a brow, wondering why Airachnid was bringing in some random seeker. So, in his true, straight-forward nature, asked the insect-themed Cybertronian about this.

"I'm sure you'll love to find out who this is."

"Yeah, yeah. Get to the point."

💫 The mask that covered most of your helm released pressure as it was unlocked by a guard. You grimaced as light hit you all of a sudden, seriously, a warning would be amazing sometimes.

"It can't be. Y/N?"

"...Y/N?"

💫 Sentinel's optics were wide as he stepped up to look closely at you. It just couldn't be you. There was no way in the name of the 13 Primes that you were alive and standing right before him.

"I almost forgot just how beautiful you were. Though, you looked better on the ground, kneeling before me." Sentinel smirked before allowing his hand to drift across your face, to your shoulder, and down to your sides. "Go ahead and undo her cuffs. I'm sure she won't claw me without orders."

"Are you sure, Sir?" A guard asked.

"Completely."

💫 Your brows furrowed as you glared at him. The clicks of your cuffs coming undone hit everyone's sound-receptors, and before anyone realized it, you had launched yourself at Sentinel, grabbing one of his wings and tugging on it to draw some sort of pain.

💫 Sentinel just glared and wrapped a servo around your neck, lifted you up in the air and chuckled darkly. Everyone, including the guards, shivered as he crushed your neck slowly and delicately, almost as if he was enjoying this pain he was drawing out of you.

"How did I know you were going to do that?"

💫 Crash.

"Y/N!" B-127 yelled.

💫 You yelped as your back made contact with the nearby wall. The pain that overtook your system was immediate, and it only worsened as a guard picked you up and threw you back at Sentinel to keep torturing.

💫 His servo wrapped around your neck once again, this time from behind as he held you flush against his front. Sentinel smirked and wrapped his opposite roam around your waist as you struggled to free yourself.

"You know, if you had just stayed by my side we could've been the perfect duo. Leading Cybertron into the future."

"Like hell I would've-" A gasp came out as his grasp on your vocal cords tightened.

"Had the most perfect model family unit. Two young sparklings filled with potential. Little Quartermaster and Artillery. Sounds just right, wouldn't you agree, lovely?"

"Get your servos off of her!" Starscream yelled.

"Oh?" Sentinel hummed. "I forgot just how dear you two held one another. Almost as if you were together for eons before I met you."

"We were, and still are! So, I will warn you one more time, Sentinel. Get your energon-stained servos off of my sparkmate!"

💫 Sentinel rolled his optics and latched another pair of cuffs on you, securing your violent impulses. He got near your sound-receptors once again and said quietly;

"To bad your love for that pitchy seeker kept that future out of my grasp."

💫 Starscream kneeled back down as you were thrown in front of him, dents in your frame as he looked you over. Fear was in his optics as he looked you over. And, as Sentinel moved onto D-16, Starscream paid attention to you, keeping the guards and Airachnid away from your frame. No more pain was going to come to you while he stood beside you.

💫 But, unknowingly to you both, that future was soon to be completely changed.

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

"There is no way that Starscream yelled at Sentinel Prime!" Blitzwing said.

💫 You smiled at the bot holding two sparklings in his lap, acting like the older brother figure that he was for them as they've aged.

"Well, believe it or don't, I know for sure that he did." You said, turning around to look at the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons as he planned with Megatron the next move in the war.

"And I'm thankful every passing moment that he was there for me..."

[geekgirles]

Yugo's Audience with Armand: Moving Past Previous Mistakes

If you think about it, after his sacrifice and his reconciliation with Amalia, his audience with Yugo is the scene that best highlights Armand's character development throughout the season, dare I say, the show. With it, we finally come full circle.

We were first introduced to Armand as he refused to let Joris anywhere near his father, even at the behest of the King of Bonta.

Up until that point, all we knew about him was from Amalia and Eva's retellings, where he was painted as often arguing with his sister, being an extremely difficult person to deal with, and having bad breath. And then we finally meet him and...

Everything they said about him turned out to be nothing but the truth.

But we don't really see the full extent of it until Amalia and Evangelyne pleaded their case regarding Nox to him, when he stubbornly refused to believe his sister, instead assuming her imagination had just gone wild. He didn't even rethink his assessment even when Eva backed Amalia up, which would have still been harsh of him to do—to believe his sister's bodyguard over her just because he has a crush on her—, but it still would have made sense, as Eva is very level-headed and she never would have even entertained the thought of allowing Amalia to joke over something so serious.

That already established Armand as an arrogant and self-righteous prince who believes he is in the right just because of his position as heir apparent and older brother.

We must also keep in mind he actually had ample reason to believe Amalia about Nox's plans. While it's hard to tell the extent of his actions and the repercussions they had on the World of Twelve and his victims before the beginning of the show, the fact remains that Nox had been at large for 200 years. In that time, he probably ravaged countless villages and killed powerful creatures in order to drain their Wakfu. Surely, word must have at least got out about some mad Xelor going around and killing people!

In other words, it wasn't necessarily like Armand didn't have proof that Amalia was telling the truth. At the very least, he must have heard some rumours. And yet, that wasn't enough for him to believe his sister and act accordingly.

Not to mention, Amalia had ran away yet came back to warn her people of the upcoming threat. Yet Armand still thought she was making stuff up. Who in their right mind would leave their home only to come back to put everyone on edge over a lie?

One thing is acting spoiled from time to time, and another very different thing is acting sociopathic!

Now, let's compare this to his audience with Yugo when he sought his permission to investigate Sadida ground.

During the time between season 2 and the OVAs, Armand seemed to have developed a deep-seated mistrust of the Eliatropes, most likely caused by Qilby's deceit, and it was only exacerbated when the Eliatrope Goddess introduced herself and made her intentions of controlling the World of Twelve in order to make it safe for her children clear.

It's also worth pointing out that not even Yugo was safe from his scorn, despite being a staunch ally to the Sheran Sharms, and saving his kingdom and the world in several occasions. This I attribute both to the fact that Amalia's feelings for him got in the way of marrying her off (thankfully, he seemed to move on from that mindset in season 4, though he still didn't necessarily approve of Yugo), and the fact that King Oakheart was always so welcoming and trusting of him. Knowing Armand, it really wouldn't be far-fetched to believe he was jealous of Yugo's own relationship with his father.

And yet, when the time came for Yugo to request his help and ask him to place his trust on him, Armand agreed.

This is especially telling of his character development because, unlike in Amalia's case, Armand did have ample reason to distrust the Eliatropes.

It's true, except for Qilby and arguably their goddess, the Eliatropes are a peaceful race, but the Twelvians' experiences with the former two at least justify their unease around them.

Both of them display an alarming lack of empathy towards anyone but themselves or their people. After all, Qilby is responsible for the genocide of the Eliatropes, and all because he was bored and searched stimulation elsewhere because of his divine gift. But at the same time, while he couldn't care less for the World of Twelve and planned to have Rushu and his subjects destroy it right before draining it dry of all Wakfu just to fuel the Zenit, he was equally adamant to have his family and the Eliatrope children with him as he travelled the Krosmoz.

The Eliatrope Goddess, on the other hand, might not have been as outwardly callous as her son, nor capable of even going through with her threats and putting the world leaders in their place, but she is equally uncaring towards anyone who isn't one of her children.

In fact, that was the very reason why she made an enemy out of the Twelvian leaders and they came to resent her presence. Because she chose to override their authority and keep them all under her watch (which, until she revealed herself, had the Twelvians terrorised). But the last nail on the coffin was when she revealed that all that, the Eliaculus, sending the Eliatrope guard to help whenever there was trouble, everything, was solely to ensure her children's safety.

Like mother, like son. Am I right?

Even without saying anything, she made it clear that she cared not for the Twelvians and that the Eliatropes were her priority. And that's without getting into her manic insistence they left the World of Twelve to rot the moment the Nécromes arrived.

Now, there's no denying that most leaders with any significant focus have been revealed to be jerks one way or another (looking at you, Queen Astra, Prince of Brakmar, and the entire Osamodas royal family), but they do have a right to be worried when Eliatrope didn't even bother to hide how, in her eyes, they're second class citizens compared to her own followers.

These first impressions really didn't give much reason for Armand to believe Yugo and to listen to his pleas. However, the most damning evidence of all had to be the fact that the Nécromes appeared with the arrival of the Eliatropes. Between the suspicious timing and the fact that the portal-making race had dealt with traitors before, it sounded very unlikely that both things wouldn't be connected.

And Armand knew this. He was perfectly aware of how suspicious everything was, and he didn't hesitate to let Yugo know. However, he also admitted, several times, in fact, that Yugo had been an ally to the Sadida Kingdom since the beginning. That if both his father and his sister never hesitated to put as much faith and trust in him as they did, then it would only be wise he chose to trust Yugo as well.

A clear contrast to how he refused to listen to Amalia, his own sister, back in season 1, and all because he believed to be always in the right.

Season 4 was Armand's chance to redeem himself in the eyes of the audience, to go from an arrogant, jealous prince to a mature and wise king and brother. And while there are things I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive him for, I do appreciate the character development he went through. As I said at the beginning of the analysis, this scene proves he's come full circle.

[daisygirlwrites]

long hair eddie

literally typing this at 2am, i will not apologize for my unfiltered thoughts.

heavily inspired by @tr4shcanbugz 's beautiful art

during highschool, edward's hair grows out and he doesn't really bother to cut it nor does the orphanage care to. the longest it's been was just past his shoulders, enough to put it in a low ponytail to get it out of the way. unfortunately, this added another thing for students to bully him for, especially when a substitute accidentally mistaken him for a girl.

he could always cut his hair himself, however, he would over think it, thoughts of fucking it up and making it look worse was enough for him to put the scissors down. going to a barber shop was out of the question since he doesn't want to pull from his savings nor does he want to deal with other people's hands on him.

so edward just kept it as is, deciding to get cut once he graduates highschool, filtering out the hushed whispers and laughs thrown in his direction.

you’ve known edward for about four months at this point, finding each other at a secluded bench in robinson park on (ironically) valentines day. (also had his first indirect kiss!) (please yell at me to finish that fic)

though with snow still being around, he keeps his brown locks under a beanie and hoodie. his bangs do make an appearance from time to time

march comes around and so do you. both of you continue your little meetups/smoke breaks at the park after school, talking about anything, everything and sometimes nothing at all. just being in each other’s presences was enough

as the weather grows warmer, so does his feelings for you. and he can’t help it, especially since he knows that you go out of your way to spend time with him.

one afternoon, you find him waiting, his back facing you. he focuses at the scenery before him as a light breeze passes by, wisps of long brown hair dancing through the wind. 

plopping down at the other end of the bench, edward shifts his attention to you. and god, did he look pretty. his hair was slightly messy, the wind making it even more so but the bangs and the strands in front framed his face in a lovely way. you had to mentally slap yourself to stop ogling him.

the conversations start, and edward leads this time around. you wanted to focus on his voice but you can’t help but watch his hair fluttering by, softly grazing his cheeks

he always stares off to the side when he speaks, knowing that whenever he looks directly at you, his words stumble more. but you manage to cut him off anyways when he feels the slight brush of your fingers on his forehead

he stops breathing as he stares at you, not believing what’s happening in front of him. your touch was feather light, as if you were handling a piece of art. he could feel your nails run through his scalp, a jolt of electricity trailing down his spine. the warmth of your palm hits his ear and cheek as you linger just for a second longer after you tucked that strand back

he doesn’t remember the last time he experienced something so gentle, to be held so delicately. for a fleeting moment, he felt whole in your hand.

[pineappleciders]

i fear there is little way to describe my recent experience in the bathroom. or potentially, there are far too many ways to the point i cannot collect my thoughts. it started out as a simple pee. i went to the restroom quite happily, having been playing a game and believing it would be a quick, simple trip. but i was proven wrong, as i usually am. it turned out to be a poop as well. though it wasn't a bad one, it was rather small and easy to pass, and wasn't too bad of a wipe either. however, i was foolish and became distracted watching a video on my phone while wiping. this tragically led to me placing far too many pieces of toilet paper in the toilet bowl without flushing. i soon realized my mistake and, like a fool once more, decided to hope for the best and flush. however, it did not go down. it's fine, i thought. i'll wait and try again. so i did, and it did not go down. hm, this is unfortunate, i think. so i grab the plunger, blissfully unaware to the hellhole i had began falling into, believing this was just your average clog of the toilet. but it wasn't. i soon remembered a fool in my household, which i later learned was my mother, had made the conscious decision to swap the plungers in the bathrooms. this is a problem because, the one that was in my current restroom is a good plumber. the other one is not. and so, i found myself fruitlessly shmacking the hard, useless plunger into the bowl time and time again. but it was no good. i was so determined, so full of hope that it would work as i had made it work before. but this clog was different. i began to grow more desperate as my arm was quickly becoming exhausted from the strain, and i switched to 2 arms, yet there was still no luck. at this point, i had begun sweating, the reality dawning on me that this would not go the way i had hoped. i remembered a trick i learned, about putting soap and hot water into the back of the toilet seat, which helps break the clog up. so i looked around for a cup, an item usually kept in the bathroom, to scoop water from the sink to the toilet. but there was no cup. i put a few squirts of soap in the bowl and waited, but with each flush the water grew higher and higher, reflecting my nerves. but a spark of something like hope flickers in me as i spot the sink drain stick made for unclogging sinks. it's a bit gross, but i'm running out of options, so i go for it. i feel as though it's working quite well, as i can see toilet paper being ripped, but with flush and flush again, it only worsens. i have been in the restroom for far too long now, mostly waiting for water to slowly go down, and at this point i'm sure the energy drink i left on my desk has gone lukewarm. i start to full on panic now, honestly on the verge of tears. i am tired from lack of sleep, very hungry, my back is in extreme pain, and i feel disgusting as a few bits of toilet water have splashed on me. i consider asking for help from my dad, however the thought of walking downstairs with shit stuck in between my asscheeks is extremely unappealing, so i carry on. i turn on the tub and start scooping hot water into the back of the toilet. it burns my hands, and i am now getting water everywhere, but i cannot stop as i begin feeling like a wild animal. i try and try and try but all of my efforts are wasted. and i fear i knew all along what i had to do, i was simply pushing it away out of pure fear. but i suck it up and wrap a towel around my waist and leave the bathroom, still not having wiped fully, and lumber to the other bathroom to grab the good plunger. and lo and behold, with only a few pumps the water is quickly sucked down. and i would have felt immense joy, if it weren't for my extreme annoyance with myself that i did not do it sooner. i am extremely traumatized and i don't think i'll be able to look at my toilet the same way for at least a few months. my dear friends and followers, i urge you to invest in a good plunger. one for every bathroom you have. a new, soft, flaccid plunger. it will betray you less than any man.

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

transcript + more info

berenice: aha! she'll never find me here watcher: you mean 'here'? "in moonwood mill, my most favouritist of worlds 'here'?" berenice: ahhhh! i mean, i didn't do it? i've been framed. it was the full autonomy, i swear... watcher: did you just sign up for deanna's bachelorette? berenice: maybe... yes? watcher: do you even *like* other women? berenice: i like other women! i have other women... friends?? watcher: *SIGH* watcher: berenice, this kind of stuff just doesn't happen in real life berenice: what kind of stuff? watcher: he will never like you back like that berenice: he? who's he??? watcher: don't be obtuse, i can see your moodlets berenice: well this isn't real life because i'm a pixel! silly you, watcher...

BERENICE "BERNIE" SMALLS

Young Adult • Ciswoman (she/her) • Physics Major (incoming senior)

TRAITS: genius, overachiever, cringe, paranoid, socially awkward, creative (bonuses: mentally gifted, always welcome, morning sim, night sim, storm chaser)

MISC: Valedictorian and championship chess captain at Copperdale. Actually wants to catch lightning in a bottle someday.

(This is a mischief interaction. She's not evil - just a disaster.)

By day she’s a straight A student, freelance programmer and budding Plopsy empire builder - and a shoe-in for valedictorian to the point where most would happily bet their own mother’s mortgage on it (yeah, please don’t actually do that).

By night, however? A cheater cheater pumpkin eater! Well, not quite (the pumpkin eating allegations however are indeed true).

Her secret? She’s a spellcaster. Her other secret? Plentiful needs potions - and lots of ‘em.

Yes, you too could manage the highest GPA in the school plus every extracurricular that didn't throw you out on your rear end (she and that dungeon master still aren’t on speaking terms), tutoring, plus a fulltime job and another part-time job, had you the equivalent of 24 usable hours in every day.

Obviously this isn’t illegal, as the greater pixel world doesn’t know about spellcasters (see: my legacy heir who still freaks out over her spellcaster husband, brother and her three children). And there’s nothing stopping anyone from washing down caffeine pills with red bull that doesn’t actually give you wings (though Berenice could attempt a potion for that). Aaaand it could be argued that werewolves who can recharge extremely quickly with a wolf nap and vampires who don’t need to sleep at all should not occult their way through Foxbury's hallowed halls. 

But there’s a difference between being thought of as just that amazing, and being thought of as significantly less amazing, because any fool believes that they can achieve what Berenice does with all that extra time she has.

Why is she entering this competition? A very good question. Well, it may be called ‘Dating Deanna,’ but this dumb smart girl has a completely different York in mind. Namely Deanna’s brother Joey, who she’s had a massive crush on ever since she met him one summer holiday in Tartosa.

"I've got this!" "I don't got this..."

She therefore signed up on a whim, and while hindsight is currently coming down on her like a tonne of bricks, she’s too obstinate to pull out now. Bernie Smalls, quit a thing? Never!

PERMISSIONS

All in - feel free to message me!

In terms of romance with other contestants, as she's a 'troll' concept have at it. Maybe not woohoo though since she's still trying to determine her sexuality.

She would be very open to flirting - and well, anything else with Joey. Will she get the opportunity? I highly doubt it but this experience can be a moment of growth for her 😆

(iou a sfs zip after dinner and other adulting!)

@changingplumbob's dating deanna bachelorette challenge (i am so sorry deanna)

[seeinghcsts]

HE LOOKED BACK AT HER , tightening his expression , muscles that had just been loosening winding back up like coils as they stiffened beneath goose-pimpled skin . " i'm sorry for , , , " he started , frowning at himself , trying to grasp words like they were amongst the rapids pushing through his fingers ; making fists beneath churning waters . " i mean , just leaving you . not giving you a reason . being there one day , gone the next — i don't fuckin' know . everything ?? " thomas let out a harsh breath , like apologizing was taking every ounce of his strength — every remaining blip of courage that had been laying dormant in his arsenal . thomas was a coward , he knew that down to the marrow of his bones . even now — he hadn't expected to say that . to aplogize . had he been preparing to , he knew the words would have never left his trembling lips .

he could LIE . i was leaving you before you had the chance to leave me . i loved you too much it scared me . i saw a future with you and i had to run from it before i could ruin it . so many lies , though all were based in minor truths . genuine fears . he had felt something for kody , he had — at one point in time — really believed that when she said that she loved him , she meant it . it was him , the entire time , who should have been doubted . empty promises , flowers always accompanied by apologies , the ache for someone else he couldn't act on because he was spoken for .

the truth wasn't an option , but lying wasn't fair , either . he owed her some kind of explanation — even if it was as surface level as it got . hardening his jaw , fighting an internal battle , thomas kept his weighted gaze on the water that now sloshed against his hip bones — he had stood a bit taller , protecting what was left of his pride. his ego .

" no , that's the thing , kody . it IS fuckin' hard . but you do it so easily and it makes me nuts . i tried so hard to hate you after . to find some reason to justify why i , , , why i did what i did but — you didn't do anything wrong . fuckin' nothin' . and you're nice on top of all of it , even when you don't hafta be . " he pressed his hands to his face , skin paled , shaking now . " i'm not askin' you to forgive me or any of that shit but , , , with what happened — " he didn't want to mention death. he didn't want to mention the potential of dying. but the silence hung , implying it anyways . " I figured the least i could do is own that what i did was fuckin' shitty . admit that i know you didn't deserve it . "

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎The world around Kody didn't quite exist at the moment, fantasies and universes playing out in her mind that weren't actually happening. In one, Thomas accepted her help and she moved to crouch behind him, guiding his head back into the water. It felt right, helping him get the blood out of his hair because she knew she could never get the blood off of her hands ( even if she wasn't the one to put it there ). Letting the cold water wash over them both, like they were at a hair salon, nothing wrong here, ignore the red washing down the drain. And as she tilted his head further under water, she didn't stop. Down and down and down he went, held under those rapids but a strength no one ever expected from Kody. No one ever expected anything from Kody ever. In her minds eye, she held him there until he grew blue in the face and only then did she let him up for the air he so desperately needed and then she would ask. Why? It would be so easy to do it, too. He deserved it, didn't he. All because he couldn't even face her after what he did and she needed to know why. Why couldn't he say sorry? Why didn't he feel badly for what he'd done to her? Why -

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎"Wait, what?" Like a deer hit by a truck, Kody was jolted back to this reality, this universe, where he didn't accept her help but he...apologized. Her brow furrowed, not entirely sure if this was really happening or if she was still deep in her own fantasy. But this wasn't how it was supposed to go. She didn't even have to threaten him. "You're sorry? Do you even know what you're sorry for, or are you just saying that so you feel better?" Harsher than she normally let her words be but she had to know. Or was the apology as hallow as the relationship turned out to be. There was a twist of guilt in her gut at his words, the claim that she was such a good person when he had no idea what had been running through her head only moments before. The anger raking it's teeth over her nerves at every moment and now she didn't have her usual outlet for it. Paints burned up into smoke...maybe some of the toxic fumes was why she was feeling this way. Or maybe it was genetic. "I - " need to be. "It's not hard to be kind, Thomas."