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aetherraeys · 1 month ago

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bloodmoon

(part 2 x)

remus lupin x vampire!reader ⊹ 11.7k

For whatever reason, Remus couldn’t bear the idea of even being in the same room as you. His body had been telling him why, but clearly he needed it spelt out for him.

cw ⟢ hurt/comfort, slowish burn, swearing, self-loathing, meanish!remus, vampire!reader, blood

a/n: for this request! im sorry it took a while, i got a bit ahead of myself, hence the wordcount. enjoy x not proofread

Truly enticing—comparable to a siren—you carried an alluring presence that was impossible to ignore. With skin of a dazzling, pearlescent almost porcealine like quality—captivating eyes and a honeyed voice.

You were a creature to behold.

It wasn’t suprising in the slightest though, it seemed that everyone in your family held these same enthralling qualities, a notorious, long line of pureblood slytherin. And one would think you’d act as such, uppity, entitled and holier-than-thou, but it was quite the opposite.

Good-natured, courteous, poised—saintly, even. An overall good Samaritan.

Adored by many, hated by none.

Except Remus that is.

Well—hate was a strong word. He didn’t hate you, he had no reason to. But he couldn’t stop the agitating, grating feeling that crawled up the back of his neck whenever you were near.

He knew there was something wrong. He could feel it, it seemed like he was the only one who wasn’t helplessly drawn to you, like a moth to a flame—and it was starting to get to him.

He just didn’t get what all the fuss was about, granted, you were attractive—he wasn’t blind, he just didn’t like you. People practically worshipped the ground you walked on, praising you for being a decent human being, you even had the faculty playing into the palm of your hand.

And Remus wasn’t buying it.

He didn’t bother hiding the huffed scoff of disbelief and fed-up roll of his eyes from his friends when they passed you in the courtyard.

Predictably, you were surrounded—first-year girls giggling in your orbit, one perched behind you braiding your hair while you braided another’s. A few sat nearby on the benches, stringing together daisy chains like a scene plucked straight from a children’s storybook.

You looked like Mother Teresa, for crying out loud.

Later, in the Great Hall, his friends watched, as his spine became ridgid, grip on his spoon hardening the moment you walked in. As always, you strode in, arms linked with Pandora’s, that same wine-red lollipop in twirling your mouth, loud and obnoxious chatter circling between you.

At least, that’s how Remus saw it.

In reality, you’d walked in quite casually, reasonable volumed, light conversation following you, signiture lolly in hand. It seemed that today, Remus’ world was tinted slightly red with comtempt. He was practically burning a hole in the back of your head with his harsh gaze, as if he could will you spontaneously combust.

A sharp voice broke his concentration.

"Have you ever actually spoken to her?"

James.

Remus blinked, realization dawning as he registered the weight of his friends’ stares, the expectant looks they all shared. James’s tone was filled with exasperated skepticism. They knew he wasn’t your biggest fan—for whatever reason, he wouldn’t say.

Remus scowled, “Once.” And you were annoyingly nice through the entire interaction, despite Remus’ painfully obvious irritance, offering to help him infact.

It was late one evening when he limped into the hospital wing in search for Madame Pomfrey, still reeling in pain after a transformation—usually James or Sirius went to fetch his potion for him, but today he didn’t want to be bother. A white nurse’s apron tied neatly around your waist, gently changing the bandages of a battered Quidditch player. When you turned to him, peaceful expression contorting into one of concern. Without hesitation, you moved toward him, a little too quickly for his liking.

He stepped back, avoiding from your touch, as if it’d burn him, grumbling out, “Is Madam Pomfrey here?”

Slightly taken aback by his clear rejecting disposition, you explained that there had been a quite ghastly incident involving some first-years and the Whomping Willow. Reaching out a hand—

“She’s healing them on site at the minute, but if you tell me what’s wrong, I’m sure I can help you wit—”

Before you’d made it to the end of your sentence, he had already spun on his his heal and rushed away, sharply spitting, “Forget it.”

By the time he’d returned back to the common room, his limp had gotten slightly worse, straining under the pressure of his excertion—pain flaring with every step.

Lily was the first to notice, immediately rising from her seat to meet him, concern pinching her brows.

“Why didn’t you get healed?” she asked, her tone somewhere between scolding and worried.

He winced suddenly as he stretched his body out across the cushions. Both James and Sirius turned their heads in concern, faces mirroring Lily’s, brows knit upwards in a sympathetic grimance.

Sighing in defeat—“She wasn’t there.” Twisting and turning in a fruitless attempt to find a comfortable position where he couldn’t feel the searing ache in his bones.

“What do you mean, she wasn’t there? The hospital wing is never empty.” James’ voiced chimed in from his seat across the room, before he continue, ”Even then, you could’ve waited there.”

Lily was still adjusting the cushions she’d placed under his legs when she said, “I’ll go now if you wa—”

“No,” Remus interjected quickly, reaching out to stop her before she could stand, scratches on his knuckles still raw, sucking in a deep breath, willing his body to relax into the sofa, pushing the pain away from the forefront of his mind—he held her arm lightly.

“There’s no point going now, she won’t be back until later.”

Her face screwed in confusion, looking back at the others hoping they would intervene. Sirius made his way over to where they were, sitting by the fire, James following closely behind. They watched him, waiting for him to continue.

Lily frowned. “Who was there?”, his jaw tightened.

“It was only Y/N,” his eyes were shut as he ran a hand through his hair, his voice taking a sharp tone, a deep frown forming on his lips; “And I’d rather wait here in pain, than be healed by some girl playing dress up.”

His words were harsh and left little room for agrument, only cracking an eye open at the sound of James’ loud frustrated groan—his head rolled back, and his fingers forcibly rubbed at the wrinkles that had formed between his brows.

“So, let me get this straight, you turned away a perfectly good healer, in your state, because you don’t ‘like’ them?!”

Both Sirius and Lily looked gaped at him in shocked, shaking their heads in clear disapproval. He pursed his lips, forming into a thin, stubborn line.

“And she’s not ‘playing dress up’. Y/N has been volunteering under Madam Pomfrey since third year, Remus.”

Remus exhaled forcefully through his nose, but he didn’t argue.

Really, he should have felt guilty.

For the way he dismissed you. For the way he recoiled like you were something foul, despite your only offense being offering to help him. But he couldn’t find it in himself to act the slightest bit remoseful—pushing his face into the sofa, trying to block out the world. Wanting to ignore the way his head only throbbed—the headache had been making it’s presence known for hours.

Only pounding louder at the mention of your name. Even his friends came to your defense.

Since then, he’d made it his mission to stay out of your way—hating the person he became in your presence. It was ridiculous really, having such hostility to a person who had been endlessly kind.

He tried to avoid you, really.

But it seemed as though the Gods were punishing him.

First, it was in duelling class, you were no daisy, a truly gifted witch—and remained undefeated in casual combat.

He wanted to watch you get knocked off your high-horse, zero interest in parttaking. But alas, the Professor had decreed, that ‘The winner stays on’, and much to his misfortune it had rolled around to his turn.

He stepped onto the platform him and you turned to look at him—eyes bright, light pleasant smile on your face—he felt that same prickling irritation crawl up his spine.

You bowed to him, adherring proper etiquette, and he followed suit, gripping his wand tightly as he moved into position.

The duel began with a flick of wands and a burst of movement. He had to admit—grudgingly—that you were good. Swift on your feet, sharp reflexes, casting defensive spells, deflecting him with ease.

You weren’t even try to win.

The goal was to disarm, and disarm only—and yet you hadn’t made one attempt at him, effortless precision in the way you diverted every one of his spells, riccoching away with loud hisses. Barely having moved from you position, hand still comfortably behind your back—while Remus had broken a clear sweat, inching up the platform, closing the distance that was set between you.

Remus was by no means an amateur, so this was just embarrassing.

You were only blocking, like this was some silly game, like you were playing with a child. And it was starting to make him irrationally angry. The surrounding students had taken a step back, whispering amongst themselves as your wands clashed in bursts of white and blue.

Did you think you were so good, that you needed to pull your punches?

It was already in motion when he’d realised what he’d done, his aggrevation got the better of him, and with a calculated flick of his wrist, Remus sent a well-aimed flippendo, straight at you. You saw the look in face, the anger crumbling as the spell left his lips.

It immediately broke through, sending you flying upwards, a sharp white flash leaving your wand.

For a moment, the room was still.

Gasps sounded, echoeing in Remus’ ears, and the Professor stood up abrupty from his seat by the platform, eyes rising and falling, following the movement of you body.

He barely registered the sting of magic, the clattering sound of his wand, is what brought Remus back into the room.

Your chest heaved, each breath deeper than the last, trying to compensate for the wind that had been knocked out of you. Head bowed forward, sitting on you knees, palms spread across the floor, wand still in hand as you stumbled, failing to raise from your position.

Your reflexes had caught you, just barely preventing your entire body from crashing roughly against the hard mahogany.

Knees still burning from the hard connection. The silence broken as your friends made their way through the crowd, and as they neared, you raised a hand to halt them before they could fuss over you. You exhaled sharply, trying to straighten your spine, shaking the residual magic from your fingertips. Hands burning from bracing you impact, wand warm in your tight grasp, the energy still thrumming beneath your skin.

Remus stood frozen, chest rising and falling in rapid succession, his expression wavering between guilt and frustration. Someone reached out—Dorcas, maybe—but you only rolled your shoulders, breath still laboured as you shook off the lingering sting of the spell.

Despite his foul-play, you’d still won—effectively disarming him mid air.

Remus swallowed as he took a hesitant step forward—whether to speak, to apologize, he wasn’t sure. The professor finally spoke, ”That was reckless, Mr. Lupin.”Voice ringing in his ears, sharp and disapproving.

Without a word, you turned on your heel and strode toward the exit, footsteps ringing against the wooden floor.

You hadn't looked at him.

Hadn’t even spared him a glance.

The next time he saw you, days had passed, now in Potions.

He should have known Slughorn would meddle. The man had an affinity for grouping “brilliant minds” together, and Remus, to his horror, was no exception.

“You two will make an excellent pair,” Slughorn beamed, practically vibrating with excitement as he waved between you and Remus. “Top of my class, both of you—oh, the potential! I expect nothing short of excellence.”

For a few moments, you stood still, and he could have swore he saw you eye twitch. But then, you turned to him with a polite, yet tight-lipped and strained smile on your face, hands already moving to gather ingredients.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”

He didn’t respond—just nodded stiffly, shoving his sleeves up as he resigned himself to his fate.

The entire class, you worked in relative silence, opting to only speak when you spoke to him, your voice was so casual, so smooth, nowhere near as pinched and curt as his.

Still unable to fight off the relentless, gutwrenching burn of his blood at your proximity—he couldn’t explain it, couldn’t comprehend why his body has such an involuntary viseral reaction to you.

Observing you quietly, watching as you hummed while stirring the cauldron, peaceful concentration on your face. And he hated it, hated how when you look at him, your eyes remained just as kind as that day in the hospital—not holding an ounce of resentment towards him, not even a flicker of the disdain he was certain he deserved. It gnawed at him, made something coil tight and uncomfortable in his chest.

He should have been relieved—grateful, even—that you hadn’t taken his hostility to heart.

“Lupin?”

Your voice broke through his thoughts, dragging him back to the present. He realized, belatedly, that you were watching him expectantly, holding out your hand.

“Hmm?”

“The moonstone,” you repeated patiently, point at it, a jar of powdered moonstone that was next to his open textbook. “Are you going to add it, or should I?”

For a moment, he just stared.

And when your arm reached out and over to take the jar yourself, the time frame you needed add in the ingredient slipping away, the seconds almost slowed down as your arm made contact with the searing hot cauldron.

You retracted quickly, jar in your grasp, and holding your arm in pain.

Remus flinched, the scrape of your sharp inhale cutting through the low murmur of the classroom. “Shit—” the word slipped out, before he could think, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. But your skin was cold, shockingly cold, like there wasn’t an ounce of warm in you at all—the gasp leaving before he realised.

You pulled your arm away from him abrupty, he sat still watching as you pulled out your wand and muttered a cooling charm under your breath.

“I’m fine,” you said softly, breaking the silence. “It’s nothing.”

His jaw clenched watching the redness faded slightly, but the skin still looked tender. Your eyes flicked away from your arm to the cauldron—gaze ever focused, ever composed. But Remus saw it, the fear and the colour drain from you face at his reaction—you knew he felt it, felt you, your temperature*.*

Remus swallowed the apology clawing its way up his throat. What good would it do?

“We’ve got time to redo the step.” You mumbled, rolling down your sleeves.

He reached for the moonstone, fingers brushing against the jar’s glass. Without a word, measuring out the powder and added it to the cauldron in slow, careful motions.

Noting how, for the rest of the class, your gaze didn’t meet his.

“Perfect!” Slughorn’s voice rang through the classroom, loud and booming, as he peered delightedly into your cauldron. “Absolutely textbook! I knew the two of you would be a fantastic match.”

Lunch couldn’t have come fast enough, immediately as the bell run, he watched your figure slip away silently into the corridoor.

Remus had barely touched his food, stirring absentmindedly at his plate as James and Sirius chattered animatedly beside him. Lily sat across from them, eyes flitting between her book and whatever ridiculous conversation was unfolding at the table.

His was in daze, replaying the moment over and over again—on question on loop in his brain.

Why?

He knew full well it wasn’t normal, there was no doubt about it in his mind, and sure he ran hot, for his own reasons, but he couldn’t shake away the look you had in your eyes, the panic, how when you tore your hand from his grasp, the surface of his fingertips were still cold.

That day, you didn’t walk in with Pandora like usual, the spot on the bench remained empty, for the entire lunch hour.

Instead of attending lunch, you were pacing around the Observatory in the Astronomy tower, hand rubbing over the skin where your burn should be, it would’ve healed completely before the end of the class anyway, but the cooling charm, cut the time down to a meer 5 minutes.

You’d been knawing at the skin of your bottom lip for too long now, a nervous habit. Staring mindlessly out, hoping the skies would provide some solace to the turmoil brewing deep in the pits of your stomach.

Why did he have to touch you?

Hands gripping the metal of the railing, it was familiar, cold—matching your skin. Gods, you hated this, hated how you were—cursed, hated how all it took was mistake and your whole world would come crashing down upon you. And you’d, unfortunately, survive, forced to find a new identity, just as your parents had.

The mantra was heavy on you lips—he won’t know, he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

You wanted to go about your day, to make your way down to the hospital wing, do some good for once, but you knew it wouldn’t be smart—you couldn’t focus anything right now. Let alone treat sick people, something that needed your undivided attention.

Maybe its best you skip dinner too, you weren’t exactly hungry.

Walking back to the slytherin common room, mind in a state of complete disarray—it was the wet dripping down your chin that made you realise—you’d bitten your lip swollen and raw. Metallic taste in your mouth, you picked up your pace into a small jog.

“bathroom, bathroom, bathroom,” muttering under your breath.

Of course, in your time of need the nearest girls’ toilet was, what felt like, miles away. You were sure it looked worse than it actually was. The small gash was already healing—but you were running now, the drops were going to stain your shirt if you didn’t hurry.

Hand covering the your mouth, you felt him, and the floor, before you saw him.

A loud, “Ooof,” sounded from above you—and when you landed on the hard stone, you bit down re-opening your nearly healed wound. You couldn’t help the pained groan that escaped your lips, the sharp sting of fresh blood flooding your mouth.

“Bloody hell—”

The voice above you was unmistakable.

It just had to be him, didn’t it?

You scrambled upright, ignoring the way your limbs ached from the fall. Remus came round by you side, and Lily was on the other—her words were genuine and full of concern, ”Y/N! Are you alright?!”

Her hands were already reach for you, when you tried to say tell her that you were fine. Instictively avoiding her touch, backing up, and into Remus’ grasp, you were well and truly trapped. Hooking their hands under your arms, and pulling you to a stand.

His hands were achingly hot against your robes, and you forced your teeth back into the closing gash—keeping the blood flowing.

You really were short on luck today.

“Merlin, you’re so cold Y/N,” her hands already running up and down your arms to warm you, you shied away from her touch, but Remus kept a tight grip on you.

“I run a tad cold, I’m fine though, just heading to the bathroom.” It came out rushed and pinched, completely muffled from you hand, still pressing your teeth into it—eyes becoming more glossy by the second.

You so desperately needed to be anywhere but here.

Remus felt like a looming presence behind you, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him—feeling his eyes scanning your frame. You were still trying to squirm out of his grip, but he wouldn’t release you.

It took a few more moments for Lily to stop forcibly rubbing you arm and take a step back, concern still etched into her face. “Are you sure? You look—”, she hesitated, before gesturing your appearence.

You let out a breathy, forced chuckle. “I’m fine, really.”

She didn’t look convinced, but she nodded slowly, allowing you a sliver of space.

Remus, on the other hand, hadn’t moved. His grip remained firm, his fingers twitching slightly where they pressed against your sleeve.

You refused to look at him.

He won’t know, he doesn’t know, he can’t know.

But the silence stretched between you, growing heavier with each second. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning every inch, catalouging every detail.

“You’re bleeding.”

It wasn’t a question.

Your stomach twisted violently. Your grip tightened over your mouth, fingers digging into your skin, willing yourself not to react.

“I bit my lip.” You interrupted quickly, words too sharp, too frantic. “That’s all.”

Remus still hadn’t let go, his face was almost unreadable—

“Let me see.”

Your heart lurched. “No.”

The word left your lips too quickly, too forceful, too much like a command. His grip tensed, just for a fraction of a second but you couldn’t wait any longer—each second riskier than the last, it was all already too much. Ripping your arm from is grasp, tears heavy on your waterline—”I have to go now.”

Before Lily was even able to offer her company, you were gone. Had bolted, practically running down the corridor, leaving them both behind.

You didn’t stop until you were safely locked inside the bathroom, palms pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink, chest heaving. You turned on the faucet, letting the water run over your trembling fingers, watching as it swirled pink before disappearing down the drain. Examining your lip—already healed.

He doesn’t know. He won’t know. He can’t know.

But no matter how many times you repeated it, you couldn’t shake the way Remus had looked at you.

The coil had already began to wined. It always started like this, suspicion, panic, terror. You could barely meet your own gaze in the mirror, splashing water on you face—hair sticking to your forehead, slow pulse thumping in your ear. A constant reminder.

Monster.

The rest of the week, you’d avoided meal times, giving Pandora a cheap excuse every morning, one day studying, the next day, tutoring, the day after hospital wing.

Thinking, hoping, praying to whatever deity had done this to you, for just a slither of mercy. You, of course, wrote home, detailing the incident. It was always better to keep them in the know.

The castle had begun to feel suffocating.

Too many eyes. Too many questions.

So you turned to the one place that had never judged you—the Forbidden Forest. Its not like anything in there could do real harm to you.

You were the monster they’d warn you about.

The shadows welcomed you, stretching long and dark beneath the canopy, swallowing you whole. Bark damp and cool under your fingertips, legs hanging comfortably from the branch. Feeling your stomach churn, as an unfamiliar heartbeat rang in your ears, much faster—nearing.

Its footsteps small and rapid, hands gripping onto the wood much tighter, when you saw it. A rabbit, your feet moved faster than your brain. Drawn in, you couldn’t help but instinctively follow, stalk—hunt— scent painfully sweet. You watched it wriggle into the base of a hollowed out tree, hand reaching in and dragging it out, it squirmed and squealed in your hold.

The saliva was building, pooling in your mouth, your chest shuddered with each breath, and swallowing thickly—you pulled out your wand, holding it firmly to the stomach of the creature.

“Episkey.”

It calmed, less frantic, less afraid.

And you placed it down, gently with a few tender stokes to the head, back into the safety of the cavern.

Hours has passed, trailing aimlessly up and down the outskirts of the forest, you crouched low by a river, staring at the distorted reflection staring back at you. The veins by your eyes bloomed over the curve of your cheekbones, a prominent dark-red, pulsing under your fingertips, the dark edge of your iris adoping a black hue and expanding, consuming almost all of the white.

A thing of nightmares.

You tilted your head back, admiring the moon, full and captivating—alone and understanding, like that of an old friend.

A branch snapped in the distance.

You stiffened, every muscle locking in place, every instinct screaming prey.

An itch beneath your skin. A sickness in your bones.

You squeezed your eyes shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip—

Then it rung, echoed, ricochetted off of every nearby surface, breaking the stillness of the water you stood over.

A howl.

One too close for comfort, the skin at the back of your neck prickled, you refused to take another breath. You should have paid more attention to your surroundings, should have a path ready, an escape route. It was too late now, it was too close, you could smell it now.

You’d wasted time.

There wasn’t much else to do, you didn’t know where to run next, each second of the chase to valuable to get lost. Taking the large rock that sat snuggly against the water’s edge, you blindly tossed it behind you, using every ounce of strength in your body. Before submerging yourself.

The water was freezing, so much so it made your eyes burn, you forced yourself to relax—to sink, avoid detection all costs.

Your mother had warned you about wolves, vicious, savage and beastly creatures—that killed for the sake of killing, for the thrill of the hunt.

It was ironic in your opinion, the way she spoke about them with such disgust and distain, like your kind of monster was any better than the next. At least werewolves could escape it, only spending 12 nights of the year a slave to their nature, able to blend in with the rest of the world, almost normal—they’d live and die in timely fashion, naturally or of disease.

The priviliege possibility.

You were the real vicious, beastly creatures. A parasite—feeding off the life of innocents, beautiful and magnetic to draw in the naive and weak, taking life, all that is good and disgracing it.

The ultimate perversion of nature, the condemned.

The pressure of the water above you had made your chest burn, ears filling with water, and as much as you tried to tune your hearing to the surface level, everything was dulled by the gurgling, whoosing the bounced back and forth between your ears.

You had to take the chance, you had to surface, you’d already been under too long.

Forcing yourself up, clothes weighing you down, making the ascent that bit more burdensome on your muscles, your fingers gripped the lip pond, tugging yourself free from the water’s embrace. You layed there for a moment, eyes still squeezed shut, half submerged, drinking in heaping gulps of oxygen.

You could feel it, the warm hum of the sun against your back, the life of the forest clear in the quite churps the swam across the air. The time under the water had passed so quick, peacefully, all thoughts subdued by the lulling sway, the push and pull of the current.

The rest of your body hit the ground with an uncomfortable splat, completely and thoroughly drenched, and yet you couldnt’t complain. Despite not having slept a wink, you felt less lost, thoughts a bit clearer, mind less polluted.

Still, you utterly were exhausted, trudging back to the castle—leaving a wet and dripping trail behind you.

It was just early enough that you’d been able to walk in through the main entrance unseen, but before you could turn the corner down to the girls’ toilets, it hit you, harsh, defeaning and impossible to ignore.

You doubled over, the roaring incessant pull, making your gums ache and vision blur. Stumbling forward, you tried to rest your back on the stone, but it whafted in again, stronger. Forcing you to screw your eyes shut, all but collapsing on the floor—clutching your stomach.

It was exactly what you hoped it wouldn’t be.

The sweet, sickly coppery smell, had your head spinning, and even after all the endless nights you’d spent in the hospital wing, sometimes dripping in the stuff, you’d still never smelt blood so compelling.

You could barely breathe, each inhale felt like an iron rod was being shoved down your throat, curled into a ball, writhing as you fought every cell in your body to not chase.

All you could hear was an awful shrilling sound, and you wanted to gag, a retch building in your chest.

You’ve learnt that fate is twisted, and sadistic—cruel in nature.

Because despite all your efforts, your struggle and labour to stay away.

It was coming to you.

There were three, you could hear them, all three heartbeats—one significantly faster than the others, though only one approached you. You groaned a pained sound in protest, they shouldn’t come closer, really.

Padding footsteps stopped by you, breath hitching as you shook with the effort, taking what little you had left in you—you pushed yourself as far away as possible. And when your head hit the wall, you just sobbed. Frantically shaking you head, whispering over and over to yourself—

“Please, no, Gods, no-”

They’d heard the impact first, and when James looked up, the small dark figure at the bottom of the hall thudding to the ground, he looked over at Sirius, who he’d been supporting Remus’ weight. That knowing look, the one that said, we need to help.

He was only inches away, his fingertips gently lifting away you robes, they were heavy and soaked, the splattering connection that sounded made Remus wince, ears still so hypersensitive.

James’ expression was grave, wordlessly, picking you up, carrying you with careful, measured movements.

Your body was stiff against him, trembling—not from the cold, but from the unbearable restraint you were forcing upon yourself. Hands locked into tight fists against your chest, as your jaw clenched so tight it sent sharp pangs down your skull.

You could smell him, so much closer now, just behind you.

The fresh wound. The slow, sluggish trickle of blood. The way it called to you like a siren song, wrapping invisible hands around your throat, pulling, pulling—

And then a voice.

"She’s absolutely freezing."

It was so distant, like layers and layers, gallons and gallons of water seperated you.

You wanted to scream at him, No, no I’m hot, its so hot. it burns— but your lips wouldn’t move, your body wouldn’t listen.

And then, another voice.

Deep, rough, hoarse from exhaustion.

Remus.

“Take her with us.”

A sharp, breathy whimper rattled in your throat. You can’t. Not when your willpower was teetering to close to the edge. Not when you could barely contain the way your fingers twitched toward him, the way your tongue pressed hungrily against your teeth.

Not when the taste of him still lingered in the air between you.

The scent had been overwhelming before—but now? Now it was unbearable.

Because he was so close.

Because you could hear it now—his and only his heartbeat, as if made just for your ears. His blood buzzing and pumping around his body, seeping through clothes, slipping through cracks—

You sobbed, twisting violently in James’ arms, thrashing, desperate to get away.

"Hold her still!" Sirius hissed, as he stumbled back against Remus.

"I am!" James snapped, struggling to keep you from writhing out of his grasp.

You shook your head violently, the world spinning, tilting—every inch of you screaming in protest.

"I can’t—" your voice was barely there, more breath than sound. "Please—"

But no one was listening.

Because they didn’t understand.

They didn’t know what you were.

And they didn’t realize the real danger wasn’t whatever had lead you collapsed in that hallway.

The danger was you.

Edges of your vision began to cloud, head lolling, a rolling with each step James’ took, tears drying on you cheek and body falling limp as the last fight you has in you dwindled away.

Madam Pomfrey was quick to aiding Remus, discretely as always, cornering off a large enough section for him, James and Sirius. Agonising groans as she healed the gashes across his chest, tending to the bruises and aching muscles with quick efficiency—falling into the routine she’d become so unfortunatley accustom to.

James and Sirius help, dabbing the sweat off of him, changing the bandages as they soaked again and again—disgarding them into a bucket nearby.

Now, her next mission was you.

She knew well of your affiction, thankfully, as did a few other select members of the faculty, hiding your true nature from the students, the parents, the papers. It pained her to see you in your condition, knowing you were a sweet girl, not an bad bone in your body. Trying so hard to be better, counter the instincts that clawed at you from the inside out.

Pomfrey had always been gentle with you, but now, her touch was laced with urgency. She pressed the back of her hand against your forehead, feeling the unnatural chill of your skin.

"Oh, my dear," she murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

You flinched, shifting away even in your half-conscious state.

"No—" your voice was hoarse, faint. "Don’t—"

But she shushed you, soft but firm, her fingers brushing over your pulse point, it was always slow, just barely there, but now—it was weak, a beat a minute. Not suprising, you hadn’t visited for your potion in some time, for whatever reason, denying yourself.

Forcing yourself to endure it, torturing and punishing yourself—while walking around with the biggest smile, nursing others back to health.

Remus was just coming to, the hair at the base of his scalp stuck to his neck, head pounding, jaw aching—when his eyes finally opened, he noticed his friends’ attention locked elsewhere—necks arched into a straining crane.

Transfixed on you, your poor shaking figure, fighting fever and something else.

By this time, Pomfrey had called for assistance in keeping you in place, keeping you running—hell bent on leaving the room.

Eyes raising heavily, following theirs, exerting his body into an upright position. He knew it was you, only from the familiar intrusive way his body shivered, hairs raising and skin prickling down is spine—because that wasn’t your voice,

No, your voice was always light, jarringly composed, sickly melodic. Not this, what filled is ears was hard to listen to, he wanted to shy away from the injured cries. Invasively loud, inescapable—and they didn’t seem to be stopping.

Becoming more urgent, more distressed, adopting a particularly harrowing edge when Pomfrey rushed back to you with a small green vial, attached to a concerningly large needle.

It felt disturbingly familiar, he saw himself in you—the futile struggle, the panic, the pain.

They all instictively turned away with a sharp intake of breath as Pomfrey pushed the needle deep into the dip where your neck meets your shoulder. It took a few more long moments before you calmed down—your head lolled again, body burning with exhaustion. Your head felt so far away, you didn’t want to sleep, but it was tempting—reminding you of the peace you’d found in the river earlier.

Eyes slipping away into the back of your head, before fluttering open just a sliver—just enough to see him.

Remus.

Still wincing, still covered in bandages, but his head was turned toward you.

Watching.

Brows furrowed.

Sighing as the sleep fully washed over your body.

Remus left the hospital wing that same day, still ridden with the usual post-moon aches, and he knew his own bed would be a better remedy.

The trio walked in silence, heads hanging as they slipped passed the closed curtain of your bay.

Barely out of earshot, it was Sirius who broke the silence first.

“D’you think she’s okay?” it was low and sincere, what they’d all been thinking.

No one answered for a moment, the memories still so fresh, too fresh for them to find the words. Remus couldn’t ignore the tight feeling in his chest—not the one cause by the night’s tearing, distorting and reassembling, but one of sympathy. Like he’d been forced to watch a wounded animal.

James’ voice was strained, struggling to capture the optimism his words clearly wished to convey, “I’m sure Pomfrey will take good care of her,” nodding to convince himself more than the others.

Whatever was wrong with you, you didn’t deserve it.

Remus chose not to say anything, because despite even her greatest efforts, she struggled to heal him—magic only going so far. And what he saw, what made you like that, he knew had to be a much worse problem than his.

The rest of the weekend passed with little commotion, though—Remus opted to collect his potion himself on both days, intending to catch a small glimpse of you, maybe you were fine—resting in the bed with your usual charming smile, surrounded by your friends—

On the saturday, your curtains were still close, no visitors, just silence around the wing. He was quick to leave, feet padding softly away as he shook off the gut-wrenching pinch he felt as he walked passed. But by sunday’s early evening, the wing was mostly clear, no sign of your presence, no signs of anything—just gone.

Of course, he attended classes as normal, when the first breakfast rolled around he only spared one glace at the entrance when Pandora walked in alone, by dinner his lips were sealed shut in confusion.

You weren’t in the hospital, you weren’t in classes, you weren’t at dinner.

The third day in a row of no-show. Remus’ body had the same tell-tale signs, as though you’d glided into the room, Pandora by your side—smile bright, lips reddened from your lolly. There was still no nothing though, halls feeling emptier, no smiles, no lollies, no you. He only pushed around the food on his plate, legs bouncing beneath the table, teeth grinding under the tension.

You’d think he’d be relieved to be rid of you.

Presence having always caused him such discomfort, such unjust agitation. But in spite of all that, you still plagued every inch of his thought, moments still flashing vividly behind his eyes of how he last saw you. He just needed to know.

That whatever sickness, whatever ailed you no longer did.

You still didn’t appear for another two days.

And when you’d finally walked into the Great Hall, practically clinging onto Pandora’s arm for support, Dorcas and Narcissa stuck to your sides, like bodyguards.

Still no smiles, still no lolly, still no you.

Because, that wasn’t the same girl who made his blood boil just by the way people were drawn to you, that wasn’t the girl who made his world tint red, body tensed and irritated, no. You were drained of all colour, eyes dull and trained to the ground—teeth knawing roughly at your lips.

Your sickness had left stripped everything away from you, a hollowed out husk of the girl you were before, and it made it hard for Remus to swallow the lump in his throat—made it hard for him to tear his gaze away from you.

So fragile.

The grip he had on his glass made his knuckles turn white, surely this wasn’t normal, surely there was someone doing something, Pomfrey—anyone.

Lily’s hand clapped over her mouth at the sight of you. Wasting no time rushing to your side, and Remus could hear her voice, the hushed concerned questions tumbling out, “Y/N, are you okay? Where have you been? Do you need anything?”

You were barely able push out a smile, in attempts to quell her worries, but your face was uncharacteristically stiff. Lips stretching and trying to curve up at the corners, but it was no use—it looked like a sort of twisted grimace.

Her hand ghosted over yours, cold to the touch, brows knitting tightly into a furrow—your whole body tensed under her touch, and as much as you wanted to pull away, you struggled to find the energy.

It was so clear that she meant well, but you had hardly taken in one breath, Remus was still watching you, and you felt his critical gaze on you as always.

“I’m fine, Lily, thank you though, just a bit poorly,” moving you hand away from hers to rest lightly in your lap.

Lily could see how every word was a strain on you, energy depleting as the interaction stretch beyond what you’d imagined. With a nod and a few more kind words, she sat back at the table.

Everyone’s eyes were on her expecting—waiting to her to detail the what she’d said, how you were doing.

She relayed, keeping it short and simple—but reinforcing one specific detail, you were still so cold.

You’d dismissed yourself early from dinner, a poor excuse of ‘rest’.

Remus still listening.

As everyone tried to offer you company, some support, an escort. “At least just to the common room?” Narcissa insisted, but you’d already stood and hushed her pleas—the same words, you’d become a record player, stuck on repeat.

“I’m fine, Cis—really.” Your smile didn’t meet your eyes.

He was so distracted that evening, always looking over to your table. No-one commented on it. Just allowing him to sit in his own state of disarray, internal conflict.

It would be inappropriate to pry, to check in on you. You weren’t friends, barely even associates—and he hadn’t been kind to you once in all your years as classmates.

Tolerating you with unfiltered scorn and hostility, never once considering how it would feel—to be on the receiving end of his indiscriminate contempt.

And finally, he felt it. What he’d been ignoring, allowing anger to push it down, letting the searing vex settle in the forefront of his mind—but it still lingered, waiting patiently to be acknowledged.

The guilt.

Abrupt and blunt were his words as he stood up from the bench, “going bed early.” And he didn’t wait for the responses or the goodnights, pace quick out of the hall.

He did go to bed, he just didn’t stay there. Reaching under his pillow and pulling out the map. Hesitating, as his fingertips ran over the rough, dry surface of the parchment. He shouldn’t.

That did little to stop him though.

He told himself, if you were in your common room, actually resting, he’d leave it alone. It wasn’t his place anyway.

But his eyes scanned for your name in the small circle of the dungeon.

Empty.

Brows pinched high on his forehead, frantically unfolding the pages, flicking back and forth for your name. Dread was settling in, what ifs—you could be in that same condition as the other night.

Scared, in pain, alone.

The sigh of relief when he found your name, heartbeat unusually fast and echoing in his ears. His feet moving faster than they should have, instinctively.

He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t. Legs carrying him far as his strides picked up, walking, jogging, running, sprinting to you.

You were too weak to go where you really wanted, the walk to the black pond just too tasking. The next best thing was the Observatory.

The sky was dark, storming—violent claps of thunder and lightning clapping breaking the clouds. Wind whipping and forcing the rain onto the balcony. Your legs hung over the edge, robes dripping, forming a puddle around you.

Face resting on the bar in the middle of the railing—it was nice, the rain on your skin, the pitter patter on the stone left little room for your thoughts.

You were thankful.

Moments of peace so few and far between as of recently.

You knew he was coming, could smell him from a mile away, there was no point in running anymore. Growing accustomed to the cruel and bitter fates the Gods kept throwing at you.

And quite frankly, you had nothing left to fight with.

His heaving breaths sounded behind you, arms holding the door frame for a moment before he took a step towards you. He saw visibly the way your spine straightened and became taut, breath halting.

You weren’t as easily swayed by his scent this time, for one he wasn’t bleeding. And you’d already braced yourself for his presence—teeth biting harshly into your tongue, burning at the painful sting, drawing blood.

There was time for you to leave, but you had a feeling he wouldn’t give up. Sure his arrival wasn’t a coincidence. Either he knew or he was coming to find out.

Both inevitable realities with unfortunate ends.

He was still paused behind you, having stopped a few meters away—not exactly sure what to say, not sure why he was here.

Couldn’t even tell if the way his skin prickled and itched was because of you or the rain’s harsh assault on the surface of his skin.

All words failing to reach his lips, instead, he took a seat a few inches away from you, on the other side of bar you’d been resting against.

Legs joining yours, in their dangle and sway over the stone’s edge, robes darkening as the rain soaked further into the fabric.

For a long while, you both sat in silence.

Remus didn’t know you knew, it had barely been a week since your discovery. Your second day out of the hospital wing, you connected the dots—the howl you’d heard that night, the way he’d been so severely wounded, the cabinets in the hospital filled with small vials adorned with his name, his aversion to you, why his scent was so disturbingly alluring.

Even now, he sat mere inches away and your mouth was filling with saliva—jaw clenching in efforts to reject the lure.

You were almost shocked at your ignorance to him, his nature, suddenly seeming so obvious—wanting to scoff, both monsters that can’t recognise each other—the irony.

His first words tempted you to laugh.

“Cold?”, he asked, rain dripping off the tip of his nose as he turned to look at you.

It took a few more long drawn out seconds before you turned to meet his gaze. And his heart ached at the sight of you, so utterly defeated, eyes vacant.

You reply was so matter of fact—

“You know I am, Lupin,” maintaining eye contact, it had a layer of something he didn’t quite understand.

Breaking the stare, you turned and looked out longingly at the clouds, letting your words settle into the crisp air between you. His body heat radiated off him so far, it would have warmed your cold body—if that were possible.

He wanted to ask what you mean, and why you said it like that, wanted to ask what was wrong, and why you looks so..so—he couldn’t even put his finger on the word—so not you.

Mouth opening and closing once, twice before blurting out, “Are you okay?” as it left, he felt it was a rather stupid choice of question—considering the situation, but it was too late now.

“You’ve really come all this way to ask how I am?” Still you kept your eyes looking out into the distance, admiring the deep hues of the clouds that rolled over the horizon.

He was still looking at you, your body against the pillar, as if the weight of the world rest on your shoulders. “Well?”

You felt yourself fiddling with the edge of your sleeves, the lump that’d been forming in your throat for the last few minutes felt impossibly larger. You didn’t want to look at him, knowing it would break you, the exhaustion rolling over you in waves—and you couldn’t bear it much longer.

When you did look to him, your eyes pricked with tears, lips twisting into a deep frown.

“I’m tired, Remus.”

You were, so so tired, in pain, hungry.

He didn’t know what to do, completely helpless, it’d made him feel ill, the dejected look on your face, there were so many words swirling in his mind. So much he wanted to say, none of it fitting, none of it enough. Instead, he reached an arm around you, pulling you in, taking the weight you’d been pressing on the bar between you—your head on his shoulders.

He had no idea why he felt comfortable enough to do that, maybe it was the way you said his name—soft, fragile, or maybe it was the way you looked at him—lost. If it wasn’t that, maybe it was the reason why he was even in here in the first place—he cared.

The idea of telling you that it would be okay, seemed ill-fitting, he still didn’t know what was wrong. The rain was coming down slower now, less aggressive and the thunder sounded further away—drifting.

You pressed your lips together, questioning whether to say anything at all. But you were already here, it was already in motion.

“Remus, do you know why you hate me so?”

He looked at you, confused, ready to protest, he doesn’t hate you, he really didn’t. It was the knowing look on your face that stopped him, reflecting on his treatment towards you—he stayed quiet.

You nodded, at nothing, turning away from him.

“Do you know why you’re here?”

The question seemed silly, of course he knew why he was here, he came to check on you, see if you were okay. Find out what was wrong—

“Why?”

Your body was still rigid against his, there was no soft rise and fall, still holding your breath—waiting.

His lips parted when he found the right words to start his sentence, “Your condition-“

Your interruption was simple, yet vague—

“If you have to ask, you’re not ready to know.”

He gaze was on you, perplexed but he listened as you continued, “I wouldn’t be able to tell you anyway.”

There were rules, restrictions against sharing about your condition, not just for the safety of others, but your own—the hysteria, the uproar, an undoing.

His breath hitched as your eyes met his, drained, understanding—kind. The air seemed to still around his when the words fell from you lips.

“Does it hurt you greatly?—each moon?”

You knew, his mouth was dry, eyes searching your face, expecting rejection, contempt, fear. But there was none, you weren’t scared of him, and though your eyes lacked their usual spark, there was still a subtle warmth, accepting. The smallest smile, twitched at your lips, hoping to give him some comfort.

Neither of you moved from your position, his body burned hot despite the rain, harsh wind, and your presence—yours was still cold, as always, a stark contrast to his heat.

“How long have you known?”

…

“A few days.”

It was obvious to him what made you realise, his condition that morning when you saw him, he wasn’t surprised—you were smart.

He would have asked you if you’d told anyone, but he was sure for some reason, that you hadn’t—that you wouldn’t. He chose to answer your initial question instead, grimacing as his body recollected the way his bones would break, his muscles would tear and his own screams of agony were alien in his ears.

“It hurts. A lot, more than I can say,” confession honest and clear.

You hummed in acknowledgment, but still waiting.

Waiting for the dots to connect in his mind, he was thinking—it was clear in the expression on his face, blinks slow, brows furrowed.

Like he was running through every possible piece of information he’d cataloged about you. You couldn’t tell him, and he couldn’t ask—his brain felt muddled.

Just as the skies cleared with time, so did his expression—looking at you with wide, shocked eyes. Always cold, unnaturally so, brilliant reflexes, alluring and captivating to all—people flocked to you effortlessly, and now that he was thinking about it—he rarely saw you eat, at every meal time, lips tinted red from your lolly.

A honeyduke’s classic.

A bloodsucker.

He still didn’t understand, you were nothing like what he’d read about—presented as ugly, ghoulish creatures that burned in the sun.

He was stuttering, puzzled, “But-but the *textbooks—*your—nothing like that”

Nodding, staring down into your lap.

“live long enough, and you can change history.”

His breath was caught in his throat—that’s why. He felt so blind, it should have figured it out soon, or at least suspected, from the way his skin crawled in your presence.

There were signs, so many, but it still seemed impossible, unfathomable.

“Show me.”

Head whipping towards him, shocked. He didn’t even know what he asked of you, eyes on his face, an incredulous look on yours—still contemplating.

“It’s…it’s not—uh, pretty.”

You felt silly at your remark. Of course it wasn’t pretty, he couldn’t be expecting something pretty.

He watched, face unchanging, not flinching away at the sight of your face distorting—whites of your eyes vanishing and the veins, they bulged, stretching out from your waterline and further down your face—protruding thickly out on your neck. You parted your lips, allowing the four sharp canines into his views, still he was neutral.

Just looking.

Cogs turning slowly.

“That morning—you were, in pain…was it—“

His insinuations were clear, the words dying on his lips when you nodded, trying to turn away from him.

“I don’t understand.”

It just didn’t make sense to him, after all these years, he’d never seen you like that, and the cause?

You weren’t even sure if you could tell him, if you should, even wording seemed hard. It didn’t seem right just say it—

Because I was hungry, because it was you.

It was clear to Remus how you were pondering your next words. It would be letting him in, allowing him to see through the cracks, the flaws, the unfortunate reality of you, the real you.

“Well, I hadn’t eaten—in a while, so it was just…”

He probably shouldn’t have asked, but it seemed the words were already in the air—

“Are you hungry now?”

Remus didn’t even know what he wanted you to say, he guessed that you were, still mild discomfort in your face, your body language. Not once did you breath in deep enough for your chest to even rise, back still straight and constantly fidgeting.

And if you weren’t—his mind couldn’t help but wonder.

The question wasn’t hard to answer, yes, every cell in your body screaming, deprived, angry. Your stomach twisted at the thought of eating, it had been so long, weeks—you’d even avoided the potion to keep the cramps at bay. You didn’t deserve the relief, because as much as it stopped the physical pain—your thoughts repulsed you.

But the shame, it never got any better, as much as your tried to push it the very back of your mind—ignore the suffocation of it, the nauseating pressure the clawed from the bottom of your spine and punched right through your chest every time your mouth-watered.

That same feeling stopped you from answering directly, mumbling, faintly above a whisper, as if saying it quieter would make it less difficult—

“It’s not something I enjoy—“

He was quick to intrude, sharp and direct.

“That’s not what I asked.”

It was even difficult to be near him now, insides lurching, in need of sustenance—and his heart was beating so strong, blood warm and intoxicating—appetising.

Your leg twitched with the effort it took to not move away from him, gaze transfixed on edge of stone you at on. Chewing relentlessly at your lip, it was unavoidable, so painstakingly aware of every pump of blood in his veins—

“Y/N,”

“Yes! Yes, Remus! Is that want you want me to say?! That i’m starving and haven’t eaten in weeks—That my throat feels like it’s closing in?!”

There was no need for you to be so harsh with your words, but you snapped—frustrated at yourself, frustrated at him for asking; for making you have to say it out loud.

And yet, he was seeming unaffected by your outburst, eyes sweeping over your figure—this whole time you’d been so composed, each sentence well-thought and calculated. It wasn’t his intention to strike a nerve, he could see the way you shrunk into yourself after, regret in your eyes—

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shou-“

“—Weeks?”

He cut you off again, echoing your words from before, your finger came up to pick at the lifted skin on your lips, only answering with a small nod. He couldn’t imagine it, having to walking around hungry for days, let alone weeks—the restraint you must have, working with the bloody and injured almost everyday.

“How?”

It seemed like such an incomprehensible task.

“How what?”

Right, he’d just blurted out the word random, as though you’d have access to his internal monologue.

“How do you do it—with Pomfrey, all the blood? Doesn’t it make you…I don’t know—uncomfortable?”

You hummed lightly at his explanation, thinking for a second, and for a while your face relaxed—as you thought back to the times you’d spent in the wing.

“It wasn’t easy, at first. But I wanted to help people, lessen their pain—so it doesn’t bother me anymore.”

You continued, confessing with a small scoff—

“It’s the least I can do in the life, something good, my soul maybe be damned—but at least i’ve found purpose.”

When you looked back at him, a deep frown was etched onto his face, eyes swimming with something you couldn’t quite read—looking at you as if your last words were blasphemous.

“You don’t really believe that do you? what you said—about your soul?”

Thinking back to your words, they did seem rather harsh, but you just pulled your lips into thinly lined smile, it stopped there just past the corners of your mouth, not travelling further up your face, as it should have. Sighing deeply through your nose—resigning with another nod.

“It’s a curse, Remus—what I am. A crime against nature.”

You weren’t bothered by your words at all, having come to terms with your reality many years ago, it made sense to you that he didn’t agree—he wouldn’t understand.

“Do you think that about me—and my soul? My curse?”

Brows stretched up and froze high in your forehead, frown now matching his—resting deep on your lips. Placing a hand on his—as if to make your words more sincere.

“I—Of course not. It’s different—you could never be damned Remus, you’re kind. And besides, you can’t help what you become, it’s just different.”

His eyes narrowed as he ran his other hand through his hair, you’d been sitting together so long it was almost dry. He was so confused, you contradicted yourself so plainly—

“You say it like you’ve got a choice in the matter, you didn’t ask to become what you are, Y/N. It’s not different at all.”

Your head was already shaking in dispute, he didn’t get it, yes you didn’t get a choice but there was no doubt in your mind about your fate. It just made sense to you that way, you were a different kind of monster.

Chest huffing in mild frustration, shifting your entire body to face him.

“You really don’t get it, do you?”

Your words were harsher than you’d expected—too much of the contempt you held to yourself seeping in, taking a deep breath and correcting your tone.

“You don’t have a choice, Remus. You can’t fight against the moon—But you also don’t take life to sustain your own, you live and die—from old age or disease, the same why everyone else does.

We’re different.

You don’t leave death and destruction in your wake because of your selfish desires—taking advantage of the weak.

That’s my nature—That’s what I am.”

You pointed to yourself, finger poking hard and frantic in the middle of your chest—sick revolt burning in your eyes, wet with unshed tears.

He could see it, and it was so achingly familiar, the unadulterated distain for yourself. Too close to home, too much like his own—

Voice low and gentle, taking the hand that’d been accusing you so harshly in both of his.

“You’re nothing like that,”

It was true, to him at least, you were nothing like what you’d described—he wished so badly to be able to change your mind. Almost offended at how you could be so casually unkind to yourself—and he knew you meant it, that you truly did believe the things you said.

His touch was so hot against yours, and yours so cold against his—you wanted to tear your hand away, in fear of making him uncomfortable—so accustom the the sharp hiss that would leave everyone that made contact with you.

But he held your hand so tightly, with such earnestness, you couldn’t help but accept the warmth of his touch.

And for once, when holding your hand in his, there was no strange twisting in stomach, no hair standing on the back of his neck—no underlying loathing, no sickly feeling bubbling in this chest, no secrets.

Just you and him.

Understanding and solidarity.

“Is that why you do this—starve and deny yourself? Because of what you think about your soul?”

He saw through you, completely.

A single tear slid down your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to lie, deny it.

“I just don’t want to hurt anyone.”

The moon was barely visible now, resigning under the bright light that the sun had just barely begun to shine—

“And you won’t, you couldn’t even if you tried, Y/N.”

You frowned again, still so stubborn and untrusting of yourself—“You don’t know that, Remus.”

His words were immediate, explicit and absolute.

“Yes I do,” gaze so intense you had to tear your eyes away, “No, look at me—I do know that. I saw you—you passed out trying to get away from me that day.

So you wouldn’t hurt me.

You’ve already done so much good, you don’t need to suffer like this anymore.”

By his final sentence he already had you standing, dragging you out of the Observatory—hand in yours pulling you down the stairs.

“Remus, slow down! Where are we going?”

“A walk.”

“I—A walk?! it’s 5am?”

He didn’t bother answering, he knew his words weren’t enough to make you believe him, to change your twisted perception of yourself. And as you found your way out of the main entrance towards the forest—he spoke to you in a quiet soft voice.

You weren’t trailing behind him anymore, falling into step with your shorter, still exhausted stride. He spoke about the pain of his first transformation and as you passed the Whomping Willow—he revealed how it’d been placed by Dumbledore, for him.

When you reached the black pond, the sun was fully up, gracing the sky with warm rays and radiance. He’d been holding your hand the entire time—you began to wonder why he hadn’t let go.

Surely, it’d become uncomfortable for him, surely the surface of his skin burned from the cold. He must have noticed the skepticism in your gaze, asking, “Shall I let go?”

You shook your head, but pulled you both to a stop, opening his hand, and inspecting it—expecting it to be cold to the touch from the prolonged contact. But it wasn’t even flushed, just warm, too warm—considering.

He let out a breathy chuckle at your examination, rubbing his palm in confusion in confusion; the sound made your eyes snap to his face—lips stretched slightly across his face into crooked smile.

Simply taking your hand back in his grasp and continuing your walk, now back towards the castle.

In an almost smug tone—“I tend to run a bit hot, so don’t worry,”

How ironic.

Unprompted, as the exit to the forest became clear, he detailed how he got his condition—a cruel and vile act of revenge on an innocent.

He struggled to talk about it even after all these years, and you could hear how his heart rate quickened as though he’d been transported back to that moment—the little boy hiding in his wardrobe.

“If it’s too much, you don’t have to say,” voice gentle and comforting.

“I know i don’t have to, I want to.”

And your thumbs found themselves instinctively ghosting over his knuckles, tracing the skin of each scar—as if trying to sooth him, heal the wounds that still linger in more than a physical sense.

“What i’m trying to say, is that, there are twisted and sadistic people of all natures, that doesn’t mean you’re as bad as the worst of your kind—I promise.”

You hummed back to him, with a nod.

“Will you do one thing for me?” he asked when you slipped through the door in the West Hall. He was looking at you, with an unexpectedly fond eye.

“What is it?”

“You have to say you’ll do it first,”

A smile cracked onto your face, the first he’d seen in weeks, the one that reached your eyes—making them crinkle at the corners, the same smile he’d found irritating for all these years.

“How can I just agree—“

“Please?”

Rolling your eyes as you relented, not protesting when he walked you both down the hall, but after two left turns, it dawned on you.

He’s taking to you to Pomfrey.

You froze, a few meters from the door—mouth suddenly dry. He squeezed your hand, turning to you with a pleading look, “You said you’d—“

“I can’t.”

His chest lurched at the fear in your eyes, the way your shoulder inched up tighter, closer to your ears—shaking you head frantically.

Stepping forward, he released your hand but wasted no time wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him, on palm gently running over your back, the other instinctively holding your head against him—stroking over your hair.

You felt the vibrations of his voice in rumble his chest, a hushed tone.

“You know you can’t go on like this—you—this isn’t how you fix things.”

You padded in softly hand in hand, Remus still leading you in—and when Pomfrey turned to the door. She paused, looking between the two of you—fingers interlocked, the smallest of smiles twitched onto her face.

“Here for your potion, my dear?”

But she wasn’t talking to Remus—back already turning to the cabinets, you mumbled a small, yes.

You’d sat down on a bed, he hadn’t let go, and you were grateful—his warmth distracting you from the swirling pits of your stomach as she approached you with one small yellow and a larger red vial.

Pouring them carefully into a small metal cup, she patted a hand onto your shoulder—encouraging, the hesitation in your eyes clear to her.

One deep breath, flicking looks between her, Remus and the cup. It slid down your throat with ease but the taste—coppery and sickly sweet—made you struggle to disguise the heave the pushed through your stomach.

You hated it.

Placing the cup down, a grimace still on your face—you body thanked you for it. The cramps fazing away slowing, mind instantly less foggy. Remus could see the colour coming back to your face and his shoulders relaxed as though he’d let out the biggest sighs.

Pomfrey came back, she handed you your lolly and sent you on your way. You didn’t wait to leave before you unravelled it—looking at it as if it was the best thing in the entire world, a soft smile on Remus’ face when you popped it into you mouth with a small hum.

As the doors closed behind you both, Pomfrey let a knowing smile split onto her face as she cleaned up.

Two of a kind, she thought to herself.

#aetherraeysworks #marauders era #hp marauders #fluff #marauders fic #remus x reader #harry potter #remus lupin fanfiction #remus angst #remus lupin oneshot #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #x reader #self insert #hp fanfic

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angelesca · 2 months ago

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w.c. ~5k hooooly balllls | game system au! phainon x npc!gnreader, short stories, in da clerb, we all fam with the amphoreus cast, puppy phainon yippee, bantering with the game system, trying to avoid raising phainon's affection points but failing horribly💖reader has a lil' nickname ('moonlight'), goofy antics ofc ofc, finally some physical contact (it's a good day), written during ver.3.0! (forgive me for any poor characterisations!) [𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬]: 1 ┃ 2 ┃...

a/n: here i am again with another stupid idea (who is surprised). okay but the nymph emoticons lit a lightbulb in my head and BAM i gave birth a second child. drew inspo from [svsss], [orv], and [villains are destined to die]!

!!! disclaimer (read me) !!! in the game, there's no night in okhema city (as of writing this), but in this fic it happens! it's explained as best as my dumb brain could^^

“what… the… fudge.” you stare at the system pop-up, almost drooling from how long you’ve had your mouth open in disbelief.

marmoreal market. amphoreus’s civilians walk by you as if you are a passing breeze. in their sphere of natural time flowing, you are stuck with defective clockwork, unmoving in the present reality. what was once a screen of predictable code on your gaming device, is now alive.

this must be a dream, an illusion drifting by in your head. it's that damn phone, isn't it? you need to stop staying up all night reading fanfic.

you shut your eyes.

…

… ping!

…?

groggily, you open your eyes. in front of you is the perpetrator:

[ヽ(o＾▽＾o) hi~]

angrily, you press the ‘x’ button and close it.

[ what's that for?! (ﾉಥ益ಥ)ﾉ ]

you mash your finger on the blue window repeatedly, poking the emoticon in the eye. “you did this to me, didn't you? you kidnapper!” your voice is brimming with fear, overflowing with confusion.

[ WHAAAAT?! (凸ಠ益ಠ)凸 just hear me out- ow! i’ll help you! and stop poking my eye already! yeowch! my nostril! ☆(＃××) ]

pausing, you take a deep breath. the gazes of alert onlookers are beginning to settle goosebumps on your skin. there’s not much that can be done for now, honestly, your best bet is to place some faith on this mysterious system. “... what do you want with me?” you whisper in the lowest volume your anger would allow.

[ hehe~ (o´▽`o) ] you don’t like that expression at all. [ it’s exactly as i’ve told you from the start: become the main character of the newest update in honkai star rail, amphoreus! ] (this is not an advertisement)

“nah.” unamused, you walk through the window which shatters dramatically.

[ (°ロ°) hah? ]

you scoff. the troublesome titankin? unending side quests and puzzles? responsibilities? fighting a literal god? who the hell wants to do all that? clenching your fist, resolve reconstructs your confidence. and you definitely don't want to listen to an annoying emoticon who forced you here. “i… will live quietly as an npc!” don't let the system have their way!

[ HAAAaAH???! Σ(ﾟ口ﾟ;) ]

you find your 88th chest of the day. it's pretty much stealing yet no one bats an eye, do amphoreus civilians also happen to offer customary welcomes for robbers in their houses? at least you are adapting to the world quickly given your game knowledge.

[ surprised you haven't encountered any enemies this past month. usually, the mc has to do some fighting... ┐(￣ヘ￣;)┌ ] is what the system said. guess the npc life was made for you.

when you open your 88th chest, you immediately regret it. a purple void cleaves the air and a familiar character dives out. it emotes cheekily, swooping the chest like an eagle to prey. “teehee~ this is mine now!”

[ that’s bartholos the spirit thief. ( ° ∀ ° )ﾉﾞ] [ new achievement: 'meeting bartholos!' ]

bartholos, spirit thief. distasteful memories rewind their tape in your head. the anger you felt seeing this thief pop up, doing the tedious minigame... fury untethered, its primordial tides stirs the previously calm waters of your mind. [ -75 sanity... ]

“... you lil’ flappin’ shirthead. i will rip your throa buy you a lovely necklace and stew you cook you my favourite stew!”

[ bartholos is confused! ]

“you fu***** bi** sh****** p******* **@^*)>{“£$^*!!!!!” [ OMG! the system can’t keep up with the filtering! ｏ(＞＜；)○ ] “*****pots clanging*****cats meowing*****???***more farting***??”

[ shots fired! it's extremely effective! ]

“o-o-okay! geez, take it… ” bartholos drops the chest, hands in the air. “damn, is it that serious?”

[ w-what kind of npc are you? ( : ౦ ‸ ౦ : ) ]

"what do you mean?" you pant, "that was totally npc-like." rule #1 in 'the npc survival handbook': gotta make a living somehow.

[ oh, there's an injured pers- don't just ignore them! (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ ]

you had just passed by a dark alley, genuinely not having noticed someone laying there because of the night shadows. and not because you were stuffing your face with sagelore fruit. rolling your eyes, you say, "pay me (nom nom)."

[ huhu (μ_μ) you're so cruel... ]

you cock an eyebrow. "and who forced me here (muffle muffle)?"

[ new side quest: 'be a good person!' ] [ reward: 1500 credits ]

squinting, you read it over - the reward is quite hefty? rule #1 resounds in your head: 'gotta make a living somehow'. retracing your steps, you decide to investigate the shrouding darkness, fingers tracing along the walls.

[ take this! ψ( ` ∇ ´ )ψ ]

your foot catches onto a stray object. "huh?!" the ground slips beneath you and gravity is pulling you by the hand. fortunately, you land on top of something. a solid hand is placed on your lower back, having caught your fall.

analysing whatever it is, you recognise its familiarity: white hair, heroic armour, long cape... oh. oh. oh no. oh nonononono. [ oh yes (≖ ͜ʖ≖) ]

rule #2 in the 'npc survival handbook': do not get involved with the chrysos heirs. you gulp. "yo, i'm outta here-"

[ new mainline quest! complete the scenario to advance~ ]

"you littl-" [ violation of system rule #87: do not speak out of character ] "wha-"

[ please choose out of the following options]:

[ i love you! ]

[ let's arrange a marriage NEOW (charisma check) ]

[ if you and i were socks, we'd make a great pair! ]

your eyes could pop out of their socket. what is the system trying to do here? worst wingman in history! without meaning to, you choose the secret fourth option: silence. you awkwardly stare at each other. [ he is confused! ] [ hehe~ okay, i'll stop~ (o^ ^o) that was fun ]

"you shouldn't be here," a serrated voice, sawing into your ears, slices through the stiff silence.

[ 'ooc' turned on ] you feel your throat clear, recclaiming your words. "yes, i agree." you nod your head enthusiastically. "i should be home, cosy in bed." [ oh, come on (￢_￢) ]

"haven't you noticed it's night time?"

"uh," you crook your head up. "i did[n't]." now that he mentioned it, no one else was awake in ohkema city, as if in hiding.

"then please find somewhere safe," he pushes himself up with ripened strength. "it's dangerous to-" he winces. you back away, searching for the site of cause. blood is pooling on his abdomen.

you didn't expect him to be in such a state. how many enemies was he fighting off? glass fiddles in your pockets, reminding you of your spoils. hurriedly, you hand him a health potion that you definitely did not steal. then, painkillers, disinfectant, and so on.

he asks quizically, "how do you have so many things in your pockets?"

"don't worry about it." just videogame things innit. silently, you tend to his wounds though your effort is clumsy.

he looks up at you. his hand timidly ghosts along the road of your working arm, driving closer and closer, as if he's navigated it before. a familiarity that suggests crossed trajectories, but with the way you avoid his eyes, the paths quickly rupture back into parallel lines.

ping! [ new achievement: 'meeting phainon' ] [ phainon's affection +1! ]

you had to repel phainon, but he's strongly magnitised. it's been a few days like this and you don't know why - it's not like you have dog food in your pockets.

"so, what do you do for a living?" oh no, he's is showing interest and his imaginary dog tail is wagging.

your mind blanks. it's not like you can tell him you steal chests and spit bars at bartholos. that'd be a prison speedrun. "i... i'm a professional npc..." [ great impression (￣_￣) ] you groan at the system message.

he tilts his head, curiousity shining in his eyes. "en... pee... sea?"

"uhhh," you falter. then, a lightbulb. wait, wouldn't this is be a good opportunity to change his impression of you—for the worse? anymore association with a chrysos heir is basically a life sentence to becoming the mc, right? "... i," you tinker with your head. "... i sniff armpits..." [ ... my ears hurt (¯ . ¯;) ]

phainon can only smile stiffly. "ahaha?" [ phainon is... intrigued? what's with this guy ] [ phainon's affection +1!(?) ]

... that did not work. rule #3 of 'the npc survival handbook': don't draw attention to yourself (failed).

another day in your life...

"do you know about the other chrysos heirs?" phainon asks, carrying your haul of limited edition honeycakes. [ w(°ｏ°)w finally, the plot is moving! ]

"no," you refuse adamantly, "and i don't want to know because it's too much exposition to listen with no skip butt-"

"hello..."

you jump. "wah?!" the girl bloomed by death's hand studies you, her dark circles accentuating her eyes.

a deep voice thrusts himself in. "are you phainon's new sparring partner? hmph."

"the new traveller? you must be the one the threads were whispering about... why don't we have a chat later?"

"we welcome you to ohkema! isn't it great?!"

"isn't it great...?"

"isn't it great? hmph."

[ isn't it great? ＼(＾▽＾)／]

why in kephale's name is every chrysos heir suddenly here? is this a family gathering or what? it's like you're meeting your in-laws, ready to get their blessings for phainon's hand in marriage.

[ your future husband ] phainon smiles warmly. "well, now you know them." [ handsome as always (＾་།＾) ] [ new achievement: 'meeting the family!' ]

"do you want to embalm a corpse with me...?"

"are you really phainon's sparring partner? come, let me test your prowess in battle."

both of your sides are occupied. along with a tall puppy, there's also a purple butterfly and a tabby cat apparently [ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ]. "don't you guys have to save the world?"

castorice nods slowly. "indeed... finding thanatos, i hope to recover my past too..."

mydei crosses his arms. "of course i want to defeat nikador and return to castrum kremnos one day. but who says heroes don't need rest?"

"and you both decided to spend it with me of all people?"

"phainon mentions you a lot... we simply wanted to see for ourselves," castorice replies, "should we invite tribbie too?"

"please don't," you shrug your shoulders. "i'm only an npc, nothing to see here." [ are you sure about that? 🤨 ] suddenly, emojis?

"en-piii-she...?" castorices points a finger to her lip.

"em... piss... cee? what's that?" mydei lifts an eyebrow.

you were not gonna answer that again. [ castorice's affection +1! ] [ mydei's affection +1! ]

in the distance, threads begin to murmur a song. the dressmaster's fingers weave through her strings, strumming each one to orchestrate amphoreus’s future stage.

aglaea’s eyebrows dip. tribbie's ears opened at the first note, wary. "the threads are strained..."

[ (＠＾◡＾) ~ ] "phainon, dearie, how have you been?"

[ ヽ(・∀・)ﾉ ] "phainon, come look at the fresh fruit!"

phainon, is admittedly very popular, a stark contrast to you, like day and night. "how do you have so much energy to interact?" you question.

phainon is now petting a large dog, wearing a large grin when the dog licks his face. in your eyes, they are a pair of twins playing with each other. "i think it just comes naturally. it's a part of my duty to the citizens."

duty. the word is tiresome in your head. you crouch down, rubbing the large dog's fur. "then, is there anything you want to do for yourself?"

"oh..." he trails off, stealing a glance at you. the steady waves in phainon's eyes shine blue, finding your reflection in them on his horizon. "there are many things i'd love to do. you know, i'm jealous of you." [ (╬`益´) HE'S LYING-! ] you press the mute button.

"what do you mean?"

sunlight perches itself on top of his head, kissing the crown of his head like a tender mother to born babe. you feel your breath being stolen. he is surely nature's revered child. "i hope to be as free as you someday, doing whatever i want," he says (he doesn't know about the chest-stealing, does he?). a face steeled from suffering, regret, and past mistakes, smelts under your warm gaze. if you were to lift his lips up with your fingers, you would find it malleable without resistance. "away from all the chrysos heir business - it gets stressful at times."

your heart skips, understanding. beneath the exterior of a hero is someone who wants to live like every other ordinary person. your heart skips one more time, hearing how you could inspire a chase for freedom in him. [ your understanding of phainon has deepened ] an unsuspecting heat runs laps across your cheeks. you both wave goodbye to the dog. "so... you want to be an npc too?"

"n-p-c," phainon recounts, "an armpit sniffer?" he teases.

"nevermind." unconciously, you brush away the strands of hair obscuring phainon's eyes, taming his fur. his eyebrows lift, eyes radiant. ears redden. "ah..." a timid disappointment when you stop, fluffy ears drooping.

silently, you think the conversation over. duty... is that what creates purpose? should you find one too? does an npc need to think this extensively? perhaps this is a part of you speaking, begging to fit in with this foreign world.

freedom and obligation. can't both co-exist?

one day, you're haggling at the market stalls, firing words no one could understand. [ phainon's affection +1! ]

another day, you're falling off the dromases every minute. phainon watched you get strapped to the saddle with rope when all else failed. [ phainon's affection +1! ]

today, you ate agalae's stock of afternoon tea desserts. [ phainon's affection +1 ]

and tomorrow, you'll ask castorice and mydei to fight to the death to settle the philosophical dilemma of the 'unstoppable force vs. immovable object'. you told him of your evil plans. [ phainon's affection +1 ]

"uh, can you stop doing that?" you turn towards the human-sized dog behind you. [ phainon's affection +1 ]

phainon stops in his tracks. "doing what?"

you point at him. [ phainon's affection +1 ] "... nevermind." you give up. it's a bit endearing, honestly. you've come to appreciate his presence accompanying you. a small smile plays on your lips. [ phainon's affection +10!!! ] ..?

[ new mainline quest! 'chat with aglaea.' ]

that's was a great start to your morning; the deafening system alarm was a nice touch. you threw a fist at the pop-up, annoyed. [ this is abuse!! (ಥ﹏ಥ) ]

so now, you are in the bathhouse with aglaea [ and me! (*ˊᗜˋ*) ]. she slides a thick envelope across the table you were both sitting at.

hesitantly, you take it under her inspective gaze. apprehension takes root in your guts. you open the envelope. [ 7-7-7 TRILLION CREDITS??!! =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇) ] you look up at her, stunned. you only know how to mutter her name, "aglaea...?"

"i urge you to take it and travel far away," she explains, tapping the table with her finger. "the strife titan is closer than ever and amphoreus is losing itself to dark nights due to the black tide. yet, phainon is distracted at this crucial moment." the tapping stops. "and i suspect you are the cause of his straying mind."

you point at yourself, disbelieving [ (⊙_⊙) ☜ ? ]. "me?" you've seen this in dramas before - the part where the mother-in-law bribes her son's partner. you could almost laugh at the comparison. realistically, you would choose the money...

"-but that's not up to you," you frown, remembering yesterday. "phainon can choose what he wants to do."

you have come to understand each other, yes, the stars are re-writing your definitions - phainon, the great warrior who yearns for a quiet life, pledging to his one moon, and you, an outsider who went as they pleased yet also wanted to belong. if aglaea is to deny his longing desires, then it is to deny your existence.

"don't make me laugh," aglaea reprimands sternly. the threads in the air are tense, ready to cut. your throat cinches. "freedom is something we gave up long ago to devote ourselves to amphoreus's amity." a pained expression fades within a split second.

a heaviness spears into you, weighing you down. you look at your feet. she is right, but you can't help but feel pierced into. silence reigns the air.

ping! [ hey! (눈_눈) ] you look up. [ what are you doing right now? ]

...? [ you said you'd live freely! (albeit as an 'npc') why are you hesitating now? you're letting the system win! ]

"huh?" isn't that what the system wanted though? to have you obey the rules and the role of a typical mc. then again, when did you ever listen to it? "uh, well..."

aglaea stands up. "that's all i want to convey."

"wait," the words suddenly burst out, a wave of energy surging. [ go go! ] "... saving amphoreus, it's not only an obligation, but something all the chrysos heirs chose for themselves." [ ∑d(°∀°d) ] aglaea raises an eyebrow. she is letting you speak what could be your final words.

"... castorice wishes to recover her past. she will defeat thanatos and save amphoreus, to discover the world with newfound purpose."

"mydei hopes to return to castrum kremnos and sever the last ties. he will defeat nikador to protect amphoreus and his new life."

"and phainon has people he wants to protect. and to do that, he will save amphoreus to keep them safe."

"the chrysos heirs all share the same feelings as you, hearts strong; saving amphoreus, but to also save a future of their own as well. so... put more faith... in them..." the words die out when you realise that what you've been saying, to aglaea of all people. her stare is critical, analysing your flaws. "or don't..." well, it was a good life.

you are expecting the sweet release of death. but nothing comes. it is silent before aglaea sits back down, one leg crossing over the other. she rests her chin on her hand, looking into the distance. seemingly conflicted, as if not wanting you to look at her, but hoping you'd stay for a bit longer. the ice in the air warms bit-by-bit. you process the silent understanding with her, watching the water flow. [ aglaea's affection +1 ]

"don't die guys. seriously." you give mydei a pat on the back, and castorice a thumb up because she'll instantly dissolve you otherwise. "where's phainon?"

"i saw him on the rooftop... i think he's wait... ing..." castorice trails off, head bobbing from a lack of sleep presumably.

mydei scratches his head. "we'll head off first then," he sighs. "don't keep him any longer than you have to."

"why am i-" the pair gradually get smaller into the distance. "-the one to go?" [ new mainline mi- ] "yeah, yeah, i get it." you wave the message away. [ 凸( ` ﾛ ´ )凸 ] you smile. [ YOU LAUGHED- ] muted.

sure enough, you find the missing person on a rooftop. phainon is surprised to see you. you wave, approaching him. "yo."

"... yo." he mirrors, brightening like the sun. but behind the smile were shadows.

"what's up?" you ask.

phainon is in quiet contemplation. "i'm afraid, honestly," he starts, "i do want to defeat nikador. it's been a life-long goal."

"but... i wish i could run away too, away from the commitment. rest my eyes and not have to think or worry."

insecure, anxious. you saw hints of it before, but now he has cracked completely, revealing to you. the calm before the storm. a final exchange of all the unwritten words.

you make an inch for his hand, but unsure, you retract it. "you sound as if you'll die."

his eyes widen. "i didn't mean to insinuate..." he looks down forlornly, at the distance between his and your hands. the quiver in his fingers craves, agitated. "i can't die yet, there's too much i want to do." his eyes move to yours. but the embarassment he feels when you reciprocate it quickly deflects his gaze away.

skin to bone; rust to metal. they only rot to the test of time, and it is only in this way that phainon will release himself from the overworld. not to the titankin, not to nikador, but a natural harbinger. that way, every breath, down to his last, can be spent on you.

you really want to pet his head. thinking back to the conversation with aglaea, you construct your words, "come home after this. to amphoreus, to the chrysos heirs. afterwards, there will be time for your heart to rest."

all these answers but phainon didn't find one to the question he is searching for. he tugs at your sleeve, eyebrows frowning. you feel almost shy looking into his faithful eyes. "will you be there too?"

your mouth opens, "me?" his ears wait for an answer. his fingers fiddling your fabric to as if to annoy a response out of you. reject, accept, deny, he's begging for anything. it doesn't matter.

phainon is entirely devoted to you, for reasons he had yet to explain. this part of his story is not left out. claim, discipline, stipple your mark into him and his skin will not rebound from your carving. until skin melted into flesh, and flesh peeled off his bones, and bones pulverised into dust, everything would remain as history written on his body until then.

at the end of the day, into the night, he is waiting for you. he's hoping you'll do the same.

a velvet smile paints your face, heart beating, your answer as natural as day and night: "i will be waiting too." for him, and his story of devotion.

"when we reunite, let's make a world of our own. one we both belong to, and one where we are free to do everything we want. where the sun guides us and the moon watches over, co-existing." [ ... ]

rule #2 in the 'npc survival handbook': do not get involved with the chrysos heirs.

phainon finds solace in the crook of your neck, strong arms wrapped around you but his hold trembles. you let him do as he please - let his heart, something he almost gave up, finally express itself, and you can hear his heart beat prove its existence. quietly, you card through his white strands with your fingers.

the sun begins to set.

"phainon, i order you to track this outsider. i do not know how they happened to breach okhema, but i suspect they fell from beyond the sky," agalae instructed, eyes sharpened. "if they make any suspiscious movement, or mention the forbidden, they must be dealt with swiftly."

thus, phainon watched over you, playing executioner. another mission, nothing new. leave them alone if proven harmless, execute if necessary.

standing upright on a rooftop, the first time he laid eyes on you, you were in the middle of marmoreal market, dazed, speaking... to no one? then the chest stealing, the sagelore fruit stuffed in your mouth, doing everything that you pleased - riding the loose currents of freedom, unrestrained by rules. without knowing, bright laughter left his rigid lips.

as days passed, disturbance grew. for whatever reason, the titankin were strongly attracted to you, as if you were an anomaly they had to eliminate. before one of them could strike you-

"hm?" as soon as you turned around to look, there was nothing there but the glaring sun quietly protecting you all along.

months passed like this and phainon slowly carved your existence into amphoreus. from the big movements, the twitching in your expressions. to the hollowness in your eyes when you watched the people chatter, the children running by, the scholars conversing. he saw it then. a black sheep walking among the herd; a shard of the night misfitting itself into bright daylight.

chaos worsened. the black tide brought night and agitated harmony's wavelengths. the titankin spiralled and even more were after your throat. took its toll on phainon as he stayed by your side when amphoreus was asking for him. it was one of the few times that he let his duties go for something he freely chose to do. although, the price to pay was hefty - it was him against many. and the threads hummed tunes about his misdeeds.

as much as the dark scared him, the night carried you to him on that fated day. you were going to kill him. open his stomach. stab his chest. those were most effective. but you felt so warm in his arms when he caught you.

in the back of his mind, a nagging hope procured a promising premonition. a hope brought to flame, his studying that came to fruition, when you tenderly looked after him.

he looked up at you. the moon softly caressed its shimmer upon you. you were moonlight. and from there on, the sun orbited the moon. a devotion that naturally made sense, that was meant to be.

days turned to weeks. you tried not to think about the emptiness. who are you? someone waiting for their husband to return home from war?

"hey kid, watch out." you steady a brown-haired kid before he could fall over again. he bows, thanking you. you learned his name was theophis.

"buying more sagelore fruit? come, come! the produce this season is at its ripest." their name was auguste.

"good morning, dearie. is phainon not here today either?" her name was hegesia.

again and again, you strolled around okhema, sticking names to familiar faces. the people grew to know you as time moved its hands - a sense of belonging and purpose in a place once foreign. you found yourself engaging with them, not because of a reward, or even being forced to do it.

it is then that you realise it. chatter, talking, noise. yet, everything is too quiet at the same time. no banter, no teasing remark... nothing.

in the middle of marmoreal market, you stand dazed again. something is supposed to guide you in moments like these. your heart is heavy, mourning a loss.

"system?"

the wind slips through your fingers, proudly holding your hand. it answers your call.

you are sound asleep when the night courses through your balcony, blowing the curtains with its star-glistened breath. the cautious clicking of boots unheard. fingers delicate, lips yearning, but settlling for gently pressing their head against yours, lightly rubbing back and forth. so careful, too delicate, a touch that only borders the rim of a minute gap between you and him, afraid to rouse you from your dreams.

"my moonlight... "

strangely, you slept well last night. and the night after that. and the next one too. you did your usual routine in marmoreal market and were about to head home when a strong gust of wind attacks you. "woah!" you hold your arms in front you.

the breeze gradually calms, tugging at your clothes. slowly, you lower your arms, feeling the familiarity in its touch. the wind guides you by the hand, dragging you hurriedly to the rooftop and you recognise his back.

"phainon?" he jumps a little at the sound of your voice, his tail wagging. his owner has returned. he awkwardly rubs a hand on the back of his neck, bashful - those ears are red again. what's he hiding?

his shoulders shake slightly. it is taking all his strength to not run into your loving arms. before he could, there was something in his cards to reveal. he turns around, closing the distance, and you finally meet his face. a very flushed one, that is. but a face you missed all the same. he clears his throat. "i want to explore amphoreus, find a quieter place," he says, structuredly, "i will return to okhema when needed, of course, but for now... the heart wants to rest," he extends his hand towards you. "will you come with me?" his hand trembles.

no pressure, no forcing. he is letting your heart decide the flow. he would go anywhere you wanted, as your desires are also his as much as it is yours. this is the freedom he wants, a drift of the wind that you decide, as long as he can ride along it with you. the direction does not matter when the amphoreus is only a speck in the universe, with so much to explore.

a smile creeps onto your lips. you steady his hand into yours. even after all this time, he acts like he's meeting you for the first time. "why wouldn't i?"

"oh," phainon immediately brightens. "g-great!"

you remember the well-rested nights. "but it was you, wasn't it? how come you didn't reveal yourself sooner?"

his encompassing hands fidget with your ring finger. "i... was practicing my lines for days." he looks away. "i was really nervous," he mumbles.

you grin. "what were you so afraid of? it's only me."

he chuckles. "you're right..." slowly, he takes your hand and presses it against his cheek. your cradle is a fondness reserved only for him. in his eyes, an affection that has accompanied you everywhere, since you first got here. a love that didn't need recognition, it only asks to follow you and shower him with the sound of your laughter when he gets lonely. "about everything, about us, i want to tell you how it all started from my eyes. ever since you got here..." -the sun had always followed the moon. he kisses your palm.

and before he forgets, phainon hands you an envelope. it is as heavy as you remember it to be. "all their blessings are in here, the chrysos heirs."

it really sounds like you are getting married. you let out a tired laugh.

there are no more rules. whether from a sense of obligation, freedom or loneliness, you'll both live how you want. become the main characters of your own stories.

"let's go!" with no time to waste, phainon excitedly takes you by the hand, legs flourished by the wind and trails of good fortune. the day is beginning to rise, and the sun is more than happy to follow his moonlight into the next day, and for all of infinity and evermore.

"godspeed to you," tribbie clasps her hands together in prayer, looking down at the pair from the far above. then, she smiles, her head swaying side-to-side. "searching for a small world of their own. it's almost like an elopement, isn't it, agy?"

aglaea hums, hand on her heart. the threads chime a ceremonial aria, the ice melts ever so little. "the heart... knows what it wants."

a person closes the novel they were reading. sighing, they pick up their phone and start typing again:

"this author has balls of steel to come back with another disasterous novel. so criiiiiiinge. where was castorice at the end? i was waiting for her! why is the male lead, a powerful warrior, reduced to a lovesick puppy? how does that make sense, you stupid author! such abysmal writing full of holes, leaking enough to fill an entire ocean. insanity, i say!" this random nobody criticises, slamming their fingers on the screen. they clear their throat. "hmph. the next volume better be coming soon."

a/n: im pooped, expect my third child to come out next year probably. everyone's invited to the baby shower, just make sure to bring ur best costumes. my back breaks everytime i have to argue philosophy with the reader and the characters like,, im being attacked from all sides. fun fact: ever since i prematurely posted my sunday fic, when im sleeping, everytime i hear a phone notif i instantly wake up bc i get scared thinking i accidentally posted again. so thats cool. new trauma gained ig😜 idk what else to say. like and subscribe, hit the bell icon for notifications. lemme know ur fav toothpaste brand. [ new achievement: 'thanks for reading!!' ヾ(*'▽'*)' ]

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #phainon x reader #imma pass out now #villain reader next? anyone?😼#angie's crayon drawings!

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prettygirl-gabi · 1 month ago

Text

Title: The Hideout

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: some times Paige can be a lot to handle and she know it

🏷️: @yailtsv , @sitawita , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paige05bby , @paxaz535

Pt.2

Pt.3

I love Paige. I really do. She’s the best girlfriend in the world. But when she and KK get in the same room? It’s like a tornado of chaos.

Their energy bounces off each other like a never-ending ping-pong match of noise—laughing, yelling, vocal stimming, making random noises for no reason other than they can. It’s fun to watch… until it isn’t. Until it gets overwhelming. Until I start feeling like my brain is melting from the inside out.

And right now, they’re on TikTok Live together.

Loud. Clowning. Doing everything but keeping the volume at a level fit for human ears.

I can already feel my head getting heavy, my breathing uneven. If I stay in here too long, I’m going to crash, and they’re not even close to being done.

Yeah, I need an escape.

Quietly, I slide off the couch and out of Paige’s room, leaving her and KK to their chaos. They don’t even notice me leaving. I love them, but that’s fine with me.

I head straight for the one place I know will be peaceful: Caroline’s room.

Her door is slightly cracked, and when I push it open, she’s already lying in bed, scrolling on her phone. Azzi is sitting at the desk, laser-focused on her laptop, probably taking one of her many online exams.

Caroline glances up, taking one look at me before smirking. “Lemme guess—Paige and KK?”

“Obviously.” I sigh dramatically, shutting the door behind me. “I need a safe haven.”

Azzi hums without looking away from her screen. “You always come here when they’re too loud.”

“Because it’s quiet.” I flop onto Caroline’s bed, sighing into the comforter. “And because Caroline lets me watch The Vampire Diaries with her.”

Caroline laughs, clicking the remote. “You lucky I was just about to start an episode. Get under the covers, babe.”

I don’t hesitate, immediately snuggling into the blanket as she starts the episode. The Vampire Diaries plays softly in the background, a perfect contrast to the noise I just escaped from.

Azzi, still focused on her test, speaks without turning around. “Paige is gonna notice you’re missing in, like, five minutes.”

I groan. “Yeah, but that’s a five-minute head start. Let me have this.”

Caroline chuckles and pats my head. “If she comes looking for you, we’ll protect you.”

I smile, appreciating the solidarity. I know Paige doesn’t mean any harm, but when she’s with KK, it’s like she forgets the rest of the world exists. She gets so caught up in their antics that she doesn’t realize how overwhelming it is until it’s too late.

And sure enough, just as Azzi predicted, five minutes later, we hear Paige’s voice echoing from down the hall.

“Babe?”

I tense immediately.

Caroline grabs the remote and turns the volume down, while Azzi finally looks up from her laptop.

Paige’s footsteps get closer.

“Y/N?” Her voice is a mix of confusion and mild concern. “Where’d you go?”

I look at Caroline with wide eyes. “Help.”

She grins. “Get under the blanket.”

Without hesitation, I throw the blanket over my head just as the door swings open.

Azzi, quick on her feet, takes it a step further by getting up and sitting on top of me through the blanket.

Paige peeks inside, frowning. “Have either of you seen—”

Caroline, the best wingman, smoothly interrupts. “Hey, Paige. What’s up?”

Azzi, still sitting on me, casually leans against Caroline, resting her head on her shoulder. “We’re cuddling,” she adds, trying to sound nonchalant.

Paige raises an eyebrow. “… You’re cuddling?”

“Yeah,” Caroline nods. “Bonding moment, for the scissor sisters.”

Paige glances at Azzi suspiciously. “And you just so happened to start cuddling the second I came looking for Y/N?”

Azzi shrugs. “Coincidence.”

I hold my breath under the blanket, praying she buys it.

Paige looks around the room, her eyes narrowing. She’s suspicious, but Azzi is still sitting directly on top of me, and Caroline is playing it cool.

Paige sighs. “Alright, well, tell my actual girlfriend to come back when she’s done hiding.”

Azzi smirks. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Paige rolls her eyes but doesn’t press further. She shakes her head and leaves, closing the door behind her.

I exhale the second I hear her footsteps disappear down the hall.

Azzi finally moves, letting me breathe again. Caroline laughs, pulling the blanket down to reveal my relieved face.

“That was close.”

Azzi stretches, flopping onto the bed next to us. “She’ll get over it.”

Caroline nods. “Now, let’s finish The Vampire Diaries before she comes back.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Between the soft background noise, the warmth of the blankets, and the security of knowing Paige won’t be back for a while, my body finally relaxes.

It doesn’t take long before my eyes start feeling heavy.

And before I know it, I drift off to sleep.

⸻

The next morning, I wake up to the sun peeking through the blinds.

I’m still sandwiched between Azzi and Caroline, the three of us curled up under the covers like a pack of hibernating bears.

It’s comfortable. Warm.

Then I realize something.

I sit up groggily, rubbing my eyes. “Wait… where’s Paige?”

Caroline stretches, yawning. “I think she saw us sleeping and just let us be.”

Azzi hums in agreement. “She didn’t come back.”

Guilt tugs at my chest.

Paige must have gone back to her room and slept alone.

I swing my legs out of bed. “I should go find her.”

Azzi smirks. “Make sure she’s not too mad.”

Caroline pats my back encouragingly. “Good luck, soldier.”

I roll my eyes playfully and slip out of the room, heading down the hall.

When I step into Paige’s room, she’s still lying in bed, scrolling on her phone. She looks up when she sees me, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, look who finally decided to come back.”

I walk over, climbing into bed beside her. “You could’ve woken me up.”

She shrugs. “Figured you needed the sleep.”

I bite my lip, feeling bad. “I wasn’t trying to ignore you. You and KK were just… a lot last night.”

Paige sighs, pulling me into her arms. “Yeah, I know. KK hypes me up too much. I didn’t even realize I was overwhelming you.”

I nuzzle into her chest, appreciating the warmth. “It’s okay. I just needed a break.”

She kisses the top of my head. “Next time, just tell me, babe. You don’t have to run away.”

I smile. “Even if you and KK are on Live?”

She groans dramatically. “Even then.”

I chuckle, snuggling closer. “Deal.”

Paige holds me tighter, and for the first time in hours, I feel completely at peace.

---

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

-Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

-prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

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mashtatosworld · 1 month ago

Text

lover boys (2)

summary: 'not kissing your partner goodnight' prank

[GD, TOP, D-LITE]

Kwon Jiyong (GD)

You were always the first in bed, your husband usually busy faffing around - picking up stray earrings from the dresser, tucking your clothes into their proper places, making sure everything was just so.

Like clockwork, he’d eventually shuffle over, yawning, before flopping onto the bed with a dramatic bounce, limbs sprawling across the sheets.

You bit back a smile, waiting for the next part of the routine.

Sure enough, he wriggled his way across the mattress until he was glued to your back, his arms and legs locking around you like a koala clinging to a tree.

So predictable.

Normally, this was when you’d turn over, kiss him softly and whisper goodnight. But tonight, you kept your head on the pillow, unmoving. Waiting.

Fifteen seconds.

That’s how long it took before he started squirming, jostling you in the process.

“Jagi,” he mumbled into the back of your neck, voice half-sleepy, half-demanding. “Turn around.”

You kept your breathing slow, like you were already drifting off.

“Jagiya,” he tried again, squeezing you tighter. “My kiss.”

His face hovered close to yours now, his pout brushing your cheek. When you didn’t respond, he pulled back just enough to stare at you.

“Yah,” his voice sharpened, suspicious. “What is this?”

“Hm?” you hummed innocently, burying your face deeper into the pillow. “It’s late, Ji. Let’s sleep.”

“Not without my goodnight kiss,” he huffed, his nose and lips smooshing into the side of your face. “I can’t sleep without it. You want me to get nightmares? To suffer?”

You bit your lip to hold in the laugh, shaking your head.

That did it.

“Come here, come here - ” He grabs your face, squeezing your cheeks like you’re mochi, peppering kisses all over your squished, helpless face.

You shriek with laughter, trying to keep your volume measured but his hair tickles your face and his kisses are relentless.

“Stop - !” you giggle, trying to swat him off.

"Not until I get my kiss."

It had to come from you, just as much it did him.

You try to hold strong, but the way Jiyong’s looking at you - all needy and desperate, his weight resting warm and solid over you - it’s game over.

You grab his face, pulling him close for a proper kiss, slow and sweet, his little sigh of relief making you smile into it.

When you finally pull back, his nose scrunches, eyes narrowing. “This was a prank, wasn’t it?”

You grin. “Maybe.”

“So mean,” he mutters, but he’s already nuzzling into your neck again, arms locking around you like he’s never letting go.

“Goodnight, my clingy husband.”

“Goodnight, my teasing wife.”

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Seunghyun (TOP)

The moment you slip into bed beside him, Seunghyun gently closes his book and plucks his glasses from his face. But despite the cool exterior, you’ve always known the truth: he’s a man of quiet routines. One of those routines?

The goodnight kiss.

It’s never over the top. Sometimes it’s just the softest brush of lips against yours, sometimes it’s lazy and distracted, but it’s always there.

Until tonight.

When you turn your head away at the last second, his lips barely grazing your hair, he doesn’t react. Not immediately.

He just rolls onto his side, back to you, like it’s no big deal.

You blink in mild surprise, having expected more of a reaction but then again, he was never one for dramatics.

The minutes creep by and you feel yourself beginning to drift off into a hazy slumber. You picture what the next day would bring, excited that the two of you were going to a new gallery in the morning to look at -

“YAH!”

His sudden, explosive shout makes you jolt so hard you nearly fall out of bed. Your heart’s racing, your body tangled awkwardly in the blankets as you twist to face him, eyes wide.

“What the hell, Seunghyun?!”

He’s sitting up now, hair a mess, hands flailing just slightly in frustration. His voice is low, but urgent, that unique blend of serious and ridiculous only he can pull off.

“I can’t sleep,” he grits out. “Not until you tell me what's wrong. What did I do?”

“Nothing,” you mumble, trying to settle your heart rate.

“You always kiss me goodnight. Always.”

You blink, the prank springing back to mind. You were on the edge of sleep and had nearly forgotten about it.

“Did I do something?” he demands. “Is this because I ate your chocolate? Because I’ll buy you more, okay? Right now. Just- ”

“No! No, baby, it’s just a prank,” you finally confess, raising a hand to stop him from climbing out of bed. “I was only messing with you.”

Seunghyun freezes, and his eyes narrow at you.

“Pranks are supposed to be funny.”

“You love me.”

“...I do.” he admits with a reluctant tut.

You reach for him, pulling him down by the front of his shirt until he’s back beside you, face hovering just above yours.

“You big softie,” you whisper, brushing your lips softly over his. "I can't believe I ever thought you were scary."

He sighs into your kiss, relief melting into affection.

“Never do that again,” he mutters, voice low. “I need my goodnight kiss.”

His arm slides around your waist, anchoring you against him, no exceptions allowed.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

Daesung (D-Lite)

The evening unfolds like it always does - side by side at the bathroom counter, your faces slick with cleansers and foams, giggles exchanged through the mirror as you gently pat each other’s cheeks dry. Daesung hums a song under his breath, eyes closed as you smooth the final layer of cream into his skin.

It’s muscle memory by now - the way your fingers trail over the curve of his jaw, how you usually lean in to press a quick kiss to his lips before calling it a night.

But tonight, you don’t.

Instead, you pat his cheeks one last time, smile sweetly, and without a word, flick off the bathroom light and slip into the bedroom, turning off the main lights too. No kiss. No final touch.

You don’t see the way his brows scrunch together, confused but not yet concerned.

He follows you a beat later, clicking the bedroom light back on.

“Are we not going to sleep?” you ask from the bed, already pulling up the covers to your chin.

He stands in the doorway, brow furrowed like he’s solving a particularly difficult puzzle.

“Uh…” His voice is slow, drawn-out, confused in the cutest way. “I don’t… think so?”

“You don’t think so?”

He just stares, blinking. You’re the one not following the bedtime script - and it’s short-circuiting his whole brain.

Still, he crawls into bed beside you, fingers fiddling with the corner of the blanket as you reach over and flick off the light once more.

A beat.

Then, click - the room floods with light again. He'd turned it on from his bedside switch.

You blink, turning to face him. “Dae.”

He’s got that innocent, wide-eyed look, lips pursed, caught red-handed.

You flick the light off again.

Click.

On again.

You narrow your eyes. He raises his brows, silently daring you.

It’s a full-blown, silent standoff, neither of you willing to break first.

With a huff, you snap the lights off once more, this time yanking the covers over your head for good measure.

You can hear the click of the switch.

Then you feel the duvet being peeled back almost immediately, Daesung’s face hovering inches above yours, his expectant pout softening into something far too adorable to resist.

“What do you want?” you ask, exasperated but already laughing.

His eyes flick to your lips, then back up to yours - hopeful.

“You know.”

You let out a sigh you don’t mean, and before he can whine, you cup his face and pull him down for a delicate kiss.

His whole body sinks into yours, humming happily into the kiss like you’d just put the universe back in order.

“See?” he grins, curling into you like a giant puppy. “Now we can sleep.”

The lights stay off this time, and his arm wraps snugly around your waist, content.

“Needy,” you whisper.

“Always,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck - but the smile on his face doesn’t fade for a second.

𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪 𓆩♡𓆪

i've got so many drafts but i dont know what to work on next arghghg helppp

taglist: @petersasteria, @mirahyun , @allthoughtsmindfull , @gdinthehouseee , @infinetlyforgotten , @redhoodedtoad , @kathaelipwse , @lxvemaze , @loveesiren , @sherrayyyyy , @getyoassoutthetrunk , @shieraseastarrs , @ctrldivinev , @xxxicddbr88 , @onyxmango , @tryingtolivelifeblog , @tulentiy , @bettelaboure

#bigbang #kpop #gdragon #kwon jiyong #mashtatosworld #kwon jiyong x reader #gdragon x reader #top #seunghyun x reader #choi seunghyun x reader #choi seunghyun #daesung x reader #daesung

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elssero · 8 months ago

Note

Can we get a part 2 to best friends big sister, cuz that was the shit

yes u definitely can !!

best friends big sister part 2

i.midoriya

♰ nsfw/suggestive, more sub!izuku + a little angst, fluff.

part1

watching izuku and his mother leave your family home puts a weird feeling in your chest, you’ll miss him you think.

you recall the events of the night when you entire your room. you smile slightly as you look at your bed- the dip he left in your covers still evident.

deciding to shower in the morning you change into something more comfortable- your distracted by a buzz from your phone and you pick it up, already having a good idea about who it could be.

it’s izuku of course- letting you know that they got home save and thanking you for the night, it’s innocent enough. reading the message you don’t find any undertones and you sigh in relief-

your not allowed peace for too long before your interrupted by a knock on your door. it’s katsuki- you can tell by the volume of his knocks that he’s in a bad mood. you let him in anyway.

he glances around your room for a second, almost as if looking for something and when he doesn’t find whatever it is he starts to speak.

“you gna’ tell me what the fuck tonight was with that nerd?” you’d laugh at his childish nickname if his voice wasn’t laced with so much venom- he’s angry, in fact you haven’t seen him this angry since he was a teenage.

“i have absolutely no idea what your talking about kats” you try and sound sincere but to katsuki it just comes off as mocking- something happened tonight and he knows it. not only have you snuck around with one of his friends your also lying about.

“don’t fuckin’ lie to me-” he cuts himself off. he knows that there’s no way your going to be honest with him if he’s this angry at you- he can’t blame you. deciding to take a different route he begins again. “m’ not gna’ be angry at you i just- fuck i just need you to be honest with me.”

you stare at him for a moment- going over your options you decide you have two. the first being is being honest with him- telling him exactly in not so many details that you slept his izuku during a family dinner. the second being to deny deny deny.

“kats i swear-“ your cut off again by another buzz of your phone- both of your eyes snap down to your phone, he can’t quite read the name but you can. the conatct “izuku :p” now staring back at you.

“who the fuck is texting you at this time” he says it absentmindedly at first before his face quickly changes into one of rage again. “it’s fuckin’ him isn’t it.”

you don’t reply to him- face still staring down at your screen. you know your caught- he’s going to reach down for your phone any second and he’s far too fast for you to stop him- you can only hope izuku’s second message is as innocent as his first.

just as you predicted he lunges for your phone- turning it to face you as he unlocks it with your face id- he reads the first message aloud, slowing down at the end as he realises izuku is just being nice.

he stops abruptly after that- reading the second message in his head before saying it aloud, his voice dripping with the same venom from before.

“what the fuck does he mean by the ‘other thing’ and what the actual fuck does he mean by next time.”

oh shit.

izuku is still in a state of shock as your door closes- he almost skips home that night. wide smile on his face as he walks hand held with his mothers as he guides her home in her drunken state.

unlocking their apartment door he immediately sends his mother to bed- she doesn’t protest much, apart from telling him he’s no fun and sending him a goodnight.

the boy is nearly floating as he gets ready for bed- eager to message you a well deserved thank you.

he studies his first message- deciding to keep it light, it’s very late now and he’s aware you might even be asleep, deciding he doesn’t want you to wake up tomorrow morning with some sort of sext from him.

you read it immediately and his smile grows wider- he awaits your reply, excited to begin another conversation with you as if he hasn’t been sat hand in yours for the past couple of hours.

the cheerful reply he was hoping for doesn’t come. infact no reply comes at all and suddenly there’s a pit in his stomach.

he gives you a couple of minutes before he can’t contain himself anymore and sends you another- his face going bright red as he types it- deleting and rewriting it a couple times before he hastily presses send before he can doubt himself anymore.

it’s nothing crazy- not by your standards but to him it’s the single most suggestive? thing he’s ever sent to a girl and he’s freaking the fuck out.

izuku :p: i also wanted to thank you for the other thing…i really enjoyed it. i had a really good time with you tonight. if you were serious about there being a next time im free next weekend.❤️

you snatch your phone from katsuki’s hand to read the message yourself- you curse midoriya for being so sweet because you can’t help the fact the panic falls from your face as you reach the end of the message- instead being replaced by a small smile on your face.

“so you did fuck him.” your snapped back to reality by the rough sound of your brothers voice. he doesn’t sound angry anymore- instead it’s replaced by hurt.

you should’ve known izuku was completely off limits, you think a small part of you did know, only making the guilt you feel for betraying your brothers trust even stronger.

“m’ sorry kats-” he doesn’t respond. instead turning on his heel as he leaves your room in lightening speed- nearly taking your door off its hinges at the power he uses to slam it.

izuku’s message is left unreplied as you slip into your bed after watching your brother leave- you know better than to follow him as he is now. you’ll talk about it later when your both in better headspaces.

class the next day is hell for both boys- katsuki arrives early as always. settling into his desk as he listens to his idiot friends talk his ear off about their weekends. he’d quite like to ignore the events of his own weekend but his dream is cut short when he watches izuku stumble into the door.

he looks more tired than usual- somehow managing to appear even more nervous than he normally does. bakugo watches as the other boy attempts to quickly make his way to his desk without being interrupted.

“hey midoriya my man!” its kaminari who’s the first to speak to the boy “heard you had dinner at bakugos this weekend- you see his sister?” katsuki’s eyes roll as midoriya’s face flushes- it’s like he’s not even trying to hide it.

he can’t even form a response to denki’s question as imagines of the night before flash in his mind. he takes a quick, guilty look at bakugo before ultimately turning away from his friends and hiding in his chair.

he’s stressed. infact he’s beyond stressed. you didn’t reply to either of his messages last night despite seeing them both. he’s contemplated sending you another every second he’s been awake but ultimately decides against it, he’s giving you time.

the boys spend the rest of the day ignoring each other- well bakugo ignores the other and midoriya thanks the gods everytime he watches the blonde practically run away from him.

it’s not until their journey home when the boys are finally alone- no more corners to turn away at, no more walls to hide behind.

“um- hi kacchan..” he doesn’t know what else to say- it’s not exactly like he can come straight out and ask his friend why his sister is ignoring him after they slept together in his house. at his family dinner.

bakugo takes his time replying- trying his hardest to hold himself back from pummelling the shorter boy into the ground.

“you slept with my sister.” oh. so that’s why you haven’t spoken to him. bakugo knows. he’s known the entire time. he’s known since he watched you two leave the dinner table last night.

“i’m sorry kacchan- i don’t know how it happened i promise i didn’t mean too-”

“god will everyone stop fucking saying that?” he’s angry- but it’s more than that. midoriya recognises it immediately- he’s hurt.

“if you two were so fuckin’ sorry it wouldn’t have happened in the first place” he’s right and midoriya knows he’s right. the guilt he feels currently is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

“but it did happen. so know i wanna know what you plan to do about it.” the shorter boy looks at the boy in bewilderment- what he plans to do about it? he thinks about it deeply.

he’s already came to the conclusion that it couldn’t have been as big of a deal to you as it was to him. it wasn’t your first time and it certainly wasn’t the case that you had been borderline inlove with him since you were six. you didn’t feel the same.

“i guess- i um. i really don’t know. i just kinda thought id let her do what she wanted.” there’s a small hint of pain in his voice as he says it. “take whatever i can get i guess.”

bakugo studies the boy for a second. truly wishing his suspensions about his friends feelings for you had been overdramatised in his head.

they aren’t though. midoriya is completely and utterly smitten by you and he has been for as long as he can remember. bakugo lets out a long sigh before he admits something.

“my sister doesn’t just sleep with anyone y’know” suddenly the other boys eyes snap to his- “shut up- don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.”

“i know what your thinking alright? that last night wasn’t serious for her- or that she doesn’t actually feel anything for you-” he curses at himself- how has he found himself helping stupid fuckin’ deku get with his stupid fuckin’ sister.

“but that’s not true- you know how everyone thinks about her- fuck you heard denki this morning-” both boys grimace slightly at the memory of denki blabbering about how he would do anything to share a mealtime with you.

“but she’s never slept with any of them- not a single one of my friends before. she flirts yeah but she always draws the line.” he doesn’t understand it fully- when you could’ve had any of them, you could’ve had kirishima or sero- god even denki would’ve been better than the boy standing next to him.

“i don’t know what it is about you that made her cross that line but it’s gotta’ be somethin’.”

midoriya looks at bakugo in amazement. he doesn’t say it openly but he knows the boy walking next to him well enough to know he’s giving permission. that in his own weird way he’s urging the midoriya to give you it a proper chance.

“i have plans with shitty hair for the next couple of hours- my parents are away so it should be you two.” midoriya is even more shocked now? he wants him to go see you? now?? alone??

“god- stop lookin’ at me like that- i didnt mean it like that. i meant to talk to her for fucks sake.” oh that makes more sense.

it doesn’t take much convincing- midoriyas quickly finds himself practically running to your house following a quick shout of a thanks to his childhood friend as he makes his way to you.

the knock on your door is impossible to ignore- forcing you out of bed to open it. you haven’t moved much, allowing yourself a day to wallow in self pity before continuing with your life.

you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t though of izuku all day. you thought of his face- of his stupid smile- of the stupid way he looks at you as if you constantly have some sort of halo above your head.

your completely shocked to find the boy you’d just been thinking about standing in your doorway- he’s panting heavily. it’s clear that he’s catching his breath from the sheer speed he used to make his way to your home.

“what are you doing here?” it’s a simple question but you know the answer is a lot more complicated than you’d like.

“i just- i had to see you.” still catching his breath as he replies- he’s looking directly at you- the expression on his face is one you would use if you hadn’t seen the person in front of you in years. it does kind of feel like that.

“and- i had to do this.” his lips crash on to yours before you can question his next move. he’s eager- he kisses you like he’ll never get the chance again, he thinks that maybe he won’t.

he savours every moment, every move of your tongue, every feel of your touch.

you break the kiss as you pull him inside- slamming the door behind you as your corner the boy against it-

“talk.” he squeaks at the sound of your voice- it’s harsh, powerful. he doesn’t quite know what to say? god why didn’t he think of this on the way over? he doesn’t have the time to reprimand himself for being stupid right now so instead he says the only thing he’s thought of when he looks at you for years.

“i love you.” it’s quiet when you hear it, you can’t tell if his volume is really that low or if your head has muffled all sound coming from his mouth.

“you do?” it’s a whisper as it leaves your voice- your not an idiot, you know the boy infront of you has been pining over you since you were kids. you just didn’t know how serious it was for him.

“i- i do. with everything in me i do. i think i always have.” you remain silent. fully taking in the weight of his words. it’s clear as day now that you think about it- you can’t believe you brushed off how he felt to a stupid crush.

your gaze is unwavering as you scan his face- inspecting it for any hint of regret. you don’t find it- instead you find him looking at you with nothing but love.

you kiss him again- moving so harshly against him that his back collides with the door behind him as he scrambles too kiss you back.

the kiss is impatient. as though every moment you’ve ever spent together as been leading up to this moment- it doesn’t compare to yesterday- not now that you know the truth.

his hands explore your body in ways they didn’t yesterday- he’s holding you so tight you think it might leave marks- not that you mind.

you try not to break the kiss as the pair of you messily clamber your way though your house and into your bedroom.

he’s already submitted to you as you move to remove the shirt that’s restricting your access to him- finally removing your lips from his as you slide it over his head- taking a minute to admire his physique.

he’s big- a lot bigger than you anyway- excitement fills your stomach as you struggle to remove your own clothing from your body.

your braless- he didn’t notice it before but he definitely does now, he can’t take his eyes away from your bare chest infront of him as he dips down without thinking.

you feel his mouth on your tits in an instant as he kisses them- light feathery touches changing into hard sucks in a matter of seconds- now your certain he’s leaving marks.

he laps at your chest over and over- you can’t help the slight gasp you realise when he sucks down on your nipple- he looks up at you wide eyed following the noise you let escape before he’s crashing down on your tits- continuing his attack.

you grab a handful of his hair in order to stop him- forcing him to look at you- his eyes meet yours with a look of carnality, pulling him into another kiss as you fumble with the buttons on his trousers.

“fuck, i-" your breathless, his face is flushed and his pupils blown. "need you inside, need to feel you." he replies with a groan.

you each clumsily remove your pants as your faces touch, both of your mouths agape as you practically breathe the same air.

his brain goes fuzzy and you dizzily watch him pull down his boxers, the length slapping against his stomach as it’s released from its confines.

you don’t waste anytime situating yourself on top of him, grabbing his dick as you move it against the outside of your pussy, pressing it against your clit as your head falls back in a moan.

“oh- oh fuck s-stop teasing ohmygod please put it in- oh pleaseplease”

he’s moaning so pretty as you give in and slide him into you, allowing your weight to fall on him as you sink as low onto him as you can. he’s already a mess under you- babbling out thank yous. it turns you on so much seeing how desperate he is for you. already addicted to your pussy and the way it sucks him like a vice.

“f-feels soso good ngh fuck- don’t ever want another pussy- only you- only ever been you-” you giggle at his praise- beginning to roll yourself down on him.

you have him exactly where you want him- where you’ve wanted him since the second he walked into your kitchen weeks ago-

you’ve never quite felt desire like this before, sure you’ve had sex but this is different, it feels almost biological- like he was made for you.

your thoughts are cut off when he cries out from beneath you- “oh- f-fuck m’ gonna cum- wanna cum for you so bad!” oh lord. you can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth as they go straight to the heat in your abdomen.

“you wanna cum for me baby?” your egging him on- as though you know exactly what to say to put him on the edge of his realise- “yesyesyes please- can i? can i come for you please-”

gasps and whimpers falling from izuku's parted lips as his head is thrown back. was all sex this good??

“cum for me zuku’” and he lets go on command, cumming inside as soon as you tell him too. his parted lips as his voice rings out your name and his hips jump instinctively with every bounce you make.

your movements don’t falter as he orgasms- keeping a steady pace as you ride it out. it’s not long before he’s making noise again- begging below you.

“w-wait ! s’too much!” his thighs are shaking below you- his whole body straining as he attempts to keep himself together- he’s failing miserably.

a flow of whines and moans leave his mouth and he continues on about how you feel too good- how it’s too much for him.

“you can give me another right izuku?” his eyes close tightly shut as he feels your pace increase- he knows it’s coming- he nods quickly.

this feeling of overstimulation is foreign to the boy, he’s so used to just getting it over with that he’s never gave himself the time to feel this good.

“cum in my pussy again zuku i need it-” he lets out a cry when he cums for the second time- physically lifting you off of him as his dick twitches-

you watch as the cum shoots from his tip landing on his chest with a heavy sigh-

your thighs move together instinctively and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by izuku who is now looking at you lazily.

“you didn’t cum.” he sounds dejected as he says it- you don’t want him to feel bad- it’s harder for you-

“no i didn’t. but it’s okay i promise sometimes it takes awhile-” you smile at him as you say it in an attempt to make him feel better. he’s pouty.

“wanna’ make you feel good.” you giggle at him- he moves his hands to the inside of your thighs and pulls your legs apart- giving him a full few of your cum dripping pussy.

he lets out a whimper at the sight- head dropping towards your core- he approaches fast- nose hitting your clit as he takes a deep breath in-

“izuku it’s okay u don’t have too.” you move your hand in his hair comfortingly- not wanting him to feel pressured.

“you said i could last time- you promised” when you think back on it you don’t quite remember using the word “promise” but your not given the time to confirm it before his tongue leaves his mouth and licks your slit.

he eats you out like he’s starved- it’s sloppy, clear as day that he’s never done this before but it feels so good- your in awe at the boy situated under you, watching him as he moved impossibly deeper into your pussy.

your breath hitches as he sucks down ok your clit- a loud moaning leaving your lips as your head falls back. he groans into you when he hears the noise escape your lips as he begins eagerly sucking on that same spot.

he’s murmuring sweet nothings into you as he continues- “tastes so good- f-fuck you taste so good.” your mouth is fully agape now- unable to to hold in your groans.

“y-yeah? my pussy taste good baby? ngh- you wanna make me cum?-” he nods into your pussy in reply- sucking down even harder when he hears your words.

your back uncontrollably arches as he continues- his pace unfaltering as your thighs squeeze around his head- the action only drawing a whine from the boy situated between them.

his hands are wrapped around them- his hands digging into the softness of your thighs as he holds them apart- allowing himself full access to you.

“oh f-fuck- your doing so well zuku- gna’ make me cum baby-” your cut off as a whine of your own escapes your lips.

he’s drowning in your pussy as you finally cum- he’s whispering out thank yous as you finish in his mouth.

your catching your breath as your attempting to pull him up towards you- forcing him face to face with you.

you don’t exchange words as you manoeuvre your way under your covers- taking his hand in yours as you guide him to lay down beside you.

you pull his head to your bare chest as he lays down on you- eyes shutting as he lets out a comfortable but sleepy sigh.

he begins another whisper- “i’m sorry if this ruins the moment but- what does this mean?” his eyes are opened again now as he looks up at you- fearful of rejection.

“we’ll work it out- but um- i don’t want this to stop and uh- i’d like to spend more time with you iguess.” he nearly giggles at how much you remind him of your brother in this moment- struggling to put into words how you truly feel as you hope the boy will understand.

he does- of course he does. not feeling a need to reply he doesn’t as he cuddles into you, easily drifting to sleep as he finds much needed comfort in your body.

it’s hours later when you find yourself now fully clothed in your kitchen again- taking leftovers out of your fridge as you hear the opening of your door.

you poke your head round the corner to reveal katsuki- you give him a soft smile as he makes his way over to you after shuffling out of his shoes.

“the nerd upstairs?” your smile goes even softer as you tell him yes. he returns your smile now- except his is a lot more teasing than yours is.

“so- uh how’d it go?” bakugo would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested- hoping to god that it went well as he grimaces at the thought of watching izuku sulk forever as he did today.

“we worked it out.” is all the reply you give- all the reply he needs, an identical now softer smile grazing his lips as he nods at you.

“you’ll work it out-” he pauses slightly before continuing- wrapping a protective arm around your shoulder before he continues “m’ sure you will”

the end? idk i quite like the ending of this being a little ambiguous, i might make a little drabble of your parents finding out about ur relationship with izuku but im undecided.

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #fanfiction #bnha x reader #bakugo katuski #mha fanfiction #mha x female reader #mha x reader smut #izuku midoriya x reader #mha izuku #izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #bnha izuku #izuku x y/n #izuku midoria x reader #mha midoriya #bnha midoriya #midoriya x reader

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