#was contemplating if i should post this or not

[yuvany]

꒰ 🥊 ꒱ ENHYPEN IN THE RING

// ENHYPEN as boxers and you're their number one prize.

─── ( on point ) OT7 x female reader contains : fluff + violence mentioned + pet names + est relationship + cameras + boxing!au + non!idol enha + not proofread 887 wc

reblogs + feedback always appreciated !!

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

Being in the boxing ring felt natural to him, but to you, it just felt as if you were praying for Heeseung to be alright every time he fought someone bigger than him. You didn't worry too much as you knew how talented he was and how he managed to beat people who mocked him for him size. Seeing someone fall to the ground never felt this relieving. You rushed up and enveloped his face in between your palms as you pressed a kiss to his lips for his victory. "Worried? For me?" He asks when you both are on your way home. "Yeah, what if you got really hurt?" You said, fidgeting with your thumbs, avoiding his gaze. "I'll be alright, yeah? I wouldn't want to worry you." Heeseung takes your hand in his.

(rest of the memebers below the cut)

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

always worried what you thought of him doing this sport. He knew the dangers of this sport, and he knew that he could get injured really badly, but something always pushed him to continue. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush. During matches, he'd always contemplate if he should quit or not after seeing other boxers bleed from their noses while being knocked out. That anxiousness quickly disperse as he sees you in the crowd, jumping and cheering his name. He puts on a smile for you. Some time later, Jay asked, "what do you think of me doing boxing?" You take a moment to think before answering, "I'm really happy that you're doing something you like, and I'll always support you." You reassure with a kiss to his cheek.

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

He adores the comforting speeches you give him before each match. How they always manage to calm him down when his nerves were playing a trick on him. "baby, I'm nervous." Jake says, his hands clutching to your side, not wanting to part from your closeness while his coach is urging him to hurry up. "Why are you so stressed, Jakey? We both know how awsome you'll be. Just go and do what you love." You say, slowly walking towards the ring so that he can jump in. Jake sighs and hums at your words. "You'll be watching, right?" He asks, his puppy eyes gleaming under the bright stadium lights. "Of course." You say, patting his back before you shoo him inside.

𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙆 𝙎𝙐𝙉𝙂𝙃𝙊𝙊𝙉

Sunghoon loves showing you off to everyone just as much as you love cheering him on. Post-match, you'd be the first person he'd run over to as the cameras pan over to the couple. He doesn't care about what anyone says or sees, and instead he presses his lips to your face over and over again making sure that the camera and audience does not miss his love for you. Sunghoon is a firm believer that your love is worth more than any prize he'll ever win in his boxing career. After each match he'd win, the internet would be flooded by news making headlines of you and him, which always managed to put a smile on your face.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗢𝗢

Sunoo didn't brag about his wins, even though he had a swelling ego, he was humble. Before each match, he'd wrap his arms around you, his head snuggled against your shoulder as you pat his back, urging him to let go and get ready for the fight, "Sunsun, it's time to go now." He doesn't let go and you just sigh. "Promise me that we'll go on a date later." He compromises, and you easily agree to it, because it's a date? While in the ring, you cheer the loudest, and he hears you since you're standing in the first row, but when the match is over and he is the clear winner, he doesn't hesitate to shoot you a quick wink.

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

You loved watching him combat his friends during practice, but when it was time for the competition, you were starting to feel a bit anxious - your heart beating like a drum against your chest. You whisper a soft "good luck," before he gives you a bright smile and climed into the fighting arena. You watched with dread filling you up, and all you cared for was his safety. Seeing him get hit, you jump out of your seat with your palms hovering over your agape mouth that opened due to shock. You try to reassure yourself that he'd be okay, and luckily he was. "You really gave me a scare!" You lightly hit his shoulder, and he just pulled you against his chest.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

You honestly didn't worry too much about him when he fought. Riki is a strong person, both physically and mentally. While he speaks to his coach during break time, Riki wraps one arm around your shoulders lazily as he leans his body against yours. You can hear his short breaths due to exhaustion, but you don't pull away, even though he is sweating. With a nod, there is little time left to spend and he presses a kiss to your head before he rushes back inside. When he wins, he runs over to you with a bright smile as cameras are aimed at him. One interviewer shouts, "What do you think of the prize you're winning." "What do you mean? I've got her right here!" He shouts back as he motions to you.

TAGLIST : @dollyhoon @itjengirl @saeivra @orimuraa @pshwrldd

[levisolace]

cigarette after dark — suguru geto x reader

pairing: suguru geto x f!reader

summary: smoking outside the club, an old friend who drifted away, suguru, finds you and strikes up a conversation.

genre: heavy angst. light comfort. modern au.

word count: 3.1k

warnings: heavily depressive thoughts. mentions a lot of smoking and quitting. mature themes.

note: completely a self-indulgent fic. it’s 2am and i can’t really think of another way to feel better unless to write it out. uploading this raw on my phone before i sleep so i’ll probably edit (maybe even delete) the post and re-format it tomorrow after work. idk if anyone will read this lol but here u go.

—————————

There was nothing to sugarcoat. This was it. You’re just another failure.

The puddle on the ground, a remnant of the rain that poured a few hours ago, reflects an image of a person that is foreign. Disgusted, you stare back at her with disdain.

You put the stick in your mouth, inhaling, and taking a long drag. The smoke curls around you like a cloak, shielding you from the chaos of the night. The bass from the club thumps faintly through the alley, vibrating the air but not quite reaching you. You exhale, watching the smoke dissipate into the cold, damp air, and for a fleeting moment, you feel like it could carry away everything you’ve been holding onto. But it doesn’t.

The reflection in the puddle shifts as you move, and you hate the way it looks back at you. Eyes heavy, makeup smudged, shoulders hunched like you’re trying to fold in on yourself. A version of you that you despise.

You take another drag, the heat from the cigarette warming your fingers as the nicotine buzz settles over your nerves. A voice in your head whispers that you should go back inside, but your legs don’t move. You can’t face the stares, the shallow laughs, or the weight of their questions.

“Got a spare?”

The voice is low, almost drowned out by the city noise. You glance up to see a figure standing a few feet away, their face obscured by shadow. For a moment, you’re too tired to answer. Wordlessly, you reach into your pocket and hold out your pack. He takes one, sliding it out with ease.

The man steps closer, just enough for the dim glow of the streetlight to catch their face—a mix of sharp edges softened by something you can’t quite name. They take the lighter you’re holding out from your hand with a quiet “Thanks,” lighting his cigarette with practiced ease.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Just two people standing in the dark, sharing silence and smoke.

“How long has it been?” It’s him who speaks first, staring out into the bright moon.

You don’t answer for a while, contemplating if you’ll answer him or just stay silent and hope that he’ll leave you alone. After almost a minute, you decide on the former.

“Dunno. Like 3 years?”

“Wrong, it’s been four.”

“Four, huh?” you murmur, the words tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, like the cigarette in your hand. You flick the ash off the end, watching it dissolve into the puddle at your feet. “Feels like longer.”

He hums, leaning against the wall beside you. The air between you is thick with unspoken history, but he doesn’t push it—at least, not yet. You risk a glance at him, expecting the same boy you once knew, but what you see makes you pause.

Suguru Geto looks good. Too good. His black hair, once always falling in messy waves across his face, is now neatly tied back. His clothes are clean, tailored even, and the sharp edges of his face, once softened by youthful recklessness, now hold a quiet confidence. He looks like someone who has his life together—like someone who doesn’t spend nights outside clubs, smoking to forget.

The contrast is almost unbearable.

His posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension in his voice when he speaks again. “Didn’t think I’d find you here. Like this.”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. He looks the same but not quite. Time has softened some of his edges and hardened others. The lines of his face are sharper, his frame broader, but there’s something familiar in the way he stands, hands in his pockets, like he’s trying not to take up too much space.

“And what’s this?” you ask, raising an eyebrow as you take a drag, trying to ignore how unnatural it still feels.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he watches as you exhale a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the damp air. “You. Out here. Smoking.”

The words sting more than you care to admit. You glance at the glowing tip of your cigarette, suddenly hating the way it feels between your fingers. “People change,” you say, but your voice lacks conviction.

“Yeah, they do.” He pauses, turning to look at you fully. “But this isn’t you.”

You snort, a humorless sound that feels foreign even to you. “You don’t know me anymore.”

“Maybe not,” he concedes, his tone quiet but steady. “But I used to. And the girl I knew wouldn’t have touched a cigarette, let alone ended up outside some club at this hour.”

You roll your eyes, the defensiveness bubbling up despite yourself. “Well, the girl you knew is gone. Life happened. People grow up.”

“Ha…”

His reaction hangs in the air, heavy and unavoidable. You don’t answer right away, staring down at the puddle again. The reflection staring back at you is a stranger, a reminder of all the ways you’ve tried to erase the person you used to be.

“You don’t get to judge me,” you say finally, your voice sharper than you intended.

“I’m not judging you,” he replies softly. “I just… I thought you’d have more faith in yourself than this.”

You laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “Faith doesn’t get you very far these days.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The sounds of the city fill the silence: the faint bassline from the club, the hum of passing cars, the drip of water from the gutter overhead.

“I thought about calling you,” he says suddenly, his voice breaking the stillness. “A lot, actually. But I don’t know why I didn’t. I thought—.”

“Thought what?” you reply, crushing the cigarette under your heel.

He chuckles, though it’s void of humor. “That you’d be better off without me.”

The words hit harder than you expect. You glance at him again, searching his face for pity, disappointment, anything—but all you see is regret.

“Why now?” you ask the question quieter than you meant it to be.

Why approach me now? is what you wanted to ask. You couldn’t get yourself to ask him directly but as if he knows you like the back of his hand, he answers the question.

“Because I saw you,” he says simply. “And I didn’t want to walk away this time.”

The honesty in his voice disarms you, cutting through the walls you’ve spent so long building. You look away, crossing your arms as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze.

“Maybe you should have,” you murmur, but your voice wavers, betraying the truth. And from the way he stays, you think he knows it, too.

He stayed silent as if he’s debating what to say. He looks like he wants to comfort you—or terribly ask what happened to you. Either way, you know that he can’t do it. He can’t get himself to open your wounds up so suddenly when it looks like it’s eating you alive.

For a while, neither of you says anything. The muffled bassline from the club fills the silence, blending with the distant hum of traffic. You sneak another glance at him, and that’s when you notice it—the cigarette in his hand, he hasn’t smoked it once.

The cigarette dangles between his fingers, the faint glow of the ember a stark contrast to the cold night air. He doesn’t bring it to his lips, doesn’t inhale. He just… holds it.

“You’re not smoking,” you say, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He glances at you, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s amused. “Nope.”

“Then why the hell did you ask for one?”

He shrugs, twirling the cigarette between his fingers. “Felt like the easiest way to approach you.”

You glare at him, annoyed at his nonchalance. “You’re wasting it.”

“Not really.” He flicks the ash with a practiced motion, his gaze never leaving yours. “I quit years ago.”

The revelation catches you off guard. “Then why light it at all?”

He exhales—not smoke, just a slow breath—and leans back against the wall, looking up at the faint glow of the moon. “I guess…” He pauses, turning the lit cigarette in his hand, his voice softening. “I wanted to remember what it felt like. Holding this. Being here. With you.”

You flinch, the memory hitting like a slap. Back then, Suguru was the wild one—the one who always seemed to have a cigarette tucked in his fingers or a flask hidden in his jacket. You were the good one, the one who didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t step a toe out of line. You used to lecture him about taking care of himself, about how much potential he was wasting. And now? Now you’re the one standing in an alley with a cigarette in hand, trying to feel something other than regret.

“Guess the roles are reversed, huh?” you say with a forced chuckle, gesturing at him with the glowing tip of your cigarette. “Look at you. Clean, polished.”

You glance down at your cigarette, suddenly hating the way it tastes, the way it feels in your hand.

“Why’d you quit?” you ask, the question slipping out before you can stop it.

He smiles faintly, looking down at the cigarette in his hand. “Mm… I didn’t want it controlling me anymore. Felt like every bad decision I made started with one of these.” He twirls the cigarette between his fingers, a ghost of the habit he once had.

“Good for you,” you mutter, rolling your eyes a little. You can’t help it. You were jealous.

“What about you?” he asks this time, turning to look at you. “When did you start?”

The question makes your stomach twist, but you shrug it off, exhaling a stream of smoke. “A while ago. Doesn’t matter.”

“It does,” he says, his tone calm but insistent. “You used to give me so much crap for this.” He gestures vaguely with the cigarette, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “What changed?”

You hesitate, the words caught in your throat. What changed? Life? Disappointment? Somewhere along the line, the lines you swore you’d never cross blurred until you didn’t recognize them—or yourself. If Suguru’s bad decision started with the stick in your hand, yours ended with it. Every bad decision you made piled up and up until all you could do was punish yourself in many ways possible. That included this… stupid addiction.

Failure—that’s what you are. And failures… they’re just that.

“Life. Me. You know how it is. One wrong decision after another and next thing you know, you’re exactly the disappointment you fear you’d be.”

“Hm,” he agrees, tilting his head slightly like he doesn’t agree with you.

You roll your eyes, the defensiveness bubbling up. You know what he’s thinking. “You don’t know me anymore, Suguru.”

“No,” he admits, his voice soft but steady. “But I don’t think you’re as far gone as you think.”

His words hang in the air, heavy and unwelcome. You glare at the ground, crushing the cigarette under your heel with more force than necessary.

“Cut the bullshit,” you snap. “I don’t need your words of wisdom.”

Suguru sighs, flicking his own cigarette into the puddle. It hisses softly, the ember extinguished, and he turns to face you fully. “I’m not trying to do anything,” he says quietly. “But I know you don’t need this.”

The honesty in his voice makes something in your chest tighten, and for a moment, you want to tell him to leave. To stop looking at you like you’re someone worth saving.

But he doesn’t push. He just stands there, hands in his pockets, like he’s waiting for you to let him in.

A new cigarette burns low between your fingers, the smoke curling up into the night air like a ghost of something you can’t name. Suguru stands beside you, quiet now, the silence between you stretching long and thin. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, but he doesn’t say anything. Maybe he senses you don’t want him to.

The stillness lets your thoughts slip in, unwelcome and relentless.

You think about her—the girl you used to be. The one who would have hated to see you like this. That girl had big dreams and bigger expectations from herself and everyone around her. She thought she could take on the world, carve out a future she’d be proud of. Back then, it felt possible.

But somewhere along the line, it all unraveled.

One bad decision led to another. You chose the wrong major, convinced yourself it would work out. It didn’t. Classes you thought you could handle became impossible to pass. Graduation came late, dragging with it the weight of disappointment. Every failure piled up until it felt like they were suffocating you. It suffocated you until even doing the smallest tasks took too much of your positive energy.

There was so much anger and hatred for yourself that it was either you pull away from everyone… or you’ll have to see them disappointed in you. You chose the former everytime. And that’s why you failed at every aspect of life. Career, friends, family… love. All you feel now is an emptiness that is both heavy and light. Heavy in emotions. Light in meaningful weight.

Everything that was good about you was taken away from you. It’s like someone’s out to get you. It’s like someone’s punishing you to forever be painfully mediocre. Never good. Never bad. God, you feel like a non-playable character in your own life, watching yourself try and try over and over again but it’s like you’re destined to not be somebody. Not somebody’s best coworker. Not somebody’s best daughter. Not somebody’s best friend. Not somebody’s girlfriend. It’s like you’re cursed to not be able to hold on to something that makes you feel good.

You drag on the cigarette, the bitterness of it filling your lungs, but it doesn’t quiet the ache.

If you could go back, maybe you’d say sorry to her—the little girl who dreamed of being someone better, someone whole. She didn’t deserve this. You’d tell her you tried. You really did. But the truth is, deep down, even back then, there was a voice whispering you’d never make it.

That voice had always been there. Back then, you fought it. You told yourself it was wrong. But it had patience. It waited.

And now it’s winning.

The cigarette trembles in your fingers, the smoke curling upward in erratic spirals. You bite your lip, trying to steady your breathing, but it’s no use. The weight pressing on your chest grows heavier, like it’s trying to crush you entirely.

You exhale slowly, staring at the faint glow of the streetlight reflected in the puddle at your feet. For a moment, it feels like you’re staring at her, that little girl that Suguru knew, looking back at you with all her bright-eyed hope and wonder. You wonder what she’d say if she could see you now.

“You’re quiet,” Suguru says, his voice breaking through your thoughts.

You glance at him, startled, and realize how long the silence has stretched. “Yeah,” you mutter, flicking ash off the cigarette. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Nothing important.”

He doesn’t believe you—you can see it in the way his brows knit together, the way he studies you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. But he doesn’t press.

“You know,” he says softly, “quitting wasn’t easy for me.”

You raise a brow, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, taking what was left of the cigarette in your hand. “There were a lot of nights I thought about lighting one up. Not because I wanted to, but because it felt like I needed to. Like it was the only thing that made the rest of the world shut up for a bit.”

His words hit closer to home than you’d like. You look away, staring down at your own cigarette, now burned to the filter in his hand. “And what changed?”

Suguru shrugs, his gaze steady. “I realized it wasn’t fixing anything. It was just… giving me an excuse not to.”

You don’t say anything, but his words settle uncomfortably in your chest. He crushes the cigarette under his heel.

“You can still fight it,” he says after a moment, his tone soft but unwavering. “Whatever it is. You don’t have to let it win.”

You scoff, but it lacks conviction. “It’s not that easy.”

“I never said it was.” He shrugs, tucking his hands inside his pockets.

You don’t respond, the weight of his words mingling with the lingering taste of smoke in your mouth. Somewhere in the back of your mind, that voice still whispers, still taunts. But for the first time in a long while, it doesn’t feel quite so loud. Maybe it’s his presence, steady and familiar, or maybe it’s just the faintest flicker of hope. Either way, you don’t feel entirely alone. Not tonight.

You feel it before you even realize it’s happening—a tear slipping down your cheek, warm and unwelcome. You quickly turn your face away from Suguru, staring hard at the ground.

He doesn’t say anything, but you feel his gaze, calm and steady, like he’s waiting for you to say something first.

Another tear falls, then another, and before you know it, your shoulders are trembling as the quiet sobs escape you. You clench your jaw, swallowing hard, trying to hold it in, but it’s like a dam has broken.

Suguru shifts slightly, the faint sound of his shoes scuffing against the wet pavement. “Hey…” he says softly, his voice low and tentative.

You don’t respond. You can’t. If you open your mouth, you’re afraid you’ll break completely.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a moment. The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache even more. “If I said something to—”

“No,” you manage to choke out, cutting him off. Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Just… no.”

He doesn’t press further. He just stays there, silent and steady, his presence grounding in a way you didn’t expect.

Your tears fall freely now, mixing with the remnants of rain on the ground. You haven’t cried in front of anybody in so long. And yet, here you are, crying to some guy who was practically a stranger to you for four years.

“I ruined everything,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Suguru shifts again, and this time, you feel his hand hover near your shoulder before settling there gently. His touch is warm, reassuring. Without a word, you lean in, wrapping your arms around him. He hugs you back with one arm, his hand on your head as he pulls you into his chest. You haven’t been held in so long. You’ve slept so many sleepless nights alone, wondering if the warmth of another person would make you feel better. It never did, not like Suguru’s.

The weight of his words settles in your chest, heavy but not unbearable. You don’t know exactly how this night came to be, but for the first time in a long while, the thought of waking up another day doesn’t feel entirely impossible.

Suguru stays quiet after that, his hand still caressing your hair, offering silent reassurance. He doesn’t try to push you further or tell you everything will be okay. He just stays, letting you cry, letting you feel.

And for now, that’s enough.

[cyripticchronicler]

The Things Unseen - Part 2

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: Words were powerful and Remus knew it well. After weeks of sending meaningful poems to each other, you're finally ready to talk to the man who’s saved you in person.

TW: Reader has bad mental health, kissing, Remus also having bad mental health

A/N: Sorry for taking so long to post, I got back into my Sims phase. Luckily, Happy Feet got me out of my writing slump (Yippiee). Thank you @amatoanima and @mayuwolfstar for asking to be tagged. Your support means a lot <3

Part One

Masterlist

You had been pacing so much that you were scared you were going to burn a hole in the worn carpet. “I shouldn’t do this. This is so dumb,” Your hands shake at your side as you fiddle with the parchment in your hand.

Lily, who's been watching you with an amused eye as you freak out, stands up from her spot on your bed and rests her hands on your shoulders, successfully preventing you from moving. You had told her everything; the letters, your not-so-little crush on Remus and how he’d been helping you. After a momentary shock, she helped you write the letter you’re going to give him.

Said letter now rests in your hand, scrunched tightly in your fist and you debate whether or not you should rip it up. You don't; you want him to know that you know - you want to form a connection with the man who has helped you in so many ways.

I see the lines between the lines,

The words you wove, so well-disguised.

A gentle hand, a softer heart—

How long have you been cast as “part”?

Your words have lingered, light and near,

Yet now they’re clear—I know you’re here.

You leave these notes in shadowed halls,

Your voice a whisper, your steps a call.

So meet me where the willow bends,

By moon’s first light, when evening ends.

Let masks fall off, let secrets end,

And let me greet the poet, friend.

“Don’t stress, it’ll all be okay,” Lily mutters, taking the parchment from your hands and tucking it into a random book on your nightstand. “If he’s been sending you these notes then it’s obvious he wants to talk to you! Just give it a go.” You stare at her for a moment and chew your lip in contemplation.

She pressures you with another look and you roll your eyes, yanking the book from her grip and hurrying downstairs to go to the library.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.

The library bustles with students, despite it being the weekend. The room is thick with tension, the upcoming OWL making everyone stressed.

You hope Remus is here; you can’t imagine him being anywhere else because he only visits Hogsmeade when with friends. James is with Lily and Sirius is in detention, leaving Remus alone and hopefully in the library.

You scan the well-lit room, eyes narrowing as they land on the man you’ve been looking for. He sits at a table in the corner, head down and shoulders hunched while he works.

His hand furiously scribbles in a notepad while he reads from the textbook beside it- seemingly doing schoolwork. Your stomach twists anxiously, creating a sickening dizziness that travels up your throat.

You begin to shake your arms out beside you in an attempt to rid yourself of your nerves, but after receiving a cruel, judging look from a random person walking by, you fist your hands together and wrap your arms around your stomach.

With your nails scratching at any skin they can reach, your feet move and create slow, shaking steps toward Remus. He’s clueless-too caught up in school work to notice your shaking body getting closer.

It’s only when you reach the table, thighs hitting the rounded edge, do you speak. “Hey.” Your voice is a desperate whisper and is too quiet to snap Remus out of his working headspace as he shows no acknowledgement of you standing there.

You take a deep breath and speak louder. “Hey.” You cringe at the loudness of your voice, having talked too loud and captured the attention of the students at the next table.

Remus finally looks up from his book, his calm eyes and posture turning into one of panic as he recognises it's you. The way he sputters and the red flames on his cheeks is adorable and you can’t help but melt, shoulders slumping slightly.

After seconds of awkward silence and Remus opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he finally pauses and takes a deep breath, recollecting himself. “Hi,” he finally mutters, voice breathless.

It’s flattering, how much you seem to affect him. He’s never acted like this around you before- yet again, you’ve never randomly visited him before. However, you decide to blame his shortness of breath on a potential panic attack due to him not understanding the work he was doing. Sure. That seems probable.

Smiling through your awkwardness, your shaking hand slowly reaches into the bag slung on your shoulder and pulls out a worn book. His shimmering, caramel eyes track the book that’s clasped tightly in your grip. You're too scared to give it to him. Too scared to see what happens next because what’s been happening has been good. So good.

He gulps- a nervous tic that you don’t miss. His nervousness gives you enough courage to finally speak again. “I-,” you shake your head, hair falling in front of your face and shielding your pink cheeks, “I want you to have this. The, uh, note is on the first page and in case you don’t understand what I’m trying to say-not that I’m calling you dumb or anything, you’re literally smarter than me-“ you swear lightly under your breath, annoyed at your rambling. You carelessly drop the book on the table and rub a hand down your face.

“I’m inviting you to hang out with me. By the weeping willow-“

“When evening ends. After dinner?” Too preoccupied with trying to get out of the embarrassing hole you dug yourself, you failed to notice Remus pick up the book and read the note. You nod quietly.

He now sits there with a goofy sort of smile and a lighter pink to his cheeks. He seems calmer, and more relaxed. You don’t know if you should be scared or not; you can barely handle a shy Remus, how will you deal with a confident one?

“I’ll be there. Of course, I will.” He smiles brightly, glowing with glee. “Don’t feel like you need to hang out with me because I wrote you poems- I purely wrote them to cheer you up. I had no expectations for what would come out of it, besides your happiness.”

“I want to get to know you better, Remus. You’ve helped me a lot more than you could have ever possibly imagined. Let me thank you and maybe learn more about your shadows and scars.”

You find confidence in the sparkle that shimmers in his warm eyes and use it to throw a wink his way before hurrying to the door. You pray you don’t trip over your own two feet because, if the goosebumps appearing on your back are any indication, you get the feeling Remus is watching you leave.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.

Is it embarrassing to admit that you rushed through dinner? And by rushed you mean, you gave your tongue third-degree burns from how hot the food was and choked from the amount of food you were shoving down your throat.

The only reason why you slowed down was because Remus was watching you from further down the table all night. Every time you tried to sneak a peek at him, he was already looking at you. And every time it caused you to blush fiercely and seek out your drink because your mouth suddenly got dry.

He’s never had such an effect on you before. Sure, you couldn’t look him in the eye or hold a long conversation with him, but now you’re so unbelievably infatuated with him and the way he cares for you without being asked to. He knows your deepest secrets and your vulnerabilities, and it scares you.

Standing up from your spot at the long, wooden table, the hall still rings with the loud voices of students, but you want nothing more than to leave. You don’t bother waiting for dessert, even if the cupcakes look scrumptious. Instead, you begin to head towards the whomping willow. It's earlier than you and Remus planned but you’re prepared to wait.

Rabbits frolic through fields and the hiding sun paints you a warm, orange glow as you walk, eyes trained on everything and anything. The school grounds are quiet due to dinner still being on, though you spot some stragglers on your way.

You let the short walk calm you down. The chill air sends goosebumps down your arms yet you welcome the feeling as you're feeling dangerously hot. By the time your eyes land on the twirly roots of the tree, your heart rate has slowed down and you’re able to pull more air into your lungs.

Making sure you don’t get too close to the murderous tree, you take a seat on the ground and draw your legs up to your chest. Silence envelopes you, not even the crickets keeping you company tonight.

Your surroundings don’t stay silent for long as the sound of leaves shuffling fills the stillness not five minutes later. You hurry to stand up, unsure if the intruder is Remus since it’s earlier than you specified.

You quite literally jump when you realise it is Remus, his scarred figure emerging from behind a tree. He chuckles at the scared look on your face, his voice of honey reaching your ears. “Sorry if I scared you. And if I showed up too early,” he walks over to you before plopping himself down on the ground in front of you, careful not to drop the cupcakes in his hands.

You follow his lead and sit across from him, legs crisscrossed with your knees gently touching his. “It’s okay, I just didn’t expect you to be here this early.” He tilts his head and smiles, brown eyes a shade of gold in the fading sunlight. “I saw you leave the hall early and I wanted to see you as soon as possible so I left early, too.” Unaware of the blush that coats your cheeks, he gently places a cupcake in your hand. “You also missed dessert-which was insane, might I add, so I brought you your favourite.”

“Thank you, Remus. You didn’t have to.” His eyes are genuine and kind, staring right back into yours. “But I wanted to.” To hide the squeal that’s begging to break out of your throat, you take a bite of the cupcake in your hand, trying to not devour it like you would if you were alone.

He takes a bite of his own cupcake, humming in enthusiasm. For a couple of seconds, it’s just silence as you both eat your cupcakes. Due to the silence, your mind races, your eyebrows furrowing when a question pops into your head. His eyebrows lift in question at your furrowed brows and you finish your cupcake before answering.

“How did you know cupcakes were my favourite?” Gone was the confident Remus you were eating cupcakes with, replaced with a more bashful one. He shyly licks the icing off of his finger before scratching his eyebrow and avoiding your eyes.

“I-uh-“ he takes a deep breath and clears his throat. “I’ve always been…interested in you? You’re quiet, always there for others and seemingly always happy. You have this way of captivating others, including me, and I just wanted to learn everything I could about you. In other words, I’ve been charmed with you for years now.” By the end of his speech, his words are a mere whisper and you wouldn’t have heard them if everything else weren’t so quiet.

He takes your silence, born from shock at the thought he liked you back, as one to be worried about and panics, forcing himself to look into your eyes and scoot away in case he makes you uncomfortable. “I’m sorry. I know I’m creepy and a loser-“

“You scare the shit out of me,” you state honestly. His eyes flash with pain, laced with apology and he opens his mouth again -presumably to apologise-but you interrupt him before he can.

“You scare me because you know me so well,” he looks up, eyes still wary but now filled with hope, “when you gave me that first poem I was distancing myself from everyone. I was skipping classes because I was so tired. I missed out on dinner and breakfast because I had no appetite. And I thought I was okay, just stressed.” You fidget with a hair tie on your wrist, twisting and pulling. “You know me better than I know myself and it’s so scary.”

He pulls your hand away from your wrist and clasps it into his own. His grip is warm and gentle, loose enough to give you enough room to pull it away, but tight enough for you to feel the ridges of his scars in your palm.

“You scare me, too.” He states honestly, pulling at your hand so you finally look up at him. His jaw is clenched, a stray hair falling in front of his eye. He looks so handsome.

“Yeah?”

“Merlin yes,” he scoffs a laugh, “you have so much power over me. I would fall to my knees in front of you if you asked. I want to tell you about my past, and how I got these scars. I want to tell you my problems and my dreams. I want to open up to you, more than I have anyone else. And that scares me.”

You’re left breathless, heart in your throat as you try to battle away tears. “I want you to open up to me.” You mutter that first thing that comes to mind, unsure of what to say but wanting to say something.

He smiles sadly, “I’m not sure you’d like me much if I told you everything, though.” You shake your head immediately and tighten your grip on his hand. “There’s nothing you could say to me that would make me like you less.”

He nods his head at your words and lays down on his back. Before you could even blink, he’s pulling you down with him, your head resting on his chest and listening to his heart. By now the sun is gone, replaced by thousands of glittering stars that shimmer in your eyes.

“There’s this man, Fenir Greyback, and when I was four…” you cling to every word he says, knowing that whatever he says to you won’t change what you thought about him.

⋆˙⟡🪶─ .✦📜⊹₊ ݁.

Remus’ voice is raw from hours of speaking once he’s finished pouring his heart out. He holds his breath, ready for you to stand up and walk away at any moment.

He feels you pull away from him and has to bite back a pained cry. He knew you’d leave. That the truth would disgust you. Push you away-

The feeling of your warm and gentle lips on his has his thoughts racing away. A gentle palm moves to cup your cheek, calloused thumb stroking the soft skin ever so gently. Your quiet groan has him deepening the kiss, tongue mixing with yours.

You pull away ever so slightly, resting your forehead on his and opening your eyes. “I told you. I could never like you less.” His throat bobs with a mix of emotions. “Well then I guess we have each other now, don’t we?”

You smile. “I guess we do. Thank you.”

“What for, love?” You can feel his smile against your heated cheek as he rubs the side of his nose against your cheekbone lovingly. “For giving me those poems. They helped. A lot.”

“I guess that means I have to keep writing them for you, huh?”

“I’d like nothing more. I’ll make sure to write back.” You kiss him again, ready to get lost in his warm lips and kind hands. He’s yours and you are his.

[sewooonz]

DKB - FLIRTING X performance video (echan)

[jflxwr]

big compilation of wof dragons as instagram create memes

[its-always-sunny-in-city17]

EEYGHAHKLKHHH!!!!

[aethulean]

shes literally consuming my brain. goodbye cruel world

[dazzelmethat]

Some messy Mushishi fanart. Ginko could be a microbiologist.

I'm still sad that 'journey to the microcosmos' the youtube channel is ending. If you are a mushishi fan of the surreal mushi I recommend watching their hd videos on microbes.

[happypeachsludgeflower]

Nie Huaisang with his boba 🧋

it’s the first chibi I made and he’s a little wonky but I love him okay?

[q-uzi]

he got more friends

[angel-clouve]

*sighs*

I understand now...

I have found the keywords.

"Italian mafia with bombs"

... technically speaking Gokudera is only half-Italian but you get my point, right? 😂😭

pro-tip: if you ever wonder why one or two of your current fictional crushes seems to be different from your usual favorite type of fictional characters, just look at your list of past/childhood crushes and you may find some unexpected results hashsdkdkdlldl

[junoberrii]

I desperately want to try writing again but it takes such a large amount of time and I always end up unsatisfied :( I know I’ll like it once I get into the groove but damn if it’s not stupid hard to start

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

Chronic illness is so fun because I never know when things are gonna be too much 🙃 it’s always a game of “is this gonna be the thing that puts me in bed the next couple of days?” Always a gamble trying to see how much I can push myself to still participate in my normal responsibilities before I inevitably do too much and regret it for the next couple days or weeks 🫠🫠🫠

[mihai-florescu]

How i feel stopping by the turkish bakery, polish supermarket, and indian minimarket in one journey through the neighbourhood

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Ahti II and Karleeen drawing from 2021 :) Ahti invites Karleeen to his grandparents' summer cottage every summer for a few days. The lake water is very refreshing in the heat!

Alt. version:

[tvntheatre]

How the fuck do I draw nutcrackers</3 (trying to find a consistent style depending on whomst I'm doodling